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Another polite chuckle, and I walked away, ignoring the further questions they threw at me. They never seemed to run out. At least they’d laughed. Maybe it would keep them from panicking—for now.

“Nicely handled,” Kara murmured, and Captain Wiliams gave me a subtle nod too.

The nightclub we went to was small and niche, and I very much doubted it was Moreau’s target. But we went through the motions anyway, peering in dark corners and tapping on the walls. At least it wouldn’t take too long.

A SPAR officer came to find me an hour later. “Assistant Director? Call for you, sir. Captain Williams is on the top level.”

“Thanks.” I trooped back upstairs, Kara and Iyoni abandoning their search to follow me.

“He’s here now,” Williams said when he saw me, and handed over a chunky walkie-talkie with an attached earpiece and a mic on the cable.

I pushed it in place. “Hello?”

“Xan,” Marlow said in my ear. “Don’t do anymore interviews.”

Great . “It wasn’t an interview. They ambushed me.”

“Just ignore them from now on.”

“Fine, whatever. I didn’t think I did that badly.”

“You did good,” she said with a weary sigh. “But your presence pours oil on the fire. All the stations are now covering your interview and dissecting it.”

“All right, I get the message. Just trying to help.”

“I appreciate that. One moment.”

I stood waiting while she spoke to someone, the words muffled as if she’d covered the mouthpiece. “Vera Kline thinks you may need to give a warning later, if … if we don’t have any luck. I’ll let you know if we need you to talk to them again.”

“What kind of warning? We can’t exactly tell the whole city there’s a bomb but we don’t know where.”

“We’re working on that,” Marlow said bluntly, and ended the call.

Right.

I handed the radio back to Williams, but he waved it away.

“They want you to keep it,” he said. “I have another. It’s a SATCOM transceiver. Secure channel back to HQ.” He showed me the basic functions.

“Fine.” I clipped it on my belt and shoved the earpiece in my pocket.

“We’re wasting our time here, Captain. This venue is too small and too underground to be a likely target.

Mor—” I cut myself off just in time. “The bomber would likely want somewhere bigger, or something more public. We’d be better off checking street-level restaurants. ”

“I agree,” he said, conveniently ignoring my slip—if he noticed. “Let’s move on.”

It took precious minutes to gather up the rest of the team, then we headed to the next venue—a large restaurant, already open for lunch. I stood by while the Captain negotiated for access with the pissed-off owner, clenching my jaw and resisting the urge to tap my foot.

Seven hours left, and we were getting nowhere.

*

The SATCOM transceiver buzzed on my belt.

I pulled out of the air vent I was half-way in, wearily climbed to my feet, and reached for it.

“This better be good news,” I muttered to Kara as I pushed the earpiece in.

It was almost seven o’clock. We only had an hour left.

“It’s Xan.”

“I don’t think we can wait any longer,” Marlow said, sounding as ragged as I felt. “We have a duty of care to let the public know.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I replied, nerves frayed, not bothering to hide my exasperation. “You’ve waited until now, and you want to give them only an hour’s notice?”

“We want you to talk to the media. Your face is well-known, and our polls tell us—”

“And say what?” I cut her off. I didn’t give a damn about polls.

“A general evacuation order for high-density areas. Restaurants, nightclubs, shopping centers.”

“That’s insane. The panic would cause more harm than it prevents.”

“Assistant Director,” Marlow snapped, “I’m giving you a direct order to—”

“Listen, Madeline. I know you’re tired and stressed, but you need to rethink this. Is this Kline’s idea? Has Firth blessed off on this? Is he there?”

There was a long pause. “You’re on speaker. We’re all here.”

“Firth?” I asked. “You really want to do this?”

“No, Mr. Sullivan, I do not. I voted against the idea.” His voice was terse, the message clear: Marlow had pulled rank. For once, Firth and I were on the same page.

“We have no choice,” Marlow said. “If that bomb goes off, the consequences will be catastrophic. Not just loss of life, but legal, political and moral. We’ll get crucified for withholding the threat.”

“You’re worried about your career?” I asked before I could stop myself, then winced. We were all hanging on by a thread, the stress getting to us.

“This isn’t open to debate,” Marlow said sharply. “The decision is made. Vera has prepared a statement, and I want you to—”

“Sorry, not doing it,” I said. “She can do it if it must be done. I still have a bomb to find.” I killed the connection and pulled out my earpiece, glaring at Kara and Iyoni. “She wants me to talk to the media.”

Iyoni grimaced. “Makes sense. Some kind of warning would be prudent right now.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re siding with her? You think mass-panic is any better?”

“There aren’t ‘sides’, Xan,” she said softly. “There’s no right-or-wrong way to do this. I take it you don’t agree with her?”

“No, I don’t.” But Iyoni’s doubt had me wondering if I was wrong.

“Well, she can’t force you, can she?”

“No …” I looked at Kara. “What do you think?”

She shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea.”

“Well, they don’t need me to make an announcement, and if I do, it’s not just helping them—it’s going on record. Moreau sees that, he’ll take it as open defiance.” I clenched my jaw. “Not going there. Not with his threats to you.”

“Agree with that,” Iyoni said. “Kline or Marlow can do it just as well as you.” She frowned. “Why did they even ask you?”

I waved a hand dismissively. “Something about polls and the face of the media.”

“Makes sense too,” Iyoni admitted. “Still, a degree of plausible deniability might help keep Moreau at bay. You were right to refuse.”

“Was I, though?” I wasn’t sure anymore. Putting Kara’s life before the lives of other innocents was no different to what Marlow was doing, protecting her career and what was left of SPAR’s reputation.

I dropped back to my knees and crawled once more into the air vent. I couldn’t even remember where I was. A shopping center? No, that was the last one. The basement of a restaurant. Get behind the front-facing facades, and they all looked the same.

All we could do was keep looking. We had less than an hour to go. Even if we found the damn bomb, we still had to get disposal to it and make it secure—though I’d settle for evacuation at this point.

“They put an announcement out,” Iyoni said, checking her phone.

“What did they say?”

“It’s bland, vague,” she said, scanning. “Rising tensions, urge the public to remain vigilant, avoid large gatherings, stay home.” She shook her head. “It’s a cover-your-ass message.”

“Figures,” I muttered. But I couldn’t find fault. There were no good options.

The minutes drifted by, and the team I was working with grew more frantic. All over the city, I knew the same would be happening. The whole of SPAR was out looking, the entirety of the NPPD engaged in the hunt.

And we’d failed.

7:59 PM.

I walked out of the restaurant I was in, Kara and Iyoni beside me. Captain Williams stood grimly nearby, his hand pressed to his earpiece.

“Anything?” I asked.

He put his hand over his microphone. “No. Just listening in on the emergency channel.”

We stood in the street, bracing ourselves for the explosion, holding my phone as I waited for eight o’clock to tick around.

My SATCOM walkie-talkie buzzed, and I flicked it on quickly, shoving the earpiece into place.

“Have you found it?” I asked. “Tell me you’ve found it.”

“Nothing,” Marlow said, crushing my hopes with that one simple word. “Where are you?”

“Snow Street,” I said, having to check the sign to remind myself. “Providence Eagle bar.”

My phone showed eight o’clock. Any second now.

Kara reached for my hand and I clutched hers, both squeezing for the reassurance.

“Anything?” Marlow asked tersely. “No team has reported an explosion.”

I checked my phone: 8:01 PM. “Nothing.” I gritted my teeth. “Could this have been a hoax?”

“God, I hope so,” she said. “I’d willingly take the embarrassment over—”

The signal cut off with a loud burst of static, and I pulled the earpiece out in reflex.

Across the street, Captain Williams did the same.

We stared at each other.

“You lose signal?” I asked.

“Yes.” A single clipped word. Then, more slowly: “It’s a SATCOM system. That shouldn’t be possible.”

“Raise another team,” I said.

“I can’t,” he said, jaw tight. “It’s line-of-sight if the main hub goes down.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Where’s the main hub?” I asked, already guessing the answer.

“SPAR HQ Communications.”

“Fucking wild goose chase,” I said as I stared west, half expecting to see a pillar of smoke rising up above the extremities of the city. “There was no bomb. He wanted us exhausted, running around, and out of his way.”

And he’d got his wish.

It was all on me. I’d been the one who had taken Moreau’s call. I’d been the one to pass the message.

He’d wanted me to undermine SPAR from within, and he’d made me do exactly that.

My phone rang, and I pulled it from my pocket, already knowing what I’d see: a withheld number.

I glanced at Kara and Iyoni, gritted my teeth, and answered. “Hello?”

“Xan.” Silas Moreau’s rich, cultured tones made him sound like he was sitting on a beach, enjoying a cigar. “Had a good week?”