The dining hall no longer looked like a place where people ate.
The long table had been cleared of porcelain and candles and replaced with matte-black boards, weighted maps, and layered printouts sealed in plastic sleeves. Every surface carried information. Coastlines were marked in chalk. Distances were measured twice. Wind directions were noted in the margins and then crossed out, recalculated, written again.
Amina stood at the head of the table, barefoot against cold stone, sleeves rolled past her elbows. Her hair was tied back, neat and practical, no ornamentation. This was not a performance. It never was.
Jin stood to her left, silent, watching.
He didn't interrupt. He never did when she was building something in her head.
She tapped the table once, a quiet sound that nonetheless marked the shift from preparation to decision.
"The island is over-fortified on the wrong axis," she said. "They expect air. They expect surface. They expect satellites."
Jin nodded and slid a slate toward her. On it was a cross-section of the island's perimeter, hand-drawn and precise.
"They don't expect patience," he replied.
Amina's mouth curved slightly. Not a smile. Recognition.
The man they were targeting owned the island through three shell companies and one public-facing luxury trust. On paper, it was a private retreat. In reality, it was a fortified armory with enough illegal hardware to outfit a small nation. The kind of place that thrived because no one believed it existed.
"They installed layered detection," Jin continued. "Electromagnetic sweeps. Passive sonar. Thermal flags. Anything with a signal lights them up."
"So we don't bring signals," Amina said.
"No drones past this line," Jin agreed, pointing to a ring marked in red. "We cut power at the source. Everything else is lungs and muscle."
She studied the map, eyes moving steadily. "Distance?"
"Six point two kilometers from the dead zone to shore. Currents shift at two kilometers out."
"Temperature?"
"Cold enough to slow breathing if you panic. Not cold enough to kill."
"Good," she said. "We'll train for worse."
Jin watched her for a moment longer, then reached into his pocket and placed a data drive on the table.
"The architect," he said.
Amina looked at it. "Dead?"
"Yes."
"Voluntarily?"
"No."
She didn't ask more. "Blueprints intact?"
"Original and revisions. He kept everything."
"Of course he did," she murmured. "Men like that always think their knowledge will save them."
She turned away from the table and closed her eyes.
The system responded immediately.
[Harem Command Interface Active]
She didn't bother acknowledging the prompt aloud.
Schedule initial appraisal for Emil.
There was a pause. Not lag. Consideration.
[Query: Subject Emil has not been previously scheduled]
[Suggested: Immediate appraisal]
Amina exhaled slowly through her nose.
Next week, she replied. After the current operation.
[Query: Why delay confirmed asset appraisal?]
She opened her eyes and looked back at the table, at the lines and distances and numbers that represented risk.
Because timing matters, she answered. And I don't rush what I intend to keep.
Another pause.
[Query: Probability of loss during operation is non-zero]
Amina's gaze sharpened.
Everything worth taking carries risk, she replied. That doesn't mean I abandon sequence.
The system accepted the input.
[Initial Appraisal: Scheduled]
She dismissed the interface and turned back to Jin, who had been watching her without appearing to.
"Anything else?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not tonight."
He nodded once. That was their version of agreement.
They spent the next hour refining approach paths, marking fallback exits that they both knew they wouldn't need but respected enough to plan. Jin moved pieces across the table as she spoke, translating intention into execution with almost unsettling ease.
"You want it quiet," he said at one point. Not a question.
"Yes."
"No bodies?"
"Not unless they force it."
Jin inclined his head. "Then we move like we were never there."
"Except they'll notice what's missing," Amina said.
"They will."
She stepped back and studied the final layout. "We take everything. Weapons. Vehicles. Ammunition. Any prototype they were stupid enough to store in one place."
"And his car collection?"
"of course we're that too."
Jin's mouth twitched. The closest he ever came to amusement.
"They'll blame spirits for this," he said.
"They can blame whoever they want," Amina replied. "It won't bring it back."
She rolled her shoulders once, the movement loosening tension she hadn't noticed building.
"We train tomorrow," she added. "Water first."
Jin nodded. "I'll set the markers."
As he turned to leave, she spoke again. "Jin."
He paused.
"When this is over with," she said carefully, "there's someone I want you to meet."
He didn't ask who. He didn't ask why.
"All right," he said simply.
Amina returned to the room to the set up on the table and placed her hands flat against its surface.
Lines on a map. Plans in motion. Assets waiting their turn.
She swept a gaze on everything.
She felt ready.