“What’s going to happen?” Mosh whispered to Holly after five minutes of awkward silence.

She whispered back. “If we’re lucky, they let us go. If we’re unlucky, they send us to prison. If we’re really unlucky, they drag us into the freezer and put a bullet in the back of our necks.”

“I’m liking that first option best.” On the bright side, at least if he got sent to prison he’d probably already have a lot of fans there.

“Keep your fingers crossed.” Holly raised her voice. “So, what does a girl have to do to get some service around here? I’m not leaving a very good tip at this rate.” None of the men said a word. “Really? Nothing? I hear the blueberry waffles here are great. Well, up yours then. I want to talk to Agent Franks of the MCB. Come on, I know you assholes know who he is. Big guy, lots of muscles, always looks sort of angry, usually hitting someone. Ring any bells?”

But the men didn’t say a word. Another minute passed before the fourth man returned, leaned his rifle against the wall, and slid into the booth across from them. He was still wearing a mask and kept his voice artificially low and raspy. “What’ve you got to say to the big man?”

“Are you trying to sound like Batman? Because if you’re not, I’ve got some throat lozenges in my purse. How’d you spot us anyway?”

“You kept pretending to talk on your phone in the area where all cell signals are being jammed. Dumb move.” The man put his hands on the table, then noticed that he’d put his Nomex gloves in some sticky syrup. “Aw…” He reached over, took some napkins from the dispenser and cleaned his gloves off. He turned back to them, started to ask another question, but then decided to wipe the rest of the syrup up first.

Holly began to laugh. “Seriously, Agent Archer? Are your OCD meds not working?”

The man across from them got defensive. “I don’t know who—”

“Really, Agent, the growly fake voice thing doesn’t work, and besides, I’ve always thought you had the most beautiful eyes. Which, by the way, I can see. You’re not exactly a master of disguise.”

He seemed to deflate as he reached up and pulled his balaclava off, revealing a thin-faced young man, with a blond flattop haircut. “All right, Holly. You got me.”

Mosh looked between them. Apparently they knew each other. “I’m confused now.”

“Mosh, this is Agent Archer of the MCB,” Holly explained.

“MCB?” Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

“Who was also one of your brother’s ineffectual bodyguards against the Condition. And I lied about the eyes, Archer. Torres was the hot one, too bad he was a nut bar. Where’s Franks? I really do have a message for him. It’s important.”