TEN

Breathing through her mouth to avoid the smell of stale vomit, Caitlyn sat rigidly in the Enforcer car. She’d been uncuffed briefly before they shoved her into the backseat so the cops could cuff her again, hands in front this time, and the cuffs had been attached to a chain attached to a steel ring in the floor. There was enough slack in the chain to let her lean back, but there was little more she could do. The rear doors had no interior handles. No escape.

She kept trying to force her mind away from speculation at her fate. The cops had been wrong to judge her as an Illegal by her lack of facial tattoos; through the network that helped people escape Appalachia, she had been provided residency papers for a legal apartment and identity papers that allowed her to work. In theory, she had committed no crime, and once that was established, in theory, as an Invisible she had the right to demand to be released. In practice, however, she feared what would happen after she was forced to strip and her deformity was inspected closely enough to raise questions about her true identity.

In Appalachia, an NI agent named Carson Pierce had employed the bounty hunter Mason Lee to find her and her father. While Mason would never escape Appalachia, Caitlyn knew Pierce was here. Outside. Still looking for her. Back in Appalachia, Mason Lee had wanted to cut her apart for her ovarian eggs; would the government do the same once Pierce finally succeeded in what he’d begun with Mason Lee?

The Enforcer car passed beneath streetlights. If the cops in front were talking, Caitlyn couldn’t hear. Thick clear plastic was a barrier between the front seat and back, with a two-way microphone and speaker. She knew this because when Razor had told Caitlyn the cops could listen in on their conversation, the second cop had flipped a switch and barked at them to shut up.

Caitlyn had given Razor the same instructions. If it weren’t for him, she would have been up the drainpipe and a long way toward freedom.

Now Razor leaned forward to his hands. From Caitlyn’s perspective, it appeared that he had bent as far forward as possible to scratch the back of his neck. He straightened.

The car alternated between shadow and light. It revealed that Razor had dark hair that looked like he cut it himself, ragged at the edges. He had even features, cheekbones verging on sharpness. Her guess about his age seemed correct. He was a young man. Who didn’t seem too disturbed at his situation.

At the next streetlight, she noticed his fingers moving. Had there been a glint of wire among his fingers?

The car did not reach the next streetlight for her to confirm her guess. Instead it slowed abruptly. To Caitlyn, it sounded like the engine had quit. She saw the driver leaning forward, as if turning the ignition key.

There wasn’t much traffic. Never was except for government vehicles. Only the extremely rich could afford gasoline and the taxes. But almost immediately, a black four-door sedan moved up to the left of the cop car. The passenger in the black car had his window down and was holding a badge, his lips moving as he shouted something that Caitlyn could not hear because of the barrier between the front and rear.

Caitlyn rocked forward as the cop hit his brakes.

The black sedan stopped with them. The passenger got out and leaned into the driver’s side of the cop car. A man, midthirties. Khaki pants. Black sports coat. Showing his badge again.

Now Caitlyn could hear muffled words as the conversation continued. Nothing about the conversation seemed friendly. Both cops—Skinner and Smitty—were shaking their heads in the negative to whatever was suggested by the man from the black car.

Khaki Pants pointed at his badge emphatically, then gave up. He slipped it inside his sports coat. But his hand didn’t come out empty. It was some kind of stubby, pronged weapon, not much bigger than his palm.

There was the flash of a blue arc and a crackling sound that made it through the thick plastic to Caitlyn’s ears. Both cops seemed to vibrate, then slumped.

“NI,” Razor said. As if this was routine for him. “They’re the only ones who don’t care what the monitor records. And the only ones with Tasers. At least legal Tasers. They only work if the fingers on the Taser match the fingerprints registered to it.”

Khaki Pants hit the electric door unlock but waited for his driver to come around before he opened the back door to Caitlyn.

“Change of venue,” he said in a neutral voice. He pointed the Taser at Caitlyn. “Don’t fight me on this. I can throw you in the trunk as easily as you can climb in yourself.”

The driver was a woman. About the same age as Khaki Pants. Tailored jacket. Dark pants. Dark hair. No smile.

She held a handcuff key.

“Let’s get this done,” she told her partner. “Pierce is going to love us for this.”

“That’s probably a big motivation for you, isn’t it? Think I can’t tell you’re hot for him?”

“We’re on the monitor,” she answered.

“I know. Statement still stands. But come on, the guy’s ten years older than you.”

“If you weren’t gay with a crush on him, what Pierce thinks about any woman wouldn’t bother you so much.”

“Cold,” he said. Then he looked at the monitor and spoke loudly. “Pierce, when you review this, you gotta know she’s joking. Really.”

“And I’m in a hurry,” she said. “So stop trying to impress him.”

Khaki Pants stepped back, still gripping the Taser and watching Caitlyn.

No Smile leaned forward to unlock Caitlyn’s cuffs. She smelled faintly of shampoo. Not a trace of perfume.

Razor lifted his wrists and rattled the chain that attached his handcuffs to the floor. “What about me? At least cut me loose before you go.”

“Be glad you get to stick around for when the cops wake up,” No Smile said in a flat voice, working the key into the chain that held Caitlyn’s cuffs. “You don’t want to be part of this.”

Razor spoke softly. “Then I suggest you close your eyes. Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn didn’t understand. She kept watching Razor. Just as No Smile removed Caitlyn’s cuffs from the floor chain, Razor lifted his hands again. This time no rattle of chains. And his hands were free. He tossed something past her, out the open door.

Her eyes followed. So did Caitlyn’s. Except suddenly there was Razor’s hand over her eyes, pressing her head back against the seat. Even so, an incredible brilliance flashed between the cracks of the fingers.

He dropped his hand from her face.

There was still a ball of white glow on the pavement, enough for Caitlyn to see both agents staggering and frantically rubbing at their eyes.

Razor scrambled over her and, without any hesitation, sprinted behind Khaki Pants. Razor yanked the man’s coat off, pulling it backward down his arms so the man couldn’t fight. Razor grabbed the agent’s gun hand and twisted the Taser toward the agent. He squeezed the man’s fingers against the trigger.

Another blue, crackling arc. Khaki Pants dropped, Taser still in his hand. With no emotion on his face, Razor lifted the weapon, pointed at the woman and squeezed the agent’s limp fingers to shoot again. He opened the front door of the cop car, dropped the weapon on the floor, and paused to address the monitor attached to the rearview mirror.

“Pierce,” Razor said, covering his face with his hands and speaking between his fingers, “whoever you are, better luck next time. That girlfriend of yours. Hot looking. Slow though. Might want to think about that.”

Razor backed out and was panting slightly as he reached into the rear seat to help Caitlyn slip out of the car. The final glowing of the white ball showed where the key had fallen from the woman’s hands onto the pavement.

Razor moved into the front seat and took back the folded papers and Caitlyn’s knife. He returned to the backseat and grabbed Caitlyn’s wrists and unlocked the cuffs.

“Told you,” he said. He handed her the papers and knife. “Fast. Sharp. Dangerous.”

“Told you,” Caitlyn said, fighting the impulse to smile as she tucked the papers away and sheathed the knife again. “Go away.”

“We’re still live on camera,” he answered, pointing at the rearview mirror. “They’ve already got cars on the way. No sirens. No lights. Rule of thumb. Enforcers can get to anywhere in the city in a hundred and twenty seconds. I’m not going to wait and argue. Want to stay alone? Or run and take your chances with me?”