Carmila existed in the spaces between things.
Between the government and the private sector. Between the Vales and the Lothkorvs, both of whom believed she worked for them with a loyalty that was, in fact, distributed more evenly than either of them knew. Between the version of herself that attended charity galas with a glass of champagne and a celebrity on her arm and the version that could make a person entirely reconsider their life choices in a darkened corridor in under sixty seconds.
She was very good at both versions.
The message from Voight had arrived at 4am. She had been awake. She was always awake at 4am, which was a side effect of a decade in government operational work and probably also a personality trait.
Confirmed retrieval order. Active phase. Proceed.
She had read it three times.
