The armored car moved through a desolate industrial park on the outskirts of the city, finally stopping before a drab, windowless warehouse.
Alyssa stepped out. She faced a heavy steel door, placing her eye against a scanner. A soft chime, a fingerprint scan, and the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss.
The inside was not a warehouse.
It was a cavernous, futuristic loft. A wall of glass looked out over the distant city lights. Another wall was covered in humming server racks.
She shrugged off her damp, cheap hoodie. Underneath, she wore a tactical vest and cargo pants. The student was gone. The soldier remained.
She walked into a stark white laboratory, a space filled with gleaming, state-of-the-art medical and bio-engineering equipment.
A life-sized holographic image of a woman in a sharp suit flickered to life in the center of the room.
"Doctor," the hologram, Helena Mercer, said with a respectful nod. "The acquisition plan for the Pollard Group is in motion. Also, you have two new A-level priority requests in your encrypted inbox."
Alyssa poured herself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light from the servers. She gestured for Helena to continue.
Helena brought up the first file. "From the Summers Group. A five-million-dollar reward for locating their family heir, missing for eighteen years. They've provided a partial DNA sequence."
Alyssa glanced at the name on the screen. Summers. It felt like looking at a word in a foreign language.
She took a sip of whiskey. "I'm not in the business of finding lost children. Reject it."
Helena didn't seem surprised. She pulled up the second file.
"From Dalton Kelley. Founder of Kelley Capital. He's seeking a treatment for his sister, Tansy Kelley. She has a rare genetic disorder, Caden-Riley Syndrome. He's offering ten million dollars. No upper limit."
Tansy's medical chart appeared on the screen, next to a photo of Dalton Kelley. It was a face from the cover of business magazines-cold, severe, and brutally handsome. The Wolf of Wall Street.
Alyssa's fingers traced a line over the screen, pulling up a deeper layer of genetic mapping.
A flicker of professional interest sparked in her eyes. "Caden-Riley... an interesting mutation. My third-generation gene stabilizer could use the clinical data."
"So, we accept the contract?" Helena asked.
"Reply to Dalton Kelley," Alyssa said. "Tell him 'The Surgeon' has accepted. Have him arrange a medical consultation at the Grand Hyatt tomorrow. I'll be there."
"Under what identity? Dr. Clarke?"
Alyssa's gaze fell on a closet, where a few plain T-shirts and pairs of jeans hung. The uniform of her old life. "No. I'll go as Alyssa Clarke."
Helena hesitated. "Doctor... that identity's background. It could cause... unnecessary complications."
"Complications are the best kind of filter," Alyssa said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I need to see if this titan of Wall Street has the sense to see value past the packaging."
She swiped a hand, and the hologram vanished. She walked to the massive window, looking out at the night. She needed a source of clean capital, untraceable to any of her other identities, to fund a new project. Dalton Kelley's money was perfect.
From a drawer, she pulled out a scuffed charger for an electric scooter and plugged it into a wall socket.
The scooter itself was parked by the door, a ridiculous, mundane object in this fortress of high technology.
In the Summers command center, an update came through.
"Sir, the top private agencies have all rejected the commission. Including the anonymous operative known as 'The Surgeon'."
Cassius Summers frowned, but only for a moment. "It doesn't matter. We'll find her ourselves. Tell Harrison and Jeffrey to get ready. They fly to the West Coast tomorrow."
He stared at the blurry, outdated student photo of Alyssa on the screen. His eyes were filled with a lifetime of hope and a will of iron.
