Slopper’s eyes were big. “Did she say Recruiters?”

And that was the exact moment Wab’s water broke.

CHAPTER 34

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

Agent Mellin

AGENT MELLIN INSISTED ON COMING SOUTH. IT TOOK some cajoling to make it happen—after all, she had made the decision that had allowed the escape to happen in the first place. Why the hell had she believed those idiots? How could two half-blooded rejects have pulled this off? Well, almost pulled it off. They’d found Agent Dusome’s body that morning, his eyes pecked out of his skull. What had he expected, throwing his lot in with forest hobos? He’d gotten what he deserved.

Sitting in the back of a black government-issue car, Mellin traced the shape of the arrow on her thigh with her finger. “Idiot,” she said under her breath, and leaned forward to look through the front window.

They were stopped at the border: two cars with diplomatic license plates and a paddy wagon behind them. An immigration officer with a semiautomatic was looking over papers handed through the open tinted window of the first car.

“What’s taking so long?” She threw herself back against her leather seat.

The driver regarded her in the rearview mirror but said nothing.

They were on a schedule. The group had been detained by some gang of roving women, one without the wherewithal to know what the hell they were dealing with. Mellin had taken the call herself.

“I know where your Indians are,” the voice had told her.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” She’d been skeptical but still excited, snapping her fingers for a Watchman to start a trace in case she didn’t get a location.

“There’s an old man, and a pair of twins, and one with a shaved head…”

“Shaved head? A male? About seventeen?”

“Yup, that sounds about right. Anyway, I want assurances—”

“What kind of assurances?” Mellin had written assemble team now! on a small pad of paper as she spoke and tossed it at the Watchman, who took off at a run.

“Me and my boy, we want to get to Canada. He needs the serum.”

“Of course.” Mellin was oil slick. “We can do that for you. Where exactly did you say this group is?”

“Oh, they’re in our custody. I can give you an exact address.”

By the end of the call, Mellin had the name of the informant, Adelaide something or other, the location, and the men ready to bring back their stolen goods.

It was nearing nine o’clock and dark as only the country could be when their engines purred across the border. She had reached out to the people holding her property—better to negotiate a peaceful return herself than risk any involvement with the U.S. government. They were apt to offer the runaways political asylum, and then none of them would end up getting what they wanted. A meeting had been set. After that, if things were still uncertain…well, Mellin had a backup plan. No matter what, she would return with her cargo. Her job depended on it.