“Oh, shit,” Welga said to her former colleague as he stepped forward. She’d worked with quite a few JIA officers when she was an ATAI Specialist for MARSOC, and she hadn’t seen Olafson since the fallout after Marrakech.

He grinned and came close. Now she could see his familiar, shocking-blue eyes. Dark brown waves of hair brushed his shoulders. “Hello to you, too, Ramírez.”

“It’s good to see you, I think.” Welga glanced at the cameras swarming above and said, “I used to work with this gorgeous creature.” She met Arvindh’s gaze again. “Guessing this isn’t a social call. Should we go inside?”

“Please.”

Oscar had stepped out for an in-person supervisor gig, so they had the house to themselves. Welga led Olafson to her bedroom and waited as he deployed countersurveillance measures. Thresholds got rid of standard microdrones, but smaller, dust-size devices could float in undetected.

“Clear,” he said, and sat on the bed.

Welga took a chair. She tucked her legs under to hide any shakes that decided to show up. “Are you the government liaison for our shield team?”

“Actually, I’m here to offer you that job.”

“You’re—what?” Her head started shaking no before she could speak. She had promised herself—and Connor—that she wouldn’t go back. The agency held nothing for her but ghosts.

“Hear me out, Ramírez. We found some interesting evidence on the operative that hit Kuan.” That attack had taken place in Boston, on US soil. “Integrated smart-matter. VeeMod stuff. You know who’s usually behind that.”

“Integrated? As in biocompatible?”

Olafson nodded. “That’s what we suspect, though we don’t have confirmation. Nothing’s come out of the gray or black market to prove it, but we’re still searching. The Machinehood used generic attack bots, hacked the hotel maintenance crew, and flew single-use camera swarms. A three-point coordinated attack, and they covered all their tracks. That broadcast message bounced like a fucking pinball—hit every continent, comms satellite, and space station multiple times, twenty-four-state quantum encryption, the works.”

“I get it. The Machinehood has deep pockets. The caliph likes his VeeMods. I figured the name might be a cover for al-Muwahhidun, but what’s their goal? Why go after pills instead of bots?”

No one had a greater interest in voluntary modification of human bodies than the caliph. His empire did not believe in externalized technology. They eschewed bots, network stellas, microdrones—all the modern conveniences, with the exception of human-compatible biogenetics. Olafson, and the entire JIA, knew this better than Welga, so if anyone had the answer, he would.

Her friend steepled his fingers in front of his face. “I need to read you in before I can tell you that.” He sighed at her expression. “Come on, Ramírez, it’s been seven years and two elections, and a very different administration sits in the Oval Office now. Things have changed.”