After a long silence that seemed to weigh heavily on him, a thought suddenly occurred to Jerome. It was a thought so simple and yet so astonishing that he literally shuddered, as if someone had suddenly shone a light into the darkness of his mind. He had never seen anything in this world except what was right under his nose. All he knew was limited to his own interests, his personal concerns, and his petty, almost always superficial problems.
He looked at Delia, sitting next to him, and felt a strange emptiness inside. She was here, so close, but he couldn't feel her, couldn't understand her true meaning. Why? Because his world was too narrow, his vision too limited. He was thinking about himself, his goals, his place in this strange and unfair world. And maybe that was the biggest problem.
"What if I could look at myself from the outside?" This thought haunted him.
He imagined himself, what he would look like if someone else saw him through his eyes. What expression he had on his face, what he thought, how he acted. He realized that he would most likely be nothing more than a pathetic worm, a small, insignificant creature who did nothing but pursue his own selfish goals, without thinking about anything more.
The thought made him feel unbearably sick. The worm... He saw himself as this small, dirty, mindless creature, burrowing in his own little world, never lifting his head to see the sky. And maybe that was his problem - he couldn't find meaning beyond what was around him.
"What if I was always like this?" The thought was too heavy, too scary.
It was unbearably scary for him to think about it. After all, if everything he did had only his personal interest at its core, what was left of his true duty, of his responsibility to his homeland, to the people, to those he was supposed to protect? Where was his highest ideal if he had been building his world around his own ego all this time? He couldn't answer these questions because he didn't know the answer.
Delia, noticing that his gaze had become somewhat empty, tilted her head slightly, her eyes filling with a soft, almost caring interest.
"Jerome?" Her voice was quiet, but there was a strange note of concern in it. "You don't look right."
He looked away quickly, not wanting to show her his vulnerability. It was too embarrassing, too revealing. But she noticed anyway. As she always did.
"It's all right," he muttered, trying to hide his inner torment. But his voice sounded uncertain, and he himself realized that it was not convincing. How can you hide from another person something that you yourself cannot admit even to yourself?
Delia was silent, but her gaze never left his. She clearly felt something, maybe even understood more than he did. Jerome sighed, trying to focus on something external again, something that would help distract him from these heavy thoughts. But it was impossible. They were stuck in his head, like shackles from which there was no escape.
"You know," she went on finally, "we all feel lost sometimes. We think we're too small to make a difference. But really... sometimes you just have to step forward despite that fear. And maybe you can find meaning if you start looking at things a little differently.
Her words seemed to penetrate Jerome's very heart. He looked at her for a long moment, trying to process her meaning. Maybe she was right. Maybe things weren't as bad as he thought. Maybe he should just step up and stop being afraid of what he couldn't understand. Because it was fear and uncertainty that were limiting him. It was they that created the small world he lived in, an obstacle and a prison for himself.
But in that moment, in the quiet, calm atmosphere surrounding them, he suddenly felt that maybe he could start differently. And he didn't have to be someone great, he didn't have to be a hero to find his way. All it took was the recognition that not everything in life had to be predictable and controllable. Not everything had to be perfect.
"Do you think I can do it?" Jerome asked, a little softer than before. His voice was now more open than ever before.
Delia nodded, her eyes full of genuine understanding.
"Yes, I think you can. Because all you have to do is start looking at things differently. Not as a problem, but as an opportunity. You can do it, Jerome."
And suddenly, something changed in his soul. It was not an instantaneous revelation, but rather an elusive whisper of inner change, which, however, awakened in him a feeling he had not felt for a long time. It was like a slight shock that slowly dissipated, but left something important in itself. The world turned out to be much wider than Jerome could have imagined. He had always lived within the framework of his own fears and doubts. All he knew was his small universe with its narrow streets and predictable paths. But now... now this world suddenly became larger.
"You... Do you really think so?" Jerome asked, his voice hesitant, as if he didn't believe his own words.
Delia looked at him as if her gaze was penetrating into Jerome's very soul. She understood that these were not just words, but real feelings that were rising from the depths of his consciousness.
"Yes, I think you can. You've already taken the first step, even if you haven't noticed it," she answered quietly, with a warmth that seemed incredible at that moment. "It all starts with admitting that something is wrong. And you did that."
Jerome thought, his gaze sharpening, as if he were trying to see something that had been hidden for a long time. He had always thought that the world was just a series of events that you had to experience. Nothing more. But now, for all his inner doubts, he felt that something had changed in him. There was no perfect answer, no exact path. There was only a sense that in this vast world there was room to search.
He paused, looking at Delia, and suddenly felt grateful for her presence. It was strange, but not unpleasant. She wasn't trying to fix him, wasn't trying to tell him what to do. She was simply there, letting him know that his struggle wasn't abnormal, but part of what made him human.
"You're right," he said finally, his voice reserved but sincere. "I guess I didn't notice for a long time that I needed something more. I was always inside my own little world. But..." he paused, considering his words, "now I understand that you don't just have to look at things. You have to feel them. Feel everything, not just exist."
Delia nodded without interrupting him, giving him time to understand what he himself did not yet fully comprehend.
"Yes, sometimes you just need to stop and let yourself feel. Everything around, everything that happens to us. And only then you will be able to see that the world is not as small as it seems."
Jerome felt a small smile creep across his face. Not because he had found a final solution, but because perhaps he was finally ready to start looking. Looking for something more than just his own personal interests.
He turned to Delia and, despite all his previous reserve, said with a slight challenge in his voice:
"I don't know what will happen next, but... maybe it's worth a try?"
She smiled back, her eyes shining as if she shared his sense of a new beginning.
"This is already a good step, Jerome. This is already more than you think."
They sat in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, but their silence was different now. It was not empty, it was not heavy. It was filled with new strength and joy - in a word, neither of them even thought about their loneliness. Jerome felt his body relax, and his mind, which had been as if darkened before, began to fill with light. He felt himself part of something greater, a huge whole, to which something unimaginable was happening. It was a strange feeling, but it was not frightening. On the contrary, it was warm and illuminated.
Delia, sitting next to him, felt the same change. Instead of the usual heaviness in her heart, there was now something light and clear. She felt her soul filling with freedom, and she could just be here, in this moment, without fear or regret. Everything that surrounded them became important not in a global sense, but in a personal one - every look, every word, every silence they shared.
Footsteps on the deck broke the silence, and Jerome didn't have to look around long to realize who it was. It was Jo. She came toward them, but not with her usual stern posture or wary eyes. She looked different now-relaxed, like them.
"What, are you hiding?" Her voice was soft, with a slight smile. She sat down next to them and looked at them with surprise and some satisfaction in her eyes. "It seems I'm not alone in this silence," she added, as if confirming their inner unity.
Jerome smiled, though it was reserved, but with a genuine sense of gratitude for her presence. He didn't know what to say, and he didn't need words. The whole point of this silence was that they all knew: they had changed. Something in their perception of the world and of each other had shifted, and this change was felt in every look and every gesture.
"Sometimes silence says more than words," Delia said, looking out at the ocean, as if she had found the answer to what connected them. "We're all... together now, like part of a whole."
"Yes," Jerome said, his voice quiet but confident. "And it's all because of Earl Knight. This cruise, everything that's happening... It's his gift. He gave us a chance to see the world not through the prism of loneliness, but through connection. And maybe even through understanding what it means to be part of something bigger than yourself."
Delia nodded. She had never thought that the words "cruise" or "travel" would be so important to her. But now, realizing that every move, every change in their lives was important, she felt that this experience had become more than just a vacation.
Then Jo finally broke their silence by saying that Earl Knight had contacted her on the phone. Both boys' eyes immediately turned to her. There was something in her voice that caught their attention, as if she had suddenly remembered something important that would change their plans.
"I just spoke to him," Jo continued, tapping her fingers on the table. "Earl told me that none other than Harvey Dean will be meeting us at Civitavecchia."
Jerome and Delia exchanged glances. Harvey Dean? The name sounded important, but also mysterious.
"Who is it?" Jerome asked, still not quite sure who this person they were supposed to meet could be. He was used to unexpected turns of events, but this information was completely new.
Jo paused for a moment, then continued, as if considering whether to reveal all the details at once.
"This is a hacker from Samara. He used to be called Khariton Danilov. At one time, Russia extradited him to Italy during a prisoner of war exchange. Now he works in the CIA department in Italy," her voice became a little more serious. "He changed his name to a more "Western" one, but that's not the point. The main thing is that we must meet him at the port, where he will meet us."
Delia frowned slightly. The information sounded like a tangled web that needed to be untangled, but in her eyes, as in Jerome's, there was respect for how things were working out.
"Why him?" she asked, interested. "Why was he assigned to meet us? If he's such a hacker, why was he entrusted with such a role?"
Jo nodded, obviously anticipating such a question.
"Harvey, formerly Khariton, has connections in many circles," Jo explained. "His background and skills made him an important figure. Now that he's in the CIA, he's continuing his mission in the same direction. He knows exactly what we need and how to safely guide us through all the stages of the mission. And don't forget that Civitavecchia isn't just a port. It's a place where security is especially tight.
Jerome thought about how strange the world was: hackers, agents, international intrigue, and now they were about to meet a man whose name had been linked to such a complicated history in the past. He remembered how he himself had recently found himself in the center of events that had previously seemed distant and alien to him. And now, as if by accident, they were entering this world where people like Harvey Dean were at the forefront.
"It all sounds rather complicated," Jerome said, wincing slightly. "But it looks like we won't have to worry about safety with him."
Jo gave him an approving look.
"True," she said. "But remember, we still have to be wary. Even if Harvey is our ally, it's important not to trust anyone one hundred percent in this matter."
Delia nodded, knowing that they still had a responsibility. Not only were they caught up in such a complex web, but every step could lead to unexpected consequences. Still, something within her calmed: if they acted together, with intelligence and care, everything could work out.
"So we've got a meeting with this Harvey," she said, getting up and getting ready to go out. "Well, let's get ready. And on the way to Civitavecchia, maybe we should rest a little more and get ready."
Jerome looked at her and, feeling his tension ease a little, agreed.
"Yes, perhaps we need a little time to prepare for the meeting. After everything we've been through, we'd like to at least have a little rest."
But there was something different in his voice. It was the confidence that came with the realization that they were on the threshold of something big. Their journey was just beginning, and they were ready to face all the challenges together.
The liner smoothly approached the pier, and the sound of the mechanism slowly mooring the ship echoed throughout the hull. Jerome heard this sound and involuntarily shuddered, raising his gaze to the porthole. Through it he could see the port, uncharacteristically empty for ordinary cruise liners. In the distance, one could already make out the silhouettes of people, someone standing on the deck with documents in their hands, preparing for inspection, while others, it seemed, were just approaching the pier.
"We're here," Jo said, walking up to them. Her face showed neither joy nor excitement, only calm. "Get ready to disembark, we won't be late."
She glanced at the children, who were sitting in their places, watching what was happening a little lazily.
"Delia, Jerome," Jo continued, turning to them, "gather your things. We're leaving in fifteen minutes. Everything will go according to plan."
Jerome tore his gaze away from the view outside the porthole and looked at Jo. The tension that had been lingering in him throughout the entire journey suddenly eased a little. He already knew that new challenges lay ahead, but it didn't frighten him now. He was used to the unknown, used to constant change. It was part of his life, and no matter how much he sometimes wanted to run away from it, he knew that now he had nowhere to go.
"We're ready," Jerome said, rising from his seat. He looked at Delia, who in turn stood up, gathering her things. She was quiet, focused, and there was determination in her eyes. Maybe it was because of her that he found the strength to move on.
Delia sat down on the bed to quickly pack her small suitcase, turning it over in her hands, checking that everything was in place. She could have said something like, "I don't like all this," or "I don't want it," but she had already gotten used to the fact that she had no right to say such things. She was not a child who could afford to fall into weakness. She was part of this team. And now she had to do what was expected of her.
"It'll be okay," she muttered, more to herself than to Jerome. "We'll get through this."
Jerome nodded without arguing. He knew her words weren't an attempt to reassure him, but rather a reminder that they weren't here to relax. They were part of something bigger, something that wasn't something that could be easily abandoned.
The minutes passed quickly. When Jo came to them again, they were ready. Only a few final steps separated them from going out on deck and facing what awaited them.
"Okay, get ready. We're going," Jo said.
Jerome and Delia stood up and followed her to the exit. As they stepped out onto the deck, they felt the cold wind blowing on their faces. At that moment, Jerome realized how much he missed real life. Everything that had happened so far seemed like just some strange awakening from a long sleep.
Civitavecchia greeted them with a deserted dock and trusty soldiers standing alongside, weapons in hand, ready to be inspected. But there was one man who stood out from the crowd, a man in a formal suit, with a confident posture, standing slightly to the side. It was Harvey Dean. The man Jo had mentioned on board. He seemed to be in his element: an observant gaze, calm in his movements, and not the slightest hint of tension.
Jerome and Delia took a few steps towards him, and he stepped forward. His gaze was precise, but not too wary. Jerome slowly took a step forward, listening to his inner voice. When his gaze with Harvey crossed, something in his chest sank. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing in front of someone he had once had to fight. Harvey Dean, a former Samara hacker who became part of American intelligence, couldn't help but cause him a certain amount of rejection. Jerome's brain was still working automatically, repeating the principles he had known since childhood:
"Samara is Russia, and Russia is America's enemy."
He had always heard it from his father, who had served in the army, always said it when the conversation turned to "the Russians." Jerome remembered sitting next to him as a child, watching him talk with sadness and detachment about politics, about enemies, about the Cold War. All of this talk had become ingrained in his consciousness, part of who he was. To him, "the Russians" had always been the enemy, and that feeling never seemed to leave him, despite his best efforts to understand the world beyond his own walls.
Jerome stood there, tense as a string, trying to comprehend what was happening. Harvey Dean was a symbol of everything he had always feared and hated. Russia, enemies, the Cold War - all of this came together in one hostile, cold picture, and now this man, a former hacker from Samara, stood before him as an ally.
When Jerome met Harvey's gaze, he felt something heavy tighten in his chest. A strange feeling, a mixture of distrust and rejection, overwhelmed even his desire to be objective. How could he trust a man who had been part of the world he considered his enemy? How could he forget all the endless talk about "the Russians" he had heard at home? How could he believe that now, after so many years, this man would be a friend?
Harvey seemed to read his mind. He watched Jerome's every move, gauging his reaction. When their eyes met, Harvey briefly lingered on the boy's face, as if trying to understand what was behind his tense expression. But then he looked away and seemed to sigh softly, turning back to Delia and Jo, slowly approaching Jerome.
"We have serious work ahead of us," Harvey said with quiet confidence, addressing the entire group. "But we'll do it in order. First we need to get you out of the port, and then we'll follow the plan. I've been to Civitavecchia more than once, so I know the local realities.
He stepped forward and nodded toward a small side exit, hidden from the eyes of curious passengers. Jerome froze. Every internal mechanism protested, but he knew that now was not the time for doubt. Doubt would interfere with the task. He glanced at Harvey again, noting that he was making no attempt to force communication, but rather conducting a calm and professional conversation. But, nevertheless, his presence did not cause anything in Jerome except displeasure.
Delia, noticing his tense silence, quietly touched his hand.
"He's not as scary as you think, Jerome," she said softly. "We were all someone else before we became who we are today. Trust me, Harvey's come a long way, too."
The boy turned his head and looked at her. There was something reassuring in her eyes, something that gave him hope that everything was not as complicated as he imagined. There was a strange calm in her words, as if she was speaking not only to him, but to herself as well.
"I understand everything," Jerome answered, but inside there was still something cold and heavy pressing on his chest.
Meanwhile, Harvey continued his way to the exit, unhurriedly, but clearly confident in every step. He was a master manipulator, and there was nothing superfluous in his actions, no nervousness. He was too sure of himself to worry about what might go wrong.
Jo, walking next to Harvey, noticed his gaze and chuckled, but said nothing. She was focused, as if she already knew that this part of the mission would be difficult. Everything was under control, and she, as always, did not jump to any hasty conclusions.
"It'll be okay, Jerome," she said without turning around, but her voice was firm. "Just follow us, do your job, and everything will be okay."
She didn't say anything unnecessary, she just turned her head for a few seconds to meet his gaze. There was no condemnation in her eyes, only a calm acceptance of the situation.
As Jerome and his companions moved toward the exit, his gaze couldn't help but fall on Harvey. He noticed how he kept close to Jo and Delia, not because he was a caring partner, but rather because the presence of the two women seemed to interest him more than the actual plan of the operation. Harvey moved among them deftly, tilting his head slightly toward Jo when she spoke, or occasionally glancing at little Delia, as if weighing every word the girl said.
Jerome felt the tension building inside him. He was sure that such moments of attention could not be accidental. Harvey was clearly more interested in the people around him than in the mission itself. The boy felt envy and discontent creeping up on him from within, but despite this, he still tried to focus on the present moment. After all, no matter how he felt about Harvey, they had to work together now.
But Jo didn't seem to notice the looks, or at least she was deliberately ignoring them. She was as calm as ever, and seemed oblivious to the subtle manipulations that were clearly part of Harvey's style.
"Don't think about it," Jerome told himself. "You can't control what happens between adults."
But his gaze still didn't leave Harvey.
A few minutes later they reached a small transport vehicle parked in the shadow of one of the warehouses. Harvey opened the door and stepped inside first, clearly in his element. Jo followed, and then Delia entered, but when she noticed Jerome standing in the doorway, she stopped and turned to him with a small smile.
"You're not coming?" she asked, her gaze calm, almost inviting.
Jerome hesitantly stepped forward and soon found himself next to her. He immediately felt the tension in his body begin to ease a little. Delia was next to him, and her presence somehow calmed him. He sat down on the seat, not taking his eyes off Harvey, who continued to sit with Jo. It seemed like nothing was happening, but to Jerome it seemed as if everything around him was filled with hidden meaning. Jo continued to talk to Harvey, but Jerome couldn't help but notice how her eyes sometimes lingered on him, as if she was specifically testing his reaction.
A few minutes later the car pulled away and they began their journey. Everyone sat silently, lost in their own thoughts, but Jerome felt his thoughts never leaving the moment when he noticed Harvey's interest in Jo.
"Don't worry, Jerome," Delia said quietly, noticing the tension in his shoulders. "It's nothing to worry about."
She looked confident, and that calmed Jerome down a little. He didn't know what she meant exactly, but he intuitively understood what she was trying to tell him: don't waste time worrying about something unnecessary. Jerome nodded, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Harvey, meanwhile, had noticed Delia and Jo, the ease with which they communicated and the harmonious way they moved together. He sensed something unusual about the pairing: the charismatic Jo and her quieter but equally attractive partner Delia created a dynamic that drew him in. He may not have been fully aware that it was happening on a deeper level.
Jerome sat in the corner of the car, his hands clasped in his lap, trying to ignore Harvey's gaze, which occasionally lingered on Jo and Delia. He felt something inside him tighten. He couldn't figure out what was bothering him - the fact that Harvey was on their team, or his strange behavior, where he seemed to be making subtle advances toward both women. Jerome felt a sense of dislike for the man, but at the same time, he wondered if maybe he was being too suspicious.
Delia, sitting next to him, seemed calm. Her eyes were focused on the road, although she occasionally glanced at Harvey and Jo. She seemed not to notice this hidden flirtation, or perhaps she simply did not attach any importance to it. Jerome, on the other hand, could not shake the feeling that Jo, although seemingly unperturbed, something in her demeanor told him that she was aware of all the subtleties of what was happening.
"Don't worry, Jerome, it's none of your business," he repeated to himself, but something was bothering him.
He tried to concentrate on the matter at hand, but his thoughts kept drifting away. When he noticed Harvey looking up at Jo again, his inner irritation reached its limit.
"What are you staring at?" Jerome couldn't help but hiss, his voice as sharp as a knife blade.
Something inside him was clenching with discontent, and he couldn't keep quiet any longer. Harvey, this man from the past, this man who had been part of a hostile world, was suddenly here with them, as an equal. He felt his inner world begin to crumble, and he couldn't stop himself from spilling it.
Everyone in the car froze for a moment. Jo, sitting behind the wheel, didn't react right away. She turned to Jerome, her face showing neither anger nor condemnation, only mild surprise. As if she had expected this, but still wasn't ready.
"What do you mean?" Her voice was quiet but confident.
She knew it wasn't just a random question, but something more, something that carried a certain charge. But she didn't rush to analyze it at that moment. Instead, she remained calm and focused, as always.
Harvey, sitting in the back seat, noticed the tension in the air. His lips curved slightly into a smirk, and for a moment Jerome felt the air in the car grow heavy. Harvey laughed briefly, but it was not a cheerful laugh, but an evil one, with a hint of something hidden, unkind.
"Are you even talking to me like that?" Harvey replied with some sarcasm, but there was still a slight threat in his voice. "You got a beef, kid? I thought we were all here to work, not build personal relationships.
Jerome felt his heart skip a beat. He stood before this man as if he were standing before something incomprehensible and dangerous. It seemed that Harvey understood perfectly well what was happening. He was not holding back, he was simply playing his role, which he knew how to play better than anyone. Jerome cringed inside, but he could not look away.
"No," Jerome said, his voice firm but a storm raging inside him. "You're just too... close. I don't like being scrutinized like that."
Harvey looked at him, assessing him, but said nothing. His eyes seemed to penetrate Jerome himself, but Jerome, clenching his fists, did not want to show how much this bothered him. Silently, Harvey continued to drive as if nothing had happened, and the tension in the air became even more palpable.
Jo, sitting in the front seat, did not interfere. Her gaze returned to the road, as if what was happening around her did not concern her. There was something frightening in her calm. She was always like this, unfailingly calm, but at this moment her silence seemed especially heavy. Jerome knew that she saw everything, but apparently she preferred not to interfere. It was not because she did not care - on the contrary, Jo always cared about the details, but she clearly decided that at this moment it was not worth interfering in their "manly showdown."
A few minutes of silence passed. Harvey continued to move forward, taking his time. His hands were firmly on the wheel, and Jerome felt like the man was in complete control. It was annoying, but it also inspired respect. Harvey was who he was-confident, knowing what he was doing, and not afraid to take responsibility for his decisions.
"You don't understand, kid," Harvey said finally, after a long moment of silence, his eyes on the road. "This isn't about you. This is about all of us. We're all here because someone's got a job to do. And what you see isn't what I show you, it's what you choose to see. Don't forget who you are, and don't forget that you matter more than you think."
Jerome didn't know what to say. He stared out the window, trying to hide the inner storm and felt his heart speed up, his thoughts returning to Harvey again and again. Every look from this man, every gesture from him made Jerome want to distance himself, to leave, to get rid of this feeling of alienation. He hated Harvey for being part of the world that the boy had considered an enemy since childhood. For his connection with the past that Jerome could not and did not want to understand. He was sure that no explanation or argument could make him look at Harvey differently.
Jerome tried to push away the obsessive thought that kept popping into his head. Samara. This city, which Harvey had in his past, seemed distant to him, but at the same time threatening. He couldn't get rid of the association with this name, couldn't get rid of the image of the dead girl from the movie "The Ring", her black hair and soulless eyes that seemed to be watching him. In Jerome's head, these two concepts were intertwined into one, and this only made the feeling of anxiety stronger.
He looked back at Harvey, who was sitting behind the wheel, calm and confident. He seemed to sense the tension, but didn't seem to be paying much attention to it. It wasn't the usual hostile look, but rather a look that, despite its secrecy, was slightly mocking.
"How can you trust this man?" Jerome thought again.
He knew it was all ridiculous, that he was just projecting his fears onto reality, but at that moment his mind defied any logical explanation. Samara wasn't just a town. It was something more, a curse that had hung over him from the very first second he learned of Harvey's past.
"Samara... how can this be a coincidence?" he thought, struggling with himself.
He felt fear gripping his chest, words on his tongue that he couldn't say out loud. Fear that he couldn't control the situation, that his mind had intertwined two completely different worlds.