“Have you memorized the information supplied in your packet?” Folding his arms over his chest, Abignail leans back in his captain’s chair. He’s a retired con artist, an expert at forgery and assuming new personalities. I’m glad we’re paired with him because I’m going to need every ounce of my acting ability to transform into yet someone else.

“We have,” Garrett says. “The first thing we need to do is establish cover identities—open currency accounts, hack our fake retina scans into the Network database—and most importantly, we need to create history for ourselves on the Network so Nicki can cyberstalk us.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised at his professionalism.

“Very good.” Abignail nods. “Do you have anything to add, Elisha?”

They look at me, and I rack my brain. Having tossed and turned half the night, wondering how I’m going to boldly walk back into the connected world, risking everything by subjecting myself to facial-recognition technology, my head is in the clouds. The sliding glass doors behind Abignail open to his infinity pool, and I imagine jumping in and swimming straight into the forest.

Abignail clears his throat, making me jump.

“I don’t. This is Garrett’s heist,” I say quickly. “He’s in charge. I’ll do whatever he says.”

Garrett keeps a straight face, though I doubt he believes a word of it. I’m sure he’ll gloat later.

“What are your ideas for cover identities?” Abignail asks. “You should come from a place you understand and are comfortable acting as an authority on, so you can stay in character at all times. Try to come off as confident, charming, sincere. It also helps to have something about you that stands out, that people will remember you by—so they don’t look too closely at anything else. Make that trait something easily discarded, rendering you unrecognizable.”

His jaw twitching, Garret squares his shoulders and offers his hand. “Beau Bradford, pleased to meet you, sir.” As his posture changes, so does his essence, transforming him into a stranger. The ease with which he makes the switch catches me off guard. Will I ever know the real Garrett?

“I just moved to San Francisco to spend the summer interning in nanotech so I’m ready to work for my father’s import business when I return to the Cayman Islands in the fall.”

“What does he import?” Abignail asks.

“He 3-D prints seashells.” Garrett smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Abignail laughs. “The perfect answer. Everyone knows better than to inquire about a Cayman-based business, but can you speak to what the nanotech project is you’re working on?”

“I wouldn’t want to bore you with minute details—besides, it’s top secret—” Beau says.

And he really is Beau. There’s no trace of the Garrett I think I know.