AceAndMai:Ace 104.1 — The Thing Iris Brought

The Safehouse had been quiet for almost forty minutes.

Not empty.

Empty was different.

Empty had echoes, cooling machinery, and the subtle wrongness of rooms built for people who were temporarily somewhere else. The Safehouse was rarely truly empty, and when it was, its systems seemed to compensate by making every ventilation shift and relay click sound twice as loud.

This was occupied quiet.

The kind made by four people sharing the same space without requiring anything from one another.

Ace sat sideways at one end of the couch, one bare foot tucked beneath her and the other resting on the low table. A combat-analysis stream filled most of the wall display. The presenter had spent the last twelve minutes explaining why a private security team in Santo Domingo had lost control of an industrial stairwell despite having superior numbers, heavier armor, and access to a support drone.

Ace had spent eleven of those minutes becoming increasingly offended by him.

“He’s wrong again.”

Shammy looked up from the datapad resting across her thighs.

“About which part?”

“All of it.”

“That narrows it down.”

Ace gestured toward the display.

The stream had frozen on grainy helmet-cam footage. Three security officers occupied the lower landing. A fourth had started up the stairs with his rifle angled toward the floor. The presenter had drawn two bright lines across the image to illustrate overlapping fields of fire that had clearly never existed.

“He keeps saying they lost because the second unit failed to advance.”

“Did they advance?”

“No.”

“Then he may have identified one contributing factor.”

“They didn’t advance because their point man walked into a blind stairwell with his weapon down.”

Shammy studied the frame.

“That does seem unwise.”

“Unwise?”

“I’m being diplomatic.”

“He deserved to get shot.”

“He was hit in the shoulder.”

“He deserved to get shot in the shoulder.”

Shammy lowered her gaze to the datapad again.

Ace unpaused the stream.

The presenter immediately began discussing the psychological effect of aggressive vertical movement.

Ace paused it again.

“No.”

Shammy did not look up this time.

“No what?”

“He doesn’t get to use the phrase ‘aggressive vertical movement’ after showing that.”

“What phrase would you prefer?”

“Walking upstairs like an idiot.”

“That may lack analytical precision.”

“It has the advantage of being true.”

Across the room, Brenda stood near the narrow mirror beside the entry hall.

She had been ready to leave for at least forty-five minutes.

Not almost ready.

Ready.

Her hair was finished, her makeup precise without looking overworked, and her dark dress had been chosen carefully enough to suggest she had tried on at least three others before settling on it. The coat waiting over the back of a nearby chair was elegant, understated, and completely unsuited to any evening involving gunfire, rooftop access, industrial dust, or Ace.

Brenda adjusted one earring.

Ace watched her do it in the reflection.

“You changed those already.”

Brenda’s hand stopped.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I adjusted it.”

“You took it out.”

“It was sitting wrong.”

“You replaced it with another one.”

“The first one was sitting wrong in a more permanent sense.”

Ace glanced at Shammy.

“Did that sentence make sense to you?”

“Yes.”

Ace frowned.

“Of course it did.”

Brenda leaned closer to the mirror she had insisted she was not checking and adjusted the fall of a loose strand near her cheek.

Ace let the silence stretch.

Brenda ignored her.

Ace let it stretch further.

Brenda finally looked at her through the mirror.

“What?”

“You’ve been ready for almost an hour.”

“I have not.”

“Forty-five minutes.”

“Thirty-eight.”

Shammy’s eyes lifted.

Ace slowly smiled.

“You counted.”

Brenda looked away from both of them.

“I know when Iris said she would arrive.”

“That is not the same thing as counting?”

“No.”

“How?”

“It simply isn’t.”

Ace resumed the stream.

The presenter now claimed the security unit had failed to exploit its tactical momentum.

Ace muted him.

“Better.”

Brenda moved away from the mirror, crossed to the dining table, and checked the time on the corner of Mai’s open display.

Mai was sorting equipment orders.

Not weapons.

Not ammunition.

Not anything interesting.

Backup power relays, environmental seals, water-system filters, storage-cell regulators, and a list of items Ace had been assured were essential despite resembling components removed from appliances nobody had used in thirty years.

Mai moved one line from the optional column to the immediate-order column.

“Was Iris definitely coming in today?”

Brenda looked at her.

The change in her expression was small but immediate. The tension around her mouth eased. Her shoulders settled.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Two days.”

Ace looked away from the muted stream.

“Only two?”

“Shore leave.”

“Does shore leave normally mean two days?”

“It means however much time they give her.”

“That sounds inefficient.”

“It isn’t intended for your convenience.”

“When did she get back?”

“Earlier this afternoon.”

“And she hasn’t come here yet?”

Brenda gave her a look.

“She had to report in, transfer equipment, close out the assignment, and deal with people who believe paperwork becomes more important when someone has been away for several weeks.”

Ace considered that.

“Cruel.”

“Apparently unavoidable.”

Mai marked another item on the list.

“She’s coming here before you leave?”

“Yes.”

“To collect you?”

Brenda’s mouth curved.

“Yes.”

Ace looked at the dress again.

Then the shoes.

Then the coat.

“Where are you going?”

“Dancing.”

Shammy lowered her datapad.

“With Iris?”

Brenda gave her a dry look.

“No. With a random stranger. Iris is only coming to approve my shoes.”

Shammy smiled.

“Actual dancing?”

“Yes.”

Ace leaned one arm against the back of the couch.

“Why do you sound skeptical?”

“I’ve seen you dance.”

Brenda’s expression sharpened.

“You have seen me move to music.”

“That is usually considered dancing.”

“Not by Iris.”

Ace looked interested.

“Is Iris good?”

Brenda hesitated.

That was answer enough.

Shammy’s smile widened.

Ace pointed toward Brenda.

“Oh, she’s very good.”

Brenda adjusted the bracelet at her wrist.

“She has experience.”

“That means yes.”

“It means she has trained.”

“That means very yes.”

Brenda sighed.

“Iris knows several formal styles, several informal ones, and at least two that she claims cannot be taught to anyone who thinks too much.”

Ace grinned.

“And you?”

“I can follow.”

Brenda said it with dignity.

Shammy looked down at her datapad.

Ace caught the movement of her shoulders.

“You’re laughing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Brenda folded her arms.

“I can follow perfectly well.”

“When Iris is leading?” Shammy asked.

“Yes.”

“And when she isn’t?”

Brenda’s silence lasted slightly too long.

Ace leaned farther over the back of the couch.

“This is getting better.”

“I am not bad at dancing.”

“No one said bad.”

“You implied it.”

“I asked a question.”

“You asked it with your face.”

Ace looked at Shammy.

“Can I do that?”

“Constantly.”

Mai continued working without looking up.

Brenda walked to the chair, picked up her coat, and slipped it on.

She closed the top button.

Looked down.

Opened it again.

Ace watched.

Brenda noticed her watching.

Neither spoke.

Ace slowly raised one eyebrow.

Brenda walked back toward the mirror.

“You know,” Ace said, “if Iris is as good as you say, she probably doesn’t care which earrings you wear.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“What is the point?”

Brenda checked the earring again.

“I would like to look good.”

“You already did forty minutes ago.”

“I would like to continue looking good.”

Ace tipped her head.

“You’re nervous.”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I am not nervous.”

“You’ve checked the time seven times.”

“Five.”

Ace smiled triumphantly.

Brenda closed her eyes for a second.

Shammy returned to her datapad before Brenda could glare at her too.

Mai’s expression remained neutral, but Ace saw the smallest movement at one corner of her mouth.

“Everyone in this room is against me,” Brenda said.

“Iris isn’t here yet,” Ace replied. “So technically not everyone.”

Brenda looked toward the entrance.

The expression that crossed her face was not nervousness.

Not exactly.

It was anticipation compressed into stillness.

Iris had been gone long enough for the return to matter, but not long enough for Brenda to turn it into a performance. She was not pacing. She was not talking about missing her. She was simply ready far too early and pretending that every glance at the clock happened by accident.

Ace recognized the shape of it.

She stopped teasing for almost thirty seconds.

Mai checked the time.

The movement was brief.

A flick of her gaze toward the corner of the display, then back to the equipment order.

Ace did not notice.

Shammy did.

Her attention shifted from the datapad to Mai.

Mai moved another item into the immediate-order column.

Nothing else changed.

Shammy watched her for a moment, then returned to reading.

Two minutes later, Mai glanced toward the entrance monitor.

This time Shammy’s mouth curved.

Not enough to qualify as a real smile.

Enough to be dangerous.

Ace saw it in the edge of her vision.

The combat-analysis stream remained muted. The presenter had reached the aftermath footage and was pointing at a wall damaged by something large enough to make his earlier diagrams irrelevant.

Ace paused the stream again.

“What?”

Shammy looked up.

“What?”

“That.”

“What?”

Ace pointed at her.

“The smile.”

“I smiled?”

“You’re still doing it.”

Shammy touched one corner of her mouth with two fingers, as though checking.

“I don’t think I am.”

“You absolutely are.”

“It may be the combat footage.”

“You hate this presenter.”

“I can dislike him and enjoy his suffering.”

Ace narrowed her eyes.

“That sounded like me.”

“You may be a bad influence.”

“That still doesn’t explain the smile.”

Shammy lowered her hand.

“Brenda is waiting for Iris.”

Brenda looked over.

“Leave me out of this.”

Ace kept watching Shammy.

“That wasn’t about Brenda.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you looked over there.”

Ace followed the direction of Shammy’s earlier glance.

Mai sat at the dining table, scrolling through a supplier list.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing visible.

Nothing that explained Shammy’s expression.

Which immediately made Ace more suspicious.

She looked back at Shammy.

“You know something.”

“No.”

“That was too fast.”

“It was a simple question.”

“You didn’t ask what I meant.”

“I assumed you meant the thing you are currently constructing out of nothing.”

Ace sat up.

“What thing?”

Shammy’s gaze flicked toward Mai again.

Mai noticed.

Their eyes met across the room.

Shammy’s expression carried quiet amusement and a question she had no intention of asking aloud.

Mai’s answered with a calm warning that suggested the question would not be rewarded.

The exchange lasted perhaps half a second.

Ace saw all of it.

She pointed between them.

“There.”

Mai looked at her.

“There what?”

“That.”

Shammy leaned back slightly.

Ace moved her finger from one woman to the other.

“You two are doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Mai asked.

“The silent conversation.”

“We didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

Shammy’s smile returned.

Ace swung her finger toward her.

“And now she’s smiling again.”

“I can stop.”

“No. That would be more suspicious.”

“Then I’m not sure what outcome you want.”

“I want to know what you know.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Ace looked at Mai.

Mai returned to the supplier list.

Ace looked back at Shammy.

“You noticed something.”

Shammy considered denying it.

Ace could see her consider it.

That was nearly as bad as an admission.

“I noticed Mai checking the time,” Shammy said.

Mai’s eyes lifted.

Ace turned toward her.

“You are waiting for something.”

“Iris.”

“That is not what I mean.”

“Brenda is also waiting for Iris.”

“I’m not interrogating Brenda.”

“You were five minutes ago.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“She was changing earrings.”

Brenda made an irritated sound.

Mai looked back down at the display.

Ace stepped away from the couch and moved closer to the dining table.

“You checked the entrance monitor.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To see whether Iris had arrived.”

“You checked the time before that.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To see what time it was.”

Shammy looked down quickly.

Ace turned.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to smile.”

“I may have been breathing.”

“You breathe suspiciously.”

“That seems medically concerning.”

Ace looked at Mai again.

Mai remained perfectly calm.

That was the first real problem.

Mai could lie when necessary.

She simply preferred not to.

More often, she answered questions with exact truths arranged in ways that gave Ace nothing useful to work with.

Ace knew this.

Mai knew Ace knew this.

Which meant every completely ordinary answer now felt shaped.

“You’re being too normal,” Ace said.

Mai paused.

Brenda looked over.

Shammy’s eyes closed for one brief second.

Mai asked, “How normal should I be?”

“Less.”

“That seems difficult to quantify.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do.”

Ace stared at her.

Mai stared back.

The entrance signal sounded.

Brenda moved before the second tone.

She was across the entry hall almost instantly, one hand reaching for the inner lock.

Ace blinked.

“That was fast.”

Brenda ignored her.

Mai’s hand stopped above the table.

Only for a moment.

Not enough for anyone who was not already watching.

Shammy saw it.

Ace saw Shammy see it.

Her head turned slowly.

“Oh, come on.”

Mai resumed scrolling.

Brenda opened the inner lock.

The front door slid aside.

Iris stood on the other side.

She wore a dark travel coat over a fitted evening outfit that made it clear she had managed to change after reporting in, however little time she had allowed herself. Her hair was immaculate. Her posture still carried the residual precision of work, but the moment she saw Brenda, something in it released.

She also carried a long, narrow fabric bag.

It hung from one hand, dark gray and completely unmarked. The top was folded over and secured by two plain straps. The shape beneath the material was soft enough to reject the obvious explanation of a weapon case but too carefully packed to look casual.

Ace saw it immediately.

Brenda did not.

She was looking at Iris.

“You’re late.”

“By ninety seconds.”

“I noticed.”

“I suspected you might.”

Iris stepped inside just far enough for the door to close behind her.

Then she kissed Brenda.

The kiss was immediate and familiar, without hesitation or ceremony. Iris’s free hand found Brenda’s waist. Brenda leaned into her with the kind of ease that only made her earlier fussing over the mirror look more obvious.

Ace glanced at Shammy.

Shammy watched them with quiet warmth.

Ace looked at Mai.

Mai was watching the bag.

Ace’s eyes narrowed.

Iris drew back, though not far.

“You look beautiful.”

“You haven’t seen the dress.”

“I’ve seen enough of it to form an opinion.”

“You always form opinions too quickly.”

“Not about you.”

Brenda’s hand rested against Iris’s chest.

“You’re still late.”

“I had to argue with two logistics officers and one supervisor who believed my equipment inventory should include items I never received.”

“And you still changed clothes.”

“I had priorities.”

Brenda’s expression softened.

“You could have come straight here.”

“I wanted to take you dancing, not make you smell like a transport bay.”

Ace leaned toward Shammy.

“She’s good.”

Shammy nodded.

“At returning home?”

“At talking.”

Brenda heard them.

“Neither of you is invited.”

Iris glanced toward the room.

“Hello.”

“Welcome back,” Shammy said.

Ace nodded toward the bag.

“What’s that?”

Iris looked down as if she had momentarily forgotten she was carrying it.

Then she looked past Ace.

“Mai.”

Mai rose from the table.

Ace’s attention sharpened.

Iris crossed the room and lifted the bag slightly.

“I brought that thing you asked for.”

The sentence landed with no emphasis at all.

That made it worse.

Mai accepted the bag.

The weight shifted enough to require a small adjustment in her grip. Whatever was inside was not rigid, but there was a considerable amount of it.

“Exactly what I was looking for,” Mai said.

“Good.”

Nothing else.

No explanation.

No inspection.

No question about where Iris had found it or why she had carried it personally into the Safehouse after weeks away.

Mai held the long gray bag against her side as though unidentified fabric bags appeared in the Safehouse every afternoon.

Shammy looked at her.

Mai met her eyes.

The earlier question in Shammy’s expression disappeared.

Now she understood only one thing more than she had before:

This was what Mai had been waiting for.

That was enough to make her smile.

Ace saw it.

She looked at the bag.

Then Iris.

Then Mai.

Then Shammy.

Then back to the bag.

“What—”

Iris had already turned toward Brenda.

“Ready?”

Brenda smiled.

“Yes.”

Iris took her hand.

There was no hesitation in the movement. She had completed the errand, found the person she had actually come for, and saw no reason to spend another second standing still.

Brenda barely had time to retrieve her coat from the chair before Iris started guiding her toward the entrance.

“You do remember that I’m not letting you put me in the center of the floor immediately,” Brenda said.

“I remember you saying that.”

“That is not the same as agreeing.”

“No.”

“Iris.”

“You follow beautifully.”

“When you make it possible.”

“I always make it possible.”

“You spun me into a waiter last time.”

“He moved unexpectedly.”

“He was carrying six glasses.”

“He should have been more predictable.”

Ace looked delighted.

“You hit a waiter?”

“I did not hit him.”

“You collided with him?”

Brenda pointed at Iris.

“She directed me into him.”

“He entered our space.”

“He worked there.”

Iris opened the door.

“Tonight will be better.”

“Why?”

“I booked somewhere with wider spacing between tables.”

Brenda stared at her.

“That was your solution?”

“It was the most practical one.”

Ace laughed.

Brenda looked over her shoulder at the bag in Mai’s arms.

Her expression changed.

Only slightly.

She had finally registered it.

“Should I ask?”

Iris was already pulling her through the doorway.

“No.”

Brenda considered that.

“Fair.”

Ace stepped forward.

“Wait.”

Nobody waited.

Brenda managed one final look back.

“We may be late.”

“How late?” Shammy asked.

Brenda’s smile returned.

“Yes.”

Iris pulled her into the corridor.

The door closed.

Silence.

Ace stared at it.

Then she turned slowly.

Mai was already walking away.

The bag remained tucked against one side.

Ace followed her with her eyes.

Mai crossed the common room, passed the kitchen entrance, and opened the storage-room door.

Ace stepped around the couch.

Shammy remained seated.

Mai switched on the storage light.

The narrow room beyond was lined with reinforced shelving. Medical supplies occupied one wall. Ammunition, replacement parts, emergency kits, spare optics, sealed ration packs, and several containers Ace had been specifically instructed not to open occupied the other.

Mai looked up.

The highest shelf was nearly full.

She set the lower end of the fabric bag against the floor.

Moved a compact tool case aside.

Pulled out the folding step stored beside the door.

Ace’s expression tightened.

Mai opened the step.

Climbed it.

Lifted the bag.

Placed it on the highest shelf.

Not near the edge.

At the back.

She adjusted it so the folded top faced inward.

Then she moved the tool case in front of it.

Ace stared.

Mai stepped down.

Folded the step.

Returned it precisely to its place.

Switched off the light.

Closed the storage-room door.

When she turned, Ace stood several feet away.

Mai looked at her.

Ace looked at Mai.

Then at the closed door.

Then back at Mai.

Behind them, Shammy remained seated on the couch with the datapad resting against one knee.

Her expression was composed.

Almost.

Mai walked past Ace and returned to the table.

She sat down.

Reopened the equipment order.

Moved one item from the secondary list to the primary list.

Ace remained standing.

“Mai.”

“Mm?”

“What was that?”

Mai glanced up.

“Iris collecting Brenda.”

“Not that.”

Mai waited.

Ace pointed toward the storage room.

“The bag.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

Mai looked toward the storage-room door as though confirming which bag Ace meant.

Then she returned to the order list.

“The thing I asked Iris to bring.”

Ace stared at her.

“I heard that part.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because I want to know what it is.”

“It’s exactly what I was looking for.”

Ace’s eyes narrowed.

“That is not an answer.”

“It answered the question.”

“It answered a different question.”

Mai considered that.

“You asked what it was.”

“Yes.”

“It is what I asked Iris to find.”

“That is the same non-answer with the words rearranged.”

Shammy made a small sound.

Ace turned instantly.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I don’t know what is in the bag.”

Ace stopped.

That was not the response she had expected.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look like that?”

Shammy studied her.

“Because you look like that.”

Ace frowned.

“That is deeply unhelpful.”

“I wasn’t trying to help.”

Ace looked back at Mai.

Mai continued reviewing the order list.

“Did you know Iris was bringing it today?”

“Yes.”

“When did you know?”

“This morning.”

“Why didn’t you mention it?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Ace’s mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

“That is not how normal conversations work.”

Mai looked up.

“You didn’t know there was a conversation to have.”

“Exactly.”

“That seems to support my point.”

Ace stared at her.

Mai returned to the display.

Ace crossed her arms.

“Did Brenda know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Does Iris know what is in it?”

“I assume so.”

“You assume?”

“She acquired it.”

“That doesn’t guarantee anything in this city.”

“No.”

Ace looked toward the storage room.

Then back to Mai.

“Where did she get it?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You asked her to find something and didn’t ask where she found it?”

“I trusted her judgment.”

“That makes it sound worse.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Shammy lowered her datapad slightly.

Ace saw the movement.

“You know something.”

“I already told you I don’t.”

“You know why Mai wanted it.”

“No.”

“You know what it’s for.”

“No.”

“You know when she plans to use it.”

Shammy paused.

Ace’s eyes widened.

“That pause.”

“I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“How many different answers I could give without improving your mood.”

Ace pointed at her.

“You are part of this now.”

“I was sitting here.”

“You noticed before I did.”

“That does not make me part of anything.”

“It makes you adjacent.”

“I’m often adjacent to you. It rarely helps.”

Mai made another note.

Ace turned back to her.

“Is it dangerous?”

“No.”

The answer came immediately.

Ace considered it.

“Dangerous to me?”

Mai looked up.

“No.”

“Dangerous to anyone?”

“No.”

“Illegal?”

“No.”

“Expensive?”

Mai paused.

Ace leaned forward.

“That was a pause.”

“I was deciding whether the price is relevant.”

“It is now.”

“It wasn’t especially expensive.”

“That means expensive.”

“It means not especially expensive.”

“By whose standards?”

“Mine.”

“That is not reassuring.”

Mai’s expression remained calm.

Ace began pacing slowly between the couch and the dining table.

“Is it technology?”

“No.”

“A weapon?”

“No.”

“Clothing?”

“No.”

“Equipment?”

Mai considered.

“Not in the way you mean.”

Ace stopped.

“In what way do I mean?”

“The way that would make my answer useful.”

Shammy covered her mouth.

Ace turned.

“You laughed.”

“I coughed.”

“You didn’t.”

“I may have reconsidered.”

Ace looked back at Mai.

“Is it for the Safehouse?”

“Yes.”

That answer changed everything.

Ace’s suspicion sharpened into focus.

“For the Safehouse.”

“Yes.”

“Which part?”

Mai returned her attention to the display.

Ace waited.

Mai scrolled.

Ace waited longer.

Mai finally said, “The part where I need it.”

“That is not a part.”

“It will be.”

Ace stared.

Shammy closed her eyes.

Ace spun toward her.

“You heard that.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And I still don’t know what is in the bag.”

“But now you’re thinking.”

“So are you.”

“Yes, and I don’t like where mine is going.”

“Where is it going?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

Ace walked toward the storage-room door.

Stopped several steps away.

Looked at it.

The bag was on the highest shelf.

At the back.

Behind a tool case.

Mai had made no attempt to lock the door.

That was more suspicious than a lock would have been.

A lock would have been a boundary.

An unlocked door was confidence.

Possibly bait.

Ace turned toward Mai.

“Why the highest shelf?”

“It fit there.”

“There are three lower shelves.”

“They are in use.”

“The highest shelf was in use.”

“I rearranged it.”

“To hide the bag.”

“To store the bag.”

“Behind a tool case.”

“To prevent it from shifting.”

“It’s soft.”

“Parts of it are.”

Ace went still.

Shammy looked at Mai.

Mai did not react.

Ace pointed toward the storage room without taking her eyes off Mai.

“Parts?”

Mai’s expression remained neutral.

“You asked why I secured it.”

“No, I asked why you hid it.”

“I didn’t hide it.”

“You placed another object in front of it.”

“For stability.”

“What inside a fabric bag needs stability?”

Mai looked at her.

“The thing I asked Iris to bring.”

Ace made a sound of pure frustration.

Shammy finally laughed.

Not loudly.

That made it worse.

Ace turned on her.

“You are enjoying this far too much.”

“Yes.”

The honesty stopped Ace for half a second.

“You admit it?”

“I still don’t know what is in the bag.”

“But you’re enjoying not knowing?”

“I’m enjoying you not knowing.”

Ace looked betrayed.

“You are supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side.”

“This does not feel like it.”

“Your side is currently very entertaining.”

Ace folded her arms tighter.

Mai continued working.

The equipment order could not possibly have required this much attention.

Ace knew that.

Mai knew Ace knew that too.

Ace walked back to the couch.

Sat down.

Unmuted the combat-analysis stream.

The presenter was now explaining how the surviving members of the security team should have established a secondary defensive line.

Ace watched for five seconds.

Muted him again.

Shammy glanced over.

Ace kept her eyes on the screen.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You looked.”

“I’m allowed to look.”

“Not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to do something.”

“Are you going to do something?”

“No.”

Shammy returned to the datapad.

Ace watched the stream.

Seven seconds passed.

She looked at the storage-room door.

Then at Mai.

Mai did not look up.

Ace faced the stream again.

The presenter rewound the footage.

Ace paused it.

Her eyes drifted toward the storage room once more.

“What size is it?” she asked.

Mai did not need clarification.

“The bag?”

“The thing.”

“Long.”

Ace slowly looked at her.

“I can see that.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I meant dimensions.”

“I didn’t measure it.”

“Iris did?”

“Probably.”

“Why probably?”

“Because she is thorough.”

Ace leaned back.

“How thorough?”

Mai scrolled through the order list.

Ace waited.

Mai said nothing.

Ace looked at Shammy.

Shammy lifted one shoulder.

Ace resumed staring at Mai.

“What color is it?”

Mai’s fingers stopped.

Ace noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You paused.”

“I was considering the question.”

“That means color matters.”

“It means the question was unexpected.”

“What color is it?”

Mai looked at her for a moment.

Then back to the display.

“You will find out eventually.”

Ace froze.

Shammy’s gaze lifted.

The room became very quiet.

Ace sat forward.

“Eventually.”

“Yes.”

“So I am going to see it.”

Mai did not answer.

Ace’s suspicion shifted again.

Not reduced.

Focused.

“When?”

Mai moved another item on the order.

Ace stood.

“When, Mai?”

Mai looked up.

“When it is relevant.”

“That sounds planned.”

“It is.”

“For what?”

Mai’s expression softened by the smallest degree.

“You will find out.”

Ace stared at her.

There it was.

Not simply an object.

Not simply something for the Safehouse.

A plan.

A plan involving something Iris had acquired in secret, carried personally into the building, and surrendered without discussion.

A plan Mai did not want to explain.

A plan Ace would eventually encounter.

Shammy watched the realization move across Ace’s face.

That was when her smile returned.

Ace saw it.

“You knew that.”

“No.”

“You knew it was for me.”

“I didn’t know until Mai said you would find out.”

Mai looked at Shammy.

Shammy met her eyes.

Another silent exchange.

Ace stood between them.

“Oh, no.”

Neither woman spoke.

“You are doing it again.”

“We are looking at each other,” Shammy said.

“With meaning.”

“Most looking has some meaning.”

“Not that much.”

Mai returned to the equipment order.

Ace pointed toward the storage room.

“Is it for me?”

Mai did not answer immediately.

Ace’s eyes narrowed.

“Mai.”

“It may involve you.”

“That is worse.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then you can’t know it is worse.”

“I know you.”

Mai’s mouth curved very slightly.

Ace saw it.

There.

Not a smile.

Almost one.

The first visible sign that Mai was enjoying any part of this.

Ace slowly sat back down.

“That thing is absolutely for me.”

Shammy looked at the storage-room door.

Ace turned on her.

“Don’t look at it.”

“I was thinking.”

“Stop.”

“That may be difficult.”

Ace stared at the paused combat stream without seeing it.

Minutes passed.

Mai completed the equipment order.

Shammy continued reading.

Ace attempted to watch the analysis.

Every now and then, she glanced toward the storage room.

Once after twenty seconds.

Then after forty.

Then twice in less than a minute.

The bag remained unseen.

Its absence became more visible than its presence had been.

Ace could picture its exact position.

Top shelf.

At the back.

Straps inward.

Tool case in front.

She could retrieve it in seconds.

She did not need the folding step.

Mai knew that.

Which meant the shelf had never been intended to keep Ace away.

It had been intended to make her think about going there.

Ace looked at Mai.

Mai was reviewing the completed order.

Perfectly peaceful.

Ace looked at Shammy.

Shammy was no longer smiling.

That was somehow worse too.

“You know she wants me to look.”

Shammy kept reading.

“Does she?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“So she can be angry.”

“Mai rarely needs to arrange reasons.”

Ace frowned.

“She wants me not to look.”

“That seems more likely.”

“But she knows that makes me want to look.”

“Yes.”

“So by making me want to look and knowing I won’t because she expects me to, she’s making sure I think about it without opening it.”

Shammy slowly raised her eyes.

Ace pointed toward Mai.

“That is manipulation.”

Mai did not look up.

“No,” Shammy said. “That is storage.”

Ace glared at her.

“You are useless.”

“I have been very clear about that.”

Ace stood.

Took three steps toward the storage room.

Stopped.

Mai continued reading.

Ace looked back.

Mai did not move.

Ace faced the door again.

The storage room was unlocked.

No alarm.

No warning.

Nothing.

She took one more step.

Stopped again.

Shammy watched her over the top of the datapad.

Ace turned.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re making it feel observed.”

“You are walking toward a room in which two other people know you are interested.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It seems closely related.”

Ace looked toward Mai.

Mai still had not looked up.

That was the deciding factor.

If Mai had watched her, Ace might have continued.

If Mai had warned her, Ace almost certainly would have.

But Mai’s complete lack of concern suggested one of two possibilities.

Either the bag contained nothing Ace could understand without context.

Or Mai was entirely confident Ace would stop herself.

Ace disliked both.

She backed away from the door.

Returned to the couch.

Sat down.

“No.”

Shammy lowered the datapad.

“No what?”

“I’m not going in there.”

“No one asked you to.”

“That makes it worse.”

“You said that before Iris arrived.”

“It was true then too.”

Mai heard them.

Of course she did.

She did not respond.

Ace restarted the combat-analysis stream.

The presenter had moved on to drone positioning.

Ace watched him draw an incorrect coverage cone over the footage.

Normally, she would have objected immediately.

Instead she looked at the storage-room door.

Then at Mai.

Then at Shammy.

Shammy returned to reading.

Mai finished the order, confirmed the purchase, and closed the display.

She leaned back slightly in her chair.

Across the room, Ace tried to concentrate.

Her eyes drifted toward the storage room again.

Mai saw the glance.

She had seen every one of them.

She did not smile.

Not visibly.

She did not need to.

Iris had returned safely.

Brenda had gone dancing with the woman she had spent most of the afternoon pretending not to wait for.

The thing Mai had requested was exactly what she had been looking for.

It was stored where she wanted it.

And Ace was thinking about it constantly without getting anywhere near the truth.

Everything had gone exactly as planned.