Two fingertips of his left hand were crusted. He went into the bathroom and washed his hands. Then he went to the hearth and pretended to warm himself. His busted RoamZone had fallen through the log grate. Careful to keep his back to the hidden surveillance cameras, he managed to poke beneath the flames to knock the phone into reach. The rubber casing was scorched. Smashed-to-shit bits of Gorilla Glass turned the screen into a mosaic. Holding the phone low against his belly, he thumbed it on. Miraculously, the lights flickered as it powered up. The Gorilla Glass had protected the phone from the worst of the stomping and the fire, but he could see bits of the circuit board through the cracks. The smart screen seemed unresponsive to touch.

There’d be no dialing out.

He examined the damage, his excitement quickly fading. He was adroit with electronics, but fixing the phone was beyond his capabilities. When he was sixteen, he’d been taught by a hacker around the same age who could’ve figured something like this out in a Red Bull–fueled minute, but that’s why she’d been the teacher and he the student.

Keeping the phone hidden, he went back to the bed and surreptitiously shoved it between the mattress and box spring.

On the unmade sheets, the croissant waited, cold. His stomach announced itself. He took big bites, chewed thoughtfully, his mouth dry from the sleeping gas. In the course of his training, Evan had endured halothane vapor and methoxypropane, but given the roaring fire he guessed René had gone with something less flammable, probably a halogenated ether. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his head, then crossed to the window and noted the sun’s position high in the sky. He’d been unconscious for a while. Despite the midday blaze, he knew not to be fooled; it was well-digger-ass cold out there.

Movement caught his eye below, three men jogging past the barn, disappearing into the tree line. Evan hadn’t seen them before.

Two dogs, seven guards, and Dex.

His thoughts were scrambled, fragments of plans jabbing him from all angles, opposing directives warring in his mind.

Well, then. As Jack had encoded in the Fifth Commandment, If you don’t know what to do, do nothing.

Evan went back to the bed and sat cross-legged on the unmade sheets. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths. He slowed each exhalation, counting to four, letting the alpha brain waves kick in and drop him into a meditative state.