Chapter 891

"You two really have nothing better to do than cause trouble, do you? Haunting people in broad daylight is one thing. I’ve seen stranger things, so fine. But haunting people while you’re still alive? Isn’t that a little premature? Then again, you’ve pulled something like this before."

Melinda kept the thought to herself.

She had no intention of calling Claire out, mostly because she had absolutely no idea how to explain her own ability to see spirits. What was she supposed to say? That a head injury during a mission had awakened her mystical eyes, allowing her to perceive souls and the death of all things?

That explanation would raise more questions than it answered.

Besides, she had a far more pressing problem on her mind: a question that threatened to undermine everything she thought she knew about physics.

Did souls have mass? Were they subject to inertia?

If someone left their body while aboard a moving airplane, would the aircraft’s acceleration send their soul flying backward? Or would the soul remain suspended in the same position relative to the cabin, traveling alongside the plane at a constant velocity?

And if souls could pass through solid objects without resistance, why didn’t they simply fall through the floor of the aircraft?

Had they somehow escaped the influence of gravity altogether?

Melinda paused.

Wait. What am I doing? Trying to explain the mechanics of souls through modern physics might be a fundamentally flawed approach.

She decided to stop thinking about it.

With Melinda remaining conspicuously silent, the agents resumed discussing their next move under Claire’s ghostly gaze. Nobody appeared to notice the woman watching them.

At least, nobody admitted to noticing her.

SITWELL, however, seemed to sense something.

As he removed his glasses to clean them, his eyes drifted toward the spot where Claire stood. He glanced away almost immediately, but not before a bead of cold sweat appeared on his gleaming bald head.

Fortunately, he covered the movement by putting his glasses back on, casually wiping the sweat away in the process.

After that, he didn’t look in Claire’s direction again.

With the Clairvoyant’s potential targets narrowed to people who had once been recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D., the next step was to reduce the list further.

"We’ve narrowed it down to thirteen candidates," John Garrett announced.

"Let’s assume our theory is correct," Victoria Hand said. "The Clairvoyant has encountered us before, and he possesses some form of mind-reading ability. How do we approach him without alerting him to our intentions?"

Garrett offered a suggestion.

Whether it was a genuine attempt to solve the problem or a deliberate effort to steer the discussion in a particular direction, he kept his answer simple.

"We fragment the information."

Coulson had evidently anticipated the problem.

"My team has a pattern-recognition specialist. Give her the data from our surveillance and analysis, and she can rank the candidates by priority. After that, we’ll divide everyone into randomly assigned pairs. Each pair will receive only the information it needs, so no single agent can compromise the entire operation."

Hand sighed.

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was reasonable.

She also knew exactly which specialist Coulson had in mind, and that knowledge made her uneasy.

Skye.

The young hacker was still a monitored trainee without even a formal agent clearance. She had no business participating in a meeting of this importance.

At the moment, she was in the aircraft’s lower compartment while Fitz and Simmons adjusted the mechanical exoskeleton she had been wearing.

The equipment was supposed to assist her recovery, but two problems remained. The first was the uncomfortable friction between the device and her skin. The second was the sudden, overwhelming fatigue that occasionally swept over her without warning.

Neither Fitz nor Simmons had found a satisfactory solution to the exhaustion.

As for the friction, Fitz had an idea.

"We could fill the gap between the exoskeleton and your skin with a layer of silicone," he suggested. "Something designed to mimic the texture of human skin. It might reduce the sensation of the machinery rubbing against you."

Skye stared at him.

"Seriously? That sounds like wearing someone else’s skin all over my body. Constant, full-body skin contact with another person. Not only would it be uncomfortable, it’d be disgusting."

She stopped.

Fitz and Simmons were looking at her strangely.

Skye frowned. "I was speaking Spanish just now, wasn’t I?"

They nodded.

Slowly, she rose from her chair.

"I used to know a few people from Mexico, so I learned some Spanish to communicate with them. But lately, I keep slipping into it without meaning to. And my accent is getting better, too. It’s almost as if Spanish were my first language."

"Perhaps the equipment is stimulating the language centers of your brain," Simmons suggested cautiously.

Before they could explore that possibility, Skye received a summons to the conference room.

She arrived expecting a routine briefing.

Instead, she found herself facing a room full of senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, all of whom were staring directly at her.

Her mind promptly went blank.

Things became even worse when she spotted Sitwell among them. He was the same agent she had once arranged to have Simmons knock unconscious with a tranquilizer gun.

Skye had no idea what expression she was making, but she suspected it resembled the look of someone who had just realized she’d walked into the wrong exam room and sat down anyway.

Thankfully, Coulson explained why he had called her in.

Relief washed over her. She straightened, composed herself, and switched into mission mode.

Before she could speak, however, Hand frowned at the mechanical apparatus surrounding her body.

"What exactly is that? It looks like one of those mobility-assistance systems from Gospel Technologies. Although this one seems rather crude."

"Cheap knockoff," Skye replied, her expression darkening. "You make do with what you can afford."

Hand wasn’t interested in its price.

"Coulson, do you really think someone carrying such a complicated piece of machinery should be allowed into a meeting like this?"

"Yes," Coulson answered without hesitation.

He looked around the room.

"As you all know, Skye was seriously injured during the operation in Spain. She bled for this organization and nearly died in the process."

He gestured toward the exoskeleton.

"Evenson acquired the equipment to help her recover."

"Cheap knockoff," Hand repeated dryly, glancing at the machine.

She seemed to understand a little more about Evenson’s habits than she had before. Apparently, some of his more distinctive qualities were becoming common knowledge throughout S.H.I.E.L.D.

"In any case," Coulson added, "we’ve examined the equipment thoroughly. There are no hidden surveillance devices or intelligence-gathering mechanisms inside it. You have no reason to be suspicious."

Coulson’s assurances appeared to satisfy the agents.

Claire, on the other hand, took another look at Skye.

So this is the girl Evenson practically sold to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Now that Skye had made an effort with her appearance, she was rather cute. Evenson also seemed to take decent care of her.

Claire folded her arms and smiled faintly.

Still, cute doesn’t stand a chance against sexy.

Skye, entirely unaware of Claire’s assessment, returned her attention to the briefing.

"The random pairing system makes sense," she began. "But I have another idea. It’s not perfect, but it could make the operation even more secure."

She outlined her proposal.

"We use a double-blind system. I’ll give one member of each team the suspected location of the Clairvoyant and the other member the relevant identity information. Neither person will have the complete picture before reaching the destination."

Garrett looked delighted.

"I like the way you think. I really like the way you think."

Hand nodded, offering Skye something close to genuine approval.

"No one can leak the whole plan if no one knows the whole plan. It’s rather like the director’s management style."

Skye allowed herself a small smile, then raised a practical concern.

"But how am I supposed to access all this information without someone supervising me? I don’t have the necessary clearance."

That was when Coulson reached into his pocket.

He produced a S.H.I.E.L.D. badge and held it out to her.

"That’s what I wanted to talk to you about."

His expression softened.

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., Skye."

The room broke into congratulations.

Even Hand, who had never been particularly enthusiastic about Skye, managed a smile.

She did, however, add one qualification.

"You’re only a Level One agent."

"I... I honestly don’t know what to say."

Skye stared at the badge in Coulson’s hand, overwhelmed by the moment.

The fact that he was the one personally giving it to her made it all the more meaningful.

Her feelings toward Coulson had always been complicated. It would have been easy to say that he had filled the father-shaped hole in her life, but that wasn’t quite right.

Skye genuinely regarded him as her father.

Her actual father.

And she had developed a perfectly logical explanation for why that had to be true.

A while ago, Coulson had shown her a heavily redacted file suggesting that her biological parents were other people entirely.

Skye had dismissed it as a transparent attempt at misdirection.

After all, she’d had her DNA examined by Simmons. She was convinced she was of mixed Chinese and American ancestry. Meanwhile, someone had secretly arranged much of her early life through S.H.I.E.L.D.

Whoever had done that had to be a reasonably senior agent.

And who fit the bill better than Coulson?

He had the right age, the right rank, and the right general air of paternal concern.

If Coulson wasn’t her father, who else could it possibly be?

As for her Chinese mother...

Skye turned toward Melinda and smiled without saying a word.

Come on. Tell me that doesn’t make sense.

Coulson and Melinda were both senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agents of roughly the right age. Skye was convinced there had always been something between them.

Perhaps they’d made a mistake when they were younger, and their positions had prevented them from raising a child together.

That wasn’t necessarily their fault. Relationships between field agents were probably discouraged, and being the child of two high-ranking intelligence operatives would have made her a target.

Then, when Skye began heading down the wrong path, they’d arranged for their friend Evenson Richter, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s special consultant, to bring her aboard the aircraft.

How else could anyone explain the timing?

She’d spent years without encountering a single Inhuman. Then, in a single day, two had appeared—and one of them happened to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. consultant.

That couldn’t be a coincidence.

It had to have been arranged in advance.

And despite all the trouble she’d caused aboard the aircraft, Coulson and Melinda had repeatedly overlooked her mistakes and accommodated her.

Naturally, they were making up for the years of parental affection they’d been unable to give her.

It all fit.

As far as Skye was concerned, the case was closed.

"Sherlock Holmes."

Sitwell’s voice cut through the moment.

The agent had remained quiet until now, but he suddenly introduced a name that drew everyone’s attention.

"I don’t know whether he’s on your list, but if he is, you should be careful."

Coulson’s expression sharpened.

"Do you have reason to suspect him?"

"I was involved in recruiting him," Sitwell explained. "His intelligence is exceptional. His social skills, on the other hand, leave something to be desired."

He adjusted his glasses.

"On the surface, he’s a private detective who works with the NYPD. He’s practically the homicide division’s unofficial guardian angel. You could call him the twenty-first century’s Shinichi Kudo."

Several agents exchanged uncertain glances.

Sitwell continued.

"He solves cases using what he calls the science of deduction. I’ve watched him work. His reasoning is extraordinarily precise. He reconstructs crime scenes almost perfectly and sometimes identifies a killer’s motive with unsettling accuracy."

He paused.

"Honestly, watching him solve a case doesn’t feel like watching someone deduce the answer. It feels like watching someone read the culprit’s mind."

That got their attention.

"And his background is complicated. He has some rather unhealthy personal habits. His father is Morland Holmes, the internationally renowned venture capitalist. His older brother has deep connections to British intelligence. And, most importantly, he has a history with the international criminal mastermind Professor Moriarty."

The room fell silent.

Every agent stared at Sitwell.

He blinked at their reactions.

"What? You didn’t know Moriarty was a woman?"

He looked genuinely baffled.

"And even if Moriarty were a man, what exactly is so surprising about that? It’s hardly the sort of thing people should be scandalized by these days."

Coulson rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"If what you’re saying is accurate, Holmes certainly deserves consideration as a suspect."

"I’m not sure I’d go that far," Garrett replied, shaking his head.

He seemed familiar with the name.

"I’ve heard of Holmes. He returned to Britain quite some time ago. He’s also friends with the only two senior consultants at our Shenzhen branch, both of whom have worked closely with Evenson."

Garrett continued before Sitwell could interrupt.

"During the Mandarin incident, Holmes helped Tony Stark and Evenson. He and his partner were even captured by Killian and nearly killed. If Holmes were the Clairvoyant, I doubt he’d have put himself in a position like that."

He paused, then added another detail.

"Besides, his relationship with his father has always been terrible. Holmes has blamed Morland for his mother’s death for years. The two barely speak."

You bald bastard.

Garrett kept his expression neutral, but his thoughts were considerably less charitable.

It’s easy for you to throw another name into the discussion when you aren’t the one whose plans might be ruined.

I’ve already set everything up, and now you’re dragging Sherlock Holmes into this? Are we supposed to be working for the same organization or not?

"Perhaps I’m being overly suspicious," Sitwell conceded.

Surprisingly, he abandoned the subject without putting up much of a fight.

Before anyone could return to the discussion, a communication came through.

"Agent Sitwell, headquarters has issued an order. Report to the Moriah Star immediately."

"Understood. I’m on my way."

Sitwell acknowledged the summons, then turned toward the assembled agents.

"My apologies. It seems I won’t be able to participate in your little operation to hunt down Santa Claus."

He gave a faint, wistful smile.

"To be honest, after spending most of my career in internal security, I’d love to do something reckless for once. Jump off a skyscraper. Race down a highway with an enemy clinging to the roof of my car. Something along those lines."

He shrugged.

"But orders are orders."

The others accepted his departure without complaint.

Sitwell left the aircraft.

The moment he was clear of the others, he contacted Alexander Pierce through an encrypted channel.

"Sir, the test of John Garrett is complete. Unfortunately, the results aren’t encouraging."

Pierce remained silent, allowing him to continue.

"First, Evenson Richter appears to have become unavailable at the last minute. Garrett already seemed to know that, which suggests the two of them are in contact through some private channel."

Sitwell adjusted his glasses.

"There’s also the matter of Garrett burying himself alive for three days. That story appears to be true."

He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"I still don’t understand what he was trying to accomplish, but the behavior reminded me of certain practices from my homeland. I’m Indian, as you know. In parts of India and the highlands to the east, there are traditions involving people burying themselves underground and surviving without food or water, breathing through a tube. Some claim these practices can transform the body into something resembling an immortal Buddha."

He continued, sounding increasingly convinced by his own theory.

"Further east, there are also traditions involving prolonged fasting without actually burying yourself."

Sitwell hesitated.

"This may sound strange, but I suspect Garrett is practicing magic. Evenson may have bought his loyalty by promising to teach him."

He offered his reasoning.

"We have a fairly detailed file on Evenson. When he first opened his little shop, he reportedly went five days without eating. He claimed it was because of cash-flow problems, but he was already affiliated with Umbrella. I find that explanation difficult to believe."

Sitwell’s voice grew more confident.

"He was probably practicing magic himself. Whatever he was doing and whatever Garrett did appear remarkably similar."

He moved on to the next point.

"Then there’s Skye, the hacker. She appeared wearing a mechanical exoskeleton manufactured by Gospel Technologies. We know Gospel is merely a front for Umbrella. Even if Garrett doesn’t know that, any competent agent should have questioned such a complicated piece of equipment."

He paused for emphasis.

"Yet Garrett was the first to accept it without objection. That can’t be a coincidence."

Sitwell’s tone hardened.

"Skye is now officially wearing that equipment and moving around the organization openly. And the reason she has it is that Garrett’s operation left her seriously injured in the first place."

He drew a breath.

"You suspected that the injury might have been part of a staged act to win sympathy. I believe you were absolutely right. There’s no way all these connections are accidental."

Pierce remained silent.

Sitwell moved to his final point.

"Lastly, I tested Garrett by deliberately introducing Sherlock Holmes into the discussion about the Clairvoyant investigation."

He explained Holmes’s connections to Evenson, his involvement in the Mandarin incident, and his subsequent disappearance from public view.

"After the Mandarin incident, Holmes began making frequent visits to Gospel Technologies. Then, through channels we still haven’t identified, he returned to Britain. His movements have remained suspiciously obscure ever since."

Sitwell lowered his voice.

"Holmes may be another member of Umbrella. His father, Morland, and Moriarty, his former lover, could both be people Umbrella created through its replication program."

He added one final detail.

"At the very least, Moriarty has recently been contacting people in Britain and preparing to establish a British branch of Gospel Technologies."

Sitwell returned to the reason he had brought Holmes up in the meeting.

"Given all that, I deliberately suggested Holmes as a potential suspect. On the surface, eliminating him from consideration would have weakened Coulson’s team and made Garrett’s plan easier to execute."

He paused.

"But Garrett was the first person to object. He seemed particularly determined to prevent us from investigating Holmes."

Sitwell exhaled.

"That’s everything I have to report, sir. I’ll leave the final judgment to you."

For the first time since the call began, Pierce spoke.

He sighed heavily.

"His betrayal is already obvious. There’s nothing left to deliberate."

His voice hardened.

"Immediately sever all contact with everyone connected to John Garrett. Do not acknowledge their communications, and do not respond if they reach out to you. Whatever happens on their side, we will treat it as though it doesn’t exist."

A brief pause followed.

"When I have the time, I’ll deal with them myself."

Pierce’s next words were sharp and deliberate.

"The situation aboard the Moriah Star takes priority. Be careful."

His voice lowered.

"Recently, I’ve had an unpleasant feeling that I can’t explain. It’s as if I’m standing at the edge of an abyss. I don’t know why, but something feels terribly wrong."

"Understood, sir."

Sitwell bowed his head slightly, the glow of the encrypted call reflecting off his rimless glasses.

The call ended.

His fingers drifted to the lapel of his suit, where he rubbed the unusual tie clip shaped like a faceless beast.

"I won’t disappoint you," he murmured.

A faint smile touched his lips.

"This is going to be interesting."