Everyone in the office knew what the flowers on Emily’s desk meant. Red roses meant the building was being watched. Yellow tulips meant the phones were compromised. White chrysanthemums meant someone inside the company had betrayed them. That morning, the vase contained all three. Emily remained calm. She worked for a publishing house, at least according to her contract. In reality, the office was a communications hub for an intelligence network hidden behind rejected manuscripts and royalty statements. At ten fifteen, Emily received an email about a cookbook submission. The attachment contained no recipes. It listed twelve names, including hers. She printed the document, shredded it and walked casually to the staff kitchen. Nobody followed. The evacuation plan had been designed years earlier. A fire alarm would have been too obvious. Instead, Emily opened the cupboard and removed a jar marked “pine nuts.” Within ninety seconds, every agent had left through a different exit. Emily stayed behind. The lift doors opened. A man in a grey coat stepped out and glanced at the flowers. “You always were theatrical,” he said. “You always underestimated office workers.” He reached inside his coat. Emily threw the vase. The security team emerged from the conference room before the glass hit the floor. Later, while giving her statement, Emily was asked why the emergency signal had involved pine nuts. She explained that the network’s first safe house had been an Italian restaurant. The interrogator nodded towards the kitchen. “Can you cook?” Emily untied her hair. Of all the pasta sauces she could have been asked to make, pesto was the easiest.