Part 27 (1/2)

”How did your dad recruit Tyler?”

Colton raises both eyebrows. ”Recruit Tyler? Are you joking? Tyler came to us.”

His voice is firm, amused. He's telling the truth. Tyler is an even bigger threat than I thought. But I push him to the side for a moment.

”Okay, Colton, when did Eagle start? How long has it been going on?”

Colton's eyes flick down to his waist, then back up. I can tell he's trying to hide his fear, but his body is betraying him. His pulse is racing; I can see it throbbing on the side of his neck.

I stare at his midsection. ”What's on your waist that you want to hide?”

”Nothing.” He says it so fast that I barely hear him.

I take a step closer. ”You've had some combat training, I'll give you that. But clearly no one's taught you how to lie.” I crouch down and lift the side of Colton's s.h.i.+rt. There's a tattoo peeking out of the top of his waistband. I push down his waistband to see it.

HC1013LX3V.

”You know, you really should be better about picking pa.s.swords. You've shown me your hand twice now. So sloppy.” I stand up and cross my arms over my chest. ”What does it mean?”

Colton's head bobs forward, and he takes a long, ragged breath. I really think he's about to cry.

I tap him with my foot. It doesn't take me long to put it together. ”It's a date, right?” 1013-October thirteenth? LX3V. Roman numerals . . . L is fifty, I think? X is ten. Three of them is thirty. V is five. Eighty-five altogether. ”That's easy. So what's HC?”

”No. I'm done talking to you.”

”Colton.”

”I SAID I'M DONE!” And then he opens his mouth and lets out a scream so loud, I'm afraid he'll wake the entire city. I drop to my knees and force the gag into his mouth.

I have so many more questions. Logistics questions. Who created Colton's watch? How can he project? How long has he been projecting? What sensitive Annum Guard information has he given his father? How did Tyler find out about Joe? But Colton is clearly done talking.

I slip downstairs to the shelves and grab one of the rumpled papers. I straighten it as best I can. There's a pencil trapped in a crack at the very back of the shelf, and I wriggle it free. The point is dull. It's almost flat, more of a stick than a pencil. I try to whittle a point against the wall, but the pencil keeps slipping. I claw at it with my fingernails, but all I wind up doing is piercing my nail beds with shards of wood. A dull point will have to do.

I bend over the counter and scribble down everything Colton just told me. Then I head back up the stairs.

”You need to sign this,” I say as I slap the paper down by his hands. ”It's your confession.” I'm going to take it to Red. Right now. I don't know if it's enough, but it's a start.

He garbles something that I'm pretty sure is, ”Screw you.”

I look down at him. ”Colton, do you want me to take out my watch again? You've had some water, so maybe we can try two days in the future this time? Three?” I hate myself for saying this, for doing this. But I need my teammates.

Colton rears back his head and screams into the gag. It comes out like a growl. Then he looks right up into my eyes with pure venom, and I know he's vowing to kill me for what I'm doing.

I put the pencil in Colton's hands, which are still tied to the rail. He hesitates, then scribbles something that looks like a straight line on the bottom of the paper. It probably doesn't look anything like his signature. It doesn't really matter. Nothing about this is legal. I'm taking Red something that could be in a textbook under ”coerced confession.” But I can't think about that now.

I shove the confession in my pocket. ”Sorry, Colton, but for now you're staying put. You're the biggest bargaining chip I've ever had.”

Then I stand, hit the top k.n.o.b on my watch to take me to the present day, and shut the face.

CHAPTER 27.

I land in someone's living room. There's a leather couch and a pair of armchairs, and I'm standing on a rug. I scan around and find a mantel clock. It's four in the morning.

It's four in the morning, and I'm an intruder in someone's apartment. I don't even want to breathe for fear of waking whoever is sleeping . . . somewhere. I try to get my bearings. The stairs where I left Colton tied in 1811 have been replaced by a door. Behind me, there's a tiny kitchen off to the side and a hallway that I a.s.sume leads back to a bedroom or two.

I tiptoe over to the door and unlock the deadbolt. It makes a click. I hold my breath and wait, but no one stirs. I open the door. There's a muted sc.r.a.ping sound against the carpet, so I only open it about a foot and slip through. I quietly shut the door behind me, then I tiptoe down the stairs.

The whole building has been converted into apartments. I was up in number 2, and there's a door on the ground floor with a bronze number 1 nailed to the center of it.

I slip out the building entrance and take off at a sprint. I go so fast that my lungs take in more air than they can expel. They're filling . . . more, more, more. More than they can hold. They're going to burst. But I don't slow down.

I tear up the steps to Annum Hall. The door is locked. I don't have a key, so I ring the bell. Once. Twice. Three times. I pound on the door. I keep pounding as I ring the bell for a fourth, fifth, sixth time. I don't know what day it is. I don't know how long I've been gone. I don't know if I'm going to find Red or another interim leader.

Then there are footsteps on the stairs and a hall light flicks on.

The door swings open, and Red stands before me, dressed in rumpled khakis and a b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves rolled up. ”Calm down. One ring would have done it. It's not like I'm sleeping much these days.”

”Is it just you?” I'm out of breath.

”Yes.”

I push past him. ”It's Joe Caldwell. XP is Joe Caldwell.”

”Are you sure?”

I nod. ”And the blackout team is Colton Caldwell-”

”Colton?” He sounds shocked.

”And Tyler Fertig. Tyler Fertig, Red. He's a mercenary now, employed by Joe Caldwell.”

”Are you absolutely sure?”

I slap Colton's confession into his chest. ”It's all right there.”

Red scans it.

”And I know where everyone is being held. When everyone is being held. Three forty Seaver Street in Dorchester. May 2, 1832. We have to go get them, now! They took Abe-Blue-too!”

Red's still reading.

”Is that enough? Can we go after Caldwell with that?”

Red looks up. ”We need more, Iris. You have to know that.” He waves the paper at me. ”This is almost laughable.”