Could Sacha make that kind of determination without Lehrer signing off on it? Noam had no idea.
He sensed the Faraday cage as soon as they stepped out of the elevator. It was hidden behind an unlabeled white door, metal glittering in Noam’s awareness like the outline of a weapon.
Sacha turned to look at him, his expression something that could have been amusement, but wasn’t quite.
“That’s right,” Sacha said, as if he could tell what Noam was thinking. “Pure copper. I had it made specially. In there, you can’t use your power to influence anything outside that room, and no one else’s power can reach you. Still. Better to be cautious.”
He gestured, and something sharp jabbed into Noam’s neck.
“Suppressant,” Sacha said as the soldier to Noam’s left put the plastic cap back on his syringe. Noam clapped a hand to his neck, as if that would make a difference. “Developed by the old US government during the catastrophe. Illegal now, of course. Our mutual friend made sure of that. But there are always loopholes.”
The soldier on Noam’s right entered a code on the keypad next to the door, and when the door slid open, he shoved Noam inside. By the time Noam caught his balance, the door had shut, trapping him within that perfect copper net.
Immediately he reached out with his power—or tried to. It was like grasping at someone’s soapy hand, grip slipping every time he clenched his fingers.
“Fuck!” Noam shouted, kicking the table hard enough it skidded two feet across the concrete floor.
Calm the fuck down, he told himself, his toe throbbing and breaths coming in shallow little gasps.That wall’s a one-way mirror. Sacha’s out there. You have to be calm.
All right. Okay.
Single table, two folding chairs. One door, locked. Observation mirror. Suppressants. Faraday cage.
Well, Noam could presumably use the chairs as weapons if he had to, but even if he knocked out whomever was in the room with him, he wouldn’t get far. There was no keypad to unlock the door from inside, for one. And if he got into the hall, he’d have to deal with the other soldiers. They’d have guns, and he didn’t have magic.
How long did the shit in that syringe last, anyway? Was there a chance it could wear off before they remembered to re-up him? Noam scanned the room but couldn’t see cameras or any other tech.
I had it made specially, Sacha had said.
Noam got the feeling he wasn’t the one this room was built to contain.
That’s it, then. He was fucked. If this room was strong enough to keep Lehrer in, no way was Noam breaking out.
Single table, two folding chairs. One door, locked. Observation mirror. Suppressants. Faraday cage. No cameras. What else?
People.There were people out there, presumably watching right now. Could they hear him?
That tech could be fucking flawless, but Noam was a programmer. He knew all about human error.
“Hello?” Noam said, turning to face the one-way mirror. His reflection peered back, wide eyed and pale. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“Listen,” Noam said anyway, hugging his arms round his waist and trying to look harmless. Just a scared kid caught in something too big for him to understand. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Can we talk? Please?”
He moved closer to the mirror, imagining Sacha standing on the other side. Even though he was probably staring somewhere over Sacha’s shoulder or something, Noam met his own gaze in the reflection and held it.
“Please. I just... I’m sorry. I know I was out of bounds. It was stupid. I won’t do it again. But really, isn’t this”—he waved his hand at the room—“overkill?”
Silence answered.
“Can I at least get a lawyer?”
He ought to stop talking. He had no idea what Sacha’s people knew. He could be damning himself with every word.
He spun away from the mirror so they couldn’t see his face. He was so fucked. Sacha knew Noam was Lehrer’s protégé. Sacha had little to no chance of ever getting Lehrer in this position with good reason to detain him and strip away his rights, so Noam was the next best thing.
Noam dragged one of the folding chairs out from behind the table and dropped into the seat. Okay. Eventually, Sacha would send somebody in. They’d ask about Brennan. About Lehrer. They’d probably torture him.
