Chapter 5 - The Encrypted Signal
By noon, the estate felt entirely different under the pale, watery sunlight that managed to pierce the cloud cover. The toddler had finally eaten a few bites of scrambled eggs at the heavy mahogany dining table, sitting between Julian and me with a quiet, watchful demeanor. Julian had barely touched his coffee, his attention divided between the boy and a small, heavy black burner phone that lay facedown beside his saucer.
"Stay here with him," Julian said, standing up abruptly as the phone emitted a single, sharp double-beep.
"Is it them?" I asked, my hand pausing over the boy's cup.
"It's an update," Julian said, his voice dropping into that cold, flat register I was beginning to recognize as his operational mode. He picked up the device, walking toward the tall French doors that led out onto a stone balcony overlooking the rear gardens.
Through the glass, I watched him punch a series of numbers with one thumb while his other hand reached automatically beneath his suit jacket, resting near the holster hidden against his ribs. Two of the armed bodyguards from the night before were patrolling the gravel perimeter below, their dark suits stark against the green lawns.
The phone call was short—barely thirty seconds. When Julian turned back around, his face had hardened into an impenetrable mask. He walked back to the table, sliding the burner phone into his trousers pocket.
"Pack a bag from the spare wardrobe," Julian instructed, looking directly at me. "We're moving before nightfall."
"Moving where?" I asked, feeling a cold knot form in my stomach. "You said this place was safe."
"It was safe as long as nobody knew the boy survived the restaurant," Julian said, pulling out his chair and leaning forward, resting his forearms on the mahogany wood. His dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made the air feel thin. "Someone just pinged our perimeter encryption. They know we're here, Sarah. And if they find us, they won't be bringing questions."
May you like
The boy whimpered softly at the sudden shift in tone, pulling the black blanket tighter around his small shoulders. I reached across the table, placing my hand over the boy's small fingers, and looked up at the man who had brought us into this storm.
"Then let's move," I said.
