I nodded thanks, moving forward until I could see through the window in the door she guarded, and spot the enemies she held caged, hard to identify by pajamas and physique alone. I did not care who they were—I only wished her to believe I cared. “Backup is close. Do you think you can hold things here for… twelve minutes or so?” Encouraging tone, make her feel brave, make her feel coequal.

A timid nod grew firmer. “Things have been quiet up here.”

“Good. It’ll be over soon. Once we get Cato safely out it’ll all calm.”

She flinched again, glancing left, head tilted slightly upward, thinking of the left fork and the ramp beyond: Cato was up that way, then, but not too close, southwest…

I smile. “Cell 605, right?”

She bites her lip, draws back, aims the apparatus at me, tucks in her right elbow, thinking of her tracker. I’ve made a mistake. I’ll get nothing more here. I charge ahead, left turn, up the ramp, aware of some last words of calm spoken to the Cousin by panting Martin. I summon the blueprints before me: only six cells on that end of each floor, numbered #02 to #07. Was Cato on the seventh floor, not sixth? No, the Cousin’s stiffness spoke of some more glaring error. Something I should have known. Was he not in a normal cell, then?