It was everything Sam could do not to flinch at the casual violence. But he managed to keep his face expressionless.
“She made Brown an offer, okay?” Luke said, sounding more frantic by the moment. “She wants the independent operators to throw in with her, make Sullivan deal with them and her at the same time. If they didn’t agree, she figured it would be better to take them out than have them side with him.”
“That’s why you tried to kill me,” Alistair guessed. “Because we refused Fabiano’s offer.”
“It wasn’t personal,” Luke insisted, as though that would make anything better.
“But why did you join her?” Sam asked, baffled. “You work for Mr. Sullivan!”
Luke’s eyes darted around frantically. “She-she came to me, Mr. Sullivan, you’ve got to understand. She’d heard I’d been screwed out of being the head of your hexworks, wanted to offer me a better deal.”
Sam felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him. He’d known Luke hadn’t been happy about being passed over, but he’d thought they were still friends. That Luke would get over it, if Sam could just…
What? Keep telling him he was doing a good job, just like Vic probably had? Sam had never been ambitious, but for someone who was, that wouldn’t be enough.
“So she has the look-away hex now,” he said hollowly. “And anything else we’ve made. I trusted you. I…”
He trailed off. How could he have been so wrong? How could he have misjudged so badly?
“Glenda?” he asked. “Please, tell me she isn’t in on it too.” He didn’t think he could handle both of them betraying him.
“That broad? She doesn’t have the imagination. Haven’t you noticed, or are you just incompetent?”
Alistair growled, but Sam held up his hand. He’d been called a lot worse things, by people a lot closer to him than Luke. “I’ll talk to her,” he said, the words aimed at Sullivan. “I’ll make sure.” To Luke, he said, “The look-away hex is complicated, takes a lot of specialized inks. How did you get the supplies to…”
He trailed off. The report that had vanished between the overseer’s desk and his own.
“You stole the hexes already made,” he said. “Then the report off my desk, so I wouldn’t notice any discrepancies between what was copied in the scriptorium and what went out the door.”
Luke swallowed hard but didn’t reply. He didn’t need to; the answer was on his face.
Cautious hope swept through Sam. “Fabiano wasn’t supplying him with the inks and other components. So that probably means he’s the only one smuggling anything out of the hexworks, otherwise it would show up in the reports. I’ll go back over them with a fine-toothed comb, but I think we’re okay?”
Well, not okay, not even remotely so. But at least everyone in the hexworks wasn’t selling secrets to Fabiano.
“You know,” Sullivan said contemplatively, “if there’s one thing I hate, it’s ingratitude. I treated you with respect, Mr. Gallo. Paid you what you were worth. Gave you due consideration when it came time to replace Mr. Nagorski. But instead of trusting my judgment, you threw it all back in my face.”
Luke’s skin turned the color of cottage cheese. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done it, it was stupid. I’ll tell you everything Fabiano knows—no! I’ll be a-a sort of double agent! I’ll pretend to still be working for her, but really I’m working for you.” He tried to smile, but it looked more like a terrified grimace. “I’ll make up for it, I promise.”
Sullivan’s face hardened. “You had your chance, Mr. Gallo.”
Raw terror showed on Luke’s face. “Sam—Sam, you’ve got to help me. I never meant to—I was wrong! You’re a great boss, I see that now.”
Sam wanted to…he wasn’t entirely sure. Put Luke on a train to Canada, maybe, so he’d be gone and all his treachery with him. Not have to worry or think about him ever again.
Not have him die.
He started to open his mouth, but Alistair caught his eye and gave a little shake of his head.
Sullivan turned to the stairs. “Enough. Come with me, Mr. Cunningham. Mr. Bellinowski, you know what to do.”
“No!” Luke shouted. “Don’t, please, I?—”
“Shut up.” Bellinowski punched him in the face, the sound like a steak hitting a concrete wall.
Nausea twisted in Sam’s belly. He wanted to protest, to do something…
Alistair caught him by the elbow and herded him toward the stairs. In a daze, he let himself be guided up and out of the bleak basement.
