As they traversed the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge, Lucy counted the seconds between the yellow-orange swaths cutting across the dashboard to steady her nerves. The light revealed the barest hint of gray stubble scattered on Rick’s closely shaven jawline. She got the distinct sense Rick was letting her stew in her own juices.
“What happens to Claudia if I can’t help you?” she finally blurted.
“I never agree to take a job unless I’m certain I can fulfill my client’s request,” Rick replied, blasé. “It would be bad for business.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
He angled his head. “I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of acquiring your services if they weren’t essential to my plan.”
Trouble?! Rick made kidnapping Lucy’s best friend sound like a chore.
The east side of the island sprawled before them: its bright lights seductive, its spires like barbed wire. Exiting the bridge, the van hooked a left and continued traveling south on the highway hugging the river.
After another moment of silence, Rick said, “You’re wondering why I asked you to ride with me and not the others?”
Yes. But Lucy wouldn’t give the satisfaction of the answer he wanted. She folded her arms and imagined what Claudia’s reaction would be. Her friend had never been afraid to take on a bully twice her size. She had defended Lucy countless times; now it was Lucy’s turn.
“I assumed you were afraid I might pan-fry the rest of your crew to a tender medium-rare.” She chucked him a haughty smirk.
“Not at all. You’re too smart for that. Touch my crew and Mademoiselle O’Rourke won’t have a very good night. I didn’t think it necessary to spell it out.”
The van halted at a red light and Rick met Lucy’s stare head-on.
“Because her night’s been just peachy so far,” she muttered in a smaller voice.
Rick hit the gas as the light went green. “I want to tell you a story,” he continued.
“Do I get a cookie with that?” Lucy wasn’t in the mood for story time. And definitely not from the man who had arranged Claudia’s snatch and grab.
Still, she kept quiet. A simmering quiet.
“Tell me,” he said. “What do you know about the Orders?”
Not nearly enough, it would seem.
“They’re alchemists,” Lucy responded slowly, fiddling with the lock on the door. She chose her words like weapons for a duel. “Scientists. Or the Archimedeans are. The Order of Sophia are zealots. They think I’m dangerous and should be eliminated.”
Dark, masculine laughter bounced around the enclosed space.
“Spoken like an Archimedean,” Rick said.
Where was Ravi? Had the signal failed? She couldn’t believe he wouldn’t add his two cents. Or was he too far out of range?
Or—oh no. What if he’d been hurt?
Suddenly the van pressed in on her. “You’re a Sophist?” Lucy said.
The picture of Claudia, fast asleep and helpless, blistered the back of her eyes. If Lucy had to trade herself for her friend’s release, she would. Surely the Order of Sophia would at least allow them to say goodbye.
“I have no allegiance to anyone but myself.” Rick’s voice held no emotion, but his knuckles tightened briefly on the wheel.
“But you did belong.”
“I was raised to believe that knowledge must always be governed by wisdom. When Kleopatra of Egypt founded the Order, she named it for Sophia, the goddess of wisdom.” He rolled his shoulders. “Wisdom above all is not a bad philosophy—in theory.”
Frost settled over Lucy’s heart.
“Kleopatra the alchemist founded the Order of Sophia?”
Rick glanced at her sidelong. “You’ve heard of her?”
She nodded.
“Kleopatra discovered the secret to the philosopher’s stone—and she saw it led to greed, treachery, and death.”
Which was why she’d hidden it in her Pharmakon. Lucy wouldn’t let on to Rick she knew about that too, however. What would happen if her mom actually managed to decipher the text? The Sophists would come after her was what.
Rick exhaled a long breath. “Kleopatra realized that sometimes scientists must have the wisdom to prevent themselves from acquiring certain knowledge.”
The founder of the Sophists would therefore have believed that scientists should be protected from Lucy—from whatever secrets of evolution were contained within her DNA.
“It sounds like you still agree with her,” she charged.
“I live by no code but my own.” One-handed, Rick turned the wheel.
Lucy pulled the tourmaline loose from beneath the collar of the turtleneck. If she agreed to be tattooed with the same dark star as Ravi, exactly which code would she be living her life by?
“The Archimedeans believe in progress, state-sponsored science,” Lucy said. “What’s wrong with that?”
“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. I keep an open mind. Although, state-sponsored science brought the atom bomb into the world.” He caught her eye. “And that was the last time the Orders worked together.”
Lucy couldn’t prevent her jaw from dropping.
“You’re saying the Orders were behind the Manhattan Project?”
“Mostly.” A careless smile. “Quite the appropriate setting for this discussion.”
If nonchalance were a superpower, then Rick deserved a cape and tights.
“What happened?” she said.
“Success is its own form of defeat.”
Lucy arched an eyebrow.
“You’ve seen the mushroom cloud. No one had ever achieved such destruction. Total. Horrendous. But scientifically glorious. Many were left disillusioned—hence the Freelancers. Putain!”
Rick swerved to avoid a car that had broken down in the off-ramp to the South Street Seaport. Another breath hissed through his teeth. Waving dismissively in Lucy’s direction, he said, “After the Manhattan Project, the Order of Sophia became more fanatical about never letting a weapon of such mass destruction be constructed again. Not everyone has the stomach to eliminate all threats.”
The indifference as he talked about threats and eliminations made Lucy wonder, “Why did you leave?” Rick didn’t strike her as someone opposed to using violence or blackmail to get what he wanted.
“Each of us has a story. Mine is not for tonight.”
Lucy could tell that pushing Rick to reveal his reason for leaving would get her nowhere. She didn’t really care anyway. She wouldn’t waste her questions on his personal history.
“Eliminating threats—is that why the Sophists killed Tesla?”
In principle, she didn’t disagree with their policy of not developing WMDs. The problem seemed to be they thought Lucy was one.
Rick pulled the van over to the curb on a cobblestoned street.
“Tesla died before the successful detonation of an atom bomb. And he belonged to the Order of Sophia,” he informed her. “Why would they kill him?”
Professor T said Tesla had telegrammed the Archimedeans on the day he died. If Rick wasn’t aware that Tesla had switched allegiances, however, Lucy wasn’t about to spill the beans. She imagined the Sophists dealt swiftly with traitors.
“We’ve arrived,” he announced.
Lucy circled her eyes around colonial-era buildings. She didn’t know this part of the city at all.
The locks popped and Rick exited the vehicle.
Lucy’s chest expanded. “Ravi?” she whispered.
No answer. What had happened to him?
Spare change on the dashboard, a few pennies and dimes, flew toward her and she ducked. Lucy had to get her electromagnetic field under control. Claudia’s life depended on it.
She closed her eyes and imagined herself dressed in a coat of armor like Ravi had taught her. No energy could get in or out. Lucy added another layer of virtual protection and the pennies stopped rattling.
A different kind of rapping broke her concentration.
“We don’t have all night.” Amara knocked on the window again.
“I’m coming.”
I’m coming, Clauds.