Winslow shook his head. “Nah. A whole series of dreams.”

“And does this organization, the ‘Octogon,’ play a part in all your dreams?”

“Off and on. A lot bigger part lately. That’s not its name in my dreams—names don’t stick with me after I’m awake so I have to make up my own. But, yeah, it’s the same group of suckers.”

Slootjes blinked and stiffened. “Why do you say ‘suckers’?”

Winslow laughed. “Well, they’ve been fed this line that they’re gonna be the head honchos after the world transformation goes down, and they’ve swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. But when the time rolls round, they’re as much cannon fodder as everyone else.”

“And…” Slootjes swallowed and seemed to have a hard time of it. “And the one who led them to these tragic circumstances?”

Another laugh. “That guy’s a real operator. He’s called ‘Uno’ and he gets transformed into a being who can thrive in the bad new world he’s created while all his followers are left to fend for themselves. And they don’t fend very well, let me tell you.”

Slootjes looked sick. Ernst wasn’t feeling too good himself. Uno and the One…the names could hardly be closer.

“What’s this all about?” Winslow said, looking at his agent.

Kushner cleared his throat. “Well, Frankie, when I read the book, I recognized the Septimus Order as the model for the Octogon, and I sensed there might be legal trouble ahead, so I arranged this meeting to try to head it off at the pass.”

Winslow jumped from his seat. “You’re part of this!”

“No-no, Frankie. I’m on your side. But you’ve got to face the hard fact that no publisher’s going to touch this if they get an inkling that a suit is waiting in the wings.”

“Fuck you!” He pointed to Ernst and Slootjes in turn. “And fuck you and fuck you! You think you’re gonna stop it from being published? Well, guess what? It’ll be on sale tomorrow.”

And then he stormed out.

“Well, thank you very much,” Kushner said after the door had slammed. “There goes one of my steady earners.”

Slootjes said nothing. He looked shell-shocked.

“What did he mean by that?” Ernst said. “On sale tomorrow? An empty threat, yes?”

Kushner shook his head. “Afraid not. He can self-publish it online on sites like Amazon or B-and-N or Kobo. Just a few clicks of a mouse and it can be available all over the world.”

“All over the world?” Ernst pounded his desk. “Go catch him and bring him back.”

When Kushner was gone, Slootjes looked at Ernst with haunted eyes. “What if they’re true?”

“What?”

“His dreams…what if his dreams tell the future?”

The idea landed like a blow to the center of Ernst’s chest. Winslow had nailed so many details about the Order itself. If his dreams about a coming apocalypse were on a par with that…

Had they all been played?

No. That sort of thinking was counterproductive. He pushed those thoughts aside.