'We've bought ourselves a window,' Thomas said, reaching back to unbuckle his son. 'We have to hurry.'

Dumb luck. They left the Toyota a ticking ruin behind them, headlights squashed against looming tunnel walls. They humped over the soot-enameled tracks, then followed a series of closeted service tunnels to a miraculously unlocked door. The next station. Trying not to blink against the antiseptic light, they ambled beneath the security cameras with the other exiting travelers.

They climbed to the mighty surface, New York, then walked with urban purpose.

Breathless, they sheltered in an alley next to some kind of defunct club. Sirens seemed to claw the air from every direction. Mia held Frankie against his chest, rocking him and rubbing his back. He watched Thomas apprehensively. Like him, Thomas imagined he could see them— whoever they were—in his mind's eye, running bio-metric searches using various search criteria, replaying images from all the traffic cameras surrounding the subway exit they took—which they knew they took, because of the AI security system installed in the subways three years earlier.

Terrorist counter-measures. They had pinned the world down like a butterfly.

Thomas pulled an ivory business card from his inner pocket, used the phone that Neil had given him.

'Mr Gyges,' he said, shocked to hear his own voice distorted in the ear piece. 'It's me. It's Tho—'

'Don't say a word!' the billionaire snapped. 'Their networks can recognize names, even rudimentary contents, as easily as they can voices. And try to stay calm. They can even detect vocal stress patterns. They'll be scouring everything looking for you. Everything.'

'I-I don't understand.'

'I think you do. You wouldn't be using a modulator otherwise.'

'Listen… Mr Gyges, what you said back—'

'I don't need this kind of exposure. Not now.'

His thoughts raced. Something-something—

'Then why are you up? Why are you watching the news coverage?'

Silence.

'Look… Mr Gyges. I don't know where he is, but I will, very soon—'

'Just tell me where you are,' the gruff voice said. 'I'll send a car.'

Thomas gave him the nearest intersection and a description of the boarded-over bar. 'Please,' Thomas added, 'hurry.'

But the line had already clicked into silence.

He crouched in the darkness, astonished that he would ever find this much comfort in the absence of light. Then he sobbed, thinking of what Sam had said not three days before.

'There are only martyrs now…'

'Shhhh,' Mia murmured to his son. 'Shhhh, laddie.' The look he gave Thomas was wide and scared. He knew nothing would be the same after this, Thomas realized. He knew the stakes. 'You trust this asshole?'

'Yes,' Thomas said after a moment. 'In a sense, he's lost more than I have.'