Page 144 of Shadowfox

That got his attention.

He leaned against a stall door and crossed his arms, his body language sharp and closed.

“You want to go back,” he said.

“I think we have to.”

“No.” His voice was flat. “We don’t.”

I leaned against a rough wooden beam and hugged my arms around myself for warmth. “Our original order was to extract Farkas and destroy the technology. You remember what Manakin said—‘prevent Soviet advantage at any cost.’”

“I remember,” Egret said. “That’s why we should have burned the lab when we had the chance.”

“Farkas was barely holding it together,” I said. “We didn’t have the manpower, or the time, or—”

“Excuses,” he snapped, too quickly. Then, quieter, he added, “I’m not blaming you. I’m saying it’s not done.”

I took a breath. “What if we don’t destroy it? What if we bring the research back instead?”

Egret turned his head. “Jesus, Will.”

“Think about it,” I pressed. “The machine could change everything. Farkas isn’t just a cryptographer. He’s building something that makes Enigma look like a child’s toy. Do you want to hand that edge to the Soviets without our side having the same tool?”

Egret stared at me. “You want to give it to Washington instead, so both sides can become, what? Rising enemies with the power to listen to everyone and everything? They’ll either beat the shit out of each other or join forces and press their combined weight into the back of an already broken world.”

I didn’t answer. Egret was unusually philosophical—and that bothered me. Was he right?

He walked past me, kicked a loose board in the corner, paced once, twice.

“We are not the moral compass here,” he said. “We’re the cleanup crew. Our job was to stop the Soviets from getting it. That doesn’t mean we get to carry it across the Iron Curtain like a party favor.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No,” he said. “It’s worse . . . because you know what they’ll do with it. You give that machine to your brass, they’ll build ten more. They’ll crack every ally’s code. They’ll watch the British, the French, the UN. And when the next war comes—and it will—they’ll already know the ending. Hell, they’ll write the ending, and who knows if they’ll get it right?”

I rubbed my face, feeling the cold bite at my skin.

“I just don’t want his work to vanish,” I said. “Not after all this.”

“It’s not vanishing right now. Uncle Joe has it. That’s got to be our priority. I say we go back and destroy the damned thing, then get the hell out of this country.” Egret’s voice softened. “His daughter’s alive. She’s his legacy. The rest? It’s just wires and brass and blood.”

We stood in silence for a long time, the wind whistling through the cracks in the wood like it was trying to speak to us.

“We need to decide,” I said. “Before we cross the border . . . before we leave them to cross.”

“I say it’s you and me. Just us. The others cross.” Egret unfolded his arms and pushed off from the door to stand near me, as though what he would say required closeness. “Condor is too weak. Farkas and Eszter are obviously out. Sparrow . . .” He blinked a few times. “I just can’t . . . she can’t—”

I reached up and squeezed his arm, one of the few times I could remember ever touching him. “Sparrow goes with them. Agreed.”

His head lolled like some string holding it up had just been cut, and I felt his breath as he sucked air in. For a moment, I thought the big man actually trembled beneath my touch. Then he looked up, nodded once, and stepped back, letting my hand drop away as if it had never been there.

“They’re going to argue about this, you know?” I whispered, more to myself than him.

He grunted. “That’s an understatement. Sparrow still has fingernails. I bet I’m bleeding before we leave them behind.”

Despite it all, I chuckled.

“Do we even raise this with them?”

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