stuff?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me how to get into the lab. It has a self-destruct mechanism as well, doesn’t it?”
“Was that H2 technology? Who was flying it?”
His voice takes on a razor edge as he says, “How many chances does the entry mechanism give before lethal measures are activated?”
“Where’s Willetts?” The professor may be H2, but he’s no friend of the Core—he wanted to keep the scanner away from them and was working with George to do it. “Does he have something to do with this?”
“Enough.” Congers clenches his jaw. “Graham, go ahead.” He nods at the agent, whose mouth is tight as he slams his fist into my stomach. Breath explodes from my lungs, and I pitch forward. Congers catches my chair before I topple to the ground. He wrenches me upright.
“Let’s consider that a hard reset,” Congers says. “Please stop wasting my time.” While Graham rubs his knuckles and waits for his boss to acknowledge him again, Congers repeats his demands for information to access my dad’s lab. I keep firing questions at him, trying to find out what the hell is going on, what attacked us on the road, and what it means for the scanner and the rest of my dad’s inventions. Every time I evade his demands, Congers’s face gets more mottled. He’s angry. Maybe a little desperate. But I don’t give in.
The third time Congers gives Graham the go-ahead, the guy punches me in the head. He seems determined to pound information out of me—and also to show Congers how tough he is. The impact of the blow turns my vision white. The iron-salt tang of blood fills my mouth.
“I’m going to go speak to your lovely girlfriend.” Congers’s voice rolls through the thick haze of pain in which I’m floating. “Think about what’s at stake for you, Tate. You’ve already lost your father. How much more can you stand to lose?” I hear the door opening. “Come on, Graham.”
The door slams shut. The sound of footsteps fades. Even blinking hurts. But I force myself to do exactly that, trying to organize a few coherent thoughts. I focus hard on any sounds that come to me, but apart from the hum of the light overhead, I’ve got nothing. From the painted cinder-block walls and lack of windows, I gather that I’m probably in a basement, maybe of some old warehouse or office building.
And if that’s true, it’s possible that I can get out. Maybe wreak enough havoc to escape. The idea jolts adrenaline through my veins, and I raise my head, moving my jaw to make sure nothing’s broken in there. I wiggle my hands—standard metal cuffs. Same around my ankles. My eyes scan the floor, searching for a paper clip or an old ballpoint pen, anything I might be able to use to pick the cuffs. But this chamber’s been swept, and they probably expected me to try something like that. I grit my teeth and scoot my chair backward toward the radiator against the wall. Leaning back, I search for loose wires or metal fixtures with the right shape . . . nothing. I’m going to have to find my means of escape outside this room, and I know one place to do it, but I need more information first.
Leo. Christina. Mom. I have no idea where they’re being kept or what condition they’re in. Or if they’re even here. But Congers said he was going to go work on Christina, and the idea makes bile rise in my throat. She was supposed to be safe. But I’m guessing she used my dad’s phone and finally reached my mom, and together they figured out where I was. I think hard, trying to determine how they could have done that—and then I remember Leo’s phone. He had it when we were captured. Maybe they used Dad’s phone to trace Leo’s, which is now probably in the pocket of one of the Core agents. Christina could have told my mom he was with us. And then Mom and Christina came after me. I wish they hadn’t. My fingernails scrape across the radiator, making an echoing tink in the silence.
I freeze. Then I
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me how to get into the lab. It has a self-destruct mechanism as well, doesn’t it?”
“Was that H2 technology? Who was flying it?”
His voice takes on a razor edge as he says, “How many chances does the entry mechanism give before lethal measures are activated?”
“Where’s Willetts?” The professor may be H2, but he’s no friend of the Core—he wanted to keep the scanner away from them and was working with George to do it. “Does he have something to do with this?”
“Enough.” Congers clenches his jaw. “Graham, go ahead.” He nods at the agent, whose mouth is tight as he slams his fist into my stomach. Breath explodes from my lungs, and I pitch forward. Congers catches my chair before I topple to the ground. He wrenches me upright.
“Let’s consider that a hard reset,” Congers says. “Please stop wasting my time.” While Graham rubs his knuckles and waits for his boss to acknowledge him again, Congers repeats his demands for information to access my dad’s lab. I keep firing questions at him, trying to find out what the hell is going on, what attacked us on the road, and what it means for the scanner and the rest of my dad’s inventions. Every time I evade his demands, Congers’s face gets more mottled. He’s angry. Maybe a little desperate. But I don’t give in.
The third time Congers gives Graham the go-ahead, the guy punches me in the head. He seems determined to pound information out of me—and also to show Congers how tough he is. The impact of the blow turns my vision white. The iron-salt tang of blood fills my mouth.
“I’m going to go speak to your lovely girlfriend.” Congers’s voice rolls through the thick haze of pain in which I’m floating. “Think about what’s at stake for you, Tate. You’ve already lost your father. How much more can you stand to lose?” I hear the door opening. “Come on, Graham.”
The door slams shut. The sound of footsteps fades. Even blinking hurts. But I force myself to do exactly that, trying to organize a few coherent thoughts. I focus hard on any sounds that come to me, but apart from the hum of the light overhead, I’ve got nothing. From the painted cinder-block walls and lack of windows, I gather that I’m probably in a basement, maybe of some old warehouse or office building.
And if that’s true, it’s possible that I can get out. Maybe wreak enough havoc to escape. The idea jolts adrenaline through my veins, and I raise my head, moving my jaw to make sure nothing’s broken in there. I wiggle my hands—standard metal cuffs. Same around my ankles. My eyes scan the floor, searching for a paper clip or an old ballpoint pen, anything I might be able to use to pick the cuffs. But this chamber’s been swept, and they probably expected me to try something like that. I grit my teeth and scoot my chair backward toward the radiator against the wall. Leaning back, I search for loose wires or metal fixtures with the right shape . . . nothing. I’m going to have to find my means of escape outside this room, and I know one place to do it, but I need more information first.
Leo. Christina. Mom. I have no idea where they’re being kept or what condition they’re in. Or if they’re even here. But Congers said he was going to go work on Christina, and the idea makes bile rise in my throat. She was supposed to be safe. But I’m guessing she used my dad’s phone and finally reached my mom, and together they figured out where I was. I think hard, trying to determine how they could have done that—and then I remember Leo’s phone. He had it when we were captured. Maybe they used Dad’s phone to trace Leo’s, which is now probably in the pocket of one of the Core agents. Christina could have told my mom he was with us. And then Mom and Christina came after me. I wish they hadn’t. My fingernails scrape across the radiator, making an echoing tink in the silence.
I freeze. Then I
Similar Books
