He had prepared hard to ensure they all walked out of this alive, and had made contingencies for Kara in case they didn’t. Jill had left her with enough food and water to last four or five days—a couple of weeks, if she rationed—and he’d brought her a television and a signal booster so she wouldn’t be left in an information void, but mostly because the TV housed a small explosive on a self-powered timer.

If they didn’t make it back, the charge would crack the television housing, and she’d find the key, a phone, and a message for the forensics team and bureaucrats.

He didn’t care enough about Liv Wilson to do more than provide food and water, and even that felt generous, considering she’d run the mission to kill him and his family and would be first in line to do it again if given a chance. Her fate was in Kara’s hands, probably the safest place it could be, because no matter how much Kara detested the woman, she’d still do the right thing, which was more than he could say for himself—or for Holden or Jill.

Kara was where his mind went as he rode out boredom through roller-coaster cycle after cycle, waiting for the crowds to grow and for the winter dusk to arrive. And when the business day neared its end, he shoved the high-tactile gloves back on, retrieved the first burner phone, inserted Liv Wilson’s SIM, and dialed Steven Hayes.

Hayes answered with a casual hello, as if he hadn’t spent the past twenty-four hours trying to track down yet another team member who’d been snatched and vanished.

Jack, matching turn for turn, skipped the small talk.

“I still have information to offer,” he said. “You know where I am. Come find me.”

Hayes said, “It’s going to take an hour to get there, and I’m in no mood to have my chain yanked the way you yanked Liv’s.”

“I’ll be here,” Jack said. “Got no plans to kill or grab you. Just want to talk. I’d tell you to come alone, but we both know you’re better at giving instructions than following them, so bring your army if you must, but consider the casualities before you start a war.”

Hayes said, “It’s a big park. Where will you be?”

Jack hung up.

He shrugged out of the sleeping bag, rolled it tight, and stuffed the bundle into his pack. Then, donning a close approximation to the park uniform, pulled a collared shirt over what he already wore, tucked it into lame-ass khaki pants, slapped a faux name tag over his heart, and clipped a two-way receiver to his belt.

He studied the earpiece that went with it.

Most of the staff wore two-ways, not identical to this, but close enough.

Even still, he’d planned to go without.