I shook my head. “You know. Carefully.”
“Did anyone see you looking for it?”
“No.”
He rubbed his fingers across the bottom of his jaw. “Are you sure it was from your brother?”
“Yes. He used a code that only he and I know. It was from him.”
“Do the numbers mean something to you?”
“That’s your takeaway? Numbers? What aboutHouse Orange, hidden enemy?”
“House Orange is an enemy to a lot of people, hidden or not. House Orange alsohasa lot of enemies. But if he felt this was his one chance to pass on important information, why those numbers?WoM coordinatesdoesn’t mean anything to me. But the sequence could be time.”
I ran the numbers through my head. “Five days from now?”
He nodded.
“Is there anything important happening five days from now?” I asked.
“Your brother must think so, but I don’t know what it would be.” He opened the door and walked back to the trunk for our luggage.
I didn’t know what it could be either. I got out with my duffel and rifle. The air was cool and damp and slightly salty. I wondered how far away from the ocean we were.
“Rifle stays in the car,” he said.
I reluctantly set the rifle back in the car but didn’t mention I still had my revolver in my duffel.
“Oscar had a meeting with Reeves Silver,” Abraham said. “It appears the head of House Vice was unaware Quinten was under his employ.”
Since Reeves Silver was the head of Vice—it made sense he might not know the names of all the people working beneath him. Houses were huge, world-sprawling conglomerates, made of multiple companies and industries all held together beneath the House umbrella.
I glanced over at the scowl Abraham was wearing. “You don’t believe him?”
“I think there isn’t a thing that happens in House Silver without Reeve’s knowledge.”
“Do you think he’s . . . holding him prisoner?” There it was. My fear. That my brother was held against his will, hurt and alone.
“I don’t know,” he said, then softer: “I really do not know, Matilda. But we can’t jump to conclusions about your brother and risk losing you. Things are rarely as they seem between the Houses. Reeves Silver may or may not be involved. He may have your brother working a project he doesn’t want House Gray to know about. He may have subcontracted your brother to another House, or there may be a contractual agreement between your brother and him that necessitates secrecy. Quinten could be fine.”
From his tone of voice, even he didn’t believe that.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s say it’s one of those things. What do we do?”
“We find out who’s lying, who’s telling the truth, and we find your brother. I’ll check in with Oscar again. Tell him what the message you found said. We don’t make a move until we have House Gray behind us on this. I need you to agree to that, Matilda. If you want the power of House Gray to help you, if you want to remain with us, do not undermine our efforts to help you.”
“Okay,” I said, “okay.”
Quinten was smart and strong and patient. Plus there was one other thing about the message I hadn’t told Abraham. Quinten hadn’t said good-bye. If he thought his life was in danger, if he thought he was going to die, I was sure he’d say good-bye to me.
Wouldn’t he?
We walked past what looked like a courtyard of flowers and bushes with little paths that led to benches and maybe a pond, then stepped up to the wood-and-glass door. There was a lot of light coming through the windows.
He pushed the door wide.
The room itself was huge, soft lights shining against those tall, tall windows to catch copper in the amber woodwork and white walls. I would have taken a little more time to marvel over the place: the thin sun shades covering the highest windows, the rounded edges of the kitchen that was open to this great room, the tasteful but built-for-comfort couches, chairs, tables, and throw rugs adding pops of color to the place.
