‘What do you work with her on? Because no offence, a bartender doesn’t seem to be the world’s most likely team-up with a physics professor.’

‘Hey, I have depth,’ Jesse said. ‘We have things in common.’

‘Yeah, I get it, you’re friends, but why would she call you about a visit from the CIA, or whatever they are? She also didn’t specifically ask for you. She told me to call Dr Florey. Which means you, or Pete. Right?’

Jesse took her time answering. She took one last drag and stubbed out the cigarette on the brick and finally said, ‘It means one of us, yeah. Look, this is really none of your business, Claire, you get that, right? So why are you in it?’

‘Because I work with Dr Anderson, and if there’s one thing I’ve learnt about working for scary scientists, it’s that you’d better stay aware of exactly what they’re into if you want to avoid troubles of your own,’ Claire shot back. ‘I’m not saying I’m doing it out of general altruism. It’s selfish.’

That earned her a glance that was, at least partially, admiring. ‘Okay, then. Consider your ass covered. Now. Tell me exactly what she said. Word for word. Can you do that?’

‘She said, Call Dr Florey and let him know. That was all.’

‘It’s a general heads-up,’ Jesse said. ‘Not run-for-cover DEFCON 4 phrasing. So we’re still good. I’ll break Pete loose to go over and make sure she’s okay.’

‘I thought you’d go.’

‘It’s easier for Pete to cut out than it is me. People notice when I’m gone. Speaking of’ – Jesse checked her watch – ‘time to water the stampede again. God, I hate game nights, except that my tip jar runneth over.’

Claire nodded. ‘Okay. Is there anything you want me to do?’

‘Go home,’ Jesse said, and winked at her. ‘Unless the hot boy you had giving me the message is waiting for you. In that case, hop on that. He was polite.’

‘He was just doing me a favour,’ Claire said, and felt her cheeks growing a little warm. ‘I’m going home.’

‘Your loss. Watch your back,’ Jesse said. ‘If Anderson’s got eyes on her, you probably will too, not that they really expect to see anything. You’re an eighteen-year-old from Podunk, Texas, after all. They don’t know you’re secretly a badass.’

‘Am I?’ Claire asked. Jesse didn’t know anything about her – or at least, she’d assumed that to be true.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Jesse said, and smiled off into the darkness. ‘You couldn’t possibly have survived Myrnin if you weren’t.’

With that stunning comment, she went back inside, and the back door slammed shut behind her. Claire stared after her, thoughts tumbling around in chaos, but what finally stuck was she knows about Myrnin. And Morganville.

Just who was she, anyway?