“I don’t recognize it. I’ll take it apart and see if I can learn anything.”
“Did you get a good look at the man?” Emek asked me.
“Just his back and the side of his face. Short brown hair. No facial hair. Average build. Between 1800 and 2200 weeks old.”
“That’s a big help.” Emek’s turn to be sarcastic.
I bit back a nasty reply. “Now what?”
“The Committee’s looking for you. And Anne-Jade wants to talk to you,” Emek said. “I’m surprised she isn’t here now.”
The thought of being questioned by Anne-Jade and the Committee made diffusing a bomb seem like a pleasant task. Then I remembered the ISF wanted me to identify Sloan and his friends, which I was loath to do. Add that to Riley leaving me and all I craved was to curl up in a little ball in the quiet solitude of an air duct.
Rat fetched a set of clothes for me from the laundry. He had grabbed the green shirt and pants that the infirmary workers wore. I dressed in Emek’s office. Anne-Jade’s voice pierced my haze of exhaustion. She waited for me beyond the door.
Glad I had taken my tool belt with me, I strapped it on, placed Emek’s chair on his desk and climbed into the air shaft. Once again I was avoiding confrontation. I didn’t go far. Dropping down into the middle of the recycling plant, I scattered a group of workers. I apologized and headed straight for the stairs. Others had also clumped together and from the bits ofalarmed conversation I caught, they discussed the evacuation and bomb.
News of the attempted bombing could either work in our favor or ignite panic. If everyone kept an eye out for unusual activity and strange devices, it might stop the bomber from trying again, which would be good. Panic would bring nothing but trouble and more destruction.
I reached the infirmary without encountering any ISF officers. Unfortunately Lamont took one look at my face and accosted me.
“Trella, what happened?”
“It’d be easier to tell you what didn’t happen,” I said.
She swept my hair from my face and, for a second, I wanted to press her hand against my cheek. “I need to put a suture in your earlobe.” Inspecting my face, she frowned. “Who hit you?”
“Did you hear about the riot?”
“Of course. I needed to be ready in case there were injuries. Were you caught in the riot?” She tried to keep her tone professional, but alarmed concern dominated.
“Sort of. I…uh…started the riot.”
Lamont paused. “You’re serious.”
“Yep.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“All right. Come back to the exam room and I’ll fix your ear.”
As I followed her, I passed Logan’s empty bed. “Where’s Logan?”
She waited until I sat on the examining table before saying, “He’s in protective custody.”
“Arrested? The riot was my fault. Not his.”
Her eyebrows rose, but she smoothed them. “He’s not in the brig. With all the troubles, Anne-Jade thought he’d be better protected in a more secured location.”
Lamont filled a needle and approached. I flinched away instinctively.
She stopped. “It’s lidocaine. If you’d rather not?—”
“Go ahead. Numb my earlobe please. I’ve had enough pain.”
“Little pinch and I’m done.”
