“Forget ‘recognized,’” said Bao. “I want to get in there without even being seen.”
“How?” asked Marisa. “It’s barely twilight, and there are least two gangs between the gate and the building. That’s a lot of people to see us.”
“We could go through the back fence,” said Sahara. “Or maybe over it.”
Marisa shook her head. “Every side of the property that doesn’t touch the street fronts against another industrial property. We don’t have time to research those other places’ security systems, let alone figure out how to break through them and Bluescreen’s in the next twelve minutes.”
“Eleven,” said Sahara.
“So we go in the car,” said Bao. “Instead of getting out when we reach the gate, we can stay inside while she circles the building. If everyone’s in front fighting, we can get out in the back without anyone seeing.”
“Especially if our army of nulis gets there first,” said Sahara. “Maybe we can use them to take out the security cameras or something.”
Marisa felt that wave of fear again, like a tightness in her chest. “Staying in the car while a human is driving it is not safe.”
“Omar’s car is bulletproof,” said Bao. “Even on manual controls, it’ll be safer to drive past a gunfight than run past one.”
“You don’t understand,” said Marisa, her voice rising. “You don’t know what happens to one of these things in an accident—”
“I know what you went through,” said Sahara, putting her hand on Marisa’s. “I know what you must be feeling to confront such a long-standing fear. But this is a good plan, and I’ll be with you the whole time.”
“I’ll only be driving you for a hundred meters,” said Fang. “Maybe a hundred and fifty. We’ll pass the gangsters, you’ll jump out in back, and then I’ll circle back to the front. I’ll hit the lobby the same time you hit the back door, causing enough damage that they’re sure to come to me instead of you.”
“We can do this,” said Bao. “I know it’s risky, but we can do it. We have to do it.”
Marisa closed her eyes.
“You know I hate saying this,” said Sahara, “but . . . play crazy.”
Marisa felt the empty left sleeve of her jacket, imagining the human arm that she couldn’t even remember anymore. She was only two years old when that car accident spun her world off its axis; her few remaining memories were fragmented and terrifying.
I can do this, she told herself. It’s just another game of Overworld.
“Car’s here,” said Sahara. “We don’t have time to wait.”
“Let’s go,” said Marisa, standing up. She clenched her hand into a fist, and then put it into the middle of the room, palm down. “Cherry Dogs forever.”
Sahara put her hand on Marisa’s. “Cherry Dogs forever.” Fang and Jaya echoed the phrase over their djinnis, and Bao hesitated just a moment before adding his hand to the stack.
“Cherry Dog for one evening,” he said. “Let’s go save Anja so she can have her spot back.”
“You don’t get out that easy,” said Marisa, squeezing his fingers. “You’re on the team for good now—an honorary member.” She put her arm around him and started toward the door. “We’ll be the only team in the league with six players.”
“And the only team in the world with a player who doesn’t have a djinni,” said Sahara, following them down the stairs. “Five women and one caveman.”
Omar’s Futura Baron was waiting for them on the curb, as attentive to Omar’s access code as it ever was to Omar. They got in, gave it an address a few blocks away from the warehouse, and told it to hurry. While Sahara plugged herself in to the command core, Marisa blinked online and got to work on the fleet of nulis.
“Can you hack that many nulis that fast?” asked Bao.
“Not a chance,” said Marisa. “We’re doing this the old-fashioned way—we’re paying them.” She searched for every window washing company she could find and started placing rush orders for the warehouse: get to this address right now and give it the full treatment. She bought the largest service packages they had, paid extra for immediate service, and sent them off, wave after wave, hundreds of window-washing robots converging on the cartel like a plague of locusts. It cost thousands of dollars—money Marisa didn’t have—but she didn’t care anymore. She’d deal with that later, and with Omar, and with everything else. She realized with a shock that they hadn’t even planned an escape route—they were putting everything on the line. All that mattered was saving the people, and stopping the war.