25: The Light of Day

"You sure about this?"

Sophie was concerned. It was understandable, given what they had dealt with so far. Brooklyn turned to her, tilting his head slightly, offering the woman a quick shrug of the shoulders. In one hand dangled the old pendant, gifted to him by Xanatos. Before them was a short pier, the waters of the East River below it calm, sloshing around the supports of the old wooden jetty. They stood on the edge of the dock, looking out to the Manhattan skyline from the edge of New Jersey, still cast in the dark of night. Sunrise was only minutes away, with the sky having turned a somewhat lighter purple as the sun began its gradual ascent. Brooklyn did not have long, and he contemplated the pendant in his hands, as well as what it would mean to finally be free to move about in the daylight.

"I've always wanted to see a sunrise," he said, turning to Sophie. She had her doubts, she was by far the more sceptical of the pair. Still, she would not stop him, knowing full well how important this would be to him if it worked. Even Brooklyn had his uncertainties, but they by far outweighed the potential for good in his mind. If he could move under the sun, he would be in a far better position to help Vincent and Goliath. He would be far better at serving as Sophie's protector for that matter, if he could be with her at all hours. Would he still have to sleep, he wondered? Presumably he would do so like a human being, yet he still could not be certain. He would find out for himself, soon enough.

"You even said so yourself, you can't trust Xanatos. Not completely." Sophie looked to the water, eyes going to where the sun would appear. The glow of it was already lighting up the sky, the purple tones becoming tinged with orange, the clouds out on the horizon becoming silhouetted against the brightening horizon. Brooklyn promptly slipped the pendant around his neck, watching the rising sun expectantly, thinking he was bound to feel the sudden onset of stone-sleep despite the item he now wore. Sophie turned to him, watching him with narrowed eyes, probably expecting something terrible to happen.

Nothing did. That is, nothing happened to Brooklyn at all. The first rays of the sun struck out across the river, the dark murkiness brought on by the night shifting into the much bluer appearance that the sunlight offered. The sky above shifted into more orange-blue tones, the light of the sun slashing between the Manhattan skyscrapers. Sophie squinted in the sudden onset of light, and Brooklyn found that his dark eyes took a moment to adjust to the sudden and surprisingly brilliant glare.

He felt the warmth of the sun first, splaying across his skin. The cool air of the night was still there, little more than a light breeze that wafted across the docks. Yet there was no denying the feel of the sun, the way it almost caressed his brick-red skin. He looked to the rising sun, blocked somewhat by the skyscrapers. It was staggering how quickly the entire scene changed, with night disappearing within moments. Looking at it now, Brooklyn figured it be a shot worthy to be framed and hung upon one's wall.

"You're not stone," Sophie said, with some incredulity. Brooklyn looked down at himself, flexing his fingers, seeing that not a trace of grey stone had taken hold of any part of him. He felt no different, there were no horrible side-effect rearing their ugly head. Goliath had spoken of his encounter with gargoyles in the jungles of Guatemala, how they had had such pendants to keep themselves active during the day. Was the one he wore now from there, or from some other long-forgotten (and long dead) clan of gargoyles? He supposed he would never know for sure, but there was one thing he could be certain of: the pendant worked, despite its otherwise unremarkable appearance. He was free of stone-sleep, free to do as he pleased during the day, to live out his life in the light of the sun.

He turned to Sophie, his mouth shaping into a broad, beaming smile. It was perhaps the happiest he had felt in a long time, and after the events of the past few days the relief the sensation presented was almost overwhelming. Sophie returned his smile, and suddenly she had thrown herself against him, wrapping her arms around his bulky frame tightly. Brooklyn held her close, lifting her off of her feet with ease, spinning her about while she let out a rollicking laugh. Something had gone right for once, there was genuine positivity for a change.

"Looks like you might have to thank him," Sophie said, as Brooklyn set her down upon her feet.

"Xanatos?" Brooklyn nodded. "Yeah, looks like. Not often I've had to thank that guy." He paused, his hands having found their way to Sophie's own. She clasped her fingers amongst his, still carrying with her that smile with its capacity to light up a room. Even out here, with the sun bearing down, it still stood out to him.

"You're even more beautiful in the sunshine, you know that?" Brooklyn said. Sophie chuckled again, mouth curling slightly.

"That sounds hopelessly romantic," she replied.

"Maybe it is. That's how we gargoyles are." He leaned in and kissed her as best he could with his beak-like mouth, and Sophie returned the gesture with her own soft, attentive lips. Before they could get too carried away, a familiar voice sounded from behind them.

"Excuse me." Owen had walked over with a level of stealth that caused both Brooklyn and Sophie some startlement. Both turned to him, hands freeing themselves of one another's. Some ways behind Owen, across an otherwise empty lane, was the warehouse that served as their temporary hideout.

"I just wanted to inform you both that Mister Xanatos wants you inside," Owen said. "The hired help is on its way, and he intends on briefing everyone at the same time. That includes the two of you."

"Right." Brooklyn watched as Owen turned around and walked away, this time the shoes on his feet making some audible light clacking upon the asphalt. Apparently, he enjoyed sneaking up on people.

"You really think working with Xanatos is going to get us to Vincent?" Sophie asked, as the pair started back for the warehouse, moving a few metres behind Owen.

"I don't know," Brooklyn answered. "But I think it's all the lead we have." One thing he wanted to do was take flight in the day, to see the city from high up when it was under the light of the sun. In fact, there were a lot of places he would have liked to see during the daytime, from forests to mountains to beaches and the like. So many places he wanted to see, most of which he knew only from images displayed to him on television or in photographs. He had spent his whole life living in the night; out here, finally in the day, he was being dragged into a warehouse for some kind of mission briefing. Almost disappointing, despite the necessity of the situation.

It had become increasingly apparent to both him and Sophie that there was some sort of 'secret war' going on. For years, Xanatos had been trying to dig up what he could on the Illuminati and the 'fourth race' of imps. Apparently, all that investigating was coming to a head now, when those powers were making their moves. Goliath and Vincent were only a small part of their plans, or at least Brooklyn had figured as much. There was more going on to it all, and the talk of the 'fate of the world' and dark rituals from Xanatos the night before only added a further ominous shadow to it all. Whatever the full extent, Brooklyn knew that the Illuminati and their associates, human or otherwise, were the enemy and they needed to be stopped. If they had somehow been behind 'Devil's Night', then that meant they were behind the NEAB and the increasingly authoritarian measures that they had taken against the gargoyles. It made a strange kind of sense to Brooklyn the more he thought about it, how so much of what had happened these past seven years might very well have been the doings of a certain power behind the scenes. By coming out here to help Xanatos, he and Sophie would be throwing themselves right into the middle of this conflict.

It was too late to back out, not that he would. Goliath was out there, as was his son. The fight at the house in Vermont would have put a very sizeable target upon both Brooklyn and Sophie, something made clear from their sudden suspension from the NYPD. Again, a higher authority had made that happen. A secret society with overarching power, such as the Illuminati, would have the police forces of the entire country under their control. Was the world really so messed up as to allow this to continue unchecked for so long? With that in mind, just how long had these people been manipulating events from behind the scenes?

The inside of the warehouse was well lit now, with sunlight streaming in through the windows high-up in the ceiling. Owen led the way to the offices, with Xanatos having taken the wheelchair access ramp at the other end of the sequestered, raised office section. Brooklyn heard unfamiliar voices as he came to the top of the stairs, those of a man's and a woman's, and they were speaking in what he thought were annoyed tones. Owen pushed open the door of the office, with Brooklyn and Sophie following him into the carpeted, sparse office.

As soon as Brooklyn walked in, something hit the wall near the doorway, putting it about a foot away from his head. He froze, eyes locking upon the one who had thrown the small, four-inch blade into the plaster of the wall next to him. A spike of anger flared within him, although it subsided quickly when he saw who had thrown it.

The woman who sat at the table in the middle of the room smiled at him sheepishly, before she leaned back and gave a curt shrug.

"Sorry," she said. Brooklyn did not feel that she entirely meant it. "Twitchy fingers."

She was young, a little younger than Sophie. Likely mid-twenties at the most, of an average height and athletic figure. Her dark brown, almost red hair was tied back into a neat bun, her brown eyes locking with the gargoyle's darker ones for an anxious moment. She was dressed in a snug-fitting black long-sleeved top and similarly dark and tight-fitting pants. They helped to accentuate her feminine figure, curves on display despite the overall outfit giving the impression of 'stealth ops'. She had a belt around her waist with multiple small knives sheathed in it, along with a pistol holster that housed a compact Ruger 9mm. Brooklyn knew right away that she was one of the hired hands Xanatos had brought in.

Sophie saw her and frowned, and the younger woman returned the expression.

"Who the hell are you?" She asked her. Reaching for the embedded throwing knife, she pulled it from the wall, holding it up with an annoyed grimace. "Better yet, why are you throwing knives around? Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with sharp objects?"

"My mother taught me a lot of things, cop," the younger woman countered. "She taught me all manner of ways to kill someone, and that's just with my bare hands."

Sophie weighed the small knife in her hand, before she spun it about with surprising finesse and threw it. The blade found itself embedded upon the pin-board at the opposite wall, right in the middle of a map of the greater Miami area. With the map were attached a number of photos and pages from documents that had not been there last night. A recent addition by Owen, no less. And why Miami? Brooklyn supposed there was a good reason for that.

"Your mother sounds like a real piece of work," Sophie added.

"You'd know her, Brooklyn." This voice was that of a man's, laced with a noticeable Australian accent. Brooklyn recognized the voice now that he was in the same room as it, with no walls between to muffle its tones. He turned his head, looking into the makeshift kitchen area to find the burly, bearded figure of someone he had not expected to ever see again. This latest visitor had just finished making himself a cup of tea, and he turned about to face the now alert gargoyle with the steaming cup in hand.

"You…" Brooklyn began.

"Don't look so shocked," the man interrupted. He was much older than the female, with a muscular build and a thick beard flecked with grey, as was his short-cropped brown hair. Formerly, the man had sported a mohawk. Now, it was little more than a standard buzzcut. His outfit was comprised of a grey tank-top and dark green cargo pants, complete with a belt that had sheathed within it the unmistakable shape of a boomerang made of some lightweight alloy. Not the most practical weapon, but Brooklyn knew Harry Monouth well enough to know that it was dangerous in his hands. Granted, 'Harry Monmouth' was not a name he went by normally. Usually, it was simply 'Dingo'.

"Xanatos and I go way back," Dingo added, taking a sip from the mug. "As soon as he called up I knew I had to come along."

"You know this guy?" Sophie asked, turning to Brooklyn.

"He's an old enemy," Brooklyn replied, barely suppressing a growl. Dingo appeared unfazed, and he made his way over to the table whereupon he took a seat across from the young, knife-toting woman.

"That was a long time ago," Dingo said, still watching the gargoyle. "Also, nice trick not turning to stone. That might actually make you useful."

Brooklyn took some further steps into the room, his right hand having clenched into a fist. Owen suddenly moved in front of him, his face the very picture of calm.

"Please, Brooklyn. We're all friends here."

Brooklyn looked past him to Dingo, who met his gaze and offered him a smile.

"We haven't had a fight in over twenty years, Red," Dingo commented. "Why so angry? We haven't seen each other for that long, either."

"I don't trust you," Brooklyn replied, stepping around Owen and stopping by the table.

"And I don't trust you," Dingo said. He nodded towards Sophie, who had moved alongside the gargoyle. "And I sure don't trust that cop. She probably doesn't have the guts to see this thing through, whatever it is."

"What makes you say that?" Sophie appeared unimpressed, and she folded her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing.

"Because it'll be illegal," the younger woman interjected.

"And who are you?" Brooklyn directed this question to her. The younger woman smiled.

"Jane."

"Jane who?"

"Jane Canmore. You had a run-in with my mother, once."

Brooklyn frowned. Another foe from his past, or at least a descendant of one. Robyn Canmore had been one of the so-called 'Hunters', and she had been responsible for the destruction of the original clock tower over the twenty-third precinct. She had almost killed him and the clan through doing so. Brooklyn supposed he should have recognized her in her daughter, for the resemblance through facial features alone was uncanny.

Dingo looked positively amused by this exchange, and he took another sip of his tea before speaking again:

"Her mother has taught her well," he said. "Sure, they don't do much gargoyle hunting these days, but Jane here has become one of the finest assassins in the northern hemisphere. People from all over pay good money to have her knock off their opponents in whatever means they wish."

"I prefer blades," Jane added, meeting Sophie's gaze with a smirk. "Guns are impersonal and a little too easy, if you ask me."

"Did you ever happen to strangle puppies when you were a child?" Sophie asked her. "Better yet, you ever drown a few kittens? Because you seem like the type."

Jane's gaze narrowed into something malicious, and her hand drifted close to her belt of knives. However, Dingo reached over with one hand, placing it upon her forearm which in turn caused the young woman to turn to him.

"Now, Jane, don't go cutting up the good Detective," he said, as if he were speaking to a misbehaving child. "They're our colleagues on this one and you don't go slicing up your colleagues. Well, not usually, anyway. If they try killing you, sure, have at it. But for now, we'll play nice, all right?"

"A gang of crooks," Sophie declared, and she turned to Brooklyn. "Is this what we're doing now? Teaming up with scumbags?"

"Of course, the Detective is too high and mighty to wade through the shit of the world like the rest of us." Dingo rolled his eyes, following it with a dismissive shake of his head. "The world ain't all black and white, despite what you might want to think. Jane and I do the necessary things that most people haven't the guts to do. And you better believe it that business in that field is always booming."

"The business of murder and theft." Sophie clenched her jaw. Brooklyn felt as uncomfortable with all of this as she was, yet there were no real alternatives present at the moment. It was probably a small relief then, when Xanatos suddenly wheeled into the room and all attention was diverted to him immediately. He stopped in front of the pin-board at the wall, regarding the team before him with a careful eye.

"Everybody's here. Excellent." He gestured to the two empty chairs at the table. "Brooklyn, Detective; you should sit down."

"We'll stand, thanks," Sophie stated.

If Xanatos was aware of the animosity present here, he did not show it. Either that, or he simply did not care.

"As you wish." He looked about to each member of the team, greeting them all with smiles. "I hope we've all introduced ourselves to one another?"

"Oh yeah, boss, pleasantries all round," Dingo remarked. "I for one look forward to catching up with big Red over there, once he's sorted out his trust issues." He nodded in Brooklyn's direction, only to receive a harsh, irritated look in return.

"Distrust is natural in this line of work," Xanatos said. "However, for the purposes of this mission, I would suggest putting such petty feelings aside for the time being. We have work to do, and a war to fight."

"War?" Jane frowned, disbelieving. "With who? Germany?"

"No, no." Xanatos shook his head, mildly amused by the remark. "The Illuminati and all their associates. You all know who they are, and you're all well aware of how much of a threat they are to the free peoples of the world. Unless you would all rather live in the Orwellian nightmare they wish to implement once their endgame comes to fruition?"

There was a pause. No one answered the question, rhetorical as it was. Sophie grabbed hold of one of the chairs at the table, before she pulled it out from under and placed it against the wall behind her. Sitting down upon it, she had a good two metres between her and the table where Dingo and Jane were seated. Brooklyn remained standing, arms over his chest, frowning as he regarded the scene before him. It was good to have help and all, he simply had issues with the help in question.

"Their reach extends through every facet of society's higher echelons. Maybe you've heard names such as the Trilateral Commission, the Freemasons, the Bilderberg Group? All of them are just extensions of the Illuminati, some with specific purposes and some comprised of people unaware they're even serving a greater conspiracy. I was a member of the Illuminati for a number of years, an admittedly low level one, but I discovered a lot in that time. And after Devil's Night, I realised they had to be fought." Xanatos had a look on his face that was determined, yet grimly so. The man had spent the last seven years in hiding, trying to uncover Illuminati activities. There was no doubt in Brooklyn's mind that it had become an obsession of sorts, and that thought made the gargoyle doubt this whole escapade further.

"What about Vincent?" Sophie asked him.

"Who's Vincent?" Dingo was the one to ask this, head perking up attentively.

"He's part of the Illuminati plan," Xanatos replied. "How so, I can't be completely certain. But he is part of the puzzle." He turned to Owen, who had been loitering by the pinboard behind him. "Go ahead Owen."

With a nod, Owen reached up and pulled on a small handle at the rolled-up sheet above the pinboard. The subsequently unrolled sheet was covered with photos and the like, red lines drawn between some of them to denote certain connections. The diagram, now fully unfurled, only amplified Brooklyn's concerns that this was an obsession on Xanatos' part, as it looked like the kind of thing an obsessed man would make. Photos, news article printouts, maps of various locations; a smorgasbord of conspiratorial connections. Most of these images Brooklyn did not immediately recognize, save for the photos of Goliath, Elisa and Vincent that were in the mix.

"The Illuminati have, in their employ, a bunch of nonhuman creatures who we will refer to as 'imps' for now on, for lack of anything better. I don't know if they work for the Illuminati directly, or if the Illuminati works for them, just that they are carrying out plans in conjunction with one another." Xanatos picked up a long, thin stick from the shelf underneath the unfurled diagram. With it, he pointed to the one photo he had of these creatures, the same one he had shown Brooklyn and Sophie back at his house. It was a somewhat hazy surveillance camera image dated from 2016. Brooklyn noticed Dingo cock his brows, apparently unconvinced by the blurry image.

"And Vincent, the half-gargoyle, factors in with the blade of Cain," Xanatos added, and he pointed the stick to the photo of Vincent. It was one that had been taken several years before, likely shortly before Devil's Night had occurred. And near him was a photo of the old dagger, and it was to this that Xanatos then set the end of the swagger stick.

"A blade that I don't doubt has some kind of power imbued within it. Given the uniqueness of Vincent's parentage, it stands to reason that the inscriptions on the blade are referring to him as the 'child of two worlds'."

"We don't know for sure," Sophie said. "In fact, there's a lot here we're not sure about. Even the imps, we don't know if they're real save for one blurry photograph."

"I believe they are real."

"Yes, we all know you do. What I'm more worried about is Vincent's whereabouts. He's the one we're supposed to be looking for."

"And we'll find him." Xanatos gave a small frown. Apparently, Sophie's questions were beginning to get on his nerves. Brooklyn found he had just as many questions, if not more, yet he was more willing to sit back and allow Xanatos to explain his position. Even if, deep down, Brooklyn felt that they were wasting precious time.

"This will lead us to him," Xanatos said, and he pointed the stick to a photo by the centre of the diagram. It was of two men in business suits, one in grey and one in black. The man in grey had a set of spectacles over his eyes and a bald head. His right hand was clasped around the handle of a large silver metal case, perhaps six inches in width. Xanatos was pointing the end of the stick towards this box. "The Illuminati have set their sights on that package. We're going to intercept it."

"What is it?" Brooklyn took a step forwards. He needed to be sure this was not going to be some wild goose chase, or another of Xanatos' attempts to get others to do his dirty work without them even being aware of it. He had known the man for a long time, and he knew that at the end of the day, he really only had himself in mind. Himself, and his family. Since they were absent, it stood to reason that he was once again looking out for his own interests exclusively.

"A weapon to defeat the Illuminati," Xanatos said. "I know they sorely want it. My network of sources has confirmed as much. The case and its contents only appeared in this country a week ago, and I suspect its arrival is why they've been so quick to start playing out their game. Part of their plan is to get a hold of this item, which is in the hands of a private group I haven't been able to identify."

"Yes, but what's in it?" Dingo leaned forwards where he sat, intrigued but with a healthy layer of doubt to his expression. "I believe that's what Big Red here was getting at. A metal box is nice and all, but if there's a weapon in there I want to know what it is before I start throwing it around. Wouldn't want any nukes going off or poison gas spilling out, would we?"

There was a pause then, one that was a little longer than what Xanatos probably intended. The man's face was set in stone, betraying not emotion, no hint of what he knew or otherwise did not know. It was Sophie who broke the quiet then, voicing the question they all had in their minds:

"You don't know, do you?"

"Or perhaps, Detective, it's best that as few people know as possible," Xanatos countered, his response quick and delivered in a decisive tone. "You want Vincent and Goliath, and that's fine. I would very much like to see them alive and well myself. However, I have not spent the last seven years of my life diving headfirst into the workings and secrets of the Illuminati to be questioned now, when I'm essentially giving you what you need to get those two back. The bad guys, as you would so likely put it, need what's in the case, simple as that. And what they need, we'll get instead. Without it, they can't commence their endgame, which is a good thing for everybody. And through that, we'll save Vincent and Goliath." His voice was laced with warning, one intended for Sophie and anyone else who might question him: this was his party, and if you did not like the way he ran it then you could kindly leave.

"Look, I'd like to know what I'm in for," Dingo added. "I mean, how much does it weigh? Is it volatile? Details like that are always good, boss."

"It's light," Xanatos replied, succinctly. "The man in the photo could hold it one-handed with no problems."

"Another question." Sophie raised a hand, offering a dry smirk. "I'm kind of new to this whole backroom operation thing, but I'd like to know just who those two guys are."

"They work for the current owner of the package," Xanatos said. "Hired goons, nothing more. Not unlike the mercenaries in the employ of those imps, the ones you ran into at the Maza house. Just dressed for business, not black ops."

"A snatch and grab." Jane spoke up then, all smiles. "I like it. A welcome change from the usual assassinations." She focused on Xanatos. "Where's this going down? And when?"

"Where?" Xanatos reached over and tugged on the handle at the base of the unfurled sheet, causing it to roll back up. Underneath was the pinboard, with the maps and various other papers stuck to it. "Somewhere in Miami. The exact route is yet to be determined, but I know for a fact that they will be leaving the Ocean View Hotel in three days' time at one o'clock in the afternoon. From there, they will transport the case to a privately-owned helicopter pad on the southern edge of town, presumably to transport the package to a more secure location. For now, it appears they are keeping it under guard, moving it to random safehouses throughout the city. Presumably, their employer is organizing some kind of deal or trade with it, likely with the Illuminati themselves. They would be willing to pay a tremendous amount of money for what's in that case, which is why we need to move in before they get it to that helipad."

"We strike the hotel?" Jane suggested.

"I wouldn't recommend it." Xanatos shook his head. "Too many innocents. We'd need to trail them to somewhere less busy, ambush them there. Minimize collateral damage. That will also be where they have the largest security presence, not to mention the police will likely by close at hand. From my understanding, the package will be moved in a small convoy. We follow that, strike where it's most exposed." He had this all figured out, it seemed. It was almost too good to be true. Maybe it was, Brooklyn was not sure.

Xanatos turned to Brooklyn then, the gargoyle having fallen deep in thought over this whole operation. Could this be what had driven the Illuminati and the imps to act? First the blade, then Vincent, now a mysterious package? Another ancient, empowered relic, perhaps?

Would it be wise, getting involved? He and Sophie were here, now, and backing out would be counterproductive. And one thing was for sure, when it came to Xanatos' obsession with the Illuminati: he wanted to hurt them badly, and if he said they wanted this package then it was a sure bet.

"Your newfound ability to walk in daylight will come in handy, Brooklyn," Xanatos stated.

"Yeah, but I don't know about all of this." Brooklyn gave a short wave of his hand, gesturing towards the pinboard with its maps and papers. "I want to stop the Illuminati as much as you do. If we get this case, what do we do with it?"

"We use it against the Illuminati. And through that, we'll find Vincent. I'm sure of it." Xanatos certainly sounded sure of it. The man was confident, as he so often was. Brooklyn frowned, still harbouring some doubts. However, he could also see no other options.

"If this doesn't work out…" He began, but Xanatos was quick to interrupt.

"It will work, Brooklyn. And, if through some freak occurrence it doesn't, then you're free to rip me to shreds." Of course, Xanatos knew that Brooklyn would do no such thing. He may have been a gargoyle, but he was no monster.

"Hold on you guys." Jane again, raising a hand as if she was back at school. "An ambush is bound to be fun, thing is we need something to ambush them with? The Detective and the gargoyle aren't armed, and aside from a few blades I've got a 9mm and a couple of spare magazines. We couldn't ambush a charity parade with that."

"Good point, and one I already accommodated for." Again, Xanatos sounded so sure of himself. "I've arranged for a meeting tonight, through a mutual acquaintance that I and Detective McLaughlin share."

"Huh?" Sophie had been taken off-guard by this. Brooklyn was also a little confused, both of them fixing their eyes upon Xanatos, expecting answers.

"Marcus Covey, the arms dealer." Xanatos returned Sophie's gaze. "He was very helpful. And, despite having lost most of my assets, I still have a healthy savings account that I put aside for a rainy day. It'll cover the expenses of the equipment I've had him procure. He'll be waiting for us between Mariner's Marsh Park and Howland Hook."

"I'm a cop," Sophie said. "I don't do arms deals."

"You're not a cop at the moment," Xanatos countered. "Your suspension could very easily become a dismissal, especially if the people in the NEAB push hard enough. From my understanding, they're launching their own investigation. It's only a matter of time before they blow the lid on what you know, that is, about Goliath and Vincent and the dagger. All of those are things the Illuminati have their own vested interests within, and an organization such as the NEAB will be as controlled by them as any other alphabet organization within this country."

"What are you saying?" Sophie scowled, yet Brooklyn could tell that she was worried. The implications were clear, even to him.

"I'm saying you're in a dangerous place, you and Brooklyn and anyone else you involved in your investigation. Stealing this case and hurting the Illuminati may give you some leverage for when they finally try to make you disappear."

There was no doubting how powerful the organization was. They could easily do away with Sophie simply because she knew more than she was meant to, and Brooklyn knew they could do away with him in much the same way. Having put it like that, Xanatos had made it clear that the pair had little choice in the matter. They were here, and they were going to help him in this mission regardless of the legality (or lack thereof) of their activities.

Brooklyn exchanged worried glances with Sophie, their thoughts much alike: fight back, or let the powers that be roll over them. And neither he nor Sophie were the kind to roll over for anybody.