“I like the social engineering in this plan—make Nicki think she’s helping you. People naturally want to help when they’re asked,” Abignail says, leaning forward to ruffle through a stack of papers on his desk. “And you two are well suited for each other, though a true partner is years in the making. You’ll need to become extremely comfortable with each other to make others believe you’re brother and sister. From now on, I expect you to be glued at the hip.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight,” Garrett says.

I focus on the ceiling, wishing for a lightning bolt—a spear—anything to strike me and put me out of my misery.

Producing an envelope from the stack, Abignail slides it over to Garrett. “There should be more than enough currency in this account to get you started. Begin with the physical transformation so you can build your Network feed. You have a couple months to get yourselves situated and make sure you’ve planned for all possible scenarios. According to our sources, Madden’s Mind Upload Centers won’t be functional until mid-April—that’s when Simon will launch the Quinn update persuading people to start backing up their ‘mind files’—but it’s imperative you leave us enough time to steal the algorithm once you have the ring. We’ll send you to San Francisco at the end of March. That should give you time to get close to Nicki and steal the ring so we can get the algorithm and shut down Quinn before Simon launches his update.”

I sit, transfixed in silence, my shoulders knotting under the pressure of the enormous task before us. But we only have to steal Nicki’s ring. We’re one little piece of the puzzle. But even being a small part of the big picture fails to calm me.

“Understood,” Garrett says. “We’ll get to work right away.” Seeming to realize I’m frozen, he takes my arm and yanks me to my feet.

“And remember the Moscow Rules,” Abignail adds before we leave. “Assume nothing. Never go against your gut. Everyone is potentially under opposition control.”

“Trust no one,” Garrett agrees.

“Not even each other,” I mutter.

We exit Abignail’s cottage, the icy winter wind stinging my cheeks helping me regain my wits.

“You were undercover as an Influencer last year?” I ask as we head to our classes. The trail is only wide enough for one person, so I fall in line behind him.

“That’s classified,” he says over his shoulder.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“But I thought we were supposed to learn everything there is to know about each other.”

Garrett comes to an abrupt halt, and I almost run into him.

Turning around, he raises his eyebrows. “Do you really want that?”

“No.” I sigh. “But what about Faye? She’s our contact, and she was your partner last year.”

He starts walking again.