We’d built this machine to survive decapitation.
The problem is… she wasn’t the head.
She was the shield.
“Is the boy compromised?” I ask.
“No. Marco Rossi hasn’t moved.”
“Then he will.”
He always does.
I stand and walk to the window.
The city looks the same.
It always does, right before it doesn’t.
“Contingency Black,” I say.
My assistant stiffens. “That triggers exposure.”
“Not if we aim it.”
“And the child?”
I don’t answer immediately.
That is enough of an answer.
“Saint Lawson and Marco Rossi will not stop,” I say. “So we give him something he cannot ignore.”
“That will bring every Ranger down on us.”
“Yes,” I agree. “Eventually.”
“Then what?”
“Then we vanish.”
I turn back to the desk.
“Find the woman,” I say. “Not the tavern. Not the Rangers.”
“I want Lane Rossi’s baby.”
“The baby,” my assistant asks quietly.
“Yes,” I say. “The baby.”
I look at the map.
And start choosing the knife.
89
Laney
