“It’s Steiner’s. He had it modified,” she said, beaming as she patted her sidearm, then handed her a building key. “I’ve got Steiner’s building card as well. That’s what took so long.”

“Sweet!” Maybe they had a chance after all.

Behind her, Jack rolled his eyes. “After you,” Peri said to cover her embarrassment, and the taller woman eased the door wider and slipped out, holding it until Peri edged through and quietly shut it. Peri’s first anchor had been a woman. She’d forgotten how easy it was to work with someone who wasn’t distracted by a body full of testosterone, the subliminal text of casual conversation easing the task at hand.

But her mouth dropped open when Harmony hesitated at the oblivious door guard, then signed the logbook, complete with date and time leaving.

“I like her style,” Jack said.

“So do I,” Peri admitted, light on her feet as she jogged to the podium and ran the card to open the door.

The guard turned when the podium wished the absent Mr. Steiner a good morning. “Hey!” he shouted, and Peri flipped him off before smacking the lockdown button and rolling under the quickly dropping fence behind Harmony.

“Whoo, that was tight!” Harmony exclaimed as suddenly three men were at the downed gate, trying to lift it. Someone took a shot at them and everyone hit the floor, cursing the idiot when it ricocheted off the bullet-resistant glass.

Harmony slid across the wide bench seat, starting the car and shifting into drive even before Peri had her door shut. “Go!” Peri shouted, feeling a pang when they took off, leaving Jack at the curb. He was a hallucination, but it still felt wrong.

“Where are we going?” the young woman asked, horn blaring and car swaying as she took a quick right and bounced through a busy intersection, cars honking and brakes squeaking in their wake.

“Detroit.” Snapping her belt across her hips, Peri looked behind them at the chaos. They had three, maybe four minutes’ head start. Doable, if Harmony had an exit strategy.

Harmony looked across the wide seat at her. “Are you kidding? You could have made some excuse about needing to see Dr. Denier and been there tomorrow!”

Peri’s lips pressed together and she hung on as Harmony took a tight turn. “I don’t have until tomorrow. I have twelve hours.” She looked at the dash. “No, sixteen.”

Harmony whistled. “Damn, girl. You like cutting it close.”

“You said we were leaving in an hour.”

Hand raised and wiggling to say she was sorry, Harmony navigated St. Louis’s rush-hour, gathering traffic drones as she ran reds.

“How long did that take to plan?” Peri asked in admiration, then stiffened as Harmony wove through the slower vehicles and gunned it.

“An afternoon for the timing on the plastic in the microwave,” she admitted, touching her hair to look embarrassed. “I did that last week. Then a few hours to get access to the vid room to see where the cameras were. Can you get the drones for me? I’d rather not be on the news.”

“But you couldn’t have known you were going to need a way out back then.” Peri took Harmony’s Glock when she handed it to her. She checked the magazine, shifting in her seat to roll the window down. Cool air blew in, pushing her hair into her eyes.

Harmony took a quick right; the drones followed, still trying to get close enough for a shot of the plates. “I thought it good to know.” She hesitated. “Hold on,” she warned, one hand on the wheel, the other beeping her horn as she ran a yellow.

Peri stuck her head out, squinting at the drones as they caught up. Two pops and they dropped into the street. More horns blew as they came crashing down, and grinning, Peri levered herself back in place, eyebrows raised in the question of whether Harmony minded if she kept it.

Harmony shrugged and Peri stuffed it in her pocket beside her diary. “Do you like the train?” Harmony asked, pace slower now that they’d lost their drone escort.

Our way to Detroit? she wondered. “Please tell me it’s an express.”

Head shaking, Harmony slowed even more, impatient as she leaned forward, looking past the slower traffic until she took a sharp left into a side alley amid the Dumpsters and stacked cardboard. “Nope. It stops in every town.” Putting the car into park, Harmony studied the dash for a moment, then turned off the lights. Behind them, three black cars raced by. “But we’re not taking the train,” she added as she carefully backed up and returned the way they had come. “I changed Steiner’s plates with those belonging to a black SUV at the depot parking lot. They’ll be checking every stop, diluting their search. You’ve got a new ID under the seat. We’ll have to stop somewhere to get a pair of boots, though.” Her eyes went to Peri’s slippers. “Unless you like those.”

Which explained why she wasn’t worried about drones after Peri had taken down the two that had tagged them earlier. Curious, Peri stretched to find the ID, holding it awkwardly to catch the early-morning light to read AMY SMITH. It would do. It looked like her senior yearbook picture. “Okay. I’m impressed.”

Harmony grinned. “The IDs were the hardest part. I’m going to pay for that later. Where are we going, other than Detroit, I mean?”

The reality of what they were going to do came rushing back. “The arena,” Peri said.

“The arena?” Harmony echoed, eyes wide. “Why not a nice safe war zone?”

Peri put an elbow on the windowsill, her fist against her mouth and her focus blurring at the passing buildings. Even with Harmony’s help, the chance that she was actually going to walk away from this with Allen and Evocane was low.

Why not, indeed?

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Bill’s worry was a light thread through his mind as he traversed the short underground hall from the building’s parking structure to his new office, the emotion not so much as troubling as a goad, urging him onto his next goal. The damage from Michael’s . . . innovative interrogation techniques had unexpectedly been cleaned up by the CIA, and his information again had value. Which was fortunate, seeing as he’d already used funds he didn’t quite have yet to take possession of the top floor of a small office building just outside Detroit. He could see ways to improve function and design, but he wasn’t willing to spend the money to implement them. If all went well, he wouldn’t be here long—and that was better than okay.