“A research facility,” Julia says. She’s watching me the way she always watches me—like I’m a specimen, something to be studied and measured. “One of several. You’ve never needed to know about it.”
“And now I do?”
“Now circumstances have changed.”
They turn and start walking and I follow. The corridor stretches ahead of us, pale green walls that looked like they were painted in the 1970s, lined with reinforced doors. Through narrow windows, I catch glimpses of what’s behind them: a room full of screens showing brain scans, waveforms pulsing like heartbeats; a surgical suite with robotic arms folded like sleeping spiders; a chamber with a chair in the center, wires and tubes trailing from it like veins ripped from a body.
I swear I’ve seen that chair before. In my nightmares, in the fragments that don’t feel like memories.
“Have you seen Mia?” I ask, because I have to ask.
Julia doesn’t break stride. “Why do you ask?”
“You sent me surveillance footage of her hotel room last night. You sent me that footage on purpose. You wanted me to…to…” I can’t make myself finish the sentence and I catch Marsh giving Julia a sidelong look.
“I sent you information I thought you’d want to know.” She glances at me over her shoulder. “What you did with that information was your choice.”
“My choice.” I want to laugh. I want to scream. “You wound me up and pointed me at an innocent man like a weapon.”
“Did I? Or did I simply show you the truth and let you respond according to your nature?”
Marsh clears his throat. “Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?—”
“Where is she?” I ask again.
“Come along now, Vanguard,” Julia says, snapping her fingers like I’m a fucking dog.
I stop walking.
They take a few more steps before they realize I’m not following, then turn back. Julia’s expression is carefully blank; Marsh looks annoyed, like I’m a child throwing a tantrum, although there’s a part of him that seems a little apprehensive.
Deep down, way deep down, he’s afraid of me.
“I’m not moving until someone tells me what the fuck is going on.”
“Nate—” Marsh warns.
“Red Hook,” I say.
Julia’s shoulders tighten. Just a fraction, just for a second, but I catch it.
“I know what happened there,” I continue. “I know you were there, Marsh, meeting with a human trafficker.”
My words bring silence. Marsh and Julia exchange a look—quick, loaded with meaning I can’t decipher.
“You’ve been busy,” Marsh says finally. “We knew you were there, of course. How else do you explain all those dead men? Noone else could kill so many trained thugs in minutes flat, without being seen. The question was whether you’d bring it up.”
“Consider it brought up. What are you doing with the people you’re trafficking, the ones that Kozlov is selling you?”
“Research.” Julia starts walking again, slower this time. After a moment, I follow. “Global Dynamix has always been at the forefront of human enhancement. You’re proof of that. But enhancement requires…raw material.”
“You’re experimenting on trafficked people,” I manage to say, my throat feeling thick as rage starts to build. “Innocent people, parents, grandparents…children! After everything this country has gone through, after the people rose up and saidno more, you decided to dehumanize these communities yet again. These are the people I am supposed to fuckingsaveand you’re killing them!”
“We’re advancing the science of human potential.” She says it like she’s reading from a brochure. “The subjects are volunteers from difficult circumstances. They’re compensated. Their families are compensated.”
Compensated with death.
We pass another door, another window. Inside, something that looks like a body floats in a tank of blue liquid, wires connected to its skull, its chest, its spine. I force myself not to look too long.
