“Once again . . . Connor Lassiter.”
Still Sonia says nothing. Let him kill her, she will still not speak. She thinks he may step forward again and cause her even more pain, but instead he turns to the trunk and, without the slightest hesitation, kicks it to the side, then flips back the rug to reveal the trapdoor beneath.
“Did you think I was stupid? I was a Juvey-Cop long enough to smell a hiding place the second I walk into a room. I wonder how many stinking AWOLs you have down there. Ten? Twenty?”
It’s a far more effective tactic than pain as far as Sonia is concerned, and this bastard knows it. “Leave them alone! You’re not here for them,” Sonia reminds him.
“Indeed not.” Now he sits on the edge of her desk, close to her. On her desk is a bowlful of old-fashioned cigarette lighters she was polishing and preparing to display in the shop. He pulls one out, silver with a red enameled rose, petals like flames.
“I truly pity you,” he says. “You’re the old woman who feeds the pigeons and allows them to propagate and spread disease.” He flicks the lighter and watches the flame as it dances. “You’re the misguided soul who lets rats overrun the city because you think they’re an endangered species.” He waves it before her, dangerously close, taunting, and she can do nothing about it. “You’re certainly old enough to remember what it used to be like. People afraid to leave their homes for fear of feral teenagers, while other people suffered needlessly with everything from heart failure to lung cancer!” He flips the lighter closed, snuffing the flame, but doesn’t put it down. “People like you baffle me. How could you not see the good in unwinding?”
And although Sonia does not want to dignify him with a response, she can’t stop herself. “Those kids are human beings!”
“Were,” he corrects. “Each has been deemed by society, and even by their own parents, to be worthless. What makes you think you know better?”
“Are you done?”
“That depends. Is Connor Lassiter down there with the rest of your pigeons?”
Sonia considers how she might respond, and decides that a half-truth may set them free.
“He’s flown the coop. Here and gone. He won’t stay anywhere for long.”
“Then you won’t mind if I check downstairs, will you?” He pockets the lighter and pulls out his gun—then a second pistol, checking the clips. One must be loaded with tranqs, the other with bullets. By the way in which he had shattered her cane, she knows those bullets are the deadly hollow-tipped kind. Miniature grenades exploding on contact. Her AWOLs won’t stand a chance.
And then Sonia has a desperate idea.
“Connor left . . . but Lev Calder is here. I’ll get him to come up . . . if you leave the rest of my AWOLs alone.”
He smiles. “You see—that wasn’t so hard. I had faith you could be reasoned with.” He goes over to the trapdoor and reaches down toward it. “Be good,” he tells Sonia. “And be convincing. If I leave here with Lev, I promise the rest of your brood will be safe.” Then he pulls the trapdoor open and nods to Sonia.
“Lev!” she calls out. “Lev, can you come up? I need your help up here.”
No response.
“You can do better than that,” whispers the split-faced man.
“Lev! Get your ass up here!” Sonia calls, much louder. “I don’t have all day.” And Sonia closes her eyes, silently praying that those kids down there are smart enough to figure it out, and to do what needs to be done.
35 • Risa
Four minutes before the trapdoor opens, Risa hears a gunshot, and the sound of something—or someone—thudding to the floor. They all hear it, and it freezes them in the middle of whatever they’re doing.
“Shh! Nobody move,” says Beau. Then quieter: “And nobody talk.”
Suddenly it’s as if the floor beneath them—or, more accurately, the floor above them—has turned to ice that could fracture with the slightest shift of weight. The first thing that Risa does is reflexively look for Connor, then an instant later realizes he’s not there. According to Sonia, he went to take care of “unfinished business,” and although Sonia wouldn’t say specifically, Risa knows what that business is. Just like the time he rescued Didi from the doorstep, Connor has impulsively chosen the wrong time to do the right thing. She curses him and prays for him at the same time, because at least he’s away from here.
Everyone looks up, following the sound of something heavy being dragged from the shop and into the back room. Is it Sonia being dragged? Is it Grace? She was out taking care of “unfinished business” as well, wasn’t she? What if one of them was shot? What if one of them is dead?
Beau turns off all the lights except for the single dim dangling one in the middle of the basement, because without it the darkness would be unbearable.
“What do we do?” asks Ellie, a girl who’s always looking to Risa for guidance.
“Listen to Beau,” she whispers. “Stay still, and stay quiet!”
Risa, however, is the first to break their terrified tableau, and looks for something she can use as a weapon. She finds a claw hammer. Other kids, seeing what she’s doing, move quietly to find their own makeshift weapons.
Risa sees Beau eying the one window in the basement. It’s a small thing positioned high up the wall, in a far corner. The glass is smudged with grease that makes it impossible to see out, or in.