It was already the next day in England. How early would Crawford and Shaw set out?
So much for sort-of calm.
“No, no, this is a good sign,” Bernie insisted—too brightly. “If the autodidact were going to toss him out, they would’ve done it already. I’m sure he’s teaching whomever it is how to push magic away.”
She wrapped her shaking arms around herself, staring at the accursed green dot. “But it’s been six hours! How long does it usually take?”
Bernie glanced at Willi, then back at the screen. At that moment, the dot blinked out of existence.
“There we go,” Bernie said, the words twining with a sigh of obvious relief. “Give him another fifteen minutes or so, and he’ll be out of there—he always calls when he’s on his way to the airport.”
She spent the time pacing, expecting every second that one of the men’s cell phones would ring, but she still nearly jumped out of her skin when the call finally came.
Willi answered. “Hallo? Right.Gut. Ja, Wiedersehen.”
He handed her the cell. She hit the speaker-phone button and dropped it on the bed, afraid that even a short conversation without gloves might fry it.
Hartgrave’s voice on the other end of the line sounded as tense as she’d ever heard it, save for that disastrous evening in Clear Lake. “Daggett? There are no direct flights from here to Des Moines. It’s going to be hours. Better go to bed.”
“I don’t think I can,” she said. “I’ll wait up and come with Bernie to bring you back.”
“No,” he snapped. “Stay there.Stay.”
Okay, that was over the line. What was she, a dog? “I won’t,” she snapped back, her well of restraint tapped out.
“Daggett, so help me God, if you’re in Ballantine’s car when I walk out of the airport, I’m turning around and going back in.”
“I’ll bundle up—I’m not going to damage it.”
“That’s not the objection,” he said, raising his voice. “I don’t want you to leave the safety of the room.”
“Oh? Well,Idon’t want to be your effing Rapunzel!”
“My—what?”
“Rapunzel,” she hissed. “You know: Trapped in a tower? Completely useless character? One of those German fairy tales you claim make your ears bleed?”
Behind her came the sound of someone, either Bernie or Willi, desperately trying not to laugh. Hartgrave coughed, which seemed a wise move, as it gave him plausible deniability that he was doing the exact same thing.
“Am I the prince or the wicked witch in this scenario?” he inquired.
She wasn’t ready for the argument to be over, even if the turn it had taken was absurd. She frowned at the phone. “I’mserious. I’m not a damsel in distress, and I won’t let you make me into one. Anyway, what will you do when the semester starts? Bar me from teaching my classes?”
Six seconds went by before he responded, enough time for Willi to mutter “what is a ‘damsel’?” to Bernie and get a whispered answer back.
“Please,” Hartgrave murmured. “I’m very worried about what could happen to you. Please stay there until it’s time to take the system out—it won’t be long now.”
Oh.“When?” The word quivered with tension and excitement.
“A few more days—just enough for some self-defense lessons.”
Her mind was full of what the next few days would be like.
“Daggett?” he said, breaking into her reverie.
“Sorry. Yes—okay. I’ll stay.”
He let out a long breath. “Thank you.”
