Chapter 9
freedom feels easy
till money’s eyes scrutinize:
toil masks a spy’s task
Though it felt like I had been in the station for days, it was only early afternoon when Pearce let me go. I’d looked hard at the counterfeit stamp on the cylinder, trying to catch a flaw, but eventually I’d had to admit the station’s sketch artist had done an impeccable job copying the stamp from an older piece of mail. It looked perfect.
Jonah barely looked at me when I stopped at his side to say goodbye, scarcely deigning to give me a terse nod while he pored over the paperwork covering his desk.
“Okay, see you,” he said after I had explained I was to drop off the letter and return before the end of the day.
“Bye, Jonah,” I said quietly and walked away.
Behind me, I heard him sigh. “Nikta, wait. B
