When they passed through the doorway into the ballroom, Evan was shocked into stillness. He gaped at the item that had been constructed in the dead center of the vast space.

A rectangular box the size of a cargo-shipping container, built of what seemed to be bullet-resistant glass, probably Lexan or another sturdy-as-hell thermoplastic polymer. A freestanding room, nearly seamless, save for a small vent in the back befitting a reptile terrarium.

A hatch resembling a bank vault’s door had been cut into one end of the rectangle, swung ajar on massive industrial hinges. The heavy door looked to be a solid foot thick, as were the walls. Embedded below the steel-bar handle was an inset screen and a sensor panel the size of a Frisbee.

René stood proudly in front of the Lexan vault, his surviving guards lined up behind him like White House staff awaiting a new president. René nodded at the open door, and Dex prodded Evan forward.

As Dex shoved Evan across the threshold, his shoulder skimmed the frame. The corner sliced right through the fabric of his shirt, as sharp as the lasered edge of a carbon-steel plate.

Evan stood inside, the air compressing around him as Dex pushed the door closed. It clanked sonorously, and everything grew suddenly quiet.

Dex pressed his left hand to the Frisbee-size panel. The inside of the door featured a matching panel and screen, both of which now lit up. The panel displayed the outline of Dex’s hand along with the network of veins running beneath the skin. A word glowed to life on the screen above: MATCH. Next, a series of commands populated the screen—LOCK, OPEN, DISABLE, RECODE. The LOCK button highlighted as Dex touched its counterpart outside, and lugs slotted into place, locking the door and sealing Evan inside.

No cords or wires were in evidence anywhere in the clear Lexan around the instrument panels; the system was run by an internal battery, a safeguard against the power’s being cut.

René observed Evan studying the controls. “The vein patterns beneath the surface of our skin are as unique as our fingerprints,” he said. “This system uses infrared sensors to identify those patterns. Something about hemoglobin absorbing the light—it’s all too clever for me to keep up with. What I do know is that you will never crack out of this box.”

“So this is where I live now?”

“No. I’m just testing it.”

“For what?”

René drew closer, facing Evan through the transparent door. “Remember when you said I would not be happy after you sent that wire?” A sly grin. “Well, I am happy.”

His voice, at a conversational pitch, came through clearly; the sensor panel also served the function of relaying their words through the foot-thick Lexan.