“I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
It beeped.
“Saga.” Her mouth felt too dry. “It’sBowen. I can explain later, but you need to get out of there immediately.” She hung up. “Faex!” She resisted the urge to throw the phone in frustration.
“Looks like his office is by Lincoln’s Inn,” said Benjamin, looking up from his phone.
“Do you have a car?”
“Yes?”
“I need a favor.”
Avery’s face must have betrayed every fear that was rushing through her at that moment, because now it was Benjamin who spoke in a reassuring tone. “Absolutely, let’s go.”
Avery swallowed and stared at the phone clutched between her fingers. “Please don’t be dead.”
***
Thirty minutes. Thirty agonizing minutes stuck in a metal box wedged between other metal boxes. Avery kept calling—it was going immediately to voicemail now. Her heart was racing. Every time she heard Saga’s recorded voice, that sense of dread deepened.
What had happened? How long had Bowen known they were onto him? Had the photographs been a trap all along?
Her limbs were trembling. Before Avery had worried that Saga might simply choose not consult on cases—the pang of a possibly voluntary absence had been intolerable—but this?
One ring.
“Hi, this is Saga—”
Hang up. Try again.
“Hi, this is Saga—”
A string of curses flooded out of Avery’s mouth and she leaned forward, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
“It’s going to be okay,” Benjamin tried to reassure her. His voice was uncertain, but he was attempting to cling to calm.
Avery drummed her fingers on the dashboard impatiently. It might not. The possibility of it not being okay increased with every unanswered phone call. But she didn’t dare say it. Words had too much power for her to feel safe saying it aloud.
She redialed.
“Hi, this is Saga—”
She took a deep breath and tried to peer over the cars slowly inching forward in front of them. “How far are we, do you think?”
Benjamin checked the screen on his dashboard. “Half a mile or so.”
Avery glared at the unmoving cars in front of them, then at the screen. “But it has said twenty minutes for the past ten.”
Benjamin shrugged a little helplessly. “I’m sorry, it’s rush hour—maybe there’s an accident up ahead.”
“I’ve got to run,” Avery undid her seat belt. “I’m sorry, I can’t wait.”
“Of course,” Benjamin urged. “W-what should I do?”
Avery looked at the map on the dashboard and compared it to what she could see stretching out in front of them, moving it with her fingers the way Saga had shown her to read the streets she’d need to take or the avenues she might be able to cut through on foot that a car would not be able to. “Call the police. Ask for Detective Inspector Reza Lahiri. Tell him where I’m going, that Saga is in danger, and that I will need backup.” She opened the door and stepped out. “Do not under any circumstances follow me into the building if you manage to get there, understand?”
Benjamin nodded, nervous. “Good luck.”
