A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of Atlas’s mouth. “You know, when we stood on that bridge, I was certain giving you a ticket was the worst decision I’d ever made.” He turns one of my hands over and presses his lips against the center of my palm. “It might be one of the best.”

“Only one of?” I say lightly, even though I have never felt less like joking.

Atlas flashes a quick grin. “That’s something we’ll talk about later.” He grabs the blue hat off the sink, brushes off the dust, and gently places it on my head. Then, with a playful tug of the brim, he adds, “For now, we have work to do.”

Index escorts Atlas and me to the second floor. The smell of pizza and the hum of voices make it almost seem as if a party is happening, but there is nothing celebratory about the “war room” into which Index ushers us.

Dewey, Spine, and several other Stewards are huddled over the map. My stomach tightens as I notice the papers that have been tacked on the wall with the names of the locations I chose to carry out my mom and Atticus’s mission. Under those locations are lists of names.

“We lost six Stewards to the early lockdown,” Spine says, looking up from the map. “I’ve tried to spread out the non-Stokers through the groups.” I find my name listed in the same group as Spine, Atlas, and Dewey under the heading “Navy Pier.” “The groups are meeting now to determine their team strategy. We have the smallest of the teams, since ours is the most challenging target. The four of us will be working with Huck and Flap. Stacks will join us for the end of the run if he has time after his primary assignment. We’ll work in partners, each starting at a different point, then fanning in to the pier.”

When Atlas and I nod, she continues, “Dewey and I figure we’ll have forty-five minutes at most to hand out the tickets before returning here or to a safe house.”

“There are some that claimed time was on the side of truth, but when the Marshals are dispatched, time will certainly not be our friend.” Dewey turns to me. “The time we gain through the shifting-focus part of this plan will be essential.”

“Stacks will leave for that task in thirty-three minutes,” Spines says, checking the clock on the wall. “He’ll drive to the stadium, plant his evidence, and once he’s clear he’ll call in the tip.”

If it works, the Marshals will believe there is a large group of people handing out pages with the word “verify” roaming the area in and around the White Sox’s baseball stadium—on the other side of the city from where we’ll all be. The government will have to send a lot of their resources to cover that much space. It should make it harder for them to respond quickly to what we are doing on the North Side and increase the window Rose will have to search for information about her brother’s whereabouts.