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“CAN WE VERIFY ANYTHING Tony said?” Don kept his voice low. There was nothing to be gained by Connor overhearing their conversation.
The Runners sat in a semi-circle in the gathering room of a modest ground-level villa. The power cut out shortly after they arrived, leaving the room dark and gloomy.
The young Hoarder slouched in the corner of a covered patio, looking miserable as the heavy rain pelted down less than a meter beyond. The sliding door to the villa was open, but it was unlikely Connor could hear their voices above the droning downpour.
Garr leaned back on the overstuffed couch, running his hands through his hair. “You mean what Tony said about Darcy leaving the dirty work to us? That makes no sense, even if he gave the codes to Connor. Bypassing security locks won’t do us much good if we don’t know where to go or what to look for once we’re inside the Citadel.”
“I’m not sure we should believe anything Tony said. He almost got us killed.” Sheila slumped in a recliner opposite Garr. “I’ll bet he gave away the location of our first meeting with the Hoarders. Mateo warned us—he said there was more than one set of Hoarders hunting us.”
“I trust Mateo less than I trust the Hoarders,” Jane replied, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table. She glanced around the room with an exaggerated shudder. “It’s creepy, waiting in some dead Hoarder’s apartment.”
Don shrugged, not disturbed in the least by the fate of their unknown host. “When the Tracker who just saved your life says ‘wait here,’ I’m inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, what choice did we have? He took the truck with him.”
Garr shook his head, adjusting his position on the couch. “Darcy’s truck is a liability. Our young Tracker friend is doing us a favor by getting rid of it.”
“His name is Logan Kennedy.” Mateo’s voice wafted out of the darkened kitchen, startling everyone. He stepped over the threshold to join them. “He responds to that name, although it holds neither memory nor identity for him.”
Don jumped to his feet at Mateo’s unexpected entrance. “It’s considered polite to knock first. Or didn’t they teach you that in Tracker school?”
Mateo cocked his head to one side. “The kitchen window was open, and a far more discreet entry point than the front lobby. Our friend from the Surveillance Division was correct. As criminals, we’re quite famous at the moment.”
“So the Infomedia told us, before the power went out,” Jane said irritably. She took a deep breath, placing her hands palm-down on the coffee table. “Welcome to the ‘Enclave’s Most Wanted’ club.”