“What roof?”
He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. I feel weird.”
Hannah fumed at Ioni. What the hell did you do to him?
“We’re going to see Peter now,” Amanda told him. “Are you okay to walk?”
Theo nodded unsteadily. “Yeah. I can walk.”
As the group regathered, Mia took a final glance at the bank machine. She knew they were called “cashers” here and that they were maintained by the state government. They could be used to pay taxes and traffic tickets, even renew a drinking license.
Behind the dark round glass on top of the console, the civic camera continued to fix on Mia. It knew a few things about her as well.
—
Melissa snapped awake in her swivel chair, dazed and half-blind. She brushed the dreads from her face and glanced around the narrow van. A chubby young blond in a sweatsuit yawned at his surveillance console. He was yet another unfamiliar face from the Manhattan DP-9 office. Melissa had dozed right through a shift change.
She arched her sore back. “Did I miss anything?”
“No ma’am,” the agent replied.
Quarter Hill was located fourteen miles north of the city, a wealthy little hamlet nestled snugly inside a ten-foot tempic wall. The gates were guarded by a security firm that had been cited several times by police for overzealous force.
Melissa peeked over the agent’s shoulder at the thermal imaging display, where two orange silhouettes casually moved around the dark blue backdrop of a living room. From all indications, Peter Pendergen led a perfectly mundane life. When he wasn’t typing away at his latest novel or debating Irish history on Eaglenet forums, he lounged around the house with his thirteen-year-old son. If anything, it was the hint of anguish in Liam Pendergen’s voice that suggested something wasn’t right.
The conversation in the living room came to a halt. The father took his son by the shoulders and drew him into an embrace. The directional microphones picked up a gentle whisper.
“Call your team,” Melissa said. “Tell them to get ready. Pendergen’s about to move.”
“What did he say? I couldn’t hear it.”
“Neither could I. But that’s a good-bye hug if I ever saw one.”
Her handphone beeped with a new text message. She pulled it from her pocket.
Case Lead Alert. Oct-5. 11:07am. Civic Camera #NYS-55-1948C (New Union Square). Sighted: Farisi, Mia. Kidguard Facial Recog: 98%.
Melissa opened her computer and logged into the camera alert network. It had been four weeks since she added the ghosted images of the fugitives to the facial map database. As minors couldn’t be entered into the Blackguard registry of criminals at large, she threw David and Mia into Kidguard, the archive of missing children. The effort finally paid off.
Her screen displayed a grainy still photo of the group’s youngest member. Mia cradled a pay phone handset and scribbled something into her ever-present journal. Three tall people stood behind her. Though their masks prevented the camera from making positive IDs, Melissa had no trouble recognizing David, Zack, and Amanda.
As she phoned the local office, she kept her somber gaze on Mia’s frozen image. Should have kept your mask on.
Rosie Herrera was Melissa’s equivalent at the New York DP-9 branch, a stout and square-jawed matron who endlessly groused about the Bureau’s glass ceiling. Fortunately, she wasn’t too jaded to help.
“They can’t have gotten far,” she told Melissa. “Let me call my guy at the precinct.”
“No. The police aren’t prepared to handle these people. All I need is your fastest ghost team at Union Square. The girl wrote something in her book. I’m guessing it’s a new meeting address.”
Melissa’s phone beeped with an interrupting call from a person marked simply as Nameless. She narrowed her eyes at the screen.
“Rosie, hold on.” She switched lines. “Cedric?”
Cain chuckled. “Professional pointer: when a shade hides his name, you don’t say it out loud.”
“Look, this isn’t the best time . . .”
“I know. I got the same alert you did. Don’t bother with the ghost drills. In five minutes, I’ll know exactly where your runners are headed.”
Melissa’s stomach churned as she tried to guess his methods. Integrity’s resources were as frightening as their freedoms.
“I see,” she replied. “So this is an anonymous tip then.”
“No. That’s coming. This is just a heads-up warning to gather your forces and gather them big, because you’ve got one last chance to bring these people in. They get away this time, it’s out of my hands. They’ll become Integrity’s problem, and vice versa.”
Melissa rubbed her aching back. “I understand.”
“Good. Make your calls. Get ready for mine. And next time, don’t say my name.”
He hung up. Melissa heaved a loud breath, then switched lines again. “Rosie?”
“Yeah. I’m here. You still need that drill team?”