The silence after that single word felt heavier than it should have. Like I was the one being interrogated instead or it being the other way around. I took a breath, keeping my voice steady.
"Is this Alessandro Vieri?"
The line went dead silent. Not the kind of silence where soone’s thinking, but the artificial kind. Then, without warning, a series of clicks echoed through the speaker. Sharp, chanical sounds like the call was being bounced around.
Click. Static. Click. A different kind of ambient noise—maybe traffic, maybe wind. Click. The sound of an office. Click. Music playing faintly in the background. Click. Complete silence again.
It kept going. And going. At a speed that indicated the call was switching hundreds of tis per minute we were all hearing different background noises.
"What’s happening?" Camille whispered, leaning closer to the phone on the coffee table.
"Is it broken?" Sienna asked, her brow furrowing.
I shook my head, watching the call tir continue to climb. Thirty seconds. Forty-five. The clicks kept coming, each one transferring the call sowhere else. This wasn’t a broken connection—this was deliberate.
"Who are you even calling?" Alexis asked, her arms crossed. "And why does it sound like the call is being routed through half the world?"
Before I could answer, Evelyn’s voice cut through from the couch. She hadn’t moved from her sprawled position, but her tone carried enough authority to make everyone pause.
"Be patient," she said flatly. "If any of you panic or get too surprised at the wrong mont, whoever’s on the other end might think they’re in danger. Or being tracked. They’ll hang up."
The three of them went quiet, though Camille looked like she was physically restraining herself from asking more questions. Her fingers drumd against her thigh in that restless way she had when she was trying to behave.
The call kept transferring. One minute. Two minutes. The clicks beca a rhythm, almost hypnotic. This Alessandro guy—if it even was him—was either the most paranoid person I’d ever tried to contact, or the most cautious. Maybe both though in this line of work I can’t say it’s a bad quality to have. Maybe if I was more like him, I never would’ve been caught during my ti as the Masked Syndicate.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the clicking stopped.
The line opened again, but what ca through wasn’t quite a person. It was a voice that was smooth, asured, perfectly neutral. Like one of those automated custor service recordings, but with just enough variation to keep you guessing.
"State your purpose."
Except I knew better. I’d heard enough genuine automated systems to recognize the difference. This was a human. Soone who was extrely good at sounding robotic, but human nonetheless. The slight breath before the words, the way the syllables connected. It was all too natural for a recording, too controlled for casual speech.
Whether this was Alessandro himself or just so gatekeeper, I couldn’t tell.
"I’m looking for information," I said carefully.
"Insufficient. Provide verification credentials."
Verification credentials. Right. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple.
I glanced at Evelyn, who gave the smallest nod. She couldn’t see , but she knew what I was thinking. We needed to offer sothing valuable—sothing that proved we were worth talking to—but not so much that it would expose us or give away more than we should.
My mind raced through possibilities. What did I know that this person wouldn’t? What information could I trade that wouldn’t imdiately co back to bite ?
Then it hit .
Mars.
"On Mars," I said slowly, "there’s a graveyard. Rocket ships, all a decade or two old, from companies that wanted to innovate the future. NovaCore. FutureVision. Others. All crashed or abandoned. Nobody talks about it publicly because it’s bad for business and they likely sent people to die on those ships under the guise of taking the next step."
The line went silent again, but different this ti. Not the transferring silence. This was processing. Thinking.
I’d learned about that graveyard the hard way—two years ago when I’d been trapped on Mars as an astronaut. Most people didn’t even know those missions had failed, let alone where the wreckage ended up. But I’d seen it firsthand. Rows of tal corpses half-buried in red dust, dreams of progress left to rust in an airless void.
After what felt like a full minute, the robotic voice returned.
"What question does Reynard Vale wish to have answered?"
My stomach dropped.
It knew. Of course it knew. I shouldn’t have been surprised—after all, Mr. Angel was the only person who’d been publicly transported to Mars and made it back. Still, hearing my actual na co through that chanical-sounding voice sent a chill down my spine.
Beside , Camille and Sienna both inhaled sharply, their eyes going wide. Before either of them could say anything, Alexis and Evelyn moved in perfect sync—hands clamping over their mouths to muffle the shocked sounds that tried to escape.
Alexis glared at both of them with that stern doctor look that could silence a room. Evelyn didn’t even turn her head from the couch, but her timing had been perfect.
The line stayed quiet. Waiting.
I had one shot at this. One question. If this person really was Alessandro Vieri, if they really could identify the World President, then this might be our only chance to get that information.
I leaned forward, my voice clear and direct.
"What is the identity of the World President?"
The mont the words left my mouth, both Camille and Sienna’s eyes went even wider, their muffled screams of shock barely contained by the hands over their mouths. Their bodies jerked in surprise, and I saw Sienna’s hand fly to her chest like her heart might give out.
Alexis’s grip tightened, her expression a mixture of exasperation and focus. It was clear that she was shocked, but she remained calm nonetheless. Evelyn still hadn’t moved, but I could see the slight tension in her shoulders. Even she was waiting for this.
The robotic voice took its ti. Longer than before. The silence stretched so thin I could hear my own heartbeat.
Then: "Answer unavailable."
My jaw clenched. Of course. Either they didn’t know, or what I’d given them wasn’t valuable enough to trade for that kind of information. Does that an that I wasted my question? Was I just lied to by Gabriel and this person didn’t know anything about the World President at all? My thoughts were spiralling, only able to think about the worse case scenario which was that all this was for naught and that we were back at square one, but then the voice interrupted my train of thoughts.
"Insufficient data provided," the voice continued, still perfectly neutral. "Or information does not exist in accessible records. Alternative query available."
Alternative query? I straightened up, my mind already shifting gears. "What’s the alternative?"
"Location of World President. Exchange acceptable for provided credentials."
Location. Not identity, but location. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was sothing. Maybe even sothing better, depending on how you looked at it. If I knew where they were, I could investigate. I could get closer.
And right now, I’d take anything over nothing.
"Alright," I said. "Where is the World President?"
Another pause. Shorter this ti, like the answer was already queued up and just needed to be released.
"Ghana."
The word landed like a stone.
Ghana.
The line went dead imdiately. There was no goodbye, no confirmation, just a clean disconnect. The call ended, and the screen of my phone went dark.
I stared at it, my mind racing.
Ghana.
My eyes widened as the implications started crashing into place. That wasn’t just so random country. That was Samuel Osei’s country. The leader of Ghana. The man who had helped during the United Nations eting. Soone I’d worked with before. Soone who might be an ally. Scratch that, is my ally.
I looked up at Evelyn, who had finally sat up properly on the couch, her blindfold still perfectly in place but her posture alert.
"Evelyn," I said, my voice sharp with urgency. "I need you to get in contact with Samuel Osei. Imdiately."
She didn’t ask why. Didn’t hesitate. Just nodded once and went into her office releasing Sienna while Alexis finally released Camille, who both gasped for air like they’d been underwater.
"Ghana?!" Camille hissed, keeping her voice low even though the call was over. "The World President is in Ghana?!"
"That’s what he said," I muttered, still staring at my phone.
Sienna looked between and Evelyn, her caring nature warring with clear concern. "Rey, what are you going to do?"
I didn’t have an answer yet. Not a full one, anyway.
But I knew one thing for certain: if the World President was in Ghana, then Samuel Osei either knew about it, or he needed to know about it. And either way, I needed to talk to him.
Now.
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