“Frankly, should we be doing anything I come up with?” Peter muttered.
“Don’t wallow.Think.”
Solid advice. He frowned. “Do you know if they’ve made a duplicate transmitter?”
“Not as far as I know. I didn’t, after you left.”
Peter leaned forward. “Then we ought to steal it, destroy it and get the hell out of here.”
“Yes,” Beatrix said.
“That’ll buy us some time, at least,” he added. “They won’t be able to make another right away, and maybe we could convince someone to stop them.”
“OK,” Martinelli said, “but how are we going to steal it?”
“Do you know where the transmitter is?” Beatrix asked.
“No,” Peter admitted. “They’ve got it tucked away somewhere, but we could …” He trailed off as an unfortunate thought occurred to him. Draden’s men clearly had some way to create an opening in the shielding around the complex without setting off the alarms—that must have been how Morse teleported directly into the lower basement with him. The transmitter might not be stored in the building at all. It could, in fact, be anywhere.
Martinelli cleared his throat. “We could … what?”
Another unfortunate thought came to him—the way they could, without a doubt, get their hands on it.
Hehatedthe idea.
He said it out loud, and Martinelli hated it even more.
“I think we have to do it, though—don’t you?” Beatrix murmured. “All those people—could be hundreds of thousands …”
Peter winced. “Look, I want to get you home to your wife,” he said to Martinelli.
“Yeah,” Martinelli said heavily, “but I’ve got to be able to live with myself.”
That was how the two of them ended up back in the chute thirty minutes later, visible again. Stomach churning, he lowered himself down, followed by Martinelli, both of them heading to the prison they’d worked so hard to escape.
This time, though, Beatrix—still invisible—was with them.
The room was dark,quiet and empty. It didn’t appear that anyone had noticed the earlier getaway, but the long wait until morning gave Beatrix plenty of time to consider grim possibilities and every manner of other upsetting thoughts.
When the lights flickered on at five-thirty, it was a relief to finally be on the verge of doing something.
The wizard in the red coat brought Peter and Martinelli their breakfast. After they’d wolfed it down, the wizard returned to collect their plates—dropping the transmitter off on the way.
This was it. Peter and Martinelli knelt by it, Peter holding on to the transmitter with both hands. “Does the spellwork feel off to you right here?” Peter asked as she crept up behind them.
“Hmm.” Martinelli put his hand on it. “Yeah, I see what you mean …”
She sank to her knees, gripping Peter’s right arm and Martinelli’s left.Laboratory, old, unused, no equipment, no tables, stale air, faded white paint on the walls?—
The door opened. Peter’s muscles tensed under her fingers. Morse—Morse striding toward them.
“Tell me how to fix the problem you found yesterday,” he growled.
“Uh,” Peter said, “we just have a few more?—”
“Now,” Morse hissed.
“We’re not quite ready,” Martinelli said.
