“Ho, ho, ho,” Miles said with a jolly temperament as he led me into a dark room filled with blue light and computer screens. “I come bearing gifts.” A woman sat behind a desk, her back to us as her fingers raced across the keys. She spoke in Arabic as her eyes darted back and forth across a metropolitan map. “Hold on,” she clipped in English before switching back to her conversation. Miles slid his hand down my spine, gently rubbing my back. “That’s Isla,” he said. “Former MI6. Fluent in Arabic, Berber, Russian, Portuguese, and German. She’s our in-house human computer.” “I can also kill you
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