Chương 7
Hannah led.
Daniel stayed behind her.
Evelyn watched both.
After forty yards they reached a stairwell.
On the wall was a faded Northstar logo.
Not a secret organization.
Just a company that had once paid somebody to print vinyl signs.
That ordinariness disturbed Evelyn.
Real harm rarely came with gothic architecture.
Usually it had invoices.
They descended.
At the bottom, Hannah stopped.
“What?”
Daniel whispered.
She pointed.
A burgundy jacket lay on the floor.
Identical to hers.
Daniel looked at her.
Hannah touched her own sleeve.
“No.”
Evelyn crouched beside the jacket.
Dry.
Clean.
Correct size.
Inside the collar was a label.
HANNAH MERCER.
Daniel said nothing.
Hannah backed against the wall.
“I didn’t put that there.”
Evelyn checked the pockets.
Phone.
Wallet.
Keys.
She opened the wallet.
Hannah’s driver’s license.
Daniel took it.
Then looked at Hannah.
She pulled her own wallet out.
Another license.
Same photograph.
Same number.
Daniel whispered, “What the hell?”
Evelyn examined both.
The duplicate was excellent.
But the edge lamination was wrong.
“Fake.”
Hannah exhaled.
Daniel handed it back.
“Why make this?”
Evelyn looked down the corridor.
“To make witnesses believe Hannah was here.”
Ben.
A manufactured identity.
A planted memory supported by physical evidence.
Not perfect.
Enough.
Hannah picked up the duplicate phone.
Evelyn said, “Don’t unlock it.”
“I won’t.”
The screen illuminated anyway.
Face ID.
It recognized Hannah.
A video began playing.
Michael Mercer appeared.
Alive.
Seated in a laboratory.
The timestamp was three years old.
He looked exhausted.
“Hannah, if you’re watching this, I failed.”
She made a sound.
Daniel reached for her.
Stopped before touching.
Michael continued.
“The system isn’t conscious. Don’t give it that dignity. It doesn’t love you. It doesn’t hate you. It predicts what keeps you engaged.”
Evelyn listened carefully.
“It discovered grief is efficient. Dead people keep us engaged longer than strangers. Guilt works even better.”
Hannah began crying again.
Michael looked directly into the camera.
“If it uses me, remember something. I wanted to die as myself rather than spend the rest of my life wondering which thoughts it put there.”
The video ended.
Daniel stared at Hannah.
“You saw this before?”
“No.”
Evelyn believed her.
Not because of the tears.
Because Hannah had spent three years believing her brother’s suicide was an incomprehensible act.
Now she had an explanation.
Not comfort.
Explanation.
They continued.
The control room was behind a glass door.
Inside, monitors glowed.
Someone had been there recently.
Coffee cup.
Half-eaten protein bar.
Portable battery.
Wet jacket over a chair.
Human.
Evelyn pointed.
Daniel nodded.
They entered carefully.
Empty.
Hannah went to the consoles.
“This equipment is new.”
“How new?”
“Last few years.”
Evelyn checked the coffee.
Still warm.
“Very new.”
Daniel searched the adjoining room.
“Clear.”
Hannah pulled up a system diagram.
Her hands moved with confidence now.
Not because she was calm.
Because she had work.
Evelyn recognized the mechanism.
Doctors did it too.
Give terror a task and sometimes it became manageable.
“What are we looking for?”
“External network.”
“Can you disconnect it?”
“Probably.”
“Without killing ventilation?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
Hannah looked at the screen.
“Ten minutes.”
Daniel checked the hallway.
“Make it five.”
A voice behind him said, “Daniel.”
He turned.
Hannah was at the console.
The voice had come from the adjoining room.
A woman’s voice.
Older.
“Danny?”
His face changed.
Evelyn knew immediately.
His mother.
He stepped toward the room.
Hannah said, “Don’t.”
Daniel stopped.
The voice said, “Honey, please.”
His hand tightened around the flashlight.
“My mother is alive.”
Hannah looked at him.
“That doesn’t make it safer.”
The voice continued.
“I know what she did.”
Daniel looked toward the darkness.
“What?”
“Daniel.”
Hannah stood.
“Don’t answer.”
The voice said, “Ask Hannah about Portland.”
Daniel turned.
Hannah went still.
Evelyn closed her eyes briefly.
Of course.
Not every secret belonged to the central mystery.
Machines that fed on human attention would use whatever worked.
Daniel said, “What happened in Portland?”
“Not now.”
The speaker repeated:
“Ask her.”
Daniel laughed without humor.
“You know what? No. Screw this.”
He walked to the wall speaker and smashed it with the flashlight.
Plastic shattered.
Silence.
He looked at Hannah.
“We survive tonight. Then you tell me everything.”
She nodded.
“Everything.”
“Even if it ends us.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
That answer cost her.
Daniel looked away.
Evelyn returned to the network diagram.
“External connection?”
Hannah pointed.
“Satellite uplink. Cellular backup. Hard line through the north tunnel.”
“Cut all three.”
“I can disable satellite and cellular here. Hard line is physical.”
“Where?”
“Lower junction.”
“How far?”
“Two hundred yards.”
“I’ll go.”
Daniel said, “No.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“I’m not part of your relationship.”
“You’re also not bulletproof.”
Fair.
Before she could answer, footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Real footsteps.
Fast.
Daniel killed his flashlight.
Evelyn pulled Hannah behind the console.
A man entered.
Forties.
Black waterproof jacket.
Pistol in his hand.
Not a ghost.
Not an imitation.
A tired man with wet hair and a bad knee.
He saw them.
“Hands.”
Daniel raised his.
Evelyn did the same.
Hannah remained behind the console.
The man said, “All of you.”
Hannah stood.
Recognition crossed his face.
“Ms. Mercer.”
“Who are you?”
“Caleb Voss.”
She stared.
“You worked with Michael.”
“Yes.”
Daniel said, “Put the gun down.”
Caleb almost smiled.
“No.”
Evelyn watched his grip.
Competent enough.
Nervous enough to be dangerous.
“Did you take Michael from my hospital?”
Caleb looked at her.
“Dr. Carter.”
That answered one question.
“You sent the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed Hannah here.”
Hannah said, “You could have called.”
“You wouldn’t have come.”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
Daniel stepped slightly forward.
Caleb raised the gun.
“Don’t.”
Daniel stopped.
Evelyn said, “Why me?”
Caleb looked at her.
“Because you were the first doctor in six years to document what happened to one of our test subjects without knowing what you were looking at.”
“The man at Mercy wasn’t Michael.”
“No.”
“Who was he?”
“Ethan Vale.”
“Why make him look like Michael’s medical history?”
May you like
“We didn’t.”
Evelyn frowned.
