"They bombed my house," Alaric says. "They bombed my city. They are messy, Kaiser. They are loud. You hate loud."
"True." Kaiser frowns. "Thorne was vulgar."
"If we give you the two hundred million," I say, stepping forward. "Will you help us?"
Kaiser looks at me. He looks at the drive in my hand. "Two hundred million is a nice tip. But it’s not a fortune." He standsup and walks around the desk. He stops in front of me. "I don't want money, Elodie. I want entertainment. I want to see if the rumors are true."
"What rumors?"
"That Alaric Graves finally found a creature he couldn't break. That he found a creature that brokehim." He looks at Alaric, who is slumped in the chair, barely conscious. "Look at him. The great Director. Reduced to a beggar. He is dying, Elodie. If I don't put him in the tank within the hour, his heart will stop."
"Then help him!"
"I will. On one condition." Kaiser points to a grand piano in the corner of the room. It is startlingly out of place in this high-tech sterile lab. A clear acrylic piano. Ghostly. Modern. "Play for me."
I stare at the instrument. "You want me to play?"
"I want to see the Asset function," Kaiser says. "I want to see what is worth destroying an empire for. If you move me... I save him. If you bore me... I throw you both into the sea."
"Don't..." Alaric whispers. "Don't dance... for him."
I look at Alaric. He is proud. He would rather die than see me perform for another man. But pride doesn't stop sepsis. Pride doesn't stop the heart from failing. I am the Widow. I make the hard choices.
"I'll play," I say.
I walk to the acrylic piano. The keys are weighted perfectly. It is a masterpiece of engineering. I sit down. My hands are scarred. My knuckles are bruised. I have dirt under my nails. I am not the girl in the velvet dress anymore. I am the girl who killed a dog with a rock.
"What do you want to hear?" I ask.
"Surprise me," Kaiser says.
I close my eyes. I don't play Rachmaninoff. I don't play Saint-Saëns. I play something raw. Something chaotic.Prokofiev. Toccata in D Minor.It is a percussive, violent piece. It requires stamina. It requires aggression.
I hit the keys. The sound explodes in the glass room. It is sharp, brittle, resonant. I play with anger. I play for the cold. I play for the blood. I play for the man dying in the metal chair behind me. My fingers fly. The rhythm is relentless. It sounds like a machine gun. It sounds like a train on the tracks.
I look at Kaiser. He is watching me. His pale eyes are wide. He is tapping his gloved finger on the desk. He is captivated.
I reach the climax. The pounding chords. The dissonance. I slam the final octave. The sound hangs in the air, vibrating against the glass walls.
Silence.
Kaiser claps. Slowly. Three times. "Exquisite," he says. "Violence in D Minor."
He presses a button on his desk. "Med-team to Command. Prep the tank. Trauma protocol."
Two medical droids—actual robots on wheels—roll into the room, followed by two human technicians. They swarm Alaric. They lift him onto a stretcher. "Wait!" I cry, running to him.
Alaric grabs my hand. His grip is weak, but desperate. "The drive," he whispers. "Keep the drive. Don't... give it... until I wake up."
"I won't," I promise. "I'll be right here."
They wheel him away toward the medical bay. I watch him go. I am alone with the Architect.
"He will live," Kaiser says, pouring himself a glass of water. "My machines are better than any human surgeon. They will repair the nerve damage. They will flush the blood. He will wake up in twenty-four hours."
"Thank you," I say stiffly.
"Don't thank me yet. The transaction isn't complete." Kaiser points to the server room beneath our feet. "You want to destroy the Syndicate?"
