Nova grunted again.
“Don’t be jealous, Nova.”
Heat rose to Nova’s face.
“What do I have to be jealous of?”
“Never mind. I—wait, I think I see something.”
Across the highway, the quadcopter started to dip down toward the motel. It was one of those shady motels. Probably less than a hundred bucks a night for a room that was rarely cleaned. Obviously they wouldn’t want to put themselves up in too nice of a place. The good hotels had cameras on every floor, had security, while with cheap motels like this you were lucky if the locks on the doors actually worked.
Atticus spoke quietly in Nova’s ear.
“It looks to be four.”
“Level of confidence?”
Before Atticus could answer, the motel room door opened. The quadcopter shot up in the air, out of view of the two men stepping out onto the walkway. They lit cigarettes and stood at the railing.
Nova realized he was holding his breath. He slowly let it out. Watching the two men smoke on the second-floor walkway. The quadcopter hovering several yards above their heads, just out of their line of sight. Nova figured the sound of traffic on the highway drowned out the quadcopter’s spinning blades.
Atticus didn’t speak, and neither did Nova. They waited. After another minute, both men flicked away their cigarettes and headed back into the room. A moment later, the quadcopter looped around in front of the motel door, hovered there for a beat, and then started back across the highway.
Atticus finally answered.
“Confidence level is high.”
That was good enough for Nova. Wherever Atticus was, he had the technology to determine there were four people inside the room—two of which they had just seen.
Nova asked, “Any luck yet?”
The defeat in Atticus’s voice was sharp.
“None so far. It’s like she disappeared off the grid.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know, Nova, but I’m searching. It would be easier if I had James here with me, too—he’s much more proficient with this kind of stuff—but I believe the team is better served having him with you right now.”
Nova had to agree. Especially because without James it would only be Nova and Erik, and Nova still wasn’t sure he trusted the kid.
The quadcopter floated over the trees, dipped down, and landed back on the picnic table from where it had launched.
Nova said, “I wish we could take them out right now.”
Atticus sighed on his end.
“I know. But unfortunately that isn’t an option at the present time. The moment you take out those men, Holly’s life is over. Right now I believe it’s best you don’t make a move until you have no other choice. As long as Holly is still valuable to these people, they won’t move on her family.”
Nova picked up the quadcopter and started back through the park toward the car.
“That’s not what I’m worried about right now.”
Atticus was quiet for a beat.
“What are you worried about?”
“The team packing up and leaving. Maybe grabbing the cameras and tracking devices before they disappear, just to make sure there’s no trace, but still they disappear. Because you know what it means if that happens.”
Another sigh on Atticus’s end, this one much more despondent.
“I do, Nova. It means Holly is dead. But look on the bright side.”
The car was up ahead. James stepped out and went to the trunk so they could put away the quadcopter.
Nova said, “What’s that?”
“They haven’t packed up and left yet.”
Thirty-Six
The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 3:37 a.m.
The hotel room has two beds. The TV sits on a dresser facing the beds, and one of the freelancers has turned it to cable news.
Louis sits at the desk, staring down at his phone.
Two of the freelancers lounge on the two separate beds, their feet up, chowing down on prepackaged sandwiches as they watch the news.
The other two freelancers—well, I don’t know where they are. Once we entered downtown, I lost sight of them. We parked in the basement garage and took the elevator up to the seventh floor. Louis made me wear a scarf to hide the collar in case we ran into anybody.
I’ve been sequestered to the chair in the corner, my wrists zip-tied together.
The only window in the room is off to my left; it’s a large window, about six feet across, and curtains conceal the outside. When we first entered the room, Louis parted the curtains enough for me to see the hotel five blocks away. The window has locks on both sides and can slide open a couple inches for fresh air. The space will be more than enough to shoot through.
Speaking of which, the Valkyrie sits in pieces in a backpack on the desk. No reason to get it out and put it together quite yet. It’ll probably wait until an hour or so before President Cortez is scheduled to arrive.
Louis glances up from his phone and notices me watching him.
“You should try to get some rest. We need you focused in the morning.”
I tilt my head toward the two freelancers.
“Tweedledum and Tweedledee are hogging the beds.”
The freelancers ignore me; one has his cell phone out, looking at who knows what, while the other hasn’t touched his phone. It’s remained in his left pocket since we got here. All the phones—even Louis’s—look to be disposables. These men are professionals and wouldn’t bring their own personal phones with them on a job like this, but that doesn’t matter as long as I can make a call with one of the phones.
Louis says, “I’m sure you can get some rest just fine in that chair.”
“You want me to get a crick in my neck? That might throw me off in the morning.”
The fob rests on the table. Louis absently touches it with his finger. Like that’s supposed to scare me.
I force a smile.
“I’m hungry.”
“We offered you a sandwich.”
“I’d rather have something else as my last meal. Something that doesn’t taste like shit.”
Louis’s finger doesn’t leave the fob.
“A sandwich is your only
