Sebastian folded the knife, slid it back in his pocket. “This trail we’re standing on? You’re going to be on it for ten or so miles. I know that’s a lot, especially in this heat, and barefoot, but you got water and food, so you should be fine.”

Sebastian slammed the hatchback shut and took out his keys. “Keep walking until you find a white Toyota. It’s unlocked. Keys are under the front mat. I put a case of water in the trunk, along with more than enough cash to get you set up somewhere. But it won’t be in California, understand? Frank finds out you’re alive? He’ll kill you.”

Link stood there, most of him covered in a fine white dusting of dirt, and eyed him nervously, his brain working overtime, trying to figure out where the trap was.

“This is where you say thank you,” Sebastian said.

“Thank you, Mr. Kane. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry for what we put you through. I know sorry doesn’t quite cover everything I’ve done, but it’s all I got, so it’ll have to do.” Sebastian spun his keys around a finger, squinted as he looked up at the sky. “Better get moving before it gets too hot.”

Sebastian started the Escalade and sighed in relief when he felt the air-conditioning. He turned around and drove past Link, heading back up the access road, and when he glanced in the rearview mirror he saw Link staring after him, skeptical and confused, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten his life back. He was God’s problem now, and Sebastian knew God wouldn’t look after poor Link, would let him die of dehydration. There was no car waiting for him, no trunk full of money and water, but still, he had given Lincoln Miller hope, and at the end of the day, wasn’t hope the greatest gift you could give someone?

When Sebastian got a signal on his phone, he called Frank.

“Let me guess,” Frank said. “He stuck to his story.”

“That he did. Said he never met Ferreria, has no idea who he is.”

“Ferreria said the same thing about Link.”

“Are you still sure—”

“Yes,” Frank said, drawing out the word, annoyed. “I’m one hundred percent positive Ferreria didn’t access any critical information on our servers and give it to Paul. Like I explained to you, what, a hundred times now, Ferreria didn’t have root access. He just did regular maintenance work.”

“You also told me the kid was an IT whiz. One of the best. And a hacker.”

“No one has accessed our servers. No one,” Frank said. “Besides, our client files, test data—all that stuff is so heavily encrypted—”

“That it would take the CIA two decades to decrypt it, if they were lucky. You told me.”

“And I’m telling you again, since you refuse to believe me. As for the special cocktail we use with our carrier blood, that information isn’t stored on any database. Drugs we use—the only people who know about that are you, me, and Maya. We’re safe—I keep telling you that.”