Page 41

Hagen opened his eyes. From his prone position, he could see very little, and what he could, he didn’t recognize. Gray lines ran along the walls beside him. They seemed to rise and fall in waves. A bright-white light burned through his pupils and set his brain on fire.

He groaned and closed his eyes. His head was screaming in pain.

From his brief glance, he knew he was in the morgue room. The space was large, at least twenty by twenty, and well lit. No clutter or strange artifacts. This room was for clean study.

He was on one of the stainless steel tables, as if he were a tablet to be explored.

Or carved into.

Somewhere far away, Stella’s voice shot through his awareness.

“Federal agents! Weapons down!”

He waited for gunfire or screaming. But it was quiet.

The light burned less with his eyes closed, but he still felt like his head was exploding.

Every movement of his neck seemed to start another detonation in his temple.

Something sticky was glued to the side of his face.

And he couldn’t shift his arms. They were pinned down.

Whenever he tried to move them, something dug into his skin.

A new kind of pain, duller and less severe than the fiery throbbing in his head, but uncomfortable nonetheless.

Someone was talking.

The sound came as a drone, a distant echo as blurry and unfocused as his vision. He couldn’t make out the words, but the voice and the intonation were familiar.

He blinked again and resisted the urge to shake the confusion out of his head. That would have hurt far too much.

His stomach roiled. He wanted to throw up.

But he heard Stella’s voice. And someone else’s.

The world slowly came back into focus. The first person he saw was Stella, down on the floor, her body stiff as a board. Someone who looked like a security guard bent over her and lifted her gun away. The prongs and wires of a Taser came from her rib cage.

“Well, well. Just in time, Agent Knox.”

Hagen blinked against the voice. A woman. He was sure of it. But hadn’t it just been Napp in the room? Napp and the security guard toadies?

Napp’s voice boomed in joy. “If it isn’t the world’s greatest administrator!”

Hagen lifted his head as much as he could. Pain roared behind his eyes, but he forced himself to look.

Jodie Laird. The adjunct professor and Whelan’s administrative assistant.

Hagen had been a fool. Stupid. He should’ve seen it coming, should’ve been prepared. All these cuneiform experts were sixty-plus years old and couldn’t be bothered with a technological application like Dispatch.

Laird had access to everyone’s research. They trusted her. She was ambitious.

She must’ve been waiting patiently like all seasoned predators did. Even her moniker, the Administrator, was a dig at the “experts” around her. They and their research were nothing without her.

A shudder passed through Hagen, powered by anger and frustration. He blinked once, twice. His eyes focused, but he had to put his head back down, facing the side.

Stella was coming around, and she was not happy. The security guard lackey had barely managed to secure her weapon before she came roaring back to life. But even though the guard had a grip on her, her words were aimed at Jodie.

“You crazy fucking monster .”

Hagen strained against the ropes, but they didn’t give. He bent his wrists and searched with his fingertips for a knot to undo or a loose thread to pull. There was nothing. Napp’s ropework might not have been efficient, but it was effective. Hagen wasn’t going anywhere.

“Tsk, tsk, Agent Knox. Patience is a virtue.”

“And murder’s still a felony. Let’s not pretend we’re picking virtues now.” Journey’s voice came from somewhere on the other side of the room. It sounded like another of Laird’s goons had a grip on her.

“I don’t know you.” Laird stepped forward, ignoring Napp as he continued talking to the Dispatch audience. She stopped in front of Hagen, speaking over his head to a spot beyond Lucas, presumably where Journey was being restrained. “But you seem like a pain in the ass.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” The words were slurred, but Hagen recognized Lucas’s voice .

Hagen twisted, ignoring the nails hammering behind his temples. Lucas was tied face down in the opposite direction. Blood from too-familiar scratches lined the other agent’s bare back.

From the corner of his eye, Hagen could see a tripod with a smartphone set up near Lucas’s head. Napp droned on to the camera, talking about the words on the tablet, the prophecy inscribed on its surface, and the new era about to be born.

After Napp’s long introduction, Laird stepped toward the camera, taking her place in the spotlight.

Her voice changed, becoming quiet but commanding.

“The tablet is clear. Blood must flow. Sacrifices need to be made. So many have proved your loyalty to the tablet and its prophecy. You will be rewarded. To show you that your faith is not in vain, I, too, will make a sacrifice of the very people who have come to hunt us.”

Hagen had never heard anyone sound so committed and so insane at the same time. He dug a fingernail into the rope and picked at the fibers. They didn’t give. Beside him, Lucas’s feet twisted at his restraints too.

But he also saw a shadow pass over Lucas’s back. One of the security guards—the same bastard who had let them in the museum—stood over the agent. A sharp blade glinted in his hand.

Laird stepped away from the camera.

She moved to Lucas and lifted his head, exposing the agent’s throat to the viewers. Hagen strained at his ropes. He remembered the exsanguinated victims who’d plagued his thoughts for the last couple of months. He’d be damned if Lucas became one of the faces to haunt his dreams.

“You touch one more hair on him, and I will kill you with my bare hands!” Journey twisted against the guard who held her, but he had her in a headlock, and she didn’t have the space needed to get leverage.

Laird looked into Hagen’s eyes, seeming to understand the pain she was about to cause and relishing every moment of it. She glanced at her watch and smiled. “And now my sacrifice begins.”