Holtzmann called in sick, then took the train to Cambridge. He passed Nexus detectors, all of his own design, all blind to him. The news on the train was of the pending landslide election and of Zoe. The tropical storm turned hurricane had beaten a path across Cuba, leveling buildings, tossing cars around, killing dozens, sending tourists fleeing for shelter before heading north to narrowly miss Miami.

He emerged hours later into stifling heat. He’d been an undergrad at MIT, not far from here, thirty years ago. October should be cool, highs in the sixties, trees turning yellow and red. But today it was in the eighties. The trees were brown, suffering in heat that had beaten down the Eastern Seaboard the last several months, wiping out crops and feeding energy into storms like Zoe.

He found Lisa Brandt at an outdoor table in a cool white dress, an iced drink in a plastic cup in front of her. His heart beat fast at the sight of her.

She saw him, met his eyes, and rose, gesturing for him to follow her.

“Lisa…” he started.

“Wait,” she said, as she led them off, across the street and onto the Harvard campus.

Holtzmann bit his tongue.

She led them to the Harvard Yard. Undergrads sped past them, on their way to and from classes.

“Now,” Lisa said. “Softly. And from the beginning.”

Holtzmann took a deep breath.

“There’s someone… someone I think you’d be interested in.”

Lisa turned, raised an eyebrow at him.

“Rangan Shankari,” he half whispered.

Lisa frowned. “What about him?”

“I know where he is.”

Her frown deepened. “It’s the children we’re most interested in, Martin. If you have information that can prove children are being held for research purposes…”

Holtzmann swallowed. “You need to get Shankari out. I need him out. I need him safe.”

Lisa stopped walking. “What are you talking about?”

He stared into her eyes, whispered intently. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Proof children are being held. But my price is Shankari. You have to get him out.”

Lisa was shaking her head. “Martin, if you think you’re going to… to entrap me into planning some sort of prison breakout…”

He reached out, took her by the shoulders. “Please, Lisa. You have to help me. Please!”

She stepped back, smacked his hands away. “Don’t touch me.” Her voice was hard, angry. Students looked their way as they passed.

Holtzmann closed his eyes, took another deep breath, opened them. “I’m sorry. It’s just that, if he stays in custody…” He felt it deep inside. The compulsion. Pressing on him, expanding, threatening to burst him open if he didn’t act on it. “Bad things will happen. Very bad.”

Lisa shook her head. “You’re just wasting my time.” She turned and walked away.

“Please, Lisa!” Holtzmann said to her back. “Please!” He walked after her, grabbed her arm.