Gameboard of the Gods

CHAPTER 17 THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN IN THE REPUBLIC

The Nipponese were pleasantly deferential when Justin and his entourage showed up. Reactions to servitor visits varied widely, and he and Mae had received lukewarm ones at the previous three grants they’d visited. A lot of castals resented federal interference, even if it was for their own good. Servitors especially made them nervous, because if a servitor found a dangerous religious group on the grant, he or she could pretty much call in a military invasion. None of them wanted that. The relationship between the Gemman government and “the patriarchies,” as they called themselves, was tenuous enough. The fledgling RUNA, fearing the kind of separatism and resistance to authority that had sparked Mephistopheles’s creation, had had to be careful in allowing its wealthy supporters the ethnic solidarity they’d requested. Patricians had been exempted from the mandates, at their own risk of Mephistopheles and Cain, and given their own land—with very strict regulations.

The entrance to the Nipponese land grant resembled that of all the other grants: a gated road with a checkpoint and a sign welcoming others in both English and the caste’s native language. The guards were lightly armed, per the agreement with the government. The RUNA’s flag was the only ornamentation since no unique castal symbol was allowed either.

Justin’s contact inside was an older police officer who went by his Japanese name: Hiroshi. He didn’t fall all over himself the way the gate security had, but it was clear he was floored at the idea of hosting a servitor and prætorian in his jurisdiction.

“The victim’s wife moved out,” he told them when they reached the house in which the murder had occurred. “But nothing has been changed whatsoever in the building. We got extensive pictures and documentation at the time, and I verified this morning that everything is the same.” He hesitated. “I hope that’s all right.”

“That’s great,” said Justin, earning a relieved smile.

Leo, though pleased at having uncontaminated evidence, was less thrilled at the house’s size. “It’s huge. This is going to take forever.”

To be fair, the house was enormous, especially for two people. The architecture was in keeping with common Gemman luxury homes, though the pointed roof and a few other flourishes hearkened back to the caste’s Japanese roots. The inside told a similar tale. Painted screens and clean lines paired with trendy lush furniture and media screens. Here was a family in possession of stereotypical castal wealth.

Leo immediately began to take apart the house’s main security panel. It monitored every door and window in the house, and like the other sites, initial investigation of the system’s memory had shown no sign of entry anywhere. Video surveillance had been disabled, providing the only clue (aside from the dead body) that someone had been inside.

“Remind you of the old Koskinen estate?” Justin asked Mae as they strolled through the house.

“Our koi pond was bigger,” she said. She gazed around and walked over to an ornamental tea set. Her features were luminous in the light pouring through the window. He was dying to know more about the ex-boyfriend she’d hinted at on the plane and needed to figure out the best strategy for getting information without receiving bodily harm in the process. The relationships people formed—or didn’t form—spoke legions about them, and he was a little surprised that someone who feared others seeing her emotions during sex had managed any kind of long-term relationship.

She didn’t say it was long term, said Horatio.

She didn’t have to. It was in the way she spoke. When he received no response, Justin couldn’t help but add, I guess I can pick up on some things that you guys can’t.

Of course you can, said Magnus. Otherwise we wouldn’t need you.

“Dr. March?” Hiroshi appeared with a petite young woman. “This is Mrs. Hata, the victim’s wife.”

Mrs. Hata looked drawn and nervous, but Justin read it more as a reaction to his presence rather than a sign of any culpability. Police investigations had confirmed her alibi, and she didn’t look like she would have had the strength to drive the dagger into her husband’s heart anyway. He gave her a friendly smile, hoping to put her at ease.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, shaking hands. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she said. “I’ve already talked to the police over and over.”

“I know. And I’m sorry to keep putting you through this, but we just have a few more questions.” He motioned to the dining room. “Can we talk in here? I’ll keep it brief.”

She sat down opposite him at the table, clasping her hands in front of her. Her features showed the phenotype so prized by her caste: dark hair, high cheekbones, golden skin, and almond-shaped brown eyes. Long, thick lashes crowned her narrow eyelids, giving her an added touch of allure, even if the lashes were false. She wore her hair in a smart haircut that went to her chin, meaning she most likely had a touch of Cain. Genetically pure castal woman tended to show off their undamaged hair by wearing it long, like Mae did. As the light caught Mrs. Hata’s hair, he saw an almost lacquerlike sheen, verifying his suspicions. Heavy gloss treatments were a common way to cover the thin and frail hair Cain so often caused. When she brushed that hair aside, she inadvertently revealed a bit of scarring near her ears. There were certain kinds of expensive face-lifts that could smooth out the pockmarked skin of Cain, but they always left slight signs at the periphery. Mrs. Hata displayed most of Cain’s detrimental effects and had no children either. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had asthma too.

Justin was ready to reel her in with his charm and pleasantries, but a second glance at her stricken face made him decide not to play any games today. He kept his interview brief, asking the same questions he had before about any questionable religious involvement on the part of the victim. Like his past interviewees, she was quite alarmed at the thought of her family being connected to a cult. In fact, she even adamantly pointed out that her husband had petitioned the grant’s government to ban all religions on their land. He’d had a particularly vehement dislike of them. That was an interesting tidbit, and Justin wondered if it was enough to have put Mr. Hata on some group’s hit list. The only hiccup in that logic was that a retribution theory implied that a Nipponese religion was involved, which wouldn’t likely have interest in other patricians. Still, it was a connection worth noting.

They chatted a bit more, and he finally let her go. She was eager to return to her mother’s home. Mae, unable to stay still long, had gone outside, so Justin joined Leo as he examined the site of the murder.

The master bedroom was expansive, the size of three of the bedrooms back at his house put together. A silk coverlet draped the bed, and a small alcove near the fireplace held a table that might be used for reading or tea. Blood stained the carpet. Leo knelt by the fireplace and stood at Justin’s approach.

“It’s sealed. Only for show.” Leo pointed up at a horizontal line of windows near the ceiling. They were the only ones in the room. “Those are too small for anyone to get through.”

“And I’m guessing the security system recorded no entry in the door?”

“Nope.” Leo walked over to the doorway and ran his hand along the side. “It only recorded his entry before he died and then his wife’s a few hours later. If the door’s locked from within, only hand chips could open it from the outside—unless you had the demolition equipment to bust it down. Obviously, that didn’t happen.”

“Then it’s the most secure room in the house.” Justin examined a picture screen on the dresser that scrolled through various personal shots of the family’s life. “Like with the other murders. I’d almost say whoever did this is showing off.”

He’d seen a head shot of Mr. Hata in the official case files, but the personal pictures showed a whole different view into the dead man’s world. A wedding picture focused in on the happy couple’s faces. He couldn’t see much of their attire, but she wore a traditional Japanese hood that hid the scarring and short haircut. At a glance, Mr. Hata’s face showed no ostensible signs of Cain, but that wasn’t uncommon. A family whose child had good genes could arrange an expensive marriage to a family hoping to weed out Cain. He’d observed it in the previous castal investigations as well. It was why Mae’s vocation—and the fact that she even had one—was so unusual.

Other pictures showed the Hatas on vacation or with other family members. A pretty portrait showed Mrs. Hata posing in a flower garden, while a more candid shot showed Mr. Hata grinning triumphantly at what looked like the end of a marathon. Still another—

Justin did a double take and scrolled back to the marathon picture. “He was a runner,” he told Leo.

Leo was still engrossed in the door. “So?”

“So no asthma.” Justin flipped through a few more pictures, scrutinizing Mr. Hata’s face. It was as flawless as it had seemed before, emphasizing his wife’s very subtle defects. A shot of their extended family showed occasional appearances of Cain, but even among his unmarked relatives, there was something especially bright and attractive about Mr. Hata.

The wheels of Justin’s mind began spinning. His instincts told him there was something here. He flipped through all the pictures again, consumed by the dead man’s face.

“He’s perfect,” he said to Leo. “Beautiful and perfect.”

“Sad you can’t ask him out?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Justin could feel it in his chest. He was so, so close. “It’s uncommon.”

“Is it? Go look at your girl out there. She’s sporting a pretty good set of genes.”

And that’s when it hit him. “So did our last victim. And the others.”

Justin took out his ego and pulled up all the data on the case. Mostly, he’d been going by the summary Cornelia had first shown him. Now he delved deeper into Mr. Hata’s file, looking for the number he was certain he would find.

“An eight,” he said triumphantly. “He was an eight.”

Even that gave Leo pause. “Not bad for a castal.”

You’ve got it, said Magnus.

Justin searched through the other victims’ files, a thrill running through him at the breakthrough he’d made. “They’re all eights and nines. And look at their pictures—beautiful and perfect.”

Leo gave up on the door, his own face puzzling out the new development. “Our killer has refined tastes.”

Mae stepped into the room and glanced between them. “What is it?”

“A pattern,” said Justin. “There’s always a pattern.”

He scrutinized Mae, for once with little attraction. His view was detached and objective. Another flawless specimen, in the prime of her life. The image of her screen came back to him, providing another shocking revelation.

“You’re twenty-eight years old. All the victims were twenty-seven and twenty-eight. All were genetic eights and nines.”

“You worried she’s next?” asked Leo wryly.

“No,” said Justin. “But I think something remarkable happened the year she was born. Were you in vitro?”

Mae looked uneasy at the direction this was going. “Yes. So were my brother and sister.”

The answer wasn’t a surprise. In an effort to grasp at any genetic hope, most patricians were conceived in petri dishes using their parents’ healthiest eggs and sperm. “Were you all made in the same place?”

“I have no idea. It was literally before my time.”

Justin barely heard her. He was too excited by the theory developing in his mind. “I would love to know what clever doctor worked on you guys. Leo, they’ve got full gene analyses of all the victims in the case files. Would you be able to tell if they all had the same sort of manipulation done?”

From his eyes, it was clear Leo had picked up on Justin’s train of thought. “Yes. Geneticists who do this sort of thing almost always have their own unique style. It kind of leaves a ‘mark.’ If their conception was all orchestrated by one person, it should be obvious from a side-by-side comparison.”

“You think they were all part of illegal gene experiments?” asked Mae. Her eyes glittered at the thought of this new lead, and then her expression shifted to disbelief. “You think I was part of illegal gene work?”

“No,” said Justin slowly. “I mean, I don’t have proof. But come on, a whole bunch of nine and eight castals born around the same time? It’s awfully coincidental.”

It would also explain that striking appearance he’d observed from the moment he saw her. No Cain anywhere. Features too perfect for a patrician—maybe even for a plebeian. No way was that natural. It was the work of an artist.

Here’s a hot tip, said Horatio. Do not expound on that. Look at her face. She doesn’t like it.

The raven was right, as usual. Mae was horrified. “Eights and nines can occur naturally all the time, even in castes. And if you knew my parents, you’d know my dad would’ve never agreed to anything like that. Don’t drag me into this with your convoluted theories.”

Justin made sure to note her words, that her dad wouldn’t have agreed to it. No mention of her mother. Data for later.

He tapped his ego. “Aren’t you at least curious? Even if no shadowy creature’s coming after you, there’s an awfully big coincidence here.”

“I didn’t have an illegal conception,” she said. There was fire in her eyes, which now favored green in the bedroom’s lighting.

“Then let’s prove it. Give Leo some blood, and he’ll run an analysis for you.”

“Leave me out of this,” said Leo.

“If you’re so sure of yourself,” Justin continued to Mae, “then what’s the harm?”

“Don’t try that ploy with me,” she warned him. “I’ve been watching your games for almost two weeks. You’re not going to lure me in with a dare.”

“It’s not a dare.” Okay, it kind of was. “I’m just trying to do my job for my country. I thought that was your goal too, loyal soldier. On the very, very, very remote chance I’m right, think what you could do for the mission! And if you’re not a match, then you’ll have bragging rights for proving me wrong.”

“Wow,” she said. “That’ll really impress my friends.”

For the first time in their acquaintance, Leo looked as though he might actually like Mae.

Justin scowled. “Fine. Let’s make it an outright wager.”

An odd expression crossed her face. “I don’t really like wagers.”

“Everyone likes wagers. What do you want if I’m wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Because I’m not doing this.”

“So. You do suspect something.”

Mae’s frustrated expression rivaled one of Cynthia’s. “Fine. You can buy me some ree when you find out you’re wrong.”

That momentarily derailed Justin’s satisfaction at getting his way. “What’s ree?”

“Prætorian poison,” said Leo, chuckling. Mae smiled hesitantly back at him, and Justin kind of wished they’d go back to their awkward relationship. He didn’t want them ganging up on him. “Expensive prætorian poison. The only thing that can get them drunk.”

“It’s an obscure children’s cough syrup,” she explained. “The implant doesn’t recognize it as a toxin. Take it in large enough amounts, and you get a pretty nice buzz.”

“Buzz?” Leo’s amusement turned to disapproval. “I’ve seen prætorians on ree. It’s a little more extreme than a buzz. And while I respect you guys’ having a loophole, intoxicated supersoldiers make me a little nervous.”

Justin found it fascinating but had to focus back on the real revelation. “We’ve got a deal,” he told her. “So you’ll give him the blood?”

“Thanks for signing me up without asking. Do you know what a pain it is transporting blood?” Leo turned to Mae. “The military would’ve done an analysis when you enlisted, and you have open access. Save me the hassle and just send that file. Do it soon so that we can all enjoy the satisfaction of him being wrong.”

“I’ll make it a top priority,” Mae assured him. “In the meantime, what are you going to do with the actual connection between the other victims?”

“I’m going to use it to make a profile of the killer. I don’t think this is religious at all. It’s some pissed-off geneticist going after his or her—most likely his, from the dagger’s force—creations. Maybe because of guilt. Maybe because the families didn’t pay. Whatever it is, it makes a hell of a lot more sense than a murderous cult,” said Justin.

“But why use such a weird weapon?” she asked.

“And what’s up with the video?” asked Leo.

“I’m working on that.” Justin brushed past it, not wanting to admit he had no clue about those connections yet. Sticking his head out the door, he called for Hiroshi.

The Nipponese cop appeared almost instantly, eager to help. “Yes?”

“Is your ego wired into all local law enforcement records? And citizens’ records?”

Hiroshi looked surprised. “Of course. What do you need to know?”

“Citizen records first. I need a summary of genetic scores for all Nipponese births twenty-seven and twenty-eight years ago. No, wait.” Justin reconsidered and changed his request to cover thirty to fifteen years ago. Hiroshi put in the request without question and then had the ego organize the resulting data into a chart. Justin peered at it in triumph.

“There we go. Two eights and a nine in those target years—higher than would be natural for a caste. Then it just drops off into typical numbers.”

It was true. After those years, the scores abruptly returned to average levels. There was one six and no sevens at all. The rest ranged from two to five. No eights or nines.

If Hiroshi was shocked at hearing the word “caste,” he didn’t show it. “What else can I help you with?”

Justin thought about it carefully. “Crime stats from the same date range. Especially pertaining to any illegal bio-research.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Leo as Hiroshi put in the request.

“I think if some shady lab abruptly stopped making their perfect babies twenty-seven years ago, then they probably got busted and shut down,” Justin explained.

“No biogenetic indiscretions in fifty years,” Hiroshi said a minute later, scanning the screen. “And the one on record back then was pretty sloppy.” Most were. Genetic manipulation at conception was a sketchy science that actually rarely yielded good results, which made numbers like this pretty astonishing.

“The lab could’ve operated in any of the other grants or even a plebeian city,” Justin murmured to himself. He stared blankly at Hiroshi’s ego, desperate for some lightning bolt of inspiration. He went back to the original theory. “Any records of suspicious religious activities over the years?”

“I figured you’d already know that,” said the man. “No offense, Dr. March.”

“None taken. Just humor me.”

Hiroshi shrugged and performed the search, finding nothing there either. Justin was on the verge of wrapping things up when an idea occurred to him. “Were there unusual criminal activities of any kind in that time span? Anything at all out of the ordinary that made the police’s radar?”

“That’s a broad request,” Hiroshi said.

“Humor me again.”

This took more time as Hiroshi made the request and then manually skimmed the data to draw his own conclusions. “Nothing.” Then he hesitated. “Nothing here.”

A chill went through Justin. “What do you mean?”

Hiroshi grew pensive. “I remember it. There was a lot of weird stuff outside the grant. Huron, Sioux Falls, some of the other neighboring cities. Some missing-persons cases and a higher-than-usual number of deaths. Most accidental, but a few homicides too. None of it was in our borders, but we had a lot of federal and local investigators coming through.”

Justin had the scent. He could barely contain himself. “How many?”

Hiroshi turned back to his ego. “Twenty-five, spread out over a two-year period—but they’re one off from the two you’re focusing on. Twenty-nine and twenty-eight years ago.” When no response came, he tentatively asked, “Is there something else?”

“No,” said Justin, slowly shaking his head. “You’ve been more than helpful. Thank you.”

When Leo finished up his assessment of the house—finding no definitive answers—he, Justin, and Mae decided to catch dinner in the grant before their flight. That was one perk of visiting land grants. Sure, outsiders often received cold treatment, but if you could suffer through that, the cuisine was outstanding. The three of them found a sushi place that served plebeians, though Justin barely noticed the excellent food. His mind was still trying to find the pattern, to beat sense out of the jumble of data he’d been given.

“So what did you learn today?” Leo asked. “Because I can tell there’s something going on in your head. Our cute waitress smiled at you, and you didn’t even notice.”

“I noticed,” said Justin. “And I learned all sorts of things. One is that a bunch of castal eights and nines were born twenty-seven and twenty-eight years ago and that our victims are among them. Twenty-nine and twenty-eight years ago, a bunch of plebeians died near castal borders.”

“And?” asked Mae. “What’s your brilliant deduction?”

Glancing at her, he momentarily lost his train of thought. How did she fit into this? Despite her claims, it seemed too incredible that she couldn’t have some connection to the other victims. Of course, he was missing an awful lot of connections right now and had to admit as much.

“I don’t know. The only thing I’m pretty confident of is that we’re dealing with some pissed-off geneticist. I’m working on the rest.”

He wouldn’t give them any more than that, and after a while, his silence turned them to other topics. In fact, by the end of the meal, Mae and Leo seemed to be on pretty good terms with each other, which was a nice change. Justin’s ego rang just after he paid the bill, and he excused himself from the table when he saw the call was coming from Internal Security. He returned a few minutes later and found Mae and Leo looking remarkably serious as they talked. Both fell silent in that sort of uncomfortable way that indicated they didn’t want him to know what they’d been discussing.

“Everything okay?” Mae asked after several moments.

“Yeah, actually. They brought in Geraki. You want to go meet the most dangerous man in the Republic?”

The predatory look in her eyes was answer enough. Justin didn’t share nearly the same excitement. He didn’t want to talk to Geraki at all. But he had to find out what had prompted the house visit with Tessa, and SCI had said in their call that they probably couldn’t hold Geraki too long. If Justin wanted a shot at talking to that madman, he’d have to do it when they got back to Vancouver. Fortunately, Internal Security’s detainment center had open visiting hours, and he and Mae went straight there after their flight landed, leaving Leo to connect to Portland.

They went down to the building’s lowest floor and waited in an interrogation room while a soldier fetched Geraki. When he was brought in, Mae sized him up with a glance and waved off the soldier’s offer to stay or at least restrain the man. Although Justin and Mae remained standing, Geraki took a chair and leaned back, putting his feet up on the small table. He looked about the same as he had four years ago, except maybe even smugger.

“Dr. March, at last,” he said. “I’ve been looking forward to welcoming you home.”

“By intimidating my—family?” Justin supposed Tessa might as well have been.

Geraki made a dismissive gesture. “Bah, I did nothing of the sort. I just had a chat with that girl, who’s adorable by the way. You should adopt more provincial orphans.”

“She’s not an orphan.”

Geraki had already moved on, his gaze settling on Mae. “And you…you really are magnificent.”

Justin was used to Mae’s admirers. It happened a lot in their travels. But as Geraki’s dark eyes swept her, Justin somehow knew it wasn’t her beauty Geraki was complimenting. He was assessing something else in her, something more intangible. He can see it, those powers that come and go, even if they aren’t possessing her right now.

They leave a mark, Magnus confirmed.

Why have you guys been so quiet? Justin asked them. I thought you wanted me to talk to him.

We do. We just don’t like being around the wolves, said Magnus, enigmatic as usual.

Mae was at full alert, her body crackling with tension and power as she looked Geraki squarely in the eye. Justin was suddenly reminded of their first encounter in Panama, when she’d stood by him in the alley, wearing the plum-colored dress and bracing herself for action. She was like that now, coiled and ready to spring if Geraki did anything remotely dangerous. Recalling the exhilaration in her eyes each time she fought, Justin wouldn’t have been surprised if she actually wanted Geraki to attack.

“You’re a lucky man, Dr. March.” Geraki’s awed expression finally shifted to admiration—no, not quite. More like wistfulness. “I have twice as much devotion and not half as many blessings. But I suppose eventually your job will be greater than mine.”

“Tell me more about your devotion,” said Justin amiably. “I’m sure it’s fascinating.” Even as he spoke, he had no delusions that Geraki would actually admit his religious involvement in a room with a surveillance camera.

Geraki chuckled. “Oh, it’s not that different from yours. You and I are both devoted to our causes and ambitions…always confident, always questioning, and guided by the voices in our heads.”

Justin kept his condescending smile in place, refusing to flinch at the last comment. “I don’t hear voices, but again, I’d love for you to tell me about yours.”

“I was referring to my conscience, Dr. March,” Geraki said smoothly. “What else did you think I meant? You shouldn’t take things so literally.”

“My mistake,” said Justin. “Now, can we hurry up and get to why you’re so eager to talk to me? Prætorian Koskinen and I have had a long day.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. Unofficially, I was just curious if you’d learned anything in your time away.” There was a meaningful pause. “Obviously not.”

“Does that mean I’m not your favorite servitor anymore?” Justin gave Mae a brief glance, but nothing had changed since the last time he’d looked at her. She was still tense and ready, her face cool as she stared unblinkingly at Geraki.

“No, no.” Geraki laughed. “You’ll always be my favorite. Anyway. Officially, I have two messages for you.”

“From who?”

“Who do you think?”

Justin shook his head. “I honestly have no idea.”

From our master, said Magnus.

I don’t suppose you’ll tell me his name yet? asked Justin. Naturally, they didn’t. They never did.

“No matter,” said Geraki. He sat up in the chair, putting his feet on the floor. “The first message: You awarded the golden apple but haven’t upheld your share of the bargain.”

He’s right, said Horatio.

We’ve been over this, Justin retorted, his eyes darting briefly to Mae. I don’t have to fulfill any bargain. I haven’t technically accepted the compensation.

“Nor have you submitted to training,” added Geraki. “You crave knowledge. Once you embrace your role as a student, many of your questions will be answered.”

Justin crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, forcing Mae to shift slightly so that she still kept her body angled between him and Geraki. Justin kept his face as blank as he could, refusing to show that the words meant anything. “You know what? I did learn something in Panama. I’ve learned just how much I missed your incomprehensible rambling.”

Geraki held up two fingers. “My other message is to yield your stars and flowers and accept the clever compromise.”

No, said Magnus swiftly.

You don’t even know what the clever compromise is yet, said Horatio. It was another of those unusual arguments between them.

It doesn’t matter. We know what the stars and flowers are. Yielding her is out of the question.

Not if it’s an order from the boss, said Horatio.

If we lose her, then the bargain is void, argued Magnus.

Geraki was still speaking about the clever compromise. “You may not like it at first, but the consequences will be worthwhile. It may also knock some sense into you.”

If that’s true, said Horatio, then we certainly shouldn’t discount it. We must trust in our master.

“Anything else?” asked Justin, faking a yawn. “Because I’m ready to call it a night. And I’m sure you’re ready to return to your cell.”

“It’s actually a very nice cell. And we both know I won’t be staying there for long. You’re lucky I think so well of you, or else I might have filed for unlawful harassment.”

“You’ll be charged with unlawful harassment if you come near me, my family, or my home again.” It was one of the things he’d worked in his call with Internal Security: a restraining order.

Geraki shook his head, turning absolutely serious—or, well, most likely pretending to be serious. He was one of the more difficult people for Justin to read.

“Dr. March, if you believe nothing else, then believe me when I say I hold your loved ones as dear as my own. You’re practically a brother to me, and I want to help you. If I can ever do you a favor, you need only ask.”

Justin held back from an eye roll. “I’ve done fine without a brother, thanks.” As he spoke, a strange thought occurred to him. “Unless you know what happened to Callista Xie or Nadia Menari.”

Geraki’s face was guileless. “Why would I know anything about them? Aren’t they illicit practitioners?”

Justin felt his pulse quicken. Although he still favored the idea of a vengeful geneticist over an unholy cult, he was in no position to rule out the latter, especially with time ticking down. He’d mourned losing Callista as a link to the underground religions, but here was another link, right before his eyes—one claiming to be cooperative.

“You know about any illicit practitioners murdering patricians?”

Geraki said nothing. He was very good at keeping his expression neutral, but there was the faintest glimmer of surprise in his eyes. He hadn’t expected that question. Well. Justin supposed he should be relieved that Geraki’s madness didn’t extend to gruesome murders. At least not these gruesome murders. Still, it would’ve been handy if his new “brother” could’ve delivered an easy answer to all of this.

Justin straightened up and said to Mae, “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” said Geraki. He studied Justin for several more heavy seconds. “I don’t know where Callista and Nadia are. They cut themselves off from everyone. I do know, however, that they talked a lot about enlightening those who still believed. Nadia especially talked about returning to the devout. She seemed to have some place in mind.”

“That you don’t know,” said Justin, again scrutinizing Geraki for the truth. Yet, one word had stood out: “returning.”

Geraki smiled. “I don’t really know any of this. It’s all speculation, seeing as I have nothing to do with such groups.”

“Of course.” Justin turned to Mae again. “Now we’re going.”

She wouldn’t move from her position until Justin was out of the room. A few moments later, she joined him out in the hall, and as the door closed, Justin saw Geraki still smiling. “Don’t forget what I said, Dr. March.”

Mae didn’t relax until they were on the subway, and although she tried to hide it, her hands shook. She’d perceived Geraki as enough of a threat to wind up into fight-or-flight mode.

“You weren’t kidding about him,” she said. “You think he’ll break the restraining order?”

Justin thought about it for several seconds. “No, actually. I don’t know why I think that. Just a gut instinct.”

“Does your gut have any insight about the rest of what he said? Does he know something about the murders?”

“No. That caught him off guard, and it showed. He was telling us all he knew about where Callista and Nadia went.” Justin leaned his head against the subway’s window. “Someplace where people still believe. Where would that be?”

“Nowhere in the RUNA,” said Mae.

Justin was in the middle of yawning as she spoke, and her words jolted him awake. He took out his ego and told it, “Bring up Nadia Menari’s bio.” When it appeared, it took him only a second to find what he needed. Exhaling, he put the ego away and settled back into the seat.

“What is it?” asked Mae.

“I think my ‘brother’ may have come through for us after all.”