SIBYL
Minutes after Pam had left, Dar received a plain grey envelope bearing her name in stenciled letters. Inside lay a slip of paper: a car and driver would arrive at 10:00, and one instruction in bold type —”Bring nothing but yourself.”
She found herself in a windowless office ninety minutes later—the place so sterile it felt designed to be forgotten the instant you walked out. No personal effects decorated the glass-and-steel walls, just the hum of fluorescent bulbs overhead. Dar sat rigidly on the edge of a metal-frame chair, her knuckles white against her dark trousers. I couldn’t survive a week in this place, she told herself.
The door swung open without warning as Veyr entered, tall and severe in an immaculately pressed suit, her eyes the grey hardness of flint. She extended neither hand nor smile, merely set a folder on the desk with deliberate precision. The soft metallic click of her ring against the water glass on her desk punctuated the moment.
“Ms. Montgomery, I trust the courier didn’t leave you with too many questions. Unmarked envelopes can unsettle civilians.” She angled her head like a predatory bird about to strike while her gaze scanned Dar, looking for any weakness.
Dar’s throat tightened like a vise, the sensation of invisible fingers pressing against her windpipe, choking back words she couldn’t afford to let slip. Civilians would’ve run screaming, but I’m not one of them anymore.
Veyr continued without waiting for a reply, one manicured fingernail tapping against the metal desk with metronomic precision. “But you’re not entirely civilian now, are you?” She paused, the fluorescent light highlighting strands of silver hair as she straightened her head. “Ms. Montgomery,” her voice cool and modulated like a recording played quietly, “someone has given you a broad overview. I’m here to confirm whether you grasp the gravity of what you’ve agreed to.”
Dar sat up straighter, the calm poise of a criminologist overriding her racing pulse. “I’m here to consult on patterns and profiles.” her fingers unconsciously traced invisible connections on the cold metal table between them. Her voice held steady, but her eyes flicked to the folder. She avoided the question concerning the contents, as Veyr didn’t strike her as the sharing type. “And gravity is why I’m here.” She paused for a beat to steady her voice. ” My daughter—” The words escaped before she could stop them, and Dar felt her throat close like a fist. Her nails dug half-moons into her palm as she swallowed the rest—the story of Zoe’s dimpled smile, her scattered ashes, the hollow space that never filled. No, not here, not with this woman, whose eyes cataloged weakness like inventory. “I know what happens when people look away.”
Veyr’s expression flickered, something unreadable surfacing behind her eyes—a momentary calculation, as though she were recalibrating her assessment. She tapped the folder once. Grief as a motivator—volatile but potent.
Not quite a smile, more like the shadow of one, landed on Veyr’s lips. “In your role, you’d be safe. Certainly. But make no mistake—your distance from danger doesn’t diminish your importance. What they see, and flag, will shape Task Force 983’s next moves. Soldiers follow orders. You,” she tapped the folder against her palm — “will help write them. Patterns—the kind that don’t show up in police reports or court transcripts.”
She opened the folder, revealing a grainy surveillance photo of a man in a nondescript suit exiting a café in Berlin. No caption, no name. “This one’s been funneling money through shell companies for a group that funds… extracurricular activities. Hostile ones.” She delivered the words like a coroner reading autopsy results—clinical precision masking lethal consequences. “Your thesis about transnational crime networks impressed us. But academic models lack teeth.” She slid the photo toward Dar. “We need you to find fracture points—where the money bleeds into violence. Can you do that without bleeding yourself, Ms. Montgomery?”
Dar’s throat tightened as she looked at the grainy photo, her fingers involuntarily clenching into fists. The paper in her hands felt dry and rough, like sandpaper. It was as if the photo itself was sucking the moisture from her body, leaving her throat parched and her mouth dry. The man’s slumped shoulders and downward gaze said he knew someone watched him. He thinks he’s invisible. Dar’s eyes narrowed in concentration, her fingers twitching with the desire to zoom in and analyze every detail of the photo. She resisted the urge and clasped her hands instead, her entire body leaning forward in anticipation. “I don’t bleed easily.” Dar’s voice found its steel as she locked eyes with Veyr. “What I do is trace the blade before it strikes. Give me everything—money trails, corporate shells, behavioural outliers—and I’ll map where the knife is heading. But I need unrestricted data access, real data, not sanitized summaries.”
Veyr’s chair creaked as she leaned across the desk, her eyes narrowing to silver slits. “Let me be clear about the single non-negotiable condition. This work exists in a vacuum. Not a whisper to your baker friend. Not a hint to your brother. Not even a confession to your own reflection when you’re three glasses deep and the walls feel like they’re closing in.”
Dar flinched at the mention of Pam and Lo, her shoulders tensing as if to shield them from Veyr’s words. She already suspects something. Still, she nodded. “Understood.”
Veyr noted the micro-expression—the slight tightening around Dar’s eyes at mention of her brother. Good. Fear keeps secrets better than loyalty. She set another folder on the table. “Inside, you’ll find clearance credentials, encryption protocols, and a list of codenames—yours and theirs.”
Dar’s forehead creased, her eyebrows drawing together like storm clouds gathering. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the chair until her knuckles whitened. “Mine?” The word came out sharp, almost brittle. “I’m the academic, the consultant, the one who stays behind the desk with the data.”
Veyr’s mouth curved upward, but her eyes remained as cold as river stones. “You’re not filing reports under ‘Darla Montgomery, grieving mother.’ “In this world, even those who never leave their desks require shadows to hide behind.” You’ll be ‘Sibyl’.”
Dar’s pulse caught. Sibyl. Like stepping into a shadow. She let the name settle over her skin as though testing its weight. “Sibyl. And the others—Calder, Ward—they know me by this name?”
Veyr’s mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. “Calder adheres to protocol. Ward, however… he tends to create his own designations based on his peculiar sense of humour.” But the name sticks in the system—in files that don’t officially exist.” Her platinum ring struck the folder with a soft, deliberate tap.
“Everything you need is here.” She slid a slim black device across the desk—no ports, no branding. “Biometric lock. Your thumbprint activates it. Inside: financial trails, intercepted communications, satellite imagery—sanitized, deniable. No copies, no notes outside the device. When you spot something out of place, I’m your first and only call. We don’t publish papers here. The data will breathe and change. Miss a heartbeat, and people die. Understood?”
Dar’s thumb suspended over the device’s dark glass. No turning back now. She pressed down, feeling a faint vibration as the device scanned her print. The screen glowed, offering folders labelled only with alphanumeric codes. “How often do you want updates?”
Veyr watched with approving eyes as Dar’s fingers danced over the interface. “Daily briefs, encrypted pulse checks at 0700 and 1900. But if you see blood in the water…” Her ring clicked against the desk. “You scream. Immediately.” A pause, then: “The device requires regular interaction.” Veyr’s fingers traced its edge with clinical precision. “Miss two consecutive check-ins and the system assumes compromise.” Her eyes met Dar’s with glacial clarity. “Nothing remains. And a visit from people less polite than me.”
Dar’s neck tensed as she jerked her gaze up to meet Veyr’s. “You mean someone would come to my home?” She thought of Lo, of Pam, of the quiet life she’d tried to rebuild.
Veyr’s expression remained calm, but her eyes grew cold—like frost on a windowpane. “The kind that ensures operational security. You’re holding state secrets now, Sibyl—not thesis drafts.” She steepled her fingers. “But let’s focus on the work. That’s your armour.”
Dar met her gaze. “And if I find something that… complicates the mission?”
Veyr’s finger traced a slow circle around the lip of her water glass, leaving no prints. “Complications are inevitable. Your job is to untangle them before they become catastrophes. If you uncover a thread threatening the operation, pull it—but quietly. No alarms until we know the shape of the beast.” Her voice dropped colder. “And if that thread leads back to our side… you bring it to me. Alone.”
Dar nodded, swallowing hard. “Understood.”
Veyr gave a precise nod. She retrieved a slim tablet from her briefcase and slid it across the desk, its screen prompting a retinal scan. “This is your first dataset: shell corporations, wire transfers, a trail of bodies across three countries. Find the thread before it unravels further. Biometric access only. No backups. Everything you need is here—financial trails, intercepted communications, asset movements. Are you certain you want to see how deep the rot spreads?”
Dar’s thumb met the scanner without pause, her heartbeat quickening as the screen bathed her face in emerald confirmation.
Veyr watched the light reflect in Dar’s eyes. “Access granted. Welcome to the fog of war, Sibyl. Remember: patterns hide in noise. Follow the money but trust the bodies. They rarely lie.” She rose, already planning encrypted status updates in her mind. “The car will take you home now.” With that, she turned and left.
Dar sat in silence, the device’s glow illuminating her reflection in its glossy metal cover. Sibyl. Christ. What have I done?
Outside the door, Veyr paused, her hand dropping from the cold steel handle. She didn’t look back. The hum of the corridor’s HVAC filled the air as she spoke into her comms, “Sibyl is live. Monitor her data streams. No anomalies yet.” Potential was there. Now to see whether she broke or bent.