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“What are they? RFID chips?”
“No. They’re basically day passes. They’re inserted into the nondominant hand of everyone working for the freight companies, and reprogrammed daily to confirm access into whatever company the truck’s freight has been allocated to. The truck won’t start unless you’re wearing the correct chip.”
“So I take it these two were removed from the hands of the driver and his partner?”
Jonas nodded. “It’s the only way we’ll have any hope of getting in and out of Winter Halo without raising suspicion.”
If we managed to do that, I’d be surprised. Rhea might be smiling on our quest, but there were so many variables I couldn’t help thinking something was bound to go wrong.
“I’m gathering there’s also something to insert them into our hands in that bag of yours?”
“No, because it’s not necessary thanks to the recent production of artificial skin. Those in charge believe mercenaries haven’t been able to get their hands on it. They’re wrong.”
“But I thought the RFID chips only worked when inserted inside your flesh?”
“The original ones did. The newer versions are still powered by the heat emanating from your body, but it doesn’t really matter whether they’re in your flesh or simply touching it—something we discovered by chance.” He motioned toward my arm. “Hold out your hand, palm up.”
I did so. He placed one of the chips in the middle, then pulled out a small can and sprayed a clear liquid over both my palm and my fingers. Within seconds, the chip had disappeared under a layer of what looked like real skin. I prodded it gently. It even felt like real skin. “How long will this stuff last?”
He placed the second chip on his palm then repeated the process. “Until we physically remove it.”
“Which will be when we get back here?”
He nodded, placed the bag at his feet, and then said, “Let’s go. We have children to rescue.”
I pressed the starter key again, and this time the engine roared to life. I carefully backed the truck out of its spot and headed for the highway into Central.
And crossed mental fingers that the inner whispers stating something would go awry were wrong.
Even if they often weren’t.
Chapter 10
We made it into Central without mishap. There were only a couple of cross streets big enough to give trucks this size passage, so it took a bit of time to reach Seventh Street and the building that hid Winter Halo’s freight elevator.
I turned the truck into the parking area, and sent several pedestrians scattering.
“Easy,” Jonas murmured. “The last thing we need is to attract attention by mowing down innocent citizens.”
“If said citizens are too stupid to get out of the way of a truck this size, they deserve to be mowed down.”
I could feel his gaze on me, but kept mine strictly front and center. The entrance was tight; there were only a couple of inches between the sides of the truck and that of the building. If I so much as twitched the steering the wrong way, we’d be wedged. And that would be just as inconvenient as running someone over.
“This is the first time I’ve felt any tension emanating from you,” he said eventually.
“Then you haven’t been around me enough.”
“I’ve been around enough to know this is different.” He continued to study me. “Is intuition hitting you?”
“Like a bitch.”
He reached into the backpack and drew out a couple of guns, tucking one beside his seat and the other beside mine. “Just in case the bitch is right.”
A smile tugged my lips. Guns might not help if everything went to hell, but it was nevertheless comforting to have one within reach. I guided the truck into the gloom of the parking area—not that it was anywhere near dark. It just wasn’t quite as bright as the street.
A guard appeared out of a booth to Jonas’s left and motioned us to stop. I did so.
Jonas wound down the window and flashed the guard a smile. “Frankie,” he said cheerfully, “that wife of yours had her kid yet?”
