Page 37 of Silent Target

It’s the only way to stay alive when the men hunting you have access to nearly every surveillance system in the country.

Evie unfolds the paper map resting on her lap.

Or tries to.

“People still make these?”

“They don’t need batteries.”

“They’re also impossible to fold.”

“They’re not.”

At a stop sign, I take the crumpled map, fold it twice, and hand it back.

She studies the neat rectangle.

“You’ve practiced that.”

“I was a Boy Scout.”

She laughs. “You were not.”

“No.”

“I knew it.”

“I was worse.”

Her laughter follows us down the road.

I didn’t realize how much I needed the sound until it fades.

My phone vibrates again.

One secure tone.

Fathom.

CALL. NOW.

I place the encrypted earpiece into my ear. “Go.”

“We have a problem.”

“I assumed that.”

“It just got bigger.”

Evie studies the map, pretending not to listen.

She’s listening.

“They hit Langley,” Fathom says.

My grip tightens. “Explain.”

“They’ve started cleaning house. Three analysts are dead.”