“He’s down?”

“Yeah, he’s down,” Maisie said. “Might be hurt. Rough landing.”

“Okay. Stay there and keep an eye on the cameras. We’re going after him.”

The line went dead, and she slipped her phone back into her pocket.

“Has anyone ever tried to get into the Q before?” Maisie asked, her eyes on the motionless orange blob on the screen.

Hadley leaned closer to the screen. “Yeah, those people who tried to tear down the walls like fifteen years ago.”

“Oh yeah. That didn’t go so well for them,” Maisie said. “You think he’s dead? Oh, there he goes!”

The orange blob moved. A hand emerged from beneath the parachute, and then the top of a head. He paused for several seconds before crawling out from underneath the fabric and standing.

He had dark hair, and looked to be fairly young, though it was hard to tell from this distance.

“Elise, can you zoom in?” Maisie asked.

“Yeah.”

The image shifted. The guy’s face was clear on the screen now. He was young, maybe late teens or early twenties. He wore a rumpled button-down shirt, his tie loose around his neck.

“Holy shit,” Hadley said. “That’s Lennon fucking Pierce.”

“Who is Lennon fucking Pierce?” Elise asked.

“Lennon Pierce! The guy—the kidnapped guy!”

“The senator’s son?” Maisie asked.

Elise’s eyebrows shot up. “The one who’s running for president?”

“Yes!” Hadley exclaimed. “They sent me a picture with the news report. I remember that face. And that hair.”

He did have wild hair. It was thick and sticking up in every direction.

“Hold on,” Hadley said, and ran out of the room.

“That senator is the one who’s been talking big about tearing down the Q walls, right?” Elise said.

“Yeah.”

Hadley ran back into the room and handed Maisie a piece of paper.

“See? That’s totally him.”

It was, indeed, totally him. This version of Lennon Pierce was smiling, all straight teeth and glowing skin. His wavy hair was impressively coiffed, with one tendril lazily grazing his eyebrow. She wondered if they’d had to take the picture several times to make him look so effortlessly douchey.

She passed the picture to Elise and returned her attention to the screen. Lennon was still just standing there. A frozen dumbass.

“Do you think they dropped him in here against his will?” Hadley asked.

“Yes,” Maisie said. “Look at him. He has nothing on him.” She turned to Hadley. “Is Lopez reachable?”

“Oh. Right.” Hadley grabbed the phone and dialed. “Hey. Where’s Uncle Franco right now?” She listened. “I know you said not to—” She cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “It’s an emergency. Tell Uncle Franco that we know who just dropped out of the sky and he needs to call the comms tower right now.” She hung up.

Maisie dialed Declan.

On the screen, Lennon scrambled backward, his hands in the air. He whirled around. Elise zoomed out. Four men ran toward Lennon. Behind him, Maisie could see the black masks on the faces of the men on the motorcycles.