Westchester County, Shadow Dealers Compound

  Two days later

  Malcolm Whitmore picked up the phone again, ready to speed up the development of Mindjevity. Before he could dial, the ancient rotary telephone on his desk rang. He stared at it for a long moment, then lifted the receiver.

  “Operator Niles,” the voice on the other end announced.

  “What do you have for me, Niles?” Malcolm asked, leaning back in his chair.

  “We have Kyle and Paige in custody. They tried to board a train. The headset technology is destroyed. Mainframe wiped.”

  Malcolm’s jaw tightened. Deciphering that dead woman’s tech was already like sifting sand for a single grain. Kyle and Paige had agreed to help him reverse-engineer Jane Takahashi’s work, but clearly they had other plans. A liability.

  “Bring them to the interrogation room. Now.”

  An hour later, Malcolm stepped into a windowless conference room. Kyle and Paige sat bound to chairs, pale and exhausted. Malcolm smiled thinly as he took his seat opposite them.

  “Mr. Brennan. Miss Rothchild. I hope you appreciate the gravity of your situation.”

  Kyle’s eyes flicked to Paige before he said, steady but strained, “We destroyed everything. The headset, the mainframe—it’s gone.”

  Malcolm leaned forward, fingers steepled. “And the backups? Where are those?”

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  Kyle shook his head. “There are no backups. We wiped it all.”

  Malcolm bit his lip until he tasted blood. The copper tang sharpened his focus. With a snap of his fingers, masked men entered carrying electrodes and cables. Paige tensed as the gear was strapped to her body.

  “Stop this!” Kyle barked, straining against his bonds.

  “My tech may not be as refined as yours,” Malcolm said coldly, “but it extracts the truth just fine.”

  The first jolt ripped through Paige. She screamed, body writhing, and Kyle fought against his restraints until his wrists bled.

  “Where are the backups?” Malcolm demanded.

  Paige gasped, “There aren’t any!”

  Malcolm signaled again. A second jolt, harsher than the first, sent her convulsing. Kyle shouted himself hoarse.

  “You can end this,” Malcolm said, eyes on Kyle. “Tell me where.”

  Kyle’s resolve cracked. “There’s one more,” he blurted. “Old. Hidden. But it has what you’re looking for. Just—stop.”

  Malcolm’s smile widened. “Better. Much better.” He waved for the electrodes to be removed. Paige slumped forward, trembling, her breath ragged but alive.

  He crouched in front of Kyle. “You see, I don’t want her dead. Not yet. She’s the key to Jane’s genetic locks. You both are useful… until you aren’t.”

  Kyle’s head bowed in defeat, though Malcolm caught the flash of hate in his eyes.

  Hours later the convoy cut through the night toward the Hudson. Malcolm sat opposite Kyle in the armored limo, gaze drilling into him.

  “How did you hack the mainframe?” Malcolm asked.

  Kyle’s voice was hollow. “A virus. It wiped everything. Even the keys. There’s no way back.”

  “And the headset?”

  “Destroyed. Beyond repair.”

  Malcolm studied him, then let silence fill the car. He wanted Kyle stewing in fear.

  At the safe house, Kyle led them to a trapdoor in the basement. A code unlocked a small vault, revealing a hard drive and stacks of notes scrawled with equations. Malcolm plucked the drive from its resting place, his eyes gleaming.

  “Well done, Mr. Brennan. Now you’ll help rebuild the headset. Fail…” He glanced at Paige, who was dragged in by the guards, barely standing. “…and you’ll watch her die slowly.”

  Kyle’s jaw clenched, fury and grief warring across his face.

  Malcolm pocketed the drive, savoring the moment. He wouldn’t kill Paige yet. Not until she served her purpose. But when she did—when Kyle had nothing left to bargain with—then he’d end her. That promise alone would keep Kyle obedient.