She grabbed her weapon.
“This ends there.”
Chapter Twelve
The clinic was dark except for one room on the second floor.
Elena entered with Grace and a tactical team.
No sirens.
No lights.
They climbed the stairwell.
At the top, a woman’s voice called from inside the room.
“Send the team away, Admiral.”
Elena stopped.
Grace’s breathing changed.
She knew the voice.
Even after twenty-seven years.
“Mom?”
Silence.
Then:
“Hello, Gracie.”
Grace nearly collapsed.
Elena caught her shoulder.
The tactical commander whispered, “Orders?”
Elena thought.
Then holstered her weapon.
“Stay here.”
Grace grabbed her arm.
“You’re not going in alone.”
“I’m not.”
They entered together.
The room looked like an old therapy office.
Two chairs.
Desk.
Lamp.
A woman sat near the window.
Fifty-something by appearance.
Perhaps seventy in reality.
Gray-black hair.
Green eyes.
Thin face.
Small scar beside her eyebrow.
Grace stopped.
Tears filled her eyes instantly.
The woman smiled.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Grace’s voice shattered.
“You died.”
Evelyn Shaw tilted her head.
“No.”
“You died.”
“I left.”
“You let me bury you.”
“Yes.”
Grace crossed the room and struck her.
One open-handed slap.
Sharp.
Evelyn absorbed it without moving.
Grace stood trembling.
“Twenty-seven years.”
“I know.”
“You let me think you were dead.”
“I protected you.”
Grace laughed through tears.
“Don’t you dare.”
Elena watched Evelyn.
No guilt.
Not the kind normal people showed.
Interest.
Observation.
Even now, she was studying Grace’s reaction.
“You’re still doing it,” Elena said.
Evelyn looked at her.
“Doing what?”
“Collecting data.”
A faint smile.
“David always said you were quick.”
Elena’s chest tightened.
“You knew him.”
“Very well.”
“Is he dead?”
Grace looked between them.
Evelyn said nothing.
Elena stepped closer.
“Is David dead?”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt.
But not as much as uncertainty.
Elena breathed once.
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Evelyn’s gaze shifted toward Grace.
Grace’s face changed.
“No.”
Elena turned.
Evelyn spoke gently.
“Your father.”
Grace backed away.
“No.”
“Andrew ordered the helicopter sabotage.”
“No.”
“He believed David would expose everything.”
Grace shook her head violently.
“You’re lying.”
“Your father was brilliant and frightened. A dangerous combination.”
Grace stared at her mother.
“You were worse.”
Evelyn smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
That answer silenced everyone.
Elena stood across from her.
“Why resurrect Nightglass?”
“Resurrect?”
Evelyn almost laughed.
“Admiral, Nightglass never stopped.”
Elena’s jaw tightened.
“We changed names.”
“Who is Rodriguez?”
“One of many.”
“He worked for you.”
“He worked for an idea.”
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
“Alive?”
“For now.”
Elena hated the calmness in her voice.
“Hammer?”
“An ideal subject.”
“Holloway, Beck, Cho?”
“Accidents of curiosity.”
“Three people nearly died.”
Evelyn’s face became thoughtful.
“Yes.”
No remorse.
Grace looked disgusted.
“You used me.”
“From the beginning.”
Grace flinched as if physically struck.
Evelyn continued.
“Your Nightglass assessment at twenty-six was not random.”
“You selected me?”
“Yes.”
“Your own daughter?”
“You were perfect.”
Grace began crying again.
Elena stepped between them.
“What did you want from me?”
Evelyn’s eyes brightened.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The right question.”
She stood.
Tactical officers in the hall shifted.
Evelyn ignored them.
“Nightglass has always had one weakness.”
“Which is?”
“The data becomes less accurate around people with unusual self-awareness.”
Elena almost smiled.
“You tortured thousands of people because your model had statistical problems?”
“We studied pressure.”
“You destroyed lives.”
“We learned.”
Elena’s voice dropped.
“Why me?”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“Because you were the last test.”
Grace stared.
Evelyn continued.
“Brock Hammer was chosen years ago.”
“He was planted here?”
“No. That would contaminate the study.”
“Then?”
“We simply placed opportunities in front of the kind of man he already was.”
Elena understood.
No one created Hammer’s cruelty.
They encouraged it.
Rewarded it.
Directed it.
That made the program even uglier.
“The three suicide attempts?”
“Unplanned.”
“You’re lying.”
“No. They were supposed to resign, fail, transfer.”
Evelyn’s expression hardened slightly.
“Human beings remain inconveniently unpredictable.”
Elena wanted to hit her.
Instead she asked, “Rodriguez?”
“He was assigned to guide the system.”
“And me?”
“We needed someone powerful enough to dismantle Ironwood after discovering it.”
Elena froze.
Grace did too.
“What?”
Evelyn smiled.
“You think I was trying to preserve Nightglass?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Elena stared.
“The opposite.”
Evelyn walked toward the desk and pressed a button.
A wall monitor illuminated.
Thousands of files appeared.
Names.
Dates.
Facilities.
Locations across the world.
Not one Nightglass site.
Dozens.
Evelyn looked at Elena.
“I have spent twenty-seven years trying to kill my own creation.”
Grace whispered, “What?”
Evelyn’s face finally changed.
For the first time, the clinical detachment fractured.
“I created the architecture.”
She looked at her daughter.
“Then powerful men took it from me.”
“So you disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“You abandoned me.”
“Yes.”
Tears entered Evelyn’s eyes.
“And every day since, I have known there is no apology large enough to justify that.”
Grace turned away.
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