Chapter 15

Aiden

Aiden shut the door without another word and moved toward the couch, unable to take his eyes off the seal. He sat down, took a deep breath, and then opened the envelope. It held a small piece of paper reading: Perhaps there are supernatural forces in the world we can’t rule out after all. —CK. Below that was the address of a hotel across town and a room number. Aiden felt his mouth go dry. He closed his eyes. This had to be a trick. There was no way—not after four years—that this could be real.

One way to find out, said Magnus.

Aiden opened his eyes and sprang up from the couch. He made the effort to find dry clothes but did little else to improve his disheveled state. Five minutes and two shots of courage bourbon later, he was out the door, on his way to the hotel in the note.

He knew the place. It was owned by one of the older families, one that held a fairly neutral position. That was a nice perk for guests not wanting to be woken by or shot in middle-of-the-night raids. The downstairs lobby and bar still held plenty of vices, prostitutes and dealers available to make visits that much more enjoyable.

The room in question was on the third floor. The part of Aiden that was still certain this must be some kind of joke or death trap fell silent when he cleared the stairs and saw uniformed RUSA*es soldiers in gray and maroon standing at attention outside a cluster of doors. He came to a halt, wondering if perhaps he shouldn’t rule out a death trap after all. But none of them shot at or even assaulted him, though their eyes followed his every move. He reached the door in the note, hesitating in front of the soldier.

“I’m Aiden Perez, here to see…Camille Kimora.” Surely there was no other CK the note could’ve been referring to. The soldier gave a curt nod and knocked. Someone called an invitation to enter from within. He disappeared inside for a few seconds and then returned to wave Aiden in.

With no more hesitation, Aiden plunged forward, ready to face whatever it was that waited for him. He stepped past the soldier and found who he’d both hoped and dreaded to see: Camille Kimora, his old boss, complete with boring clothing and a bad dye job. She looked exactly the same as she had the day she’d told him his last report was unacceptable and that she was “sorry things have to end this way.” His military escort had arrived soon thereafter.

They were in the living room of a suite, and she rose from her chair with a smile Aiden knew with absolute certainty was faked.

“Aiden,” she said. “I’m so happy to see you again.” That too was a lie, and he returned it in kind as he kissed her cheek.

“Likewise.” His brain was screaming with a thousand questions, and he had to fight down the urge to grab hold of her and demand an explanation for what had happened to his life. Instead, he put on the same pleasant face he’d have worn if they were friends catching up after a few months apart. It was the same face he used to interrogate cults and learn their inner workings. “You’re just as lovely as always. Do you want to get out and see some sights? I’d be happy to show you around.”

Her smile tightened, showing how unfunny she found him. “Just as droll as ever. Please, have a seat so we can talk.” No pleasantries here. It was nice to know some things hadn’t changed. She glanced over at the soldier who’d let Aiden in. “Go fetch the others.”

Aiden took the offered chair, which was one of four set up at a round wooden table. A wall near it displayed a large portable screen Camille's entourage had brought along. Aiden felt the same pang of longing for it as he had Nora’s ego. It was thin and light, with crystal-clear visuals and all of its hardware contained within itself. No need for a separate computer. The Panamanians had no technology to match that. Their computers always seemed clumsy and unwieldy to Aiden, not to mention slow and unreliable.

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