Clarissa was going quietly mad.
She’d go noisily mad if it would do any good, but a glare from Taz had informed her how inadvisable that would be. Clarissa could still feel where that blade had rested against her throat as if it was a line of embers that continued to burn there. A discreet peek in a hand mirror hadn’t revealed any mark but she could feel it nonetheless.
When they’d arrived at the NTSB headquarters, the offices were all dark, no surprise in the middle of the night. The gaudy facade of the International Spy Museum spread most of its red glow toward the street and did little to light the NTSB’s offices across the square. This far from the core, traffic had been breaking up and starting to move by the time they arrived.
But Jeremy and Taz wouldn’t leave headquarters, not to
