After Celia's gone, I take a quick shower.

The marks Mint left on my upper body are still visible. No one hits like Mint.

I stare in the mirror for a few seconds, confused, until I realize that it's a problem now, not something to marvel at. A problem I need to find a permanent solution to.

I know what their next attack will target. The lab. The place where the vaccine was made.

I'm also sure that Mint won't be there. I know him better than myself, dammit. He's an effective motherfucker, and he wants the vaccine, not my head. He'll try to evade me until his goal is achieved. Until it's too late for me to make him disappear, sending him back to the oblivion he stumbled forth from after all these years.

I can't let it happen. If I don't want to end my life in a black bag at the docks, it's not an option.

I meet my gaze in the mirror. My reflection still resembles a real-life version of fucking Bond. I wish I had his plot armor too. That would make it so much easier to do what I plan to do.

I call Mr. Toe first.

"I've been thinking," I tell him. "I'm not sure we stand a chance defending the lab."

"We're doing what we can, Duke," he answers.

"Of course, Mr. Toe. But you know what they say, hope for the best, but prepare for the worst."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We need a plan B," I point out. "They mustn't get the vaccine, even if they breach our defense, right?"

"The samples can't be transported to a safe house," Mr. Toe informs me about something I know perfectly well. "The scientists are still running tests, so—"

"The samples can't," I agree. "But the documentation can. I bet those mercenaries need it, too. A sample without a formula is pretty useless, isn't it?"

I hear Mr. Toe humming. He takes his time assessing the situation. That's when I usually get the feeling that he tries to read my mind.

"That could work," he admits, after a long pause. "But there's a problem. We can't defend both the lab and—"

"Very true, Mr. Toe. That's why the formula shouldn't be stored at a fixed point. It should be on the move, constantly. We lack the armed forces to defend it, but we have the perfect person to keep it away from both the vaccine samples and the hands of the criminals."

"Who is that?" He sounds as if he's smirking.

"I am," I admit, not trying to spoil his game.

"Would you run around with a huge pile of documents in a briefcase, like in the movies?"

"Not exactly, Mr. Toe," I snort. "It's another century, you know. A microchip will be enough."

"Implanted under your skin, like in the movies?" he laughs. "My dear Duke, you should stop watching spy action nonsense."

"I never—"

"Okay, okay, I know," he says. "It's not the worst idea, Duke."

I can't decide if his answer should fill me with satisfaction or with dread. It's happening. There's no way back, I started it, but no one knows how it'll end.

"Pay a visit to the lab then, whenever you feel like," Mr. Toe says. "They'll have everything ready for you. I'll see to it."

The procedure itself takes no more than a minute. It's just a small cut under my left shoulder blade and the gentle touch of the doctor telling me that we're ready.

Touching is probably not an inherent part of the medical protocol, so I ask her out for dinner, out of reflex. She has intelligent eyes and a pristine, angelic white lab coat. I never knew those could turn me on. I might have a medical fetish.

After a quick, introductory taste of her on the operating table, I suddenly don't know where to go.

I can't stay in the lab; I need to be as far from it as I can, as soon as possible. All data the scientists generated regarding the vaccine is on the microchip now, and I can't risk being in the same building as the samples.

I can't go back to the headquarters, either. Now it turned out to be another place I should avoid, knowing that a mercenary army may pay a surprise visit at any time, looking for the formula. It's something Mint would do. He knows the place like the palm of his hand, and he's anything but stupid. If I can think of keeping the vaccine and the documentation apart, he can think of it, too.

I can't sit still at home, either.

I'm on the run, basically. Almost as if I went rogue, like Mint.

The thought fills me with grim satisfaction. He won't be able to stay away from me, no matter how hard he tries. I'll go for him, and he must come for me too, sooner or later.

"Try to evade me now," I murmur, opening the door of my Aston Martin. "Try and fail, asshole."

With the formula under my skin, Mint can get what he wants over my dead body.

Literally.