Francina lowered herself onto a low wall separating two warehouses. Justin turned his back on the proceedings, not at all interested but mainly so he could keep an eye on the estate’s main gate. Noecker half-turned to watch the opposite direction. Even Connor, as intrigued as he was, kept his eyes roaming back and forth to cover the gaps between.
Francina took a deep breath. “We never told you about Gertie…”
“Obviously.”
She glared again. “This is hard enough already. We never told you, because she was classified.”
“Above your pay grade.”
Connor resisted the urge to punch his old commanding officer in the mouth, but it was becoming harder and harder.
“We had Agnetha, even back then. She had a vision. About the virus, the lockdowns, a child who would one day bring us out the other side. The higher ups didn’t believe it. They dismissed her as unstable, based on her history. And her family.” Francina caught Noecker’s glare and stopped. Connor caught it too. What was that about? She seemed about to say more, but then she shrugged. “At least, that was their official position.”
Noecker spat again before taking up the narrative. “Unofficially, they started to stockpile. Everything. Food. Drugs. Booze. And weapons. Mainly weapons. Remember that drive to legalize all civilian guns? People had to hand them in, reapply for their licenses? All part of the plan. Plus whatever they could get from Mother Russia.”
“We kept Agnetha off the books,” Francina carried on. “Bounced her from safehouse to safehouse when it became obvious they wanted her back. Or maybe they wanted her gone. So we pretended she was.”
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