“Helicopter pilot,” said Devin. “And there was no vibe.”

“I think your vibe reader is broken.”

“I think we can find something else to talk about in front of our mother’s casket,” said Devin.

She started to back up. “Whatever. See you in the lobby.”

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye or something?” he asked, glancing at the casket.

“I’ve already made my peace with Mom,” she said.

“Lucky you,” said Devin. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“It’s not going to happen in the next few minutes. Trust me,” said Kari. “Took me a few hundred hours of therapy.”

“I’ll give it a shot, anyway,” he said, fairly certain his sister was kidding herself—and that none of them would ever truly come to peace with what their mother had done to them.

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

The significance of meeting in Harvey Rudd’s basement wasn’t lost on anyone—particularly Harvey Rudd. The thought of bringing another operative to his house, for any reason, had never crossed his mind. It didn’t even enter into the realm of possibilities, because it was strictly forbidden by CONTROL. In fact, no contact between operatives outside of a CONTROL-assigned mission was permitted for any reason.

Digital briefing packets outlining each operative’s responsibilities on a mission were sent individually, so there was rarely a need to gather in advance to discuss anything, even for more complex operations. They’d either drive to mission areas individually or consolidate into one vehicle at a park and ride a few hours away, as they’d done for the Gray ambush. And the Gray arrangement had been a rare one, entirely dictated by the fact that she was a time-critical, moving target.

CONTROL did everything possible to keep them apart. Long, boring drives loosened tongues, and the less they knew about each other the better, which was why he had a hard time coming to terms with the scene in front of him. The same crew he’d commanded a week ago, minus the two Helen Gray had shot, lounged quite comfortably on the leather sectional sofa in his basement “man cave.” Jolene relaxed in his recliner, mostly to keep anyone else from sitting in it.

He’d discussed the situation with Jolene before everyone arrived. Either CONTROL planned on retiring and relocating them after this operation, or they intended to extract them. Given Jolene’s involvement in a high-profile mission last week, the Helen Gray fiasco, and now this, they were certain that their usefulness here had come to an end. At the very least, they’d have to change states. Most likely regions. Definitely identities.