“Can you give a hundred-percent guarantee?” the security officer asked dryly.
“Ninety nine point nine,” Yoshi answered.
“Not good enough.” Hairo shook his head.
I had to talk about Polotsky. And to everyone, including the new hires. Hiding those kind of contacts from people obliged to protect me seemed unwise at the very least. Willy promised to dig up as much info as he could on the old man, but nobody knew if he’d find anything. Sergei Polotsky was an invented character, and the security officers even doubted that it was Pecheneg himself whom I met in real life.
“It could have been a holographic image. Or a hired actor, a front. With the puppeteer listening in and whispering what to say to you.
But I still hoped that Pecheneg would think of something, whoever he was pretending to be.
Hung logged into Dis, leaving everyone else behind to think of what else to do. Night had fallen in Alaska. Our district was approaching the morning, and the boys yawned constantly, desperate for sleep. We had to wait for Hung. When he appeared and shook his head, the weight I’d been feeling on my shoulders for the last few days felt even heavier. His news wasn’t good.
“Yemi and Francesca are offline, but I messaged them. Piper answered right away—nothing special. She said she’d tell Pecheneg as soon as she could contact him. But…”
“But what?” I asked, trying to hold back impatience and growing anger.
“She wrote that the Widowmakers have at least six known castles, and each of them could be the main one. Even if we manage to find out which one you’re in, the Taipan can’t get you out on their own. Anyway, you might be in a Children of Kratos fort instead. Piper said there isn’t anyone free on the mercenary market. Someone hired them all. Probably the Widowmakers. And that means we can’t take them by storm, and Pecheneg isn’t likely to help you.”
I was very interested to know how they blocked all my chats and mail, but the answer was simple—on castle grounds, the owner set the rights of guests. “Or the rights of prisoners, in this case,” Ed said. “They have all kinds of guests. Not just anyone will suffer that.”
“What if someone at Snowstorm gives up the location of Alex’s capsule?” Pollyanna asked thoughtfully. Ed’s little sister sometimes expressed thoughts beyond her years.
“If that happens…” Maria started, but shut up when she realized she was answering a child.
Hairo looked at Willy, wiio nodded and spoke:
“We’d better split up. I can take Pollyanna, Ed and Malik to another safehouse. There’s no point in them staving here. Too risky. We’ll keep a connection open through me.”
“I’m staving!” Malik quickly spoke up.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Willy is right. Better not risk it. If something happens… There have to be people left that will tell the world what went on.”
Willy Brizuela was soon flying away with Ed, Malik and the girl on an ancient flyer pulled from an underground garage. Ed was going only for his sister’s safety. It was easy to see how badly he wanted to stay.
Barely keeping myself upright, I managed to reach my bed—metal, hard, painful even to lie on. Hung snored in the bed opposite. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was Roj van Garderen, sitting on guard by the window. I was out as soon as my head touched the pillow.
* * *
I woke up from a noise outside, in the lounge. Short and broken sounds, like someone spitting several times. Silence… Then spitting again. A moan cut short, a cry.
It was pitch black in the room because of the darkened window glass. It could have been morning already. I raised my head, but the noises stopped. Barely visible in the darkness, Roj put a finger to his lips, then silently walked toward the door, pistol at the ready.
“Did you hear that?” Hung asked in a whisper and turned to the bodyguards. “Was someone coughing?”
Roj shook his head and gestured for him to hide under the bed. Then the closed door flew off its hinges. A grenade clattered into the room, spinning across the floor. I heard fumbling, rustling and ‘coughing,’ the sound of a body falling, but before then, the room was filled with a blinding light. I could feel my ears bleeding, but couldn’t do anything. My whole body was spasming and pain shot through my tongue as I bit it… I went limp, paralyzed.
“Cargo found,” I heard as if through cotton wool. “Extraction.”
“Confirming extraction.”
Something lightly touched me by the hand. The world faded into darkness.
After waking up, I thought I must be in Dis: the same dark cell, with walls around me and shackles on my legs. Only when I tried to move did I realize that I was lying on something like an operating table or dentist’s chair, strapped down firmly. I heard the light hum of some equipment from the side. And a whine, at first infrequent, then speeding up to a heartbeat. The back of my head pounded, my temples felt like they were splitting.
“Awake?” I heard from my left. A man’s voice dripping with false sympathy. I narrowed my eyes, but couldn’t make anything out. “You won’t see me, don’t sweat it.”
“Who are you?” I tried to ask, barely able to move my tongue. It sounded more like “u a u”, but they got the message.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter at all. If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else. Sooner or later, this had to happen.”
“What have you done with my friends?” I tried to say. It came out as a groan that I had to repeat a few times until the man understood me.
“There was collateral damage. That’s all you need to know. You made a mistake when you got close to them. You put their lives in danger.”
“Who… did you hurt?”
“You’ll find out in due course. I’m not a fan of empty chatter, so I’ll
