Her heart sank.
Bernie gave Hartgrave a pat on the arm. “I would’ve been another, if it weren’t for him. He found me before they came calling.”
She leaned in, feeling ill. “But Willi’s wife ... ?”
“I tried.” Hartgrave fixed his gaze on a wall, not looking at her or Bernie. “It isn’t a simple matter, getting strangers to believe they’re in danger from something so fantastical. Five years ago, I told Anna Durr she had to stop doing magic. We got into an argument, and I was still trying to persuade her when the Organization’s leader appeared. Popped right into the living room ...”
He stopped, swallowing with effort. “She was two feet away. She didn’t have a chance against him. Willi walked into the flat the moment after it happened, only to see her—see her—”
Bernie, perhaps sensing his assistance was required, stepped in. “He got Willi out. Saved his life. But after that, Hartgrave was as good as dead.”
“So he made it appear as if he was,” she mumbled. To think she’d been excited when she’d pieced together the bare details of his history a half-hour ago.
“Yes,” Hartgrave said, finding his tongue, “and then I ran here and have been hiding underground, like a rat, ever since.”
Bernie gave him a few more pats. “I was the one who found the hidden room, by the by,” he added in an asideto her. “It’s the reason I got caught up in all this. The air’s more parts magic than oxygen in that place—anyone wandering in would start spontaneously casting spells. Er—sorry, Em. No offense.”
“He knows about the anti-magic,” Hartgrave said, waving a weary hand at her.
She rubbed her temples. This seemed a bit off the key subject of murderous wizards.
“We have to stop them,” she said. “How do we stop them?”
“We’ve been working on that,” Bernie said, “but it’s been more—ah—theoretical than practical so far.”
Hartgrave sighed. “He means we’ve accomplished sod all.”
“And he means we’ve managed nothing—speak English, man! But we certainly have done something. Or rather, he has. He’s getting to nearly all the newly minted convincers before they are.”
“Oh.” The word came out of her mouth in nearly a whisper. “Oh,Hartgrave—”
“Don’t look at me like I’ve done something noble. It’s my bloody responsibility,” he snapped.
The man was a hero, was precisely what she’d aspired to be her entire childhood, and he’d just waved it off as if it were embarrassing.
“I’ll admire you if I want to,” she shot back. “Because itisadmirable, not to mention potentially fatal.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And you think going after the Organization directly wouldn’t be?”
“Well—if we can dismantle their operations, that’s a one-time strike instead of a never-ending defensivewar,” she said. “If you keep pushing your luck, it’ll eventually run out.”
“It may already have,” he reminded her.
On that cheerful note, Willi returned with dinner.
12
Plans Unveiled
The meal was painfully quiet. Emily wanted to tell Willi how sorry she was, but she couldn’t manage to break the silence. And “so sorry” was woefully insufficient.
In the end, it was Willi himself who spoke first. He shifted his bloodshot gaze to Hartgrave. “Does Dr. Daggett know the plan?”
As Hartgrave hesitated, Bernie jumped in. “No, actually.” He turned to her, his serious expression hitting harder than the others’ because she’d rarely seen him without a grin. “We’re trying to take out their tracking system.”
She’d assumed as much. That would make the problem way more surmountable. But if she’d understood Hartgrave, they weren’t close to accomplishing it. “What’s the set-up? Do you even know where it is?”
“They have it in the cellar of their headquarters,” said Willi, who either didn’t notice Hartgrave glaring at him or (more likely) didn’t care.
