Kuga blinked in frank astonishment. “Hey!”

Sunday dropped the phone to the floor and stepped on it.

“What the hell are you doing?” demanded Kuga.

“Oh, just making sure you’re paying attention, Harcourt.”

“I told you before, don’t ever call me that. Harcourt Bolton is dead.”

“No,” said Sunday, “not yet.”

That froze the moment.

“What … the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sunday used his forefinger to close the lids of the laptops—one, two, three.

If it had been anyone else, Kuga would have gotten up and comprehensively kicked their ass. Maybe to the point of needing someone to dispose of a body. But this was Sunday.

This was him.

And so, he sat very still.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Oh,” said Sunday, “everything.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m delighted that you followed my advice about delegating so much of the organization to talented department heads. That’s wise of you, but really, it’s very convenient for me. After all, most of our customers—and really the world at large—see you not as a person but a brand. Kind of like Colonel Sanders. At the end of the day, does it really matter who wears the white suit and string necktie?”

Kuga slipped his foot over to the alert button on the floor and pressed it. He said, “You may be scary as hell, Sunday, but you’d better not be saying what it sounds like you’re saying.”

“I’m delighted that you’re clever enough to understand the inference. Bully for you.” Then he cupped a hand around one ear. “Oh, wait, is that the sound of no one coming to answer your call?”

Kuga’s eyes shifted to the door, which remained stubbornly shut.

“It’s just you and me, Harcourt,” said Sunday. He reached into a pocket and drew out a glittering filleting knife. “And look … I brought something for us to play with.”

CHAPTER 171

THE PAVILION

BLUE DIAMOND ELITE TRAINING CENTER

STEVENS COUNTY, WASHINGTON

The semi began to roll.

On the flatbed, three of the fighting machines were still firing, and now the Fixers were all armed and adding to the barrage. The whole thing was a rolling engine of destruction.

Mia turned and ran farther up the road, cut through a switchback, and headed toward the guard shack at full speed. Her plan needed cover and it needed height, and she wanted to get to the shack, climb atop it, and then use that as a platform to jump onto the roof of the truck. If she could empty a magazine or two down through the roof and kill the driver, then maybe the truck would crash.

And so, she ran like hell.

Bunny saw Mia running from the truck and tried to figure out what she was doing.