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A PAIR OF BOOTS ENTERED Connor’s circle of vision. He looked up, expecting to confront Don and his blade, and was surprised to find Garr.
The Colonel stared down at him for what seemed an eternity, and then crouched to look Connor in the eye.
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?” Garr’s voice was measured, but Connor recognized the fire in the Colonel’s eyes. He’ll accept nothing less than a straight answer.
Connor gulped, his hand unconsciously seeking the locket around his neck. Darcy kept the controller. Cannon fodder.
He made his decision.
“There’s an emergency meeting of the Council—or what’s left of it—in a few hours.” The words tumbled out faster as he spoke. “They aren’t sure who they can trust, but Darcy’s proven his loyalty by getting a node. He’ll see who shows up for the meeting, compile a list . . .”
The words caught in his throat. He overheard someone retching in the kitchen, and he felt like he might be next.
Garr steadied him, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. “Darcy’s going to program our Implants with targets after tonight’s meeting.” It was not a question.
Connor nodded, gulping another breath. He stared at the carpet.
“We can’t stay here.” Mateo repeated his earlier warning. “Darcy’s objectives have become clear, and therefore, so have our own.”
Garr stood, pulling Connor to his feet. “Whatever we’re going to do, it has to be tonight, before Darcy figures out who his next targets are.”
He directed his last question to Connor. “Where’s this meeting supposed to take place?”
Connor paused, taking a deep breath. I’m committed now. “The Citadel. It’s not far from the Council Chamber. Darcy gave me the codes to bypass the security locks.”
Don sheathed his knife. “Darcy may have been planning to activate Connor’s Implant last, once we were all past the Citadel’s security. There’s no way to know.”
“Darcy’s timing is irrelevant.” Mateo’s scanner faded, and the room returned to its former dusky atmosphere. “What is significant, however, is that the meeting will take place inside the Citadel.”
Don eyed him with unconcealed suspicion. “Why would that make any difference?”
Connor found his voice again. “The Givers are there. They never leave. The Citadel’s their fortress.”
Don burst into incredulous laughter. “The news just keeps getting better. We’re supposed to break into this Citadel before Darcy pushes the button on our Implants—oh, and by the way, the Givers might pop by for drinks and dessert.”
Mateo nodded in the semi-darkness. “The Citadel is also where Trackers are created.”
“Darcy was told to go there for the Council meeting,” Connor said, addressing Garr. “It wasn’t his idea.”
Sheila re-entered the gathering room. “A new truck just pulled up to the curb.”
Jane followed on her heels, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “Looks like Logan found an alternate means of transportation.”
“We’ve wasted too much time already.” Mateo stalked to the door. “We must rendezvous with the others.”
The Colonel nodded, joining Mateo by the exit. “First, the Citadel, and then the Givers.” He paused. “Too bad Megan’s enhancements don’t work like they used to.”
Connor stopped dead in his tracks. A hollow sensation in his stomach threatened to engulf him. “What did you say?”
Don answered, looking surprised. “Megan’s enhancements—you know, from when she was a bodyguard for the Givers.” He turned away, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but right about now, we could really use her Tracker abilities.”
Connor’s inner world crumbled.
Megan—a Tracker? Impossible! The Givers wouldn’t dare. Darcy told me what the savages . . .
He stumbled after the Colonel, numb. Cannon fodder.