Mercer followed her eyes. So did everyone else.

The tiny black recorder sat clipped beneath the bench, next to her folded contractor shirt.

For the first time in six months, Mercer stopped smiling.

The MP on the left took a step toward the bench. Mercer lifted one hand.

“Do not touch that,” Aria said. Her voice was still low. It carried anyway.

The MP stopped. Mercer turned back to her, slowly. “That device is government property now.”