Sterling's face went hard reading the message over her shoulder, all the softness from twenty minutes earlier hardening instantly into something colder, more focused.

"That's not Julian's number," he said, studying it closely. "And it's not Holt's, not directly, we've had his known numbers flagged for months."

"Someone working for him."

"Or someone Reagan hasn't identified yet." Sterling was already dialing, jaw tight. "This isn't a coincidence, Ivy. Someone photographed us in Singapore, from another building, the same trip Holt suddenly moved on Ashford Transit."

Reagan picked up on the second ring, and Ivy watched Sterling's explanation land hard on the other end of the line, silence stretching long enough...