Some of that time had been devoted to the severest NDA he had ever seen, one that would charge him with espionage if he broke it. This presented some conflict with regard to his job. He’d spoken to his editors, telling them, “Please be patient.” One was only too eager to defer to his judgment, the other was frustrated. Of course, they wanted something right the fuck now. He calmly told them both that he was restrained by legal considerations at the moment, leaving them to read between the lines about the NDA.

But it was Cora who was the real celebrity, the mystery girl who had thrown herself between an alien monster and a man with a gun, and had become the subject of what quickly became the most widely circulated photograph in the world. The photographer had gotten a near-perfect shot, a shoo-in for a Pulitzer, with Cora in profile, her left arm raised in defense with her right arm trying to shield Ampersand’s head, and the man with the gun. Kaveh would have been tempted to frame a copy if it hadn’t been one of the most traumatic moments of her already trauma-laden life.

Out of concern for “Jude,” they decided Tuesday was not the day to try Nikola’s luck with his delicate condition. Nikola, like Ampersand before him, was careful about keeping communication to a minimum without his “advocate” around, meaning Kaveh spent a lot more time around him than anyone in any branch of the government would have liked. There was one guy who seemed to be some sort of military higher-up named Porter, who particularly hated having him around. He was one of those guys who seemed proud of the fact that he was a loud talker—he overheard the man asking Kaplan what “that camel-jockey muckraker” was still doing here.

Charming.

The next time he saw Cora, she was still alone in that observation room with her nonresponsive “symphyle.” She had refused to leave the room, so they’d supplied her with a cot and some pillows. He noted there were also a few snacks around, some potato chips, some Combos, a half-consumed bottle of Mexican Coke. It was also here that he realized she was wearing the same pair of jeans she’d worn the night they first met, but that they were baggier than they had been a week ago. She was bordering on underweight.

Figuring he might as well take advantage of that stupid two-way mirror, he decided to spend a few minutes observing the situation, seeing how she interacted with him when no one was around before he barged on in. He didn’t expect to be alone in the observation room, but he was surprised to find Luciana Ortega the only other person.

“Hi,” he said, shutting the door behind him.