THE SABLE SPY | TWENTY-THREE

  "FIVE MINUTES," TYLER MUTTERED into her ear, the two of them crouching behind the large amount of foliage in Norman Hightower's garden. In five minutes, the two guards patrolling the back of the house would go past them and back inside, before passing out from the front door to leave their shift. They had decided to strike when the day guard switched to the night, as it was the only time Hightower was left without guard. Extraordinarily paranoid, this painter, though considering what was about to happen to him, it was well-founded paranoia. The two who guarded this place at night were brothers, and lived near each other. They would arrive five minutes after these men leave.

Or perhaps ten. Maybe twenty, since they would find their horses stolen and have to get one somewhere else. Maybe when they went home that day, they'd find the missing horses back safely in its stables.

That was Benjamin and Sterling. Both of them displayed an uncanny amount of talent for stealing and returning horses. Cass felt like she should be concerned.

She could spot the guards now. The houses on this block were large, and so were the gardens. Besides, their artist seemed to be a devoted gardener, or at least happily spent a lot of money on it. The guards were making their final perimeter check. They had chosen this spot after a few hours of observations. They never glanced here, not once in the hours of patrolling. Tragic, really, it was a very good hiding spot.

"Three," she muttered back after a few minutes had passed. "Get ready."

Marcus would be scaling the tree that offered a perfect path into the upper floor's window. Maybe he was already on it. Luke, with the letter, was walking towards the house a few streets away. He'd pretend to be a messenger. Hightower would not believe it. He had no great-aunt, after all, but the confusion would be enough for the two of them to sneak in, knock him unconscious or bind him and take him away. If someone came, Marcus, from his perch, would signal them to run.

"Two. Your lockpick?"

Cass patted her thigh, where she had strapped the little bag holding her kit. Tyler's eyes narrowed, and the two of them pressed back against the bush, being as quiet as possible as the two guards walked by. Both of them were too clever to pause their breathing, but they slowed it.

The door clicked open, and a moment later, the two guards were inside. Both of them remained still. Cass kept her eyes on the door and for any movements within the house, Tyler's eyes had turned to the tree Marcus was in, awaiting his signal.

One... two... three...

She heard the whistle. Anyone else would have just thought it was a bird. She knew better. That was Marcus telling them that the guards were preparing to leave. A moment later, she heard the rustling of a branch. Tyler jerked his head over. That was Marcus telling them that the guards had left. It was time to strike.

Cass shot out of the bushes, steady-footed but quiet. She took out her lockpick and made quick work of the lock on the back door. It swung open, and Cass caught it before the door hit the wall. The joints were well-oiled. Hightower was making this easy for them. Tyler slid past her, leaving her to put the door back in place with a silent click.

The house was built in the same style as the one across the street they had used. Hightower was upstairs doing whatever. For now, they'd have to find a spot to hide themselves where they wouldn't be spotted. Tyler fit himself between two shelves. Cass wedged herself under the stairs. She couldn't see the door, but Tyler could, and she could see the dark-skinned boy.

Any second now. She could hear steps. Luke was being purposefully loud so that they knew where he was.

There was a loud knock on the door. Luke was humming something now. Upstairs, there was a racket as the sound of footsteps neared. Then Hightower was stomping down the stairs, flinging open the door. Cass had thought she had to rely on Tyler to know when to strike. Turns out Norman Hightower was loud enough for both of them. Tyler met Cass's eyes, and she flipped out a small dagger from the many sheathed on her corset, clutching it in her gloved left hand. Tyler would bind him, but it was Cass's job to keep him quiet and still for that.

Luke was no hulking beast, but he'd be enough to hide the scene if someone walked by and there was no time to hide.

"I gave you two my key—" Hightower stopped dead in his tracks, blinking.

She didn't need to see the scene to know what was happening. Luke was probably smiling pleasantly as he said, "I'm your great-aunt's man-of-business. She instructed me to give you this letter."

"No you're not." Hightower sounded baffled. Tyler was ready to strike, and so was she. "I don't have a great-aunt. Wait, I recognise you! You're Lucius Fitzwilliam! Viscount Fitzwilliam's fourth—"

Fuck. Well, they hadn't expected to be busted through that, but they should have. No time to waste. Cass was out of the stairs in a flash, her blade flashing silver as she flipped it to a hammer grip, clamped down on his mouth with her gloved hand and placed the knife on his neck, letting the sharp edge kiss his throat, kneeing him once in the back so that he arched into her grip.

In his ear, she whispered, "I'd stay quiet if I were you."

She took a step back. Hightower, his complaints and quiverings muffled, followed. Luke grinned. "A bit slower than usual."

She ignored him as he shut the door and yanked the curtains closed, tearing open the envelope of the letter and tossing its content out, creasing the paper slightly to make it seem read before placing it on one of the tables. Tyler, expertly, bounded Hightower's hands together. When he brought out the scarf he intended to use as a gag, Cass pressed the blade harder.

"I'm going to take away my hand, and if you make even the slightest sound, your life is forfeit. Do you understand?"

She felt the faint nod in her muscles, and carefully removed her hand. Tyler was on him in a flash, and then he was gagged. She didn't release her grasp on his body, not until he had tied his legs and had to tie his arms as well.

Luke walked over to a window on the side. Opened it, and then shut it. Did it again. That was a message for Marcus. We got him. Now they just had to sneak him out. Easier said than done, especially in a lived-in neighbour in the middle of the day.

Marcus was on the lookout, waiting to see if anyone was watching. If no one was, they'd sneak back into the back garden and haul the man over the fence and into the hackney they had kept there. Benjamin was waiting there.

Luke hadn't moved from the window, still waiting for the signal, so Cass regarded the artist. The man had red hair, his skin tanned. His body was not lean, but one of a pampered, spoiled aristocrat. Though he wasn't exactly one. He certainly lived like one, though.

"Do you know," she began, "there are few things more dangerous than committing treason during wartime?"

Hightower paled. So not ignorant of his actions, then. Tyler, besides her, tilted his head. "Well, that's already a confession. Saves a lot of time."

Luke held up a hand. "Now." Tyler threw the man over his shoulder, and Luke and Cass flanked him. They went to the back, into the kitchen, and threw open the door. Luke raised his hand again, stopping them, glancing around to make sure it was clear. When he had done his own survey, he gave them a nod. Tyler walked out. Cass followed. Luke shut the door behind them. He'd go and take some of the man's clothes and living things to make it seem more real before leaving from the front door, the way he came.

Tyler and Cass took the stone paths to avoid footsteps in the garden ground. There was a rustle in the trees as Marcus shimmered down, as quick as a squirrel. Cass didn't glance in his direction, only pushed aside foliages for Tyler to have an easier time. Hightower was squirming like an idiot. Behind them, Marcus made sure they didn't leave any evidence, placing branches and dirt where she had removed them. They'd leave the garden the exact same as before they had come.

Benjamin hopped off the couch, running over. Cass flipped herself over the fence with the grace of an acrobat as Tyler passed him over. The two of them carefully took a few steps back as Tyler climbed over as well. Marcus followed a moment later. Without a word said, they opened the carriage door and placed him inside. Benjamin climbed back onto the driver's perch, and Tyler followed. Marcus and Cass would guard the prisoner in the coach.

They climbed in. Marcus knocked against the roof from his spot on the other end of the coach, and they began moving. The carriage curtains were closed. Marcus inspected Hightower with a raised brow, probably learning many things in the process.

"Well, that was easy." He finally said, cracking his knuckles.

"We have been dealing with trained spies and killers for far too long," Cass agreed. "Even my own traitorous businessman was harder to capture than that."

Hightower wiggled, trying to speak, so Cass jammed her feet into his leg. Not hard enough to break anything, but enough to hurt. A warning. He stopped moving. At least he showed talent for self-preservation. That was always admirable. Though then again he was committing treason for money, so perhaps not.

"The government would be pleased." Every word they were saying would be taken in and absorbed by Hightower, so they picked their words carefully. They would not tell him more than they wanted to, but they would reveal enough for him to feel more fear. A scared man was always easier to break. "They have been anxious in hunting this mole."

"The quicker this business is solved the better. The Meliqueans and their moles are a plague." Cass pulled off her gloves, which probably had saliva all over them. She'd have to wash them carefully later. "Our next target?"

"Not in front of him." Marcus jabbed his finger in Hightower's direction. "This is a nice day for us, I think. We're emptying a nest of snakes."

That was a lie, of course. Hightower was the only target. Not that he knew it. Let him think they already knew everything. It made it easier for him to slip up. "Unsavoury business for a pleasant finish. Only idiots would commit treason so uncarefully. The Arecian government would make sure they hang, if the Meliqueans do not come and finish up them first. Treason is like being unfaithful to a lover. If a man is unfaithful to his wife with you, he will be unfaithful to you as well. Such a person is not to be trusted. A simple logic the Meliqueans understand very well, would you not agree?"

Carefully, bit by bit, they were spreading fear into the heart of Norman Hightower. If his face had turned pale before, it was ghost-white now. He looked pathetic. She did not turn to look at him. She saw enough from the corner of her eye. This was part of the interrogation as well, even if he did not realise. His reactions were being noted.

"Of course. Traitors resting within the heart of the government and haut ton, my god. Are aristocrats these days that bored?"

There was no point in giving either of them a false identity. Hightower would either be thrown into a cell or killed. He would not talk. "I do not know, as I do not enjoy mingling with your Arecian ton. In Asayama, us Saian exiles dutifully keep to ourselves instead of betraying our country to foreigners for money. Perhaps things are done differently here."

Ha, lies. Hua Jueying was evidence of that.

"They shouldn't be."

Besides her, Hightower was trying to wiggle out of his bonds again. Cass gave him a firm tap on the shoulder, tugging at her corset, which was outfitted with four very sharp blades, one she had used on him mere minutes before. He quieted again. She turned her eyes to Marcus.

"The hot pokers, do you think? Or the knives?"

"Five pounds he breaks before we take anything out." Marcus's voice was more suitable for discussing the weather.

"I will not take that bet, I think. I am not that sha." She used Saian, because they knew that there was a Saian mole as well. Let him think the Saians and Arecians were working together to capture the spies the Meliqueans had installed in their countries. It would frighten him, which was exactly their intention.

✴

"I SWEAR I KNOW nothing about this," was the first words that came out of his mouth when Norman Hightower was placed in a room and his gag was removed.

Cass frowned. "I do not believe I've ever seen a worse liar. Astonishing."

"You have met your fair share of liars, haven't you?"

Cadieux wasn't down yet. Benjamin stoked up a fire in the corner. Tyler tied their captive down onto the chair. Marcus walked around and did little things to make himself useful, while she chatted indirectly with the painter. This was all planned, all rehearsed. They each knew their roles. Tyler played the dark-skinned brute, which a pampered idiot like Hightower would all too easily believe. Funny, because Tyler was anything but. Benjamin was the servant boy, the errand boy, the spy in training, even though he had graduated long before. She and Marcus were the trained spies, the ones Hightower would think to be aware of.

Luke had not returned yet. That was unsurprising. He's going to have to ride with Hightower's horse, and she didn't think the man had it in him to pick a good, decent one. She did not have a lot of faith in the judgment of a painter who commits treason so clumsily.

"I have been in this game since I was twelve, and even before that. I have met millions of liars, good or bad. This somehow manages to be the worst." She scoffed. Flaunt her experience, show just how much trouble the man was in.

"Please. I'm innocent!"

Five minutes and he was already resorting to begging. Cass wanted to laugh, but she resisted the urge to do so and studied him very carefully. Then she turned away and headed towards the door. "I'll hurry Cadieux."

Hightower's face paled even more, which she had not thought was possible. So he had been warned about Cadieux, then.

"You go do that," Marcus agreed. "I'll keep our new friend company. Benjamin, go wash your hands, they're all dirty."

He glared and did just that.

By the time Cadieux had finally come down, Hightower was already crying. Cadieux said, "Mon Dieu, I told you children to be careful with him."

"Your exact words were, 'he's a fragile vase'. We chose to not handle him like a fragile vase." That was Tyler, who had finally deigned to speak. "We didn't even do anything that bad."

"Just hold a knife to his throat. And that was me."

The man ignored him and told their captive, "I'd be honest now if I were you. You have no idea how much we know. If you're helpful and cooperative enough, I might be able to get you transportation instead of life in a cell or even hanging. I can pull a few strings."

Hightower was shaking.

"You berate us for scaring him and look at what you've done to him now," Cass huffed. "I suppose it is all right for you because you are old?" She crossed her arms, leaning against the door, reverting back to the silent observer.

"Not that old, child. Either way. Mr Hightower, I think you know why I'm here."

He shook his head frantically. Still in denial. Tyler visibly rolled his eyes, and Marcus just looked grimly amused. She herself schooled her features into complete unreadability.

"It is clever, I admit," Cadieux continued, "who would suspect the paintings?" Everyone, of course. It was the oldest trick in the book. But this was not a room where truths were spoken. They were all liars here. "Why work for the Meliqueans? Is it really just for money?"

This time, he was hesitant in his reply, waiting a few seconds before shaking his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. Please."

"I think you do. Your man in the Foreign Relations department came to you, didn't he? Offered you money. Riches. All you had to do was smuggle out messages with your paintings. Sounded simple enough. But you had to realise what he was doing, when all your paintings were being sent to Vayante, which is partially under Meliquean control and is filled to the brim with their spies and soldiers and agents. But you're a man who enjoys the fine parts of life, so you decided to continue onwards anyways."

What Cadieux was doing was dissecting the man's soul right in front of him, bit by bit, one by one. It was an admirable talent. She would master it someday.

"Do you know the name of the man you're actually working for? I'll tell you. His name is Anthony Contreras. He is head of the Meliquean Secret Police. A man of infinite cunning and extreme ruthlessness. I admire him greatly."

"Please."

"Will you cooperate now, Mr Hightower? The Meliqueans would know in two days your cover has been blown. Your man inside Foreign Relations is packing and preparing to flee this very moment, and my agents have already set a trap for him. Tell us what you know."

They could all see the moment he broke. He started sputtering words out like a broken dam. The first few minutes were all gibberish, as he was too stressed to come up with something sensical. Finally, he said, "I just smuggle. That's all I know."

"Tell us where you smuggle them."

"Most of the messages go to Vayante, like you said." His voice was wobbly. He looked and acted pathetic, but at least he was making himself useful now. "Occasionally to Lohia," he glanced at Tyler, who had all the features of a Lohian, "and some to Sai. The Bone Court."

"Who?" She demanded, stepping forward.

"They have a man at the port. All the paintings go to him, and he sends them on their way. I don't know anything."

Cass growled in frustration. "He's telling the truth."

"We'll find something from him." Cadieux, with all the slyness of a fox, stood up and tilted his head. "Get Georgie to bring him some food. Get Benjamin to watch him. The rest of you, go clean yourselves up and meet me at the library. We have your next assignments to discuss."

✴

"IT'S A FEASIBLE PLAN," Tyler said when Marcus and Cass told them of their realisation that the safest way to retrieve their friends was by getting Hua to do it for them. "Saves us a damn lot of work. With five or six of us, we can easily ambush whatever carriage or transportation he uses to whisk them away.

"And if he expects it?" Cadieux questions, tilting his head.

"Then we don't exactly have a choice. Full-on frontal assault. Maybe set the Watch on them. Either way, we can retrieve them. This is just easier and far less bloody. And I'm trying to avoid the situation where Ciri and Laurence genuinely manage to escape on their own and wring our necks for being incompetent." Neither Cadieux nor Tyler seemed enthusiastic about involving the Watch in anything. That was an oversight on Marcus's part. The Watch wasn't fond of the dark-skinned immigrants running around Arecia, and those people understandably returned the sentiment. Marcus rubbed his forehead. "We'll just show ourselves scouting the area. Maybe fumble with the outside lock a bit, just to make it obvious. It'll freak him out and he'll run."

"He's not ready to." That was Luke, who just walked in. "You all heard what Brickley discovered in Gira." Brickley was the man they had sent around to collect information on Hua Jueying's finances.

Cadieux glanced at him. "Hightower?"

"Took his horse, a few nice clothes, some money and the note Georgie had forged. Not that anyone with two brain cells would believe it, of course."

"Good thing those people seem so rare these days," Cass said. "You will capture your Meliquean spy in Arecia. Perhaps I will pass on the information regarding the Saian to Lady Kuroki. Maybe I will go myself. Sai is only a few days away, after all."

Marcus did not seem to be fond of that idea. He did not say it aloud, of course, but she could read it in his body language. He was sufficiently annoyed.

"I'd give Hua Jueying two days after realising we know exactly where he's keeping them to find a nice spot to move them to. We'll do what we did with Hightower today. There has to be someone nearby who's scared enough of the authorities to let us use their apartment with a little bit of money." Luke walked towards a chair and sat down.

Cadieux said, "I'll send Benjamin out to see what could be arranged."

"This is easy." That was Tyler. "Why didn't we think of this earlier?"

"It has not yet been a week. And we have been busy." Cass had pulled down her hair, and was now twirling a strand around with a finger subconsciously. "And I suppose a part of us was truly expecting the two of them to find their way out themselves. Evidence that the place they are being kept in is not easy to escape, yes?"

"Busy. That's us." That was Marcus, sardonic and sullen, placing down a cup of tea. "What are you going to do with Hightower?"

"I promised him I'll try to find him transportation instead. I stick by my bloody promises," Cadieux gave an insouciant shrug. "We'll keep him here for a few more days, see if he reveals anything else."

"You think he's hiding something?"

"I think he's in so much shock from you threatening to slit his throat with all the nonchalance of a woman buying from the markets to remember the details of his treason. Let him compose himself. Georgie will be a dictatorial tyrant as usual and force him to eat whatever porridge she has deemed good enough for our snivelling painter."

"I saw on the way upstairs," Marcus said. "It looked disgusting." Georgiana could be a great cook when she wanted to be, like for the celebration of Cadieux's engagement. But when she wanted to, she could truly brew the most disgusting of stews.

"Good." Cadieux could be a cold-hearted bastard when he wanted to be. Positively sadistic. "He will try to reason with Benjamin, try to get him to set him free. It would not work."

"Of course not."

"Eventually he will realise that there is no way out and tell us everything we need to know. Then we hand him to the authorities."

"A perfect plan." Cass stirred her own tea. "Ciri and Laurence?"

"Tomorrow night," Cadieux said. "When the White Mole is busy. Mess with the locks, let his men see you snooping around. Then we wait."

The trap was set, the ambush was laid. Now, they just had to wait for Hua Jueying to run headfirst into it.