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THEY MADE A GOOD SHOW of it after exiting the traffic level. The truck was left in the parking garage, sandwiched between the traffic level and the high-rise villas above.
Tony proved he could be adept at feigned conversation, asking Connor benign questions about what he’d seen at the Museum. Connor hid his surprise at Tony’s unexpected skill. If anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation in the elevator, they’d collect twenty floors’ worth of historical trivia, and nothing more.
Darcy’s villa was locked and secure. Connor keyed in his personal code. The door hissed open in response, and Connor froze, struck by an intangible sense of warning. Darcy tensed as he crossed the threshold. At his signal, Connor and Tony fanned out across the gathering room, alert for anything out of the ordinary.
Darcy was the first to spot the anomaly, pointing to the balcony. The sliding door stood wide open—Connor had made a point of closing it before they left. His pulse quickened as he spotted the figure standing outside, admiring the view as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Mateo pivoted, and with an unhurried, fluid pace, joined them in the gathering room. The Tracker’s gaze flitted from Connor to Tony before settling on Darcy. He waited until the balcony door closed with a soft whoosh before speaking.
“Good welcome, Councilor. And to your worthy colleagues, the same.” He bowed slightly from the neck, the rest of his body at rigid attention, hands clasped behind his back. “I’ve accounted for all of the hidden surveillance devices. They’ve been collected into the fruit bowl on your mantle, should you wish to study them later. We may speak freely.”
His gaze fastened on Darcy. “I trust you’re now willing to reconsider your earlier rejection of my proposal?”
Tony and Connor spread out, each to one side of Darcy, and advanced toward Mateo. He can’t stop all three of us. Connor braced himself for the coming assault. Trackers were well known for their enhanced physical strength.
Darcy’s words stopped them in their tracks.
“You knew.” Darcy’s voice was soft, but the underlying menace was razor-sharp. “Yet you said nothing. What kind of game are you playing, Mateo?”
The Tracker cocked his head to one side, his expression indecipherable. Connor couldn’t resist asking—the tension in the room was becoming unbearable. “What does he already know, Darcy? What haven’t you told us yet?”
Darcy took a belligerent step forward, snarling at Mateo. “Go ahead, Tracker. Tell the truth for once, if you’re even capable of it.”
Mateo regarded him for a long moment, not blinking. “As you wish, Councilor.”
He spoke to them all, but his gaze remained on Darcy. “The Givers, with the Council’s full support, and the Enclave’s grateful appreciation, have announced a new initiative. One which will provide the level of safety and security needed to prevent future terrorist attacks.”
Mateo’s expression didn’t change, but Connor was sure he heard a mocking tone creep into his voice. “In the coming days and weeks, every Citizen will be given a subcutaneous identification device. The right forearm, if I’m not mistaken.”
Mateo paused, looking from Connor to Tony and back to Darcy. “Citizens will enjoy the benefit of having, at all times, their exact location known to your peace-keeping and security forces.
“If these terrorist attacks, including the assassinations, are the actions of renegade Citizens, it will be a simple matter to track them down. And then, of course, eliminate the threat they pose to the peace and prosperity of the Enclave.”
Connor stared at him in dawning horror, mouth agape.
Darcy spoke first—he’d learned of the strategy at the Council meeting. “In other words, if we leave the Enclave for ‘recreational purposes,’ they’ll know exactly where we are. Border security will also be enhanced. Any suspicious activity will be dealt with, by lethal force, if needed.”
Connor felt a hollow sensation settle into his gut. “You mean there’s no way for us to get new Implants.” His mouth was so dry it was difficult to form the words. “The Givers have cut us off.”
Tony stood stock-still, deflated and speechless.
Mateo tilted his head toward the opposite shoulder. “Are you prepared to listen now, Councilor? I believe you have few remaining alternatives. But, if you prefer, I’ll wait until you arrive at the same conclusion for yourself.”
Darcy took another step forward, his fists clenched in rage. “Where are they? What have you done with the Implants you stole from us?”
Mateo didn’t flinch. His steady gaze was unnerving. “Are you referring to Lucas and Emma? They’re under my care, in a location known only to me.”
“You gave them names?” Darcy was furious. Connor thought he’d seen him angry before, but this was darker, more malevolent. “We Citizens name our children, and our pets. I want to know what you’ve done with Implants Twenty-five and Twenty-six.”
“Their location will remain known only by me,” Mateo repeated. “Rest assured, Councilor, I shall not waver in this decision. You wouldn’t listen before; you will listen now. The four of us have another journey, which we must undertake before—if you’ll excuse the ironic comparison—you’re given implants of your own.”
“You expect us to partner with the savages?” Flecks of spittle appeared in the corners of Darcy’s mouth. He was close to snapping. Connor stared at him in horror as his words sank in.
The mindless barbarians from the shantytown? Connor was appalled by Mateo’s audacity. Tony’s mouth hung open. It was obvious he felt the same way. No wonder Darcy was furious after his last meeting with Mateo.
“Your ability to devise alternate strategies is legendary,” Mateo replied, no trace of mockery in his voice. “Can you think of one now? Time, as they say, waits for no one.”
Darcy snarled at him. He had no words left. His loathing was palpable, but it was clear he could think of no alternative to Mateo’s outlandish proposal.
Mateo’s shocking admission goaded Connor into speaking without Darcy’s permission. “You mean the savages we saw yesterday—the ones who ran off with our Implants? You let them go? The Givers are using them to interfere with our strategy. They’re the enemy—twice over.”
Mateo’s eyes widened. He seemed surprised by Connor’s outburst. “I don’t share your view, young man. When have any of your Implants ever returned alive? The Runners were simply rescuing Lucas and Emma from certain death. If that’s not enough, may I remind you that others of my kind regularly eviscerate Runners. Harvest, we call it.”
Tony found his voice at last. “We’ve got no idea how to locate them. Even if we were desperate enough . . .”
His voice trailed off as his own words caught him.
That’s just it. Connor found the idea galling, but it was also inescapable. As of now, we’re desperate.
Mateo unclasped his hands, his arms hanging loose by his sides. “Lucas and Emma will remain under my protection. I will not reveal their location. Instead, we’ll visit a Hub where I believe the individuals you mentioned may be found.”
He gestured to the door, his invitation plain. “Are any of you familiar with the Mission in the Old City?”