The Architect’s Shadow

The wind carried the scent of rain and seawater through the narrow streets of Montevideo, threading through rusted alleyways and past shuttered buildings. The city had a stillness to it at this hour, the hush of something waiting, something unseen. She couldn’t tell if the silence in the city was real, or if it had crept in with her

Jessica gripped the folded documents in her coat pocket as they moved through the empty sidewalks. The name Cassian Vellum lingered in her mind, heavy as stone.

They had spent the better part of the night digging through the archive, piecing together fragments of a past that refused to be forgotten. Cassian had been more than a scientist. He had been an architect of something larger.

But there was almost nothing on him beyond the records they’d found. No digital footprint. No government affiliations. Only whispers, buried in places where history had been rewritten.

Leanna adjusted the strap of her bag, voice low. “We need a next step.”

Jessica’s gaze stayed ahead. “We find someone who remembers.”

---

The café smelled of burnt espresso and old paper. The kind of place that hadn’t changed in decades, where people sat in worn leather booths and never looked up from their newspapers.

Olivia stirred her coffee absently, watching the door. “Are we sure this guy’s reliable?”

Leanna flipped through the notebook in front of her, pages filled with scribbled leads. “He worked intelligence during the Cold War. He has connections.”

Jessica drummed her fingers against the table. “He also has a reputation for selling information to the highest bidder.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “So we’re assuming that’s us?”

Jessica allowed herself a small smirk. “That depends on how persuasive I feel.”

The door opened, the small bell above it chiming softly. A man stepped inside, moving with the careful gait of someone who had spent his life watching his back.

Eduardo Vasquez. Former intelligence operative. Professional survivor. His eyes flicked across the café before settling on them.

Jessica straightened as he approached, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.

“I expected you sooner,” he said, sliding into the booth across from them.

Jessica leaned forward. “We’re here now.”

Vasquez nodded, taking his time lighting a cigarette. His movements were deliberate, his fingers stained with years of nicotine.

“So,” he exhaled, the smoke curling between them. “What do you want to know?”

Jessica pulled the folded document from her coat, unfolding it just enough for him to see the Order’s insignia.

His expression didn’t change, but his fingers hesitated against the cigarette.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured.

Jessica tilted her head. “Then tell me who lit the match.”

Vasquez studied her for a long moment, then flicked his cigarette into the ashtray.

“You’re looking in the wrong places,” he said finally. “Vanguard was a distraction. Cassian Vellum—he was part of something older. Something that doesn’t leave records.”

Jessica’s grip on the paper tightened. “Then how do you know about it?”

Vasquez’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Because I used to clean up their mistakes.”

Silence stretched between them.

Leanna broke it first. “Where do we find him?”

Vasquez exhaled, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a small, worn business card and placed it on the table.

A single name. No address. No title. Just a number.

Jessica picked it up, turning it between her fingers.

Vasquez leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You want answers? Call that number. But be careful what you ask for.”

Jessica met his gaze. “Why?”

Vasquez smirked. “Because some questions get answered with bullets.”

---

The phone call was made from a burner. Olivia dialed, pressing the speaker button as they sat in the safe house, the rain tapping against the windows.

A single ring. . . Then another. . . Then the line clicked. Static cut through the line, then a faint sound—like waves crashing in the distance. A voice, smooth and measured spoke. It was not Mr. Black. It was someone else.

“You’re persistent.”

Jessica inhaled. “Who am I speaking to?”

A pause. Then, “The man you’re looking for is already expecting you.”

Jessica’s stomach tightened. “Cassian Vellum?”

Silence. Then, "Follow the current. It will bring you to the shore."

The line went dead. Jessica stared at the phone and for a long moment, nobody spoke. Olivia set the phone down like it might bite her. “Okay. That wasn’t ominous at all.”

Leanna shook her head. “I hate cryptic bastards.”

Olivia glanced at the table, where Vasquez’s card still sat. “So, what now? We just keep letting men with gravel voices tell us where to go?”

Jessica exhaled, staring at the rain beyond the window. 

“We follow the current.”