On the screen, John sighed. “On the off chance you were telling the truth about Epstein’s offer. I thought there was a chance that he’d come around and realized we’re on the same side. There are only two, after all, brilliants and straights. All the rest is window dressing, and sooner or later the whole world is going to come around to my point of view.”
“You mean you’re going to force it to.”
“No one knows for sure why the Neanderthals went extinct,” John said. “Some scientists say climate, some think it was direct conflict with Homo sapiens, others believe it was finite resources. Whatever the reason, the fact is that there was a species on the planet that was better able to survive. Simple as that. The gifted are the new order, Shannon. Conflict is inevitable. I’m just speeding things up a bit. And guaranteeing victory.”
“Nice history lesson,” she said. “But all you’ve done is turn the rest of the world against us. We’re going to get creamed, John.”
He laughed. “I don’t think so.”
She stared at her friend and longtime compatriot. A man she had fought and killed for, back when she believed all he wanted was equality. A man who had evaded capture for years, despite being the most wanted man in America, and who had built up a revolutionary army while he did it. A man who beat three chess grandmasters at the same time when he was fourteen.
She’d been nervous all along. Suddenly she was afraid. And not for herself.
“Anyway, I’m sorry it’s happening this way. I hate killing brilliants, and I consider you a friend. But you’re on the other side, and you’re dangerous.”
Shannon felt her pulse kick up, her hand start to shake. She looked at Colin. “Don’t do this. You’re just a boy, don’t—”
“He’s a holy warrior,” Smith said, “ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good.”
Colin didn’t quite smile, but the words filled him with light, a feverish glow that strained at his pores and spilled out his eyes and made his thumb quiver on the trigger. He wanted to do it, she saw. He believed he was following a prophet, believed it with teenage certainty.
“John, there are civilians,” she said, careful to keep her voice low. If anyone overheard and started to panic, Colin would undoubtedly press the button. “Innocents. Across the aisle there’s a woman with a baby.”
“I keep telling you. This is war. There will be blood. How can you not get that?”
He’s not bluffing.
Time to see if that ace is worth anything.
“I do, John. And I have something to show you.” Very slowly, hyperconscious of Colin’s twitching thumb, she took out her own d-pad and activated it. Turned it so that he could see the video.
A plain white room, surgical and too bright.
A tray lined with glittering instruments: scalpels, pliers, wires.
A table with a man strapped on it.
“Soren?” John said incredulously.
“Thought he was dead, huh? I’m told he has a T-naught of 11.2. A second of pain to us is more than eleven to him. Can you imagine?”
There was a long moment of silence. When John spoke again, his voice was thick. “I was wrong. I’m not disappointed. I’m disgusted. This is beneath you.”
“I agree. It’s not me doing this. It’s you.”
Shannon sat perfectly still. Every cell in her body screamed. She could smell her own sweat. The lives of everyone in the train car depended on two things: how much John really cared for his friends—and how valuable he believed killing her was.
“You’ll let him go?”
She laughed. “Not a chance. But you’ll notice that he hasn’t been touched, not a mark on him—apart from Nick kicking his ass, of course. But Epstein patched him up, and they’ve kept him humanely. So how about Colin puts away his remote, gets off the train, and we all go on with our lives?”
Smith’s face revealed nothing, but she could imagine the calculations behind it. Weighing costs and benefits. She had no doubt that he would sacrifice Soren to agony and burn everyone on this train if he believed it was worthwhile. Out the windows, the scenery began to slow. They were coming into the next station. If he triggers the bomb there, even more people will die.
“John,” she said. “I’m not that important.”
Across the aisle, the baby let loose a squeal.
“Fine. Colin, you did well. Get off. If anyone tries to stop you, blow the train.”
The boy seemed almost disappointed, but he put his hand back in his pocket and rose swiftly. As the train glided to a stop, he vanished in the crowd at the door.
“I misjudged you, Shannon. How does it feel to get dirty?”
“Lousy,” she said. “But I’ll just have to comfort myself with the thought that I saved all these people’s lives.” She clicked disconnect before he could reply.
And buried her head in her hands.
“I have no information on that. We only investigate crimes.”
CHAPTER 7
Bay Avenue was a collection of bleak warehouses, light industrial buildings, and garages. The palette ran from brown to gray, and the air smelled faintly of fish. When the winter sun flared through a narrow slit in the clouds, dull glints fired off broken windshields in the auto salvage yard.
Abe Couzen’s building was squat and ugly. No sign, no mailbox, and in place of a traditional lock, a thumbprint scanner. Just as Vincent had described.
The only problem was that the door stood open.
“Get behind me,” Cooper said, and Ethan moved with alacrity.
Other than a delivery truck rumbling in a loading dock fifty yards away, the block was quiet. Still, it was hard to imagine positive circumstances in which the good doctor had left his secret lab open to the public.
One way to find out.
Cooper pushed the door the rest of the way. The sunlight was weak tea, and what illumination spilled in didn’t reveal much. Stepping lightly, he eased inside.
There was a faint hum in the background and an antiseptic smell. A bank of switches was on the wall. He debated for a moment, decided sight was better than surprise, and flipped them on. Fluorescent tubes clicked and buzzed to life.
The tables were lined with centrifuges and sensors and apparatuses whose function he could only guess at. A row of contamination suits hung like limp corpses. In the center of the room, one of the benches had been knocked over, the shiny equipment left where it had fallen. Broken glass sparkled. Glossy crimson was splashed in a line across one bench, onto the floor, then up the near wall, as though by the flick of a giant paintbrush. A bloodstained shirt and hoodie lay on the floor by a stainless steel refrigerator.
Dr. Abraham Couzen was nowhere to be seen.
Cooper put a finger to his lips, then gestured to Ethan to stay put. He moved to the far wall. The first door led to a small bathroom. There was half a roll of toilet paper on the tank, and the sink held toothpaste and a brush, a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream. The other room was a makeshift bedroom, little more than a supply closet with an army cot in it. No one inside, and nowhere to hide.
Shit.
In the center of the room, Ethan dipped a finger into the blood spray, held it up red and shining. Still wet. Cooper moved to the discarded clothing. Beside the hoodie lay most of a ham-and-cheese sandwich on cheap white bread. Several bites were missing. He was starting for a bank of servers when he heard the rumble of a truck engine.