Doyle looked like he was about to laugh. Richards had never seen such a good mood in a man who had to know what was about to happen to him. Doyle shook his head ruefully, still smiling. “I should have gone for those shotguns.”

Richards withdrew his weapon and thumbed the safety. “It would have saved some time, yes.”

He led Doyle across the compound, toward the lights of the Chalet. It was possible Doyle would take off running, but how far would he get? And, Richards wondered, why hadn’t he asked about Wolgast or the girl?

“Tell me one thing,” Doyle said, as they reached the parking area. A handful of cars were still there, belonging to the lab’s night shift. “Is she here yet?”

“Is who here?”

“Lacey.”

Richards stopped.

“So she is,” Doyle said, and chuckled to himself. “Richards, you should see your face.”

“What do you know about it?”

It was strange. A cool, blue light seemed to be shining from Doyle’s eyes. Even in the ambient glow of the parking lot, Richards could see it. Like looking into a camera at the moment the shutter opened.

“Funny thing, but you know?” Doyle said, and lifted his gaze toward the dark shapes of the trees. “I could hear her coming.”

Grey.

He was on L4. On the monitor, the glowing shape of Zero.

Grey. It’s time.

He remembered then, remembered all of it at last: his dreams and all those nights he’d spent in Containment, watching Zero, listening to his voice, hearing the stories he told. He remembered New York City and the girl and all the others, every night a new one, and the feel of the darkness moving through him and the soft joy in his jaw as he flew down upon them. He was Grey and not Grey, he was Zero and not Zero, he was everywhere and nowhere. He rose and faced the glass.

It’s time.

It was funny, Grey thought. Not funny ha-ha but funny strange, the whole idea of time. He’d thought it was one thing but it was actually another. It wasn’t a line but a circle, and even more; it was a circle made of circles made of circles, each lying on top of the other, so that every moment was next to every other moment, all at once. And once you knew this you couldn’t unknow it. Such as now, the way he could see events as they were about to unfold, as if they’d already happened, because in a way they had.

He opened the air lock. His suit hung limply on the wall. He had to close the first door to open the second, the second to open the third, but there was nothing that said he had to put the suit on, or that he had to be alone.

The second door, Grey.