MAX tightened his harness and crouched low. A pair of binoculars, hanging from his neck, clanked softly against the roof of the old grain elevator. The ladder had been wobbly, but the structure itself felt sturdy beneath his feet. In the setting sun, the abandoned train station looked on the verge of collapse. Its tile roof sagged, weeds snaked up its graffitied walls, and the light from the only working streetlamp didn’t quite reach it. One of the station’s side windows was bricked over, and a dim light flickered in the other.
Gloria Bentham was inside, waiting.
The rusted gate in the cyclone fence had a sign that said Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted, but the lock had broken off years ago, and no one had bothered to replace it. As planned, Nigel walked through it at precisely 7:15.
Max waved. As planned, Nigel didn’t wave back.
Draw her out, Max thought, hoping Nigel would somehow pick up his mental message. Let me hear her voice.
Max saw a movement from within the station house, and a moment later Gloria Bentham emerged. She wore a plain black waist-length jacket and jeans, with a plain black canvas bag slung over her shoulder.
“Where is the boy?” she asked.
“With his mother,” Nigel replied. “She is very ill, and he would not leave her side.”
“Would that all children show such love to their mothers,” Gloria said. “It is good you won their trust, Nigel. I do have your payment. Are you certain you weren’t followed?”
“Of course not.” Nigel was sweating.
Don’t sweat, Max thought. You look so guilty.
“Let me see the bones,” Nigel said. “I worked very hard to get them, and I want to know you did not lose them.”
Reaching into her shoulder bag, Gloria took out a vial. Max lifted the binoculars and looked through. His pulse quickened. He could see at least one bony shape inside the liquid.
Gloria dangled the vial in Nigel’s face, and then put it back into her purse. “You did good work, my friend. How do feel about finally lifting the curse on your family? Righting the wrong of your vile ancestor?”
“Gaston was in great pain, Gloria,” Nigel said.
“Yes, enough pain to take every bit of the serum that Jules Verne concocted,” she said. “My ex-husband, Spencer, was not a good man, but he knew many very valuable secrets. He knew that Verne had produced a tiny amount of serum, Nigel. He knew that Jules was in contact with the best scientists of the day, to analyze the compound in order to mass produce it. But when they asked him to provide a sample, there was none left.”
Nigel nodded. “And now there will be.”
“Thanks to you, for keeping it out of the hands of those children, who were influenced by my daughter!”
The comment about Bitsy shook Max. It didn’t sound like the way a mom would talk about a daughter. Max was so intent on listening, he almost missed the slight movement at the side of the building. Another figure was moving closer, pressed against the wall. It was a man dressed in black clothes and a black mask, clutching something in his hand.
Max tensed. Nigel was reaching into his backpack now. “The children were the ones who found these. I know you don’t trust them, Gloria, but if you contacted them—”
“It’s not them, you fool!” Gloria said. “It’s Bitsy I don’t trust. Now give me everything. Now.”
The man in black inched along the wall, toward the front. Max could see he was holding a gun. A gun?
Max tensed again. He checked the harness, reaching back to make sure the wings were not tangled. He bent his knees. Up here on the grain elevator, he was maybe three stories off the ground, tops. To float with a glider, you needed good elevation. He didn’t know exactly how much, but at this point, not trying wasn’t an option. He closed his eyes and pictured the Kozhim River. Even though the distance had been way farther down, it had seemed less scary.
As Nigel held out the Isis hippuris, Max opened his eyes and jumped.