“A month ago,” Avery said, “you discovered that I was taking data off-site, leaving it at dead drops. You thought it was corporate espionage. You confronted me, and I took a chance. I told you the truth about the Rubicon program and what we believed the Citium were doing.”
She glanced back at him. “It was news to you, Des. You had seen only pieces of the conspiracy. Two days later, you called me and told me that you had done your own investigation. You said it was true—the Citium was planning something unthinkable.”
“The pandemic,” Desmond said.
“I think so,” Avery replied. “You told me that the Citium had begun with good intentions, that at their core, they had been a noble organization, focused on unraveling the greatest mystery of all time, one at the heart of our existence. In recent years, however, they had lost their way. Hard-liners had taken over, changed the agenda. They believed the human race was in danger. The experiments and steps they were willing to take had become more radical. You wanted to stop it.
“You got me reassigned to the Kentaro Maru. You said it would be the safest place—for both of us. You said if your plan failed, you would probably be taken there. I promised to help you if that happened. The next time I saw you was in that cell yesterday.”
“So I failed,” Desmond said.
“Maybe. I don’t think we know enough to say yet. I think your first plan was to expose the Citium and cause a public uproar, focus media and government attention on them, and collapse the organization in one move. But they must have discovered you. You have one of the pieces of the Looking Glass. You hid it, or maybe destroyed it—that’s why they were so intent on capturing you alive.”
Desmond nodded. “Erasing my memories was a backup plan.”
“I think so.”
“Then it stands to reason that somewhere in my memories is the key to stopping the Citium and the pandemic.”
“And the key to completing their work,” Avery said. “You heard the conversation on the ship, Des. They scanned your body. You’ve got a specialized implant in your brain, in the hippocampus, where memories are stored. Conner was convinced that implant could unblock memories and that you’d left a backdoor in a mobile application that would trigger the memories.”
She glanced back at him. “In Berlin, did you find it? The application?”
Peyton turned to him and silently mouthed, Don’t tell her. She obviously didn’t trust Avery.
But Desmond had found Avery’s story very convincing. It explained how she had come to be a Citium employee. How she had gotten on the Kentaro Maru. Why she had rescued them.
And yet, her story lacked something very important: it couldn’t be verified. The Rubicon program was “strictly off-the-books,” in her words. There was no doubt in his mind she was a special operative of some kind. What he didn’t know was whose side she was truly on. What if her mission was to find the application that would unlock his memories? What if her story was just that—a story?
He made his decision.
“Yeah, I found it.”
She stared at him, waiting, hanging on every word.
“In Berlin, I found some prepaid cards sewn into the label on a suit I left at a cleaner’s. The card number led to a Google Voice line. One of the voicemail greetings referenced a web address, a hidden page on the CityForge website. There was a link to download an app called CityForge Tracker. It was location-aware, but I couldn’t get it to do anything.”
Desmond studied Avery, seeing if she bought the lie. It was a test. Revealing the Labyrinth Reality app would serve no purpose at the moment. Lying did. If she betrayed them now, they still wouldn’t find the app.
“Good,” she said. “We’ll download it when we land, see if it works now.”
They flew in silence after that, through the night. Below them lay a blanket of darkness: no vehicle headlights on the roads, no twinkling cities in the distance. Above, stars shone brightly, brighter than Peyton had ever seen on any deployment before.
She couldn’t help thinking back to Desmond’s riddle about the absence of space junk. What did it mean?
Beside her, Hannah stirred. Peyton leaned over. The young EIS agent had a fever. Was it from the gunshot wound? Peyton ran a hand over her lymph nodes. Swollen.
Hannah let out a cough, then another. Peyton pulled her shirt up, revealing a small, faint rash on her abdomen.
She’s infected. Peyton’s heart sank. She closed her eyes, felt them well up with tears, but she refused to let the tears break through.
A hand on her shoulder. Desmond staring at her, his eyes saying, I will fix this. She was usually the one who fixed things like this. But she needed help now.
From the pilot’s seat, Avery spoke over the comm.
“Coming up on something.”
Beyond the helicopter’s windshield, Peyton saw a sprawling city dotted with several large bonfires. At first the fires confused her; these people wouldn’t waste wood on bonfires. Firewood was too precious in this place. They weren’t connected to the grid, had no electricity—they needed firewood to cook.
But a moment later, she understood. They were burning bodies. As they flew closer, she could see people piling them on the pyres by the dozens. No—hundreds. She felt sick.
In the swaths of darkness between the blazes, small lights glowed, their bearers moving about like fireflies swarming the arid ground. They were dry-cell battery torches, solar lanterns, and kerosene lamps, each giving off a slightly different hue—shades of white and yellow.
The helicopter hovered above the scene.
“You sure about this?” Avery asked.
“What’s our fuel status?” Desmond replied, before Peyton could respond.
“Our fuel status is we’re out.”
Out the side window, Peyton saw crowds starting to gather, pointing up at the helicopter. Some held rifles.
“Find the main road and follow it north,” she said. “There’s an airstrip where it forks. The guards will be there. They’ll keep us safe.”