“That won’t be necessary,” said Victor. There was nothing Dumont could do for him now—nothing that would make a difference. And while four and a half minutes was far too long to be dead, it wasn’t long enough for EON’s enforcement team to clear out. They would still be on-site. How long until more joined them?

Victor nodded at the front of the ambulance. “I assume you can drive?”

Dumont hesitated. “I can, but . . .”

“Get behind the wheel.”

Dumont didn’t move.

Victor wasn’t in the mood to torture him, so he resorted to logic instead. “You said they had eyes on your family. If you go back in there now, they’ll know you helped me escape.”

Dumont frowned. “And how does driving you away make me less complicit?”

“You’re not an accomplice,” said Victor, producing a pair of cable-ties from a toolbox. “You’re a hostage. I can tie you to the steering wheel now, or later. It’s up to you.”

The doctor silently climbed behind the wheel. Victor took the passenger’s seat. He flipped the sirens on.

“Where am I going?” asked Dumont.

Victor turned the question over. “There’s a bus station on the southern edge of the city. Drive.”

Dumont hit the gas, and the ambulance peeled out of the bay. After a few blocks, Victor killed the sirens and the lights. He sat back in the seat, flexing his fingers. He could feel the doctor cutting glances at him.

“Eyes on the road,” said Victor.

Ten minutes later, the bus depot came into sight, and Victor pointed to an empty stretch of sidewalk.

“There,” he said.

As Dumont started guiding the ambulance off the road, Victor reached over, took the wheel, and jerked it, forcing the vehicle up onto the curb.

“Don’t forget,” he said, “you’re in distress.” Before Dumont could

protest, Victor zip-tied his hands to the wheel. “Do you have a phone on you?” Dumont nodded at his pocket.

Victor drew the cell from the doctor’s coat and threw it out the window.

“There,” he said, climbing out of the ambulance.

Now he had a head start.

III

THE DAY BEFORE

IV

EON

STELL stood before the bay of screens, arms crossed, watching it all fall apart. Radio chatter crackled from the speaker on the desk.

“No sign of target.”

“Soldiers down.”

“Seal the perimeter.”

What a goddamned catastrophe, thought Stell, sinking down into his chair.

Eli’s trap had succeeded, but his own agents had failed. Three of them were dead—two bleeding from their ears and noses on a sublevel, one knifed in the throat on the first floor—the rest had been fucking useless.

Whether Victor had seen past the bait to the hook, or simply wriggled free, one thing was clear—he hadn’t done it alone.