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Dache often says,Always remember that it is possible that nothing is actually impossible.

What if, even with Townsend on our side, there is no way that we will ever end the power Ambrose wields, the power of Terrageddon?

As I consider the possibility, I stop talking.

Eventually Townsend speaks. “Are you still there, Cranston?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“When all your ranting and raving stopped I thought that perhaps you had simply disconnected,” Townsend says.

“No,” I say. “I have not disconnected.”

“Good, because—” Townsend continues.

“But I am now,” I say, and hang up.

CHAPTER 98

ONCE I’M OFF the phone with Townsend, everyone on my team looks at me expectantly. They all know the question:

What’s next?

I turn and face the roomful of family and friends who will help me hatch big ideas, help me create peace and joy for the future. But at this moment they need to help me formulate a plan. Now that Maddy is safely back home, we need to decide what to do with the information that Ambrose is somewhere in Africa—and how we can possibly disarm a man who controls a machine with the power to destroy the entire planet.

“Here is the oldest advice in business,” I tell the group. “When in doubt, when all looks lost, when solutions are scarce, when morale is low, when the enemy is strong, there is just one thing to do… have a meeting.”

Then I add, “So, let us gather here again in fifteen minutes, and somehow, someway, we will build a plan.”

The small crowd quickly disperses, all of them thankful for the break.

Maddy has her own plans. She tells me, “I’ve got to take Belinda back to her place. She needs the comfort of her own bed, but she’s too scared to go home alone.”

“I understand,” I say. “Do what you have to do.”

Ten minutes later Belinda and Maddy are standing in front of Belinda’s recently replaced apartment door—or at least, what’s left of it. It’s been ripped off its hinges, shards of wood still hanging in the doorframe.

As soon as they walk inside, Maddy and Belinda are overwhelmed by the condition of the filthy room. They cover the bottom half of their faces, speaking through splayed fingers to avoid the smell.

“God,” says Belinda. “I thought it couldn’t be worse than it was when I lived here.”

As if to prove Belinda’s point, three very fat rats scurry across the floor, scattering trash as they go. Belinda yelps and jumps onto the coffee table, which collapses under her weight, dumping her onto the floor. The rats race toward the girl, curious, but Maddy jumps in front of her friend, waving her arms and yelling. The vermin dash away, disappearing into the ripped side of the couch.

Maddy points out that the ceiling above is stained with big brown blotches.

“I don’t even want to think what that might be,” she says.

“No, you don’t,” Belinda agrees. “I think that’s where my neighbor’s bathroom is.”

Maddy moves into the kitchen and flips on the light. Immediately, thousands of cockroaches scramble for cover. There are so many that it seems as if the entire floor is moving.

“You can’t stay here,” says Maddy. “This isn’t sanitary, to say the least. You don’t even have a door, Belinda. Anyone can walk in and out of here.”

“Gosh,” Belinda says. “Who’d have thought there’d ever be a break-in in a classy building like this?”

“At the very least we’ll need to get you a new door,” Maddy says, eyeing the empty frame. “And definitely a new lock, plus a dead bolt.”

“Yeah, sure, that way no one can come in and steal the rats and the roaches,” says Belinda.