I motioned them to stay put and continued down the length of the cargo hold, moving toward the cockpit. I had three main objectives now. First, make sure the dog was the only other living cargo aboard—confirmed. Second, I didn’t think the pilots would come back into the cargo hold but I had to secure the door from our side—I did that with some nylon rope from my pack. Third, find a place we could hide during the flight—located.
The floor had electric tracks—a kind of pulley system for loading the pallets—but about halfway into the hold, the tracks stopped. There, the plane had steel girders as big as railroad ties across the floor, a reinforcing belt right down the center that created a clear corridor about three feet wide. In front of this space were more pallets, which must have been loaded through the nose of the plane. I noticed a candy-bar wrapper and a cigarette butt on the floor. It looked like we weren’t the only ones to have traveled this way.
I found the others and brought them over. “It’s tight, but it should work.”
The whine of the rear doors closing made Bastian jump. The bright overhead lights shut off, leaving only the weaker emergency lights on, plunging us into near darkness. We scattered around the narrow space and hunkered down. In ten minutes, we were in the air, the engines roaring loud and steady.
Sebastian shoved me in the shoulder. “That was sick! I didn’t realize that was going to be so fun!”
“Maybe try not to yell? There are pilots flying this thing,” I said.
“Stop trying to act like that wasn’t awesome because it was!” He pushed me again. “You’re such a badass, Gideon!”
I had to smile. “You did the hard part.”
“Yeah, but you were like, ‘Hold here everyone, just be cool,’” he said, adopting this super intense look that I really hoped wasn’t me. “It was sick!”
Down the aisle, Daryn leaned forward and smiled. She didn’t chime in with any praise, though, and it seemed like the moment she would’ve if she were going to. But that was okay. A smile was good.
Great, actually.
We’d done it. We were on a plane heading for Italy.
Reaching into my backpack for my wire cutters, I hopped to my feet.
“Where you going?” Bas asked.
“Canine rescue mission,” I said, and went for the dog.
CHAPTER 32
“You went for the dog and…?” Cordero says, when I stop.
“I got her out. It was a female.”
“Nice of you, Gideon. What I’d like to know more about is the key you mentioned.”
“I’ll get back to it in a second. I was just wondering something.” Why is Daryn here? But I can’t ask Cordero that. I look at Texas, then at Beretta. I took the gold-medal oath. “I just told you seven demons are roaming the earth. Don’t you have any questions about that?”
Cordero smirks. She opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it. “I’m waiting,” she says finally. “I’m waiting until you’re finished.”
“Are you interested in knowing the Kindred got the key? That at the end of this, they took it in Norway? That they have it right now?”
“Of course it interests me. That’s why I’m still listening.”
She’s listening all right, but that’s kind of not even the point. Is she believing me, is the point. If she believes me, why isn’t she freaking the hell out? Taking drastic measures? But if she doesn’t believe me, why sit here?
Cordero rises from her chair. “Let’s take another short break. I’m sure you’re getting hungry. That granola bar can’t have gone far. Let me see what I can do.”
She leaves and takes Beretta with her.
I count to sixty before I address Texas. “Just tell me one thing. Did Daryn come here on her own?”
He ignores me. The radiator goes on and clicks for a full minute before Texas gives me a nod that could be measured in nanometers.
Now I’m wondering why. Why did she come back? The Kindred got what they wanted. We lost. They won. So why is she back? Are we going after them?
Beretta returns with a cold slice of cheese pizza. I’m just finishing it when Cordero comes back, like a category 5 perfume hurricane. I’m breathing flower shops and fruit stands and turned earth smells and I can’t help myself. I wince and then unwince, but it’s too late. Cordero’s seen.
She sits down and adjusts her chair, and sets a number two pencil on top of my file. When she opens my file the pencil rolls off the edge of the table and clatters to the floor.
I see red bricks. My dad falling through the air. And instantly, violently, the pizza tries to kick its way up my esophagus.
Somehow, I manage to keep it down.
Texas steps forward and picks up the pencil. His eyes pause on me before he gives it to Cordero. Beretta is watching me, too.
Cordero picks up on the tension. She looks at each of us, then it dawns on her.
“Oh, Gideon!” she says. “I’m sorry.” She slips the pencil into the pocket of her jacket and takes out the pen she’s been using. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
I shake my head because I can’t talk. It doesn’t seem like her not to think. Did she do that on purpose? But why would she have?
There’s a sense of urgency inside me, an inner burn. I was thinking of something important. Now all I can think of is my dad falling from the roof of a yellow bungalow.
“Ready?” Cordero says.