“No, Ms. Pine,” says Nonna. It’s a shock to hear her speak my new name. “You are very kind to include me in this. But that’s not your job. Besides, I live here. And I won’t have some terrorist search my place without me in it.” She lifts her chin defiantly.
That’s my grandmother.
I know I can’t sway her.
I force myself to take a steadying breath. “All right,” I say. “Don’t give them any reason to hurt you. Cooperate with them, all right?”
Nonna nods.
“Come on,” I say, with a glance at Eames. “We’ll have to time this exactly right.”
I pick up my backpack and heave it over my shoulders. Then I pull open the sliding glass door, and waves of late afternoon heat roll into the living room. I wonder if Prefect can see me from below, but I’m not looking down to find out.
“I don’t like this plan,” says Consul. “Why do you think it’ll work? And who gave you a spybot?”
“Questions later, escape now,” I call over my shoulder. After the many times my wraith handler has kept me in the dark, turnabout’s fair play.
Four people on the balcony is a squeeze, but we manage.
Nonna steps up to the door, giving us a look of mingled worry and determination. “You look after each other, all right?”
It’s my turn to nod. “Thank you,” I say, the words slipping out before I can bite them back. “For everything.”
For summers since I was six. For teaching me how to swim, even if I’m terrified of water now. For taking me to farmers markets and showing me how to find the best tomatoes. For listening to me ramble about my childhood interests. For being the one to read my emails after I died. And for not turning me away when I came back as a wholly different person.
I can’t tell her I love her. But I hope she knows.
The glass door slides shut between us. She leaves it open just the barest inch.
I take that as a good sign.
I turn toward the other balcony. I can do this. I did it before. But the animal part of me, the part that still remembers the car crash, begins to tremble.
“There are people down below,” Piper whispers. She, unlike me, doesn’t fear looking down. “I see a bunch of cops and vans and stuff.”
“I’m sure ISD is pulling out all the stops,” I say.
If it takes Vale and her crew about five minutes to search each apartment, they’ll be moving along at any moment. I swallow, trying to calm my breathing. There is nothing we can do but await Edgar’s signal.
“Well?” Eames murmurs. He’s closer than I realized—his mouth a few scant inches from my ear.
“Not yet,” I whisper back. “We have to—”
And then we all hear the loud thudding from Nonna’s front door.
It isn’t so much a knock as a thunder of fists.
“Open up!” comes a familiar male voice. Corey.
They’re here. They’re right outside.
Piper makes a quiet noise of fear, pressing herself to Eames’s side. He pulls her closer, shooting me a confused and terrified look.
It’s too soon. There’s been no word from Edgar, no communication at all. Something went wrong. Maybe he got stuck in the vents and never made it.
I tap a finger to my visor, hoping the short-wave signalwill reach through walls. “Edgar?” I whisper. “Edgar, are you in the other apartment?”
The only answer is silence.
