SIXTY-SEVEN

 

 

FLINT WOULD NEVER get the images out of his mind, playing and replaying on DeRicci’s gigantic screen. Worse, Talia had seen them too. Just after she had found the passenger manifests. Those twenty would-be assassins had been in each of the cities that had been attacked. Or the nineteen cities, since somehow Armstrong had been spared this time.

Was this how everyone else had felt four years ago, when the bomb had exploded here in Armstrong? He had been involved in his own crisis on Earth, and hadn’t realized what had happened for days. And by then, the impact was a bit blunted.

So he hadn’t experienced this shock to the system, this I can’t believe what’s happening feeling, as if he were watching an entertainment instead of seeing a crisis develop in front of his eyes.

A crisis that had DeRicci looking like a wild woman, even though she was trying to keep herself under control.

That request, Find out all you can, was spot-on. Because what else could he do? He wasn’t anywhere near the explosions. He couldn’t help rescue survivors or help with the first responders. He could send money—he had a lot of money—but at the moment, there was too much confusion. He didn’t even know where to send it, what to do.

He took Talia’s arm and led her from DeRicci’s office. Popova was moving quickly, hands flying, as she worked on her screen and talked to someone through her links. Hänsel looked panicked, but he worked quickly as well. Hänsel nodded as Flint went past, as if they shared a secret.

Maybe they did. They both knew how tenuous everything was, how—in truth—no one was in charge.

It wasn’t until Flint got back to his work area that he realized Talia was shaking. His daughter, who hadn’t had anything easy since her mother died.

Talia’s face was gray, and her eyes red-rimmed. But she wasn’t crying—not yet.

“What do we do, Dad?” she asked. “They’re going to bomb this place next, right?”

He didn’t know the answer to that. He had made it a policy from the beginning not to lie to her, even if the truth was painful.

“I don’t know what their plans are,” he said. “I don’t even know who ‘they’ are or what they want from this. We have to trust that the building’s security will take care of any threat.”

“But security didn’t solve the threats to all those cities. Dad, those people, they’re dying.” Her voice rose and wobbled.

He put a hand on her back, and she stiffened. She didn’t want him to touch her. She didn’t want a hug or casual comfort. She had moved beyond that.

Now she wanted answers.

They all wanted answers.

“Yes,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded. “People are dying right now. But a lot more would have died if the domes hadn’t sectioned. We’d be looking at casualties in the millions.”

Talia stared at him, her eyes narrowing. He recognized the look. She was getting angry.

“And that makes it okay?” she asked. “Thousands dying instead of millions?”

“No,” he said. “It’s not okay. It’s just not as bad….”

He realized how lame his argument was and quit talking. He ran a hand over his forehead. His fingers were trembling. He was more shaken up than he wanted to admit.

“We can watch this all day,” he said. “We can follow the coverage, keep track of how many people survive, what happens to the various cities, or we can contribute.”

“No, we can’t,” Talia said. “They shut down the trains. Didn’t you hear that? No one is traveling right now.”

“We’re not going to travel,” he said. “We’re not going to leave this building. You and I have skills other people don’t have, Talia. We can find things. We know how to get information. And that’s what Noelle needs right now. The more information we have on these people, the faster we can solve this.”

“So what?” Talia said. “They already killed people.”

“And they might kill more,” he said. “We don’t know. If we find out who they are and what they’re doing, we might be able to get to them first.”

“Don’t you think they’re ready for that?” she asked.

He studied her. His brilliant daughter. She understood how people worked as well.

“Yes,” he said. “I think they’re ready for the authorities to search for them. They wanted the assassins to be traced. I don’t think they expected anyone to discover who set off the bombs. We caught a break there. So we trace and track.”

“Just like the police are doing,” Talia said.

“The police aren’t doing anything right now except dealing with a crisis,” he said. Except in Armstrong. In Armstrong, the secondary crisis had been averted.

Talia crossed her arms.

“Besides,” Flint said, “these attackers expect the police to follow the rules. Noelle brought us in here because she knows we won’t. We’ll follow the information wherever it leads us.”

Talia tilted her head. Her eyes had brightened. He had her interest for the first time since she saw all the images of destruction. “So I don’t have to do things the way I would if I was in school.”

“That’s right,” Flint said. “Do it any way you can. The faster we find out what’s going on, the better off we’ll be.”

She picked up the pad and tapped it on. “Do you think the assassins are the place to start?”

“I’ll follow them,” Flint said. “I’m used to tracing a lot of people at once. I want you to look into the communication files for that woman Nyquist captured. Someone had to put her up to this. Let’s figure out who it was.”

“That sounds important, Dad,” Talia said. “I think you should do it.”

He put a hand on her arm. “It is important. And you’ll do much better than I ever would.”

She stared at him for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and started to work.

He watched her for a moment, the frown of concentration on her face, the way she bit her lower lip. He had calmed her down. He wished he could calm himself.

But he had learned long ago that the best way for him to deal with a crisis was through a computer screen. He needed to focus on detail, on being busy, on solving things.

And he would.

He would solve this.

If it was the last thing he ever did.