And I’ve been up here, getting my rocks off.
Does Julian even know that his father was buried yesterday? Did Alessandro tell him?
Guilt drives me to find the mechanism to open the secret door, and then guilt drives me through and into the corridor, even though the cold in here makes my toes tingle. It’s stupid, because I know that door at the end will be locked, and I’m definitely not supposed to be here, not anywhere near…
Julian.
I’ve arrived at the locked door, and though the small clear panel of glass I can see him standing at the front bars of his cell, as though he heard me coming. He’s staring back at me, so blank that I wonder if he’s sleepwalking. I raise a tentative hand in greeting, and he raises one back. Then he holds up three fingers, then five, then one, then seven…
I shake my head, confused.
He does it again, slower this time.
3 - 5 - 1 - 7.
And then he points to the side. I turn my head and find myself staring at a keypad.
He wants me to enter the code, open the door, and talk to him. But Alessandro has cameras and microphones in here.
I shake my head at Julian, who presses his hands together through the bars of his cell, pleading. He’s saying something, mouthing something I can’t make out.
It’s not like I canfreehim. I don’t have a key to his cell. And if Julian has something to say to me, something important, something that might help Alessandro figure out what happened to his father, well…
Maybe I should hear it.
I enter the code, chewing on my lip, and the door slides open. The full force of the smell hits me again, and I cover my mouth and nose instinctively.
“What are you doing here, Teddy MacCallum?” Julian’s voice winds out like a snake from deep in the cells.
In a whisper, I begin, “I came to tell you—”
“I can’t hear you.”
If I step in there, or speak louder, I’ll be caught on the cameras. But then it occurs to me that Alessandro will already know I’ve been there anyway, because of Julian’s infuriating habit of saying my full name.
“Well?” Julian goes on. “What is it?”
I can’tshoutat him that his father was buried. So I turn aside to take a deep breath of less polluted air, before stepping into the cells again. My feet are painfully cold now, and I step to one side to avoid a suspicious stain on the concrete floor just in front of the door. “Your father,” I say. “His funeral was yesterday. I thought you should know.”
He stares at me, expressionless still. “Thank you,” he says at last. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Teddy MacCallum.”
“You’re welcome, I guess.” I take a step backward. “I should go—”
“Wait. One good turn deserves another. I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?” I ask, glancing down the room at the last cell.
Mycell.
Oh, God, what am I doing? If Alessandro finds out—
“Come closer,” Julian insists. “I need to tell you something.”
“Thentellme.”
“I need to whisper it,” he wheedles. “You know there are microphones down here, Teddy MacCallum. Come here, and I’ll tell you what I need to tell you—and then I’ll let you know how to wipe the video, too. No one ever needs to know you were here.”
He has me, and he knows it, judging by the slow smirk he gives as I take hesitant steps toward him. “Tell me,” I say softly, when I’m only a few feet away.
