Firing, firing. Muzzle flash and terrible boom. Human bulldozers striking Travers, the gun flying from his hand. Holtzmann ached so deep inside.

“Can you get it out of her?” Nakamura asked. “Out of Sam’s mind?”

Holtzmann thought of the cure experiments, the mice dead in their cages from every batch so far. Maybe the back door that Rangan Shankari had given them? That terrible, terrible tool. Could they at least use it to counteract whatever Shu had done to Cataranes? It was too soon to say.

“I don’t know, Kevin. I just don’t know.”

Nakamura nodded.

The car slowed as it reached the turn signal at the end of the exit. The doors made a thunk as they unlocked. In the rear-view mirror, Nakamura pulled the mask of his chameleonware suit over his face once more.

“Thank you, Martin,” he said with the deep distorted voice again. “I was never here.”

Nakamura opened the door just as the car came to a stop. He stepped out onto the curb, his silhouette fading to a moving pattern of shadow and distortion before Holtzmann’s eyes. Then the door closed, and the car made its turn, and Holtzmann was alone with his thoughts and his memories and his aching need.

Chapter 18: Friends

18

FRIENDS

Friday October 19th

Rangan woke, curled up on the floor in a corner of his cell. He’d eaten the traitor’s meal they’d given him, but refused the new, restraint-free bed. It was better than he deserved.

He blinked to shake off sleep. His dreams had been strange. Ilya fighting faceless figures with push/pull. Ilya dying in the dark, crying, alone, her heart stopped, all of her fading to nothing. And children. Strange children. Confused children.

Rangan pulled himself up to sitting. He was stiff from sleeping on the hard surface. His hip hurt and his left leg was half asleep. He rubbed his calf absently as he struggled back to wakefulness.

Ilya. Ilya was probably still resisting. She’d never give in. She had the heart of a fighter. His dream was guilt. Guilt that he’d given up, that he’d turned informant, when his friend would never put her own life ahead of her convictions.

Had they told her that he’d broken? Would they go easier on her now? It was something to hope for. What would she think of him, once she found out? Would she despise him? Hate him?

And Kade? Wats? What would they think of him?

He’d always had the easy life. Rich parents. Good looks. Success came easy, in school, in music. The Indian golden boy. Boy wonder scientist by day, hot DJ by night.