“My Father's going to be in Geneva!?” I spat uncomfortably as the words fell from my mouth, echoing throughout the sleekly hollow base beneath Rome.

  “That's the gist of it,” Elliott said, re-affixing his slender glass frames upon his wide face. “Our intel says that he's going to make a grand statement next week to UN members about wrongdoings, but hasn't leaked any of the information he intends to share yet.”

  “He's in danger then,” I said, feeling tightness gripping my chest. “Exodus wanted me to talk him out of exposing certain people...and activities. He doesn't stand a chance if we can't get to him in time!”

  “You intend to talk him out of it?” Elliott asked confusedly.

  “No, I just need to get to him, to protect him! We know what these people are capable of. This whole operation has been because of him, and these supposed involvements he's had. I have to save him...and then...maybe then he can make things right...” I wrung my hands together, “If what they say is true.”

  “No one's against that,” Elliott affirmed, glancing back at a tensely hovering Jack lingering behind me. “Beckman said that he needed Jack on a different mission though, and you should stay safely here.”

  “What about anyone else?” I hissed, “there's other people here. Where is Beckman?”

  “Predisposed somewhere, I assume,” Elliott sighed. “Just wanted me to pass along the news.”

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  “This is ridiculous!” I shouted, slamming my hand ineffectually against the glass wall with painful slap. “Oww,” I moaned rubbing my hand. “He's gonna let my father die...” my face scrunched in frustration, “we'll I'm not letting it happen.”

  A hand fell upon my shoulder. “Not alone,” Jack nodded.

  “That won't go over well with Beckman,” Elliott chided, “could be grounds for charges.”

  “Charges for protecting an asset,” Jack side-eyed me, “I think not. Besides, I'd rather stand my ground for something right...” Jack turned to me and offered warmth. “Someone right.”

  I smiled awkwardly, taking in all the events that had attacked my senses so rapidly. “When's Beckman coming back?” I cut in.

  “Can't say,” Elliott said, shuffling papers idly in his hands. “Said he was going to be out of the country for a little bit, handling matters up the line. Could be gone for a week...could be back tomorrow...who knows?” He shrugged. “Every other agent is on mission as well.”

  “Good enough for me,” Jack grinned. “Tell him I'm out doing recon for my mission.”

  “That might fly for you, but what's Ari's story?” Elliott questioned, turning to me.

  “I slipped out,” I said, after a moment in thought, “went to stay with a new friend for a few days.”

  Elliott took in a deep and anxious breath before letting it flow out with acceptance. “Alright,” he nodded, “I'll do it, but you better make it look good for the cameras and such,” he wagged his finger like a scolding schoolteacher, “I'm a rule-follower, I don't get in trouble.”

  “Not for much longer,” Jack grinned, “bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do,” he started singing. “Whatcha gonna do when they come for you--”

  “Enough, enough,” Elliott threw his hands up in the air, I don't want to be involved any more, especially not with this singing, you're so off-tune!”

  “Thank you,” I smiled somberly.

  “Think nothing of it, and better yet, speak nothing of it!” Elliott plugged his ears with fingers and walked of, sauntering down the modern glass hallways of the compound and leaving dust in his wake.

  “Alright, songstress,” I laughed, turning to Jack, “how do we get to Geneva from here? We have a week to make it before the meeting.”

  “In style.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  Jack beamed. “Just leave it to me.”