He laughed. “We should make that your code name. Soul of Conformity or SOC for short.”
After Riley left, I contacted Jacy through the device, telling him about our plans. “Send Logan up at hour twenty-six. He tends to get nervous so it would be a good time for another distraction. I also need the frequency of the bug in Karla’s office.”
If all went as planned at hour twenty-six, Logan would dress in the Pop Cop uniform and take the lift to level four where Riley waited to escort him to our storeroom.
Realizing I used “our” instead of “Riley’s,” I grunted with amusement. Storeroom also failed as a descriptor. Recent events had transformed the room into an infirmary, a hideout, and a bedroom. Riley had ordered me to rest.
I wormed into a comfortable position, but my thoughts swirled with worries and my hip ached. Giving up, I scanned the room for something to distract me. Besides Riley’s electrical sketches, nothing caught my eye. I could understand why Domotor hadn’t waited for Logan. Boredom was worse than unclogging pipes for waste handling.
A little gray lump rested under the desk. Careful of my stitches, I eased to my feet and shuffled to pick up Sheepy. His mother was a few feet away. I carried them both to the couch. Small flecks of blood dotted their coats and I used the water in my drinking glass to clean them off.
I wondered about Riley’s brother. From his comments, I guessed the boy died right after birth. So where was Dada Sheepy?
Eventually, I dozed, dreaming about sheep. I held a bleating lamb as I waded through a hallway filled with sheep. A wet crunching sound chased me. It grew louder as I stumbled over the animals convinced Chomper’s blades would soon bite me. I tripped. Rolling over, I pushed the lamb behind my back to face the threat, but Cog stood between me and darkness.
He offered his hand. I grasped it and he pulled me to my feet. Then he stepped aside and flung me toward the LC.
“Use her to ensure their cooperation,” he said.
His laughter followed me as she dragged me away.
“Game’s over Tre... Trella. Trella. Wake up.”
I squinted into the daylight. Riley stood next to a Pop Cop. Wide awake in an instant, I nearly tore my stitches sitting up before I recognized the face. “Anne-Jade? What happened?”
“Logan’s being monitored,” she said. “A Pop Cop noticed he was spending a lot of time on the computer.”
“I thought they were all busy with the search,” I said.
“Most are, but a few Pop Cops are convinced the missing scrub is being helped and are determined to be the one to find you and get a promotion. They’ve made life in the lower levels even more intolerable.” Her gaze swept the room. “Although, I must say I’m disappointed in level four. Is level three any better?” Anne-Jade asked Riley.
“No. It’s about the same.”
“Pity.”
“Anne-Jade, do you have any news?” I asked.
She settled on the couch, leaving Riley to sit on the floor. “The first thing I’m supposed to tell you is from Jacy.” Her nose creased with distaste. “He says you owe him big and when this whole mess is over, you’re his slave for a week.”
Nice of him to be optimistic.
Riley’s mouth opened in stunned outrage. “He doesn’t mean?—”
“No.” I assured him. “Jacy will have me planting his bugs all over Inside. Go on, Anne-Jade.”
“Logan gave me a list of password questions to memorize. Do you have a wipe board?”
Riley rummaged through the desk, and wrote down the questions. All were vague yet with enough information to make it seem possible to answer. The third question mentioned a platitude about being unable to see. No quick answers jumped to mind.
“What about the uppers? Did Logan have time to check them?” I asked.
“Yes. He said he found one of the names mentioned as an informant in the security files. The rest had clean records.”
“Which one?” I asked.
“Kiana Garrard.”
Her name banged hard against my metal heart, sending vibrations along my skin. I shouldn’t be surprised. If she could abandon her child in the lower levels, she could rat out her husband and others.
