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‘But they’ve never proved weaving is genetic.’
‘I know that, but it won’t stop them from taking her. I’m not saying I have to get to her right now, but I have to keep track of her until I know what to do.’ Without realising it, I’ve grabbed a handful of Jost’s shirt, and I’m tugging on it. He loosens my hand gently and takes it in his own.
‘There’s nowhere for us to go,’ he reminds me. ‘They’ll just pull our sequences, and even if you could weave out a moment, how long before they break through that?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. Loricel said it was inevitable, but it’s the only plan I can come up with.
‘We need more time,’ he grumbles.
‘Good thing you’re with a Creweler,’ I say, giving him a half-smile.
‘How will you find Amie anyway? It could take you decades to comb the weave looking for her.’
‘I know her sequence, but the geographic locators will be different. They change that information when they perform an alteration,’ I explain.
‘But even if you had her information, you don’t have the clearance to pull by personal identifying sequence, do you?’ he asks.
‘No, but Loricel does,’ I say.
‘And you think she’ll let you do that?’ His tone is doubtful.
‘I wasn’t going to ask. How do you think I got this information?’
‘We need a better plan than this,’ he mutters. He drops my hands and runs his through his tangled brown hair.
‘I haven’t told you everything,’ I admit, but as much as I want to blurt out what I’ve found, I find myself holding back. I could ignore his past, because time separated us from it, but now that distance would be removed.
He narrows his eyes and takes a breath. ‘Let me have it.’
‘I know how to find Amie.’ My hand closes around the digifile, and I pull it out of my pocket.
‘Didn’t Enora give you that?’
‘Yes, and she left me some other useful information.’ I slide open the weather files and show him the map.
He stares at the digital image, studying it. ‘Is that the compound?’
I answer with a nod. ‘Complete with coordinates. And I’ve already broken into the repository.’
Jost’s head snaps up from the screen. ‘You did what?’
‘I got into the repository,’ I say, trying to act like this is no big deal, because he’s giving me a look that says, Have you lost your mind? ‘I can find her.’
‘What’s in the room?’ he asks, keeping his eyes on me.
‘Datasets. Info on removals and alterations.’ I don’t tell him about the thin strands in the cubes or the chills they send through me. It sounds too crazy.
‘And you’ve seen them?’ he presses.
I nod and slip my hand back into my pocket. The card is still there, but I can’t bring myself to give it to him.
‘What did they say?’
‘Basic info: ID, removal dates.’ I open the first file to show him Riccard Blane’s info. ‘There’s a tracking program on here that reads the datasets.’
‘How do you think Enora got this program?’ he asks, pacing the small cell.
I shrug. ‘She must have had help.’
