“Not yet,” Rancourt said. “I need information from someone who has been on the ground on that island.”

“I told you, I don’t know how to find the island.”

“That’s my problem. Looks like you’ve got some natural talent. Think you can still play the recorder?”

“The Piper said it was tuned to my vibe,” Ink said. “I won’t be able to play it the way I did before Mr. Chastain used that night gun on me, but I’m pretty sure I can do it at least as well as I did back at the start, before I got the treatments.”

“How well did you play it at the beginning?”

“Better than any of the others.” In spite of all that had happened, Ink got a small rush of pride. “That’s why the Piper made me the team leader.”

CHAPTER 43

How did they get inside Fogg Lake?” Harlan said into the phone. “That town was supposed to be a fortress. Who let the monsters grab Olivia?”

He was standing beside one of the Foundation SUVs parked in the motel lot. He had his phone in one hand. He was using the other to grip the top edge of the driver’s side door so fiercely he was vaguely surprised that he did not dent it.

He was pulling on everything he had to control his rage and fear while he talked to Dexter Rose. Yelling at the man was pointless. He understood that, but the need to howl his fury to the skies was almost overwhelming.

Almost. He had not spent the past five years learning to tame his talent only to lose control now. He could handle his emotions. He had to, because unless he did, he had no chance at all of finding Olivia.

It was early morning. The motel where they had discovered the Piper’s dying students was located outside a small town north of Seattle. The vehicle transporting Trev and Ox had left a short time ago, headed for the airport. The two kids and their security escort were on their way to Las Vegas. Ink had been left behind and was currently slumped in the rear seat of the SUV that Harlan would be driving as soon as he knew where the hell he was going.

North Chastain and several members of the Foundation security team were waiting, armed and ready. All they needed was a destination. Harlan knew it was up to him to produce the coordinates of the island with no name. But first he needed more information, and that meant he had to stop scaring Dexter Rose.

He forced himself to loosen his death grip on the door of the vehicle and reminded himself he had data now that he had not possessed a few hours ago.

“Tell me what happened,” he said. “Walk me through it.”