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What the hell is going on at the Sydney office?!

Despite his better judgment, he leapt to his feet and burst forward, chair and all, and aimed a solid kick straight at Anne’s midsection.

It was a stupid, impulsive move to make against an opponent as experienced and cold-blooded as Anne, and it was with a complete lack of surprise that Robb found himself slammed to the floor, his wrists crunching between the metal of the chair and the hard floor.

“Mr. Lockwood,” Anne sighed sadly as she loomed above him, before she righted both him and the chair with a flick of her foot. “This kind of behavior just won’t do. What will the investors think, if they see us fighting amongst ourselves?”

“I’m not one of you!” Robb snapped, his usual calm demeanor cracking. “I’ll never be one of you.”

Anne sniffed. “It’s a shame you feel that way,” she said. “But I think you’ll change your mind.”

At that moment the door unlocked once more, and Robb looked around to get an idea of what he’d be up against in Bruce.

But there was nothing. The doorway was empty.

Look down, the dingo hissed.

Robb did so.

He blinked.

He looked again.

Oh. Well, I suppose that’s Bruce.

In the bottom of the doorway stood a lyrebird, its magnificent brown and silver tail feathers curling gently away from its body.

It was quite beautiful. It was completely out of place. And, apparently, it was Hargreaves’s secret weapon.

Robb knew better than to underestimate his opponents – after all, he’d known plenty of shifters with non-threatening shifter forms who had nevertheless been able to use those forms to defeat bigger foes. But a lyrebird had been pretty much at the bottom of his list, and, given everything that was going on, his brain was taking a moment to catch up.

“There you are, Bruce,” Anne chided as the lyrebird fluttered onto a chair with some difficulty, then up onto the table. “What took you so long? No – never mind,” she went on, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to hear excuses. Just do what you’ve been brought here to do.”

She raised the phone, then paused. “Wait,” she said, before turning towards Robb. “I don’t want you ruining this.”

Striding with brisk efficiency to a cupboard in the corner, she pulled out a roll of heavy duty duct tape and then brought it back to where Robb was seated, expertly tearing off several strips and plastering them over Robb’s mouth. Almost as an afterthought, she taped Robb’s legs to the legs of the chair.

“There,” she said, with obvious satisfaction. “Now you may proceed, Bruce.”

Robb struggled, watching on helplessly as Anne dialed a number into Robb’s phone, then held it up to Bruce the lyrebird’s tiny avian head.

And suddenly, everything fell horribly into place.

Lyrebirds were incredible mimics – car alarms, chainsaws, bicycle bells, musical instruments, birdsongs, other animals – they collected sounds and added them to their repertoire of calls with shocking accuracy. They could make themselves sound like pretty much anything.

Or anyone.

That call from Euan I got at the conference that he swore he didn’t make. It wasn’t some kind of voice tech. It was a shifter all along.

And now, they were going to call his team and pretend to be him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He struggled wildly against his bonds, but it was no good. Even if he somehow managed to get his legs free, Anne had already shown that she could easily defeat him while he was cuffed to the chair.

He waited, heart in his mouth, as he listened to the ringing of an outgoing call.

Don’t pick up, he thought desperately. Whichever one of you is on the other end, don’t pick up. It’s not me.

“Hello?”