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We’d built this machine to survive decapitation.

The problem is… she wasn’t the head.

She was the shield.

“Is the boy compromised?” I ask.

“No. Marco Rossi hasn’t moved.”

“Then he will.”

He always does.

I stand and walk to the window.

The city looks the same.

It always does, right before it doesn’t.

“Contingency Black,” I say.

My assistant stiffens. “That triggers exposure.”

“Not if we aim it.”

“And the child?”

I don’t answer immediately.

That is enough of an answer.

“Saint Lawson and Marco Rossi will not stop,” I say. “So we give him something he cannot ignore.”

“That will bring every Ranger down on us.”

“Yes,” I agree. “Eventually.”

“Then what?”

“Then we vanish.”

I turn back to the desk.

“Find the woman,” I say. “Not the tavern. Not the Rangers.”

“I want Lane Rossi’s baby.”

“The baby,” my assistant asks quietly.

“Yes,” I say. “The baby.”

I look at the map.

And start choosing the knife.

89

Laney