“Don’t reply,” I said. “Screenshot it. Send it to me. Then go into airplane mode.”
He sent the screenshot.
“Do you recognize the wording?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea what 'wrong family' might mean?”
“It could mean I’ve been chasing the wrong shell. Or the wrong donor network. Or—“ He stopped himself. “Someone knows I’ve been pulled in to coordinate with Cabot’s coverage of the Harcourts.”
“Good.”
He looked up. “Good?”
“You included a leak as an option.”
“That doesn’t make me optimistic.”
“No, but it could be why you’re still alive.”
I took out my phone and sent the screenshot to Eamon, then to Dane. No commentary attached.
Wiley’s phone buzzed again before he could put it in airplane mode.
He looked down before I could stop him. It was Samuel. Wiley angled the phone toward me.
Samuel:Are you somewhere safe? Please don’t say probably.
Wiley closed his eyes for half a second.
“Answer him,” I said.
He opened his eyes. “You said—“
“Answer him. Four words.”
“What four?”
I watched the traffic ahead of us. “With Farrow. Moving. Safe.”
“Four words arranged into three sentence fragments.”
“Samuel will survive the grammar crimes.”
Wiley typed. “He’ll know I’m not safe,” he said.
“Probably.”
“You are terrible at reassurance.”
He sent the message anyway, and we moved again.
My phone buzzed.
Eamon:Keep moving. Interim location in progress.
Then Dane.