Bennet took Daniel to a safe house in a Brooklyn neighborhood wedged between a military base and the waterfront. "If you show them the ID I gave you today, they'll keep you safe." he said, as they went past. The house itself was all brick, narrow, like it had been placed between the two homes on either side of it as a dare.
"Why aren't we in on-base housing?" Daniel asked. He'd assumed all Tracers were housed like he'd been at Blackrock.
Bennet smiled at some joke Daniel didn't get. "It's the army. We're trying to run a secret operation here, not advertise it."
The actual house was comfortable enough. A little smaller than the family housing at Camp Blackrock. Just two bedrooms, the third ground floor bedroom had been converted into a safe room. Bennet explained the saferoom's walls were two-foot-thick steel. That it had a deadman switch that sent an SOS if its external communications were cut. Daniel hoped he never had to use it. Being locked in an 8 x 6 steel cube sounded like torture. Or at least reminded him a little too much of the interrogation rooms he'd been in.
Ellis was asleep, or at least pretending to be, in the smaller of the two upstairs bedrooms. Daniel's bag was waiting in the other. After Bennet had left, he opened it up and took out the essentials. His clothes, chargers, his laptop, and the metal case that kept his gun. He paused and looked at the envelope wedged beneath his clothes at the bottom of his bag. It was wrinkled and creased; it'd been in the bottom of his bag the entire time he was at Blackrock. He could still remember what was inside. Three photos of his family, his older sister, and him. A document that recorded their deaths.
He took the gun downstairs and cleaned it. It was too early to take out those photographs. He didn't know how long they would be staying at the Brooklyn house. It didn't make sense to get any of them out if they were just going to be put back later.
He was reassembling his Glock when Ellis came downstairs, phone in hand. She froze on the landing, seeming to consider turning around. Daniel would have to get past her if he was going to win Major Utley's trust. If he wanted any chance of doing the job he'd been trying to do for years.
"There's some food in the fridge" he said neutrally. Ellis muttered thanks and came in. "We're getting picked up in an hour" he said gently. "Our first job on the east coast."
Ellis emerged from the fridge with one of the three pre-made cheese and pickle sandwiches. Courtesy of the CIA, Daniel guessed. Their logo was printed on the inside of the safe room doors. How, The Agency got to use the CIA's safe houses, he didn't know. There was a lot to untangle there.
"So, we're working together now?" Ellis asked quietly. Her hair was still a mess, which she seemed to realize as she sat down, pushing clumps of it around with her hand. Of course, technically Ellis was working for him now. If he said that she would instantly know what her role was, keeping him in check.
"Yeah." He said instead. She glanced up quickly and evaluated something, probably his exact emotional state. He felt calmer now. Then, with some trepidation, she looked at the half re-assembled handgun.
"What's up?" he asked.
"I've never done— field stuff" she admitted.
Perfect. Although maybe, that was why the Major had cut him a deal like this in the first place. The Agency had still been panicking in 2015, when they'd found him. If they hadn't, he wouldn't have been pressed into the field so quickly. The Major had said he was the best field agent they had. What if he was one of the only Operatives they had?
Of course, Sam was almost good enough to operate on her own. So they had her now as well.
"I'm used to having someone to teach." Daniel said, biting down the last bit of the childish resentment he'd felt last night. Ellis was a tool, just like him. He needed to believe that and forgive her, or this would never work.
Ellis didn't look relaxed and didn't say another word to him until his phone chimed an hour later.
It was French driving this time, wearing Agency blacks. She cracked a smile when she saw Daniel, then handed him a file. He recognized it as the kind of file Ms. Henderson usually received just before they got on a helicopter somewhere dangerous. It contained photos of a mansion in upstate New York, isolated amidst the late winter snow.
A record of Phenomenon occurring every night. For the first two nights someone on the staff was found dead. On the fourth night, the FBI agent sent to investigate had called in The Agency, and then turned up dead.
"It's safe during the day?" Daniel asked.
French nodded. "At least so far."
"Why don't the people there leave?" Daniel flipped to the last three pages. It was in fact, only a housekeeper, the homeowner, and his young daughter that remained.
"The Agency told 'em not to." French said. "Ecks is already there with an advance team, making sure they stay."
Daniel finished reading, and then in an inspired moment, handed the folder to Ellis. He wasn't going to be like Henderson. Ellis read the whole thing twice on the helicopter, managing to avoid any kind of conversation as a result. Bennet, French, and four other black masks rode with them.
When they arrived, the sun was just beginning to settle behind the horizon. A paved road split acres of green grass and oak trees. It was a farm, according to the papers, but Daniel didn't see much being farmed. It seemed more like a vast lawn. The vanity project of whoever lived there.
Ecks greeted them inside, standing with a visibly distressed middle-aged woman. The entrance was, like the grounds, much bigger than could possibly be sensible for day-to-day use. Purple carpet laid out well-trodden paths across marble flooring. A sweeping wood staircase curled up to the second floor. If the walls had been made of stone, Daniel would have described this as a castle.
It was beginning to dawn on him how little he'd been in the world since—. Since he was thirteen. Ms. Henderson had always handled the people, the places. He'd have to learn that entire set of skills without her.
"Are you the expert?" the woman asked. She had rough hands, a bandaid on her left arm. This must be the housekeeper. She was also addressing Bennet, studiously ignoring the presence of the two teenagers. Daniel wondered if he could wear a suit now. It felt awkward to ask the Major.
"No, he is." Bennet pointed at Daniel, causing the woman's face to fall.
Ecks coughed "This is Sarah," he said "the housekeeper. Sarah meet Daniel, he's young but an expert."
Daniel frowned. "Where's the homeowner? Mr.—"
"Peters" Ellis said. Daniel didn't know if he would remember.
"Upstairs," Ecks said. "He's been bedridden since we arrived. Said he felt terrible."
That could mean something, or it could be how anyone would feel if a group of black masked soldiers landed a helicopter on their lawn. "We'll have to see him." Daniel said. "What about the granddaughter?"
"Wilma, also upstairs."
"What's going on?" Sarah asked. "What agency are you guys from, the FBI?"
Daniel didn't know how to answer so he just started walking up the stairs. There were two flights, a landing in the middle. "What about the bodies?" he asked.
"Haven't found them yet" Ecks said quietly. "We're still missing the groundskeeper, the cook, and Agent Willis."
"Presumed dead, though?"
"Willis found the cook's blood in the kitchen, a lot of it."
"And when she disappeared, how long was it until we got here."
"Hours. But no vehicles went in or out during that time, we had satellite surveillance. No one came in or out at all, except for the housekeeper in the garden."
"I needed a breath" Sarah protested from somewhere behind them.
"He's this way."
The hallways up here were narrow and functional. Wood panels took over from the marble. A carved wooden door stood resolutely at the end of the hallway. Daniel stopped and looked around. He could smell the magic on the air. Not active, but present. A low-level hum in his ears, like static electricity making your hair stand up. Ellis had tightened something in her forehead. He stopped and gave her a look.
"It's nothing" she said.
Mr. Peters was exactly who you expected to own the house. He was short and thin with a wisp of white hair clinging to the front of his head. He had combed it over, such that it looked like a hairstyle from the front and ridiculous from any other angle. His teeth, Daniel idly noticed, were perfect. A little money takes you a long way.
"You're a little young for an expert" was the first thing he said. His voice sounded like sandpaper, scraping and rattling. Sarah ran to his bedside and poured him a glass of water, which he held but did not drink. "Everyone was waiting for you? All these men?"
He fixed Daniel with an unblinking gaze.
"No one waits for me." Daniel said noncommittally, "Sometimes they start without me, is all."
"Heh."
"I'll need your permission to search the complete grounds for the bodies." Daniel said.
The old man's eyes narrowed. "No."
He said the word so slowly it sounded like three.
Daniel nodded, like he'd expected that. He almost had. The man moved his eyes strangely, adjusting one then the other like they were out of sync. "I'll be speaking to your granddaughter, Willa."
"Leave the poor girl alone."
"We'll be very careful."
Daniel turned to leave. He'd seen enough. Smelled enough. The room reeked of magic. Behind him, he heard Bennet apologizing for him. He should have said something before leaving. He was so out of practice.
"He was hungry." Ellis said, as soon as they were out of the room.
"I'll go get him something to eat," said Sarah. She seemed eager to get away from Daniel.
"Bennet. Search the grounds in a tight radius around the house, focus on the parts the housekeeper didn't visit this morning."
"I thought he told you not to?" Ellis asked.
Bennet smiled. "We don't need his permission, Ma'am."
Ellis' eyes grew wide. "The grandaughter's name is Wilma."
"And he didn't say so." Daniel said, heading across the hall. "We have about fifteen minutes before the sun's down, then we have to deal with whatever comes out a night." He looked down the stairs, hoping the housekeeper was out of earshot. He could hear her opening cabinets in the kitchen on the floor below. Soft sobs were coming from the room at the end of the landing. The child. "Ecks, put at least two men on the old man's door. He doesn't come out of that room. Check in over radio every five."
"What's your guess?" Bennet asked.
"The man in there isn't himself, and it smells of magic."
Ellis nodded. "Something's changing his behavior."
"Until we know what happened to the others, we won't be able to stop it."
Bennet swallowed. "Containment it is."