in something way over her head.
The room the guards eventually propelled Nadia into did not look promising.
One half was laid out like the standard security interrogation room: a metal table, bolted to the floor, with a rail to which the unfortunate detainee could be chained; a couple of flimsy, uncomfortable plastic chairs; and a one-way mirror along one wall. It was the other half of the room that caused a new wave of terror to crash over Nadia’s head.
The other half of the room featured a table of gleaming surgical steel, bristling with restraints. The table sat at a slight angle just past horizontal, and there were grooves along its edges. Nadia didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help following those grooves and that angle with her eyes and seeing how they led to a drain in the tile floor. In her mind’s eyes, she saw a river of blood being pulled by gravity, channeled by those grooves, flowing to the edge of the table and forming a waterfall straight into that drain.
Above the table lurked something that looked a bit like a dentist’s instrument panel, only about ten times as big, with ten times as many attachments. Needles and saws and drills and blades of varying shapes and sizes. All of them coiled and waiting. Nestled among those attachments were a variety of instrument panels and darkened monitors.
Nadia felt so dizzy that for a moment she thought she might faint. She wanted to be brave, or at least to put on a brave face, but terror was like a living beast inside her. It clamped down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. It sucked the moisture from her mouth and the warmth from her limbs. It blotted out all rational thoughts, left her with nothing to cling to except the desperate need to run, to escape.
“Don’t worry,” Mosely’s voice said from behind her. She hadn’t even heard him enter the room, so transfixed was she by the monstrosity that loomed over the table. “We have a lot of talking to do before we graduate to more extreme measures.” Mosely wandered over to the table and gave it an affectionate pat, like it was a favorite pet.
One of the security officers dragged Nadia over to the interview area, slamming her into a chair, then uncuffing her hands and chaining her to the table. Then he and the other three officers exited the room, leaving her alone with the man who had with his own hands killed the Chairman Heir and framed another for the murder. She couldn’t hope for mercy or compassion from him.
Mosely continued to caress his monstrous torture apparatus, smiling faintly to himself. Nadia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to tame the fear, trying to
She was going to die, Nadia realized, and paradoxically that thought steadied her. Whatever terrible things were going to happen, there was an end in sight. She might not be able to save herself, but she would do her level best to take Mosely down with her. As soon as Gerri heard the news of Nadia’s death, she—or her unknown cohort—would retrieve the recordings Nadia had made. Nadia just had to make sure she caught Mosely saying something so incriminating he couldn’t wriggle out from the consequences.
As if he hadn’t a care in the world, Mosely strolled toward her. Nadia’s pulse still fluttered, and she knew that if she unclenched her hands from her lap, they would shake, but she held her head high, thoughts of her posthumous revenge warming and strengthening her.
Mosely tossed a manila folder on the table. He sat down across from her, then flipped the folder open and began laying out a series of photos in front of her. And now she understood why she had been arrested.
The photos were a little grainy, no doubt taken from a considerable distance. They showed Nadia exiting her building and climbing into an unmarked white van. Her heart sank, and she cursed herself for not considering that Mosely might have someone other than Dante keeping an eye on her. Especially after yesterday’s interview, where she had aroused his suspicions.
Had someone followed the van once Nadia had gotten in it? And had there been someone watching Nate’s apartment? Surely if Mosely had been watching her, he’d been watching Nate. And that meant he knew that she and Nate had both been in that van last night. If they’d been followed into the Basement, then it didn’t matter what Nadia said or didn’t say—Mosely knew exactly what had happened, knew exactly who all the players were and who he needed to eliminate.
“It seems you have not been completely honest with me, Miss Lake,” Mosely said. “I’m disappointed in you. I had thought a girl of your impeccable pedigree would understand the importance of protecting the interests of her state.”
She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her, or if he was sincerely disapproving. And she didn’t care.
“In my opinion,” she said, “the interests of my state are not served by pinning a crime on an innocent man.”
Mosely gave a condescending chuckle. “Believe me, my dear, Kurt Bishop is a lot of things, but an innocent man isn’t one of them. Did you know he was working as a whore when our Chairman Heir hired him?”
If Nadia was supposed to feel disgusted by the revelation, Mosely had missed his mark. She might not have known the specifics of Bishop’s past, but she’d certainly known there was ugliness in it. “Prostitution isn’t a crime punishable by death. If you think that’s an adequate excuse to—”
“You are such a child. Everything is black and white to you, isn’t it? You would never consider that sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”
Nadia clamped her jaws shut to keep from responding. She had a feeling he was probing at her, trying to get her to reveal what she knew without directly asking questions. Her mind raced with possibilities as she tried to figure out how to get Mosely to admit his crimes aloud without giving away too much herself. In the periphery of her vision, the torture apparatus loomed.
Mosely tucked the photos back into their folder and pushed the folder aside. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on the table. Nadia felt like he was intruding upon her personal space even though there was a table between them.
“Where did you go last night, Miss Lake?” he asked.
“You’re the spymaster. Why don’t
Mosely raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I’d recommend you be more circumspect in your responses, Miss Lake. Need I remind you that you’re under arrest on suspicion of treason?”
Nadia didn’t truly believe there was a way out of the mess she was in, but it seemed reasonable to at least put on a show of trying.
“I haven’t forgotten. Are you suggesting my situation would somehow improve if I were more forthcoming with you?”
“I am suggesting, foolish child, that if you are not forthcoming with me, I will make you regret it for every remaining day of your miserable life.” He glanced pointedly at the apparatus. “You can avoid a great deal of unpleasantness by simply answering my questions truthfully.”
So there was no carrot to be offered. Only the stick. Nadia shivered. She didn’t know what Mosely would do to her if he strapped her to that table, but she suspected that she would lose a lot of her higher reasoning powers to fear. If she wanted Mosely to incriminate himself, she was going to need her wits about her. Which meant she had to do it before Mosely resorted to torture.
“I ask you again: where did you go last night?”
Taking a deep breath, hoping she was making the right decision, Nadia began laying out the rope she hoped Mosely would hang himself with.
“I went to the Basement to rendezvous with Kurt Bishop.”
Nate was standing on the edge of the rooftop garden at Nadia’s apartment, looking out over the lights of the city. The air was completely still, and he was alone, unsure how he’d gotten there. He was supposed to meet someone, wasn’t he? But he was early. Or maybe late. He looked around, confused, unable to remember. The moon hung full in the sky, its light outshining the city. A giant wasp buzzed around Nate’s head. He batted at it, and it went away for a moment. But seconds later, it was back, flying in circles around his head, buzzing incessantly. He tried again to bat it away, but it had become invisible.
