It was time to look forward to the next stage. By the time Ayala returned from her three convoluted trips, the team at Hanscom would hopefully have completed their designs for the missile shielding using the initial pieces of superconducting material Madeline had already fabricated and sent to them. Even if they weren’t ready for Madeline to start mass-producing the shield components with the manipulator, she would at least be able to start on the designs John Hunt had already sent to her for the missiles on board the HMS Dauntless.

* * *

Neal was never ready for the door to his basement lair to open. Without fail, it scared the living shit out of him. Ayala tried not to laugh when she found him on one knee, pointing the Glock she had procured for him at her, more than a little shakily.

“Now, now, Neal, that seems a little excessive, doesn’t it?” She smiled as he replaced the gun in his drawer with his bags of IDs, including one that had a gun license among its various erroneous, but otherwise perfectly legal, documents.

She rummaged around in her bag as he did this then came over to him and said, “Don’t move, Neal, there is something on your neck.” Neal froze, his eyes instinctively trying to look down to where her outstretched finger was touching him just under the chin. In a swift movement her hand flashed downward and grabbed his arm firmly while her other hand whipped out from behind her back. Before he had even registered the small and vicious-looking needle gun in her other hand, she had it pressed against his shoulder. He flinched as the needle punctured the skin and then, a moment later she was walking away like nothing had happened.

“What the hell, Ayala?” he said, pulling up his sleeve to touch the tiny wound and looking at the trickle of blood on his fingers afterward. She was already replacing the gun in her bag, making sure it was loaded with another of the many doses she had with her before closing the little pouch it travelled in.

“Stop whining, you big baby.” Ayala had known he would balk at the injection, so she had decided not to negotiate it with him. She would have to find numerous excuses and underhand ways to discreetly inject countless people with the drug over the next two months. She wasn’t about to waste time on a member of her own team.

“Well,” she said, ignoring his hurt face, “I am glad you were here. I couldn’t exactly call in advance, so it was fifty/fifty whether you would be at home. As it is, though, I can go right back to the airport and catch the next shuttle to Boston.”

“Wait, you still haven’t told me what the hell that was.” Neal asked.