21. On Your Own

"The international airport has been locked down," Tems said as he scrolled through the news on his phone. "I'm seeing confirmation online. No planes allowed to take off, and no cars allowed through any of the airport's exit points."

They were barred from the airport while the government executed a manhunt for the president's killer—and while Niall's killers were likely still targeting them.

"What do we do?" Winter asked. His head had turned back in the direction they'd come.

Sydney realized right away that he was looking for the police car to reappear. It was this gesture that snapped her mind back into focus. She touched Tems once on his shoulder. "We need a place to hide," she said, "and make contact with Sauda."

"Thought Panacea phones had an encrypted booster?" Tems said.

"They do." She waved the phone once impatiently. "This isn't a standard blackout."

Tems nodded as he glanced over his shoulder. "Hold tight," he muttered.

Sydney braced herself right as Tems slammed his foot down on the pedal. The car screamed in reverse out of the airfield's narrow entrance road, spinning in a tight circle before jerking forward down the street.

"Where can we go?" Winter asked.

"We stay in the car for now," Sydney said as she tried once again to dial out on her phone. "Come on!"

At last, an incoming message popped up on her screen from an unknown source.

Name?it said.

Jackal, Sydney typed back.

The message disappeared, and a second later, a hologram appeared of Sauda. The woman looked like she was deep in conversation with someone out of frame—until the call connected, and her eyes snapped over to Sydney as if the woman were sitting in the car between her and Tems.

With a sinking feeling, Sydney realized that Sauda hadn't heard about Niall yet.

The first thing Sauda did was swivel her gaze to Tems. "Oh, good," she said coolly, annoyed. "I'm glad you got ahold of the Arsonist, so that we can scold him properly once we get you all back to the States. We can't land your plane. Working on an alternative. Is Niall driving? Put him on."

Tems had no retort. They all answered with silence—and in that silence, Sauda's expression changed, sobered. She looked at Sydney. "What's happened?" she said.

"It's Niall," Sydney said. The rest of her sentence halted as her voice choked off, and she had to swallow hard to get past the tears rising in her eyes. "It's Niall, ma'am," she could only manage.

She didn't need to say the details. She didn't need to tell Sauda exactly what had happened. Sauda knew immediately what she meant.

For a moment, her expression froze. Her eyes flickered from Sydney to Tems, as if searching for confirmation, or perhaps some hint that Niall was alive, that she had misunderstood.

But they said nothing.

"How?" Sauda finally said, her voice low and still.

"Car explosion," Tems replied as Sydney struggled for more words. "As we were trying to escape."

Their answers sounded so disjointed, so messy. "Another car smashed into Niall's as he tried to pick us up," Sydney finally managed to say. "We couldn't get him out."

Sauda nodded, more to herself than to them. Her lips had straightened into a thin line. Sydney could see a gloss against her eyes, although the woman didn't cry. "Okay," she murmured. "Okay."

"I'm sorry, Sauda," Sydney whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Sauda glanced around the car again, her eyes settling on Winter. She nodded, acknowledging that all three of them were together, before turning back to Sydney with a sober expression.

"Asset's down," Sydney added. She knew Sauda would understand her real meaning. President Rosen was dead.

Sauda nodded. "We can't land the plane," she repeated. "We reached Singapore's airspace right as the assassination happened. They're scrambling phone towers. We'd actually gone into descent before we were forced back into the skies. All passports are currently suspended. No timeline on when airports will reopen."

"What about in the US?" Winter asked.

"News just went public about the president's assassination," Sauda replied. The woman seemed to be speaking in a daze, as if she hadn't quite processed Niall's death. Maybe none of them had. "We'll work on making sure the American government doesn't have you on their hit list—but we can't help you in Singapore, not yet. Singapore will suspect any US intelligence agent right now, given the political nature of this attack."

"They won't grant us clearance," Sydney said. "We'll need another way."

And right as she said it, she saw Winter nod in the rearview mirror and point at himself. "The other way," he said.

Sauda's eyes skipped to him. "Can you get them out?"

Winter thought for a second, then nodded. "I once had to get out of France after a volcanic eruption in Iceland grounded most flights. France granted me an exemption."

Sauda nodded. "Singapore will have less reason to suspect a superstar. They might let you through."

"Let's say they do," Sydney said. "Then what?"

"There's a private airfield about fifty kilometers northwest of where you currently are," Sauda said. Her hologram disappeared briefly to make way for a map. "In Kampung Ladang, Malaysia. As it's across country borders, it is still operational, last we checked." The map disappeared, and Sauda came back. She looked at Winter. "Tell Claire to send your private plane there."

"How do we get across the border?" Winter asked.

"They'll be on alert, too," Sauda said. "But you're the superstar. See what you can do."

"Are you serious?" Tems muttered.

"Do you want to leave the country or not?" Winter snapped.

"Enough," Sauda interjected. "Get there as soon as you can."

"What about Niall's killer?" Sydney said. They had avoided bringing him up, as if not mentioning him could somehow make his death a fiction. The thought was unbearable to her. "What about what happened?"

"Get yourselves to safety first," Sauda said brusquely, and Sydney stopped short. Sauda rarely lost her temper. In her words, she could hear an unspeakable grief. "Let's not add to the body count."

The transmission cut off before Sydney could say a proper goodbye. She put down her phone and glanced in the rearview mirror again. There were a few more vehicles on the road now.

Then one of the cars caught her eye. She went cold.

"I hate to burst everyone's bubble," she said quietly. "But that white car's following us."

Immediately after she said it, the white car suddenly accelerated toward them. At the speed it was going, it would collide with their bumper.

Tems didn't hesitate. He stepped hard on the gas pedal, then swerved wildly across the lanes, wedging them in front of a series of trucks. "If someone's after us," he said over the screeching of tires, "they're going to guess where we're going. We can't go to the airfield right now. Winter's plane isn't even ready. We need to lose them first."

"Can we do it?" Sydney asked him.

"Let me find a shortcut," he said.

As an exit ramp appeared, he careened down it, hugging the curve tightly until he reached an intersection. He didn't even hesitate at the stoplight—instead, he blew through it, leaving two cars spinning out of control. One nearly collided with them, but Tems swung the car sideways, drifting it through a narrow gap between the two cars, before steadying it again and hurtling down the road.

It looked like an industrial park, with a side road blocked off with road closure signs.

"Not closed anymore," he said. Then he rammed right into the signs.

They flew apart, and the car went skidding through a construction site. Workers shouted at each other to jump out of the way as they zoomed through.

Sydney glanced behind them. The white car pursuing them had fallen out of view, but a second car was tailing them now—the same police car that they'd seen at the roundabout near the gala building.

"Tems," she said, nodding behind her.

"I know, I know," he answered.

They made a sharp turn at the end of the construction site. The car's wheels lurched as they drove right inside a concrete pipe, the sound of their engine suddenly echoing against the stone walls. When they emerged from the other side, they were speeding toward a flimsy wire fence secured with a padlock.

Tems smashed right into it, sending the gates flying as he went.

They crashed through a section of dirt before skipping back onto a road heading in the airfield's direction.

That was when Sydney saw the line ahead.

"Police barricade," she shouted.

And sure enough, even from this distance, they could see the faint line of flashing lights, unmistakably that of a police cavalry. Her heart sank—the military had caught up to them. It would be impossible to reach the airfield now.

Tems spat out a swear and threw them into reverse. The car screeched to a halt, vaulted backward, and then turned before he sped off in the opposite direction. "Where to?" he shouted.

"Into the city," Winter shouted back.

"Are you crazy?"

"I've done press here before," Winter said. "We're ten kilometers out of downtown. If you can get into the city, we can lose them in Little India."

Little India.Sydney suddenly realized it was Sunday. She had been through the area before—it was a colorful, vibrant, busy place, full of markets and temples. And on Sundays at this hour, it would be crowded with worshippers and tourists, all flooding the streets to chat and shop. It would mean giving up entirely on their flight out of the country for the night, but at least they would have a chance to hide.

Tems narrowed his eyes at Winter through the rearview mirror. "You're going to get us all killed."

"Would you rather be arrested at the barricade?" Winter shot back. "It's impossible to get through—we can all see that!"

"He's right," Sydney snapped. "Go!"

Tems's grip tightened against the steering wheel as he turned the car at an intersection. They zoomed down the road as the flashing lights behind them followed.

As they turned up a hill, the skyscrapers of Singapore came back into view. The car clipped down a narrow road before Tems finally screeched to a stop at a traffic light. Elaborate light decorations hung in rows down the street. All around them were delivery vans and bustling stalls—workers hanging thick garlands of fresh flowers on hooks, fruit vendor displays piled high with bananas and honey mangoes, cooks selling vadai, daal, and dosai with chutney.

Behind them, they could hear the sound of sirens.

"That alley," Winter said, pointing to a narrow corridor branching off to the right of their intersection. "No lights there."

"Hang on," Tems said. Then he spun the steering wheel all the way to the right and swerved into the alley.

It didn't look like their car could fit down a path this narrow—but somehow Tems made it work, the space so tight that their mirrors scraped against either side. They made their way down the alley until they reached a narrow crevice against one wall that gave them a little more room. It wasn't exactly a parking spot, but they didn't have time to consider that now. Tems stopped the car and cut the engine.

They sat in silence as the sirens gradually drew nearer—then zoomed by, one after another. Sydney held her breath as the sound's pitch lowered, drew more distant.

They waited a little longer. The sirens turned faint, then disappeared.

At last, she exchanged a glance with Tems and Winter, then emerged from the car.

Night had started to fall, thankfully, covering them in deeper shadows. But Sydney knew they couldn't stay out here until morning, not with the entire country on high alert. They traveled as far as they could from where they had left the car behind, taking a myriad of small streets until they emerged into another narrow street, where she saw a neon sign for a small, nondescript hotel.

"Think we can get in through the back?" she said.

"How the hell are we going to get a room at a hotel?" Tems said. "They'll want IDs. Pretty sure we're on a government blacklist right now."

Sydney nodded at Winter.

Winter frowned at her. "You want me to charm our way into a room?"

Sydney crossed her arms. "Think you can do it without drawing a crowd around this place?"

Winter stared at her for a second. He shrugged. "You underestimate me."