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meticulous about detail and Mitchell wasn’tin the mood to challenge her. He also wasn’t keento dwell on the sort of training that went on in hisbody: his muscles developing as he slept, hisprogramming sending thousands of signals through hissynapses every second to give him new skills that he’dnever guessed could be his. The skills of an assassin.
    They were both glad to be distracted by the PrimeMinister’s voice floating through the window on a waft ofcooler air.
    “Paduk died in the service of his country, trying todefend one of our most precious assets from foreignsabotage…”
    They had to listen hard. Every time a car drove past itdrowned out the words.
    “…response will be diplomacy… for a peacefulresolution… but if pressed we are ready…”
    Eva didn’t want to hear it. Whatever the man said,she knew he would probably be lying. But it wasn’t thewords that upset her. It was the voice – that calm,reassuring, authoritative voice. To her it wasn’t justthe voice of the Prime Minister, it was the voice of herbest friend’s dad, Ian Coates.
    A few minutes later he was marching back in thedirection of Mitchell and Eva, flanked on either side bySecret Service agents in plain black suits. The sun glintedoff their dark glasses and picked out the green stripes ontheir lapels. They were big men, but Ian Coates wasn’t muchsmaller. Eva remembered that all the time she’d thought hewas an ordinary businessman, he’d in fact been an NJ7agent, along with Georgie’s mother, Helen. Since becomingPrime Minister, he’d clearly gone back to a strict regime ofphysical training. The shoulders of his suit were bulging.
    Eva watched him striding towards them, his jaw juttingout in grim determination. But the closer he came, themore she noticed something was wrong. His swagger wasslightly off-centre and his face was pale, with patches underhis eyes that were almost yellow.
    He forcefully raised a hand to wave to the press, beforethey were escorted away as a pack by more Secret Servicestaff. No time to pay private tributes to the fallen herothey’d all come to commemorate. Not that they seemedbothered, Eva noticed.
    Eva and Mitchell’s car was one of a row of five. Theirdriver appeared out of nowhere and opened the rear door,motioning Mitchell to shift over to make room, readyfor Miss Bennett. As he shuffled towards Eva, the backs ofhis arms stuck to the leather, making a soft squeak.The Prime Minister’s car was the one directly in front oftheirs. He paused with one foot in and one foot out, andraised his head back in the direction of the memorial.
    Eva followed the direction of his stare and saw MissBennett approaching across the grass. She movedgracefully and with a slight sway in her hips. Eva wasamazed she could walk so effortlessly fast in high heels.One side of her mouth was curled upwards in a half-smileand as she came closer a flash of sunshine caught thesubtle green stripe in the weave of her pencil skirt.
    As she reached the Prime Minister’s car, theystarted talking – quickly and without waiting for eachother to finish their sentences. Eva couldn’t quitemake out their words, but it was obvious they didn’tagree about something. She opened her window alittle further to catch their conversation.
    Mitchell tried to object. “What are you…?”
    “Shh!” Eva hissed. “Can’t you use some special skill to tellme what they’re saying?”
    Mitchell snorted a sarcastic laugh, but before he couldreply, a loud click cut him off. The back door on the otherside of the Prime Minister’s car opened. Eva and Mitchellboth sat to attention and leaned forward. Out of the carstepped William Lee.
    His presence stopped Miss Bennett’s conversationdead. Ian Coates looked from Lee to Miss Bennett andback again. For a second, nobody said anything. Then thePrime Minister seemed to glance up at the sky beforeissuing an order that Eva could hear perfectly, though itmeant nothing to her.
    “Mutam-ul-it. Make it