So, including himself, there were four of them. He was sure Avery would have captured William and Peyton. William was probably the one who’d started the Morse code tapping. Who was the fourth captive? Charlotte, because they’d told her too much?

Someone tapped a new pattern. This one wasn’t Morse code, and it was familiar to Desmond. He squinted, listened, then grinned. The taps mimicked the theme song to The X-Files. It ended with a single large tap. He rolled to the metal wall, began tapping the same refrain back.

Twenty years ago, he had sat on a cloth couch in a living room in a small home in Palo Alto and watched the show every Friday night, Peyton beside him, a cup of tea in her hands, occasionally a glass of wine if she’d had a tough week at med school. Desmond would have given anything to go back there and start over. He wondered if it was too late for the two of them. He knew Peyton had been hiding how sick she was. How much time did she have? The thought filled Desmond with energy. He had to find a way out of the box.

Conner McClain sat at the head of the conference table, waiting for the call to connect. He was nervous. The Citium were on the cusp of completing their great experiment. In the following days, two thousand years of work would come to fruition. Or fail.

And now he had the last piece they needed: Desmond Hughes. If Avery had completed her mission, the man had recovered his memories—and the details of how to retrieve Rapture. Letting him go had been a risk, but one he’d felt he had to take.

The call connected, and the screen showed a view of an industrial office with cheap furniture. Plate glass windows looked down on a warehouse full of metal shipping containers. A man in woodland camo stood next to a solid wood desk covered in nicks and scratches, papers strewn across its surface. Avery stood beside the man, her arms crossed just below her breasts, her blond hair hanging down, her gray-blue eyes cold. Conner found her incredibly attractive. He wondered what might develop between them when this was over. She’d had no interest before—but soon he would be the second most powerful person in the world. That might change things.

The man spoke first. “We’ve got them.”

“Why were they in Australia?”

“A woman,” Avery said. “Charlotte Christensen.”

Conner had never heard the name. “Who is she?”

“A relief worker who took care of Desmond after the Ash Wednesday fires.”

“Interesting.”

“We captured her as well, just in case she’s connected somehow.” Avery leaned off the desk. “We’ll bring them to you.”

“No.”

“We need—”

“I’ll come there when this is finished.”

Avery’s eyes flashed. Conner couldn’t read the expression, but he thought it was anger.