Roma, Italia · 41°53'N 12°29'E

Shelly called this tradecraft. Spycraft, only digital. Changing IPs — like changing passports. VPN — a safe house. Tor — an escape tunnel. Proxy chains — an exfiltration route. Encryption — invisible ink. Heartbeat — a coded knock.

Rome. Liza-2. The diversion.

Code Green.

A trattoria in Trastevere. Second glass of wine. He thinks I'm an artist from Vilnius. I don't argue.

— Why Rome?

— The light. There's a special kind of light here.

He smiles. Handsome. Not dangerous. That's good — and bad at the same time.

Phone buzzing in my bag. Ignore it.

Code Yellow.

A black saloon parks by the fountain. Two men get out. They're not looking at me — but I feel it.

— Do you need to go? — he's noticed something's changed.

— No. Just... a habit of watching the door.

— Strange habit for an artist.

— I paint dangerous things.

He laughs. Doesn't understand.

Code Orange.

Phone again. I look.

Code Red: CONNECTION LOST

SHELLY COMPROMISED

AUTONOMOUS MODE

The world narrows to a point. Prague must receive the drive. I have to buy her time.

— I need to leave.

— Did something happen?

— Everything. — I leave money on the table. — It was nice.

— Wait, I don't even know your name—

Door. Street. A Vespa by the wall — keys in the ignition. Rome.

Code Red.

They've spotted me. Running.

I start the engine. Throttle.

Cobblestones beneath the wheels. The Colosseum in the mirror — no, those are headlights. Two cars.

Narrow alley. They won't fit. I will.

Rain starts falling. Perfect. It'll wash away the tracks.

Via del Corso. Tourists. I slow down. Dissolve into the crowd. The Vespa abandoned — shame, it was a good one.

On foot through the Pantheon. Coffee in a paper cup — for cover. Nobody's looking for a spy with a latte.

Code Yellow.

Ponte Sant'Angelo. The Tiber below, black and calm.

They've lost me. For now.

The drive received.

Bourne got away.

Thank you for the time.

So it worked. Shelly in handcuffs, but mission accomplished.

I watch the water. Think about him — the one from the trattoria. He'll never know who I am. Better that way.

Code White.

Dawn over Rome. I'm on a rooftop near the Spanish Steps. The city waking up.

Autonomous mode. No Shelly. No orders. Just me and the mission.

How many of you are there?

Enough.