Read Online The Radical (Unity Vol.1) by S.M. Lynch - Free Book Online

would squirm at. Even though he is estranged from his son, I have things on the former “heir to the throne” that neither would want to be released. Trust me. I made it clear to everyone in my circle that I have this stuff. Some so-called buddies of mine are actually loyal members of Officium and I keep them close because… well… Eve taught me that. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’
    I took a breath. It was dawning on me that all my previous moments of triumph were leading up to something so much more important.
    ‘What do I do?’ I asked them all.
    ‘Bury your aunt. Then go back to New York and keep hope alive. We can only do our best. We can keep trying,’ Philip told me.
    ‘I wish I could go back right now,’ I argued. ‘I feel hopeless sat here doin’ fuck all.’
    ‘Hope, remember? Hope is paramount. You stay, show your defiance… and it shall spread hope,’ he assured me.
    I nodded and shook his hand. Camille gestured at the door, ‘Let’s go back to the shop.’

     

C HAPTER 7
    Past
     
     
    Five years previous, my sights were set on Torsten Reiniger, a known asset handler of Officium’s. Handling what – I wasn’t entirely sure to begin with. I thought people were his commodity perhaps, or the secrets they kept, maybe even the scientists Officium traded like gold between their various HQs around the world. Other bleak rumors abounded. Judge a book by its cover and you might miss a good story, but in this case, there was something definitely worth delving beneath.
    He wore the most peculiar outfits. His hair was scraped back. His thin, wiry spectacles unnecessary; he had the money for painless, corrective treatment. His eyewear was a prop, I thought. His tweed suits were perfectly tailored, made to measure, all the material matching. His shirts looked drawn on. He had not a hair or speck out of place. I had watched him from a distance as he ate at Manhattan’s best eateries… always alone. I peered through a camera lens and sensed he knew he was being watched. He was too proud to seem bothered but clearly it pained him to be out in public. A show of defiance, no doubt.
    He had spent years hiding in dingy corners, only ever spotted occasionally, and all of a sudden he was everywhere. It made no sense so I asked around and got nada, maybe it was sheer ignorance or fear. I took to thinking that maybe that would be it. I wasn’t going to learn anything more about him and his curious motives.
    It struck me as a little bizarre when around the same time, Eve called me up to deliver some news. She wanted to attend Fashion Week for the first time. She asked if I would accompany her and I was aghast at the notion. Of course I could get tickets ‒ Francesca would procure them – though many would observe my presence with suspicion.
    I was suspicious, too. Eve didn’t like to leave her shop and only traveled for purposeful business meetings, if she had to travel at all. However, she was adamant about it, holding a long vis-call with me one night over the damn thing.
    I remember the day Eve touched down. She had gotten herself one of the most exuberant suites in the Plaza hotel. Two-and-a-half-thousand square feet of opulence. I walked into the lounge to be greeted in a broad Yorkshire accent, ‘Seraph, how nice to see you again. My, you’ve changed… and how awful this suite is.’
    Never mind that t he surroundings could have easily belonged in the Élyseé Palace.
    ‘Aunt Eve, you haven’t changed at all! How d o you do it at your age?’
    I kissed her cheek and gestured at Eve’s long, platinum hair, which was tucked back into an old-fashioned but graceful style.
    ‘What do you mean at my age? You’re only as old as you feel.’
    ‘How did you manage to get a suite here?’
    Eve s poke with an air of superiority, ‘Oh, I thought seeing as though I don’t do this very often, I might as well treat myself. I pulled some strings, my dear.’
    ‘I see,’ I grinned.
    Eve