Our Enemies Chose the Same Safe House

How it begins

Rosa Saye reached the refuge carrying a spare coat, a damaged laptop, and the belief that she was the only person being brought there.

The room held exactly two chairs, placed far enough apart that neither woman could mistake necessity for an invitation.

Mina Marsh opened the door.

For a moment, the rain behind Rosa seemed quieter than the thought moving through her head.

"No," they said together.

Mina was wearing a borrowed sweater and holding a mug with a smiling mountain on it. Rosa had last seen her across a conference table, calmly dismantling the conclusions of an audit Rosa had spent six months defending.

"Who gave you this address?" Rosa asked.

"The same person who apparently gave it to you."

"That doesn't reassure me."

"I wasn't offering reassurance."

Beyond Mina, the house was small, warm, and badly lit. A battery radio sat beside a bowl of oranges. The curtains had been drawn before dusk. Someone had put two clean towels on the sofa.

Two.

Rosa stepped inside because the alternative was standing alone on an unlit mountain road. She did not confuse the practical decision with trust.

"We call them separately," she said. "Using numbers we already know."

Mina moved away from the doorway. "Agreed."

It was the first agreement they had ever reached without a mediator.

Rosa set her bag beside a chair. On the table lay a photograph of a damaged industrial staircase, its railing bent outward. She recognized the site immediately. She did not recognize the person Mina had circled in blue.

"Where did you get that?"

Mina put down the cheerful mug.

"Before I answer, tell me what you were told happened there."

The lights flickered once. Somewhere behind the wall, the heating stopped.

Rosa looked at the photograph again. For months, she'd been afraid someone would discover what she knew.

Now she began to wonder how much of it was true.