“There’s a number in here I want you to find,” he says. “A nine-digit number. If you can find that number, Nurse Scapelli, today’s incident will remain between us.”

The first thing that comes to mind is You must be crazy, but she can’t say that, not when he holds her whole life in his hands. “How can I? I don’t know anything about those electronic gadgets! I can barely work my phone!”

“Nonsense. As a surgical nurse, you were in great demand. Because of your dexterity.”

True enough, but it’s been ten years since she worked in the Kiner surgical suites, handing out scissors and retractors and sponges. She was offered a six-week course in microsurgery—the hospital would have paid seventy percent—but she had no interest. Or so she claimed; in truth, she was afraid of failing the course. He’s right, though, in her prime she had been fast.

Babineau pushes a button on top of the gadget. She cranes her neck to see. It lights up, and the words WELCOME TO ­ZAPPIT! appear. This is followed by a screen showing all sorts of icons. Games, she supposes. He swipes the screen once, twice, then tells her to stand next to him. When she hesitates, he smiles. Perhaps it’s meant to be pleasant and inviting, but it terrifies her, instead. Because there’s nothing in his eyes, no human expression at all.

“Come, Nurse. I won’t bite you.”

Of course not. Only what if he does?

Nevertheless, she steps closer so she can see the screen, where exotic fish are swimming back and forth. When they flick their tails, bubbles stream up. A vaguely familiar little tune plays.

“Do you see this one? It’s called Fishin’ Hole.”

“Y-Yes.” Thinking, He really is crazy. He’s had some sort of mental breakdown from overwork.

“If you were to tap the bottom of the screen, the game would come up and the music would change, but I don’t want you to do that. The demo is all you need. Look for the pink fish. They don’t come often, and they’re fast, so you have to watch carefully. You can’t take your eyes off the screen.”

“Dr. Babineau, are you all right?”

It’s her voice, but it seems to be coming from far away. He makes no reply, just keeps looking at the screen. Scapelli is looking, too. Those fish are interesting. And the little tune, that’s sort of hypnotic. There’s a flash of blue light from the screen. She blinks, and then the fish are back. Swimming to and fro. Flicking their flippy tails and sending up burbles of bubbles.

“Each time you see a pink fish, tap it and a number will come up. Nine pink fish, nine numbers. Then you will be done and all this will be behind us. Do you understand?”

She thinks of asking him if she’s supposed to write the numbers down or just remember them, but that seems too hard, so she just says yes.

“Good.” He hands her the gadget. “Nine fish, nine numbers. But just the pink ones, mind.”