Finally, he loosens his grip a little and the kid starts to cough.

“Who is down there?” Jasper barks.

But instead of answering there’s a flash of movement as the kid’s arm jerks back and then forward.

Then: stillness.

The kid has his arm outstretched, a short knife only inches from Jasper’s neck.

“Stop!” I shout, staring at that knife so close to Jasper’s skin. This is all my fault.

Jasper raises his hands in surrender. He is afraid now, I can feel it. But not nearly as afraid as he should be. “Okay, man, I don’t—”

“Shut the fuck up!” the kid screams, his voice shrieky and wild. “Asshole, do you not fucking see that I am the one with the goddamn knife?”

It’s when the kid readjusts his grip on the knife that I notice the tattoo on his hand. A grid of nine black circles arranged in a perfect square. I have seen something like that before. Where? When? Who? Then it comes to me. On the neck of one of the two men we passed coming out of the main cabin up at the camp. Level99. Hacktivists, that’s what Quentin called them.

I have to think. I have use what I can feel to help Jasper. What is it that this kid is worried about? What is it that he actually wants? What can I do to get Jasper away from him in one piece? I try to see past his fear to what lies beneath. Concentrate. Concentrate. Not to fuck it up. That’s what this kid wants, to prove to Level99 that he should get promoted off the door. But he is scared. And fear can make a person do anything.

“Level99 is expecting us,” I say. “You can ask them. My name is Wylie.” It’s a risk. Despite Kendall’s note, I seriously doubt they’re expecting us. But this kid won’t check. He’s too worried about bothering them. “We’re supposed to be here. We knew the code. They’ll be pissed if we don’t show up.”

The kid keeps his eyes locked on Jasper, knife still right at his throat. “Then go,” he says. “Get the hell downstairs.”

I tug gently on Jasper’s arm, trying to get him to move. “Come on, Jasper. Let’s go. They’re waiting.”