You nearly miss him at first—he blends in that well. A man with dark glasses and an easy grin leans against the nearest wall, looking like he’s been there all along.

“Nice day for espionage, huh? Don’t bother asking how long I’ve been here. Or my name. Or where I was born. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

He adjusts his shades, smirking. “Call me Deacon. Or don’t. Names are like hats—I switch them out all the time.”