Page 151 of The Dangerous Dance

"Done," Marco says.

Vito looks at Nadia. "The contact in Moscow. I want someone speaking to him by tonight."

"I'll make the introduction."

Vito nods. He looks at me once more, briefly, with something in his expression that I've been trying to read since she came into the room and which I now read as: you were right about her. He doesn't say it. He doesn't need to.

The room empties gradually.

Declan comes to where I'm standing and he says, without preamble: "She's good."

"Yes."

"Ferrante doesn't give ground. He's been at that table for thirty years and he doesn't give ground to people he doesn't think have earned it."

"I know."

"She earned it in twenty-two minutes." He looks at where Nadia is in conversation with Marco at the far end of the room, showing him something on her laptop with the focused attention of someone who has been waiting to have this specific conversation and is now having it. "The Petrov contact. She burned something to give us that."

"She's been burning things since November," I say.

He looks at me. "I know." A pause. "She's one of us now. Whatever that means to her." He holds my gaze. "I want you to know I mean that."

"I know you do. Tell her."

He looks at where she is.

"Later. She's working."

This is Declan's version of respect and I receive it as such.

Ailish appears at my elbow from wherever she's been standing, which is the specific place in every room she occupies that gives her sightlines to everything. Her cast is a presence but she's stopped acknowledging it as an inconvenience. "Mackenzie is going to be furious she missed this."

"She'll be briefed."

"It's not the same and you know it." She looks at the room. "Liam."

"Yes."

"Roise. She came in this morning. Before the meeting."

I look at her.

"She left the notice with Conor. Clean handover, proper documentation, everything in order." A pause. "She also left something for Nadia."

"What."

"A note. I didn't read it. She left it with Conor and said to give it to her." She looks at me. "She said to tell you she's going to be all right."

I look at the room.

"Good," I say. And mean it.

We are the last to leave.

Nadia and I, and Conor who is gathering the documents, and the room settling back into itself around us as the operational energy of the morning disperses into whatever comes after.

She is quiet in the elevator. The specific quiet of someone who has expended something significant and is taking stock of what remains.