“I know. I know.”

“What happened with the car on the road? How did you.” I glanced around us. Ben was standing next to Abby. Reporters were gathered in a circle, peppering her with questions, none of which she was paying attention to. I leaned over and spoke loudly into Ben’s ear so he could hear me. “We need a place to talk.”

He nodded. “Follow me.”

Two officers led us down a hallway and unlocked a door to a small room with a rectangular table and six wooden chairs. They closed the door behind us, blocking the media corps.

Abby leaned into me, and we embraced again. I looked into her eyes. “Abby, I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I thought that too.”

I stroked her hair and looked over at Ben. “What happened? How did you survive the crash?”

He shook his head. “We weren’t in the car when it went over the cliff. Thank yesterday’s abandoned technologies.”

“But, Ben, why did you go up to Maine?”

“To confront Nichols. But then Abby was kidnapped.”

“But Nichols isn’t the one behind all this. It’s Cleary who—”

“That’s the conclusion I reached as well.”

“So where have you been hiding?” I asked Abby.

“On a boat off the coast,” she answered. “We wanted to contact you, but the boat wasn’t connected to the Grid, and we didn’t want to risk coming ashore before we had to.”

“And,” Ben added, “we didn’t know how secure such a communication might be. I assume you had the transplant done?”

I looked at Abby, searching her face for her reaction.

“Yes,” I answered simply.

She met my eyes, then looked down.

“Abby, you know I had to do it. Cleary has to be stopped.”

She tilted her head, clearly not in agreement. “I hoped there was another way.” She leaned forward and held on to me tightly. “I’m just…heartbroken for you.”

We were quiet for a moment. I dreaded the silence, knowing the question that lurked within it.

Ben provided a brief respite. “Creighton, were you able to access the memory streams?”

“Cleary’s. Not those of his henchman, Pape.”

“And?”

“They’re planning to release the neural nanites into the water supply of three cities, including DC.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Soon. Ben, is the FBI going to take you into custody?”

“No. En route here I tapped the ombudsman at the FBI and told him what had happened at the hospital. They’ll want to question me, I’m sure.”

“Creighton—”

I turned to Abby. She looked anxious.

“Have you met again with my grandfather?”

It was the last question I wanted to answer. I looked at the floor.

“What is it?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

I raised my eyes to her. “Abby, two days ago Cleary faked a message from Nichols asking that Ray be released.”

“And was he?”