Page 164 of Hellbent

The bodega sign was turned to CLOSED.

Evan slipped inside. The owner stood behind the cash register, trembling.

Evan said, “Lárgate.”

The owner scrambled out through the front door.

The blood drops were thicker now on the floor tiles. Evan followed them up the aisle and into the back courtyard.

Freeway was leaning against a metal post, clutching a gunshot wound in his side. His other hand held the straight razor. He firmed his posture and held the blade to the side.

Those black eyes picked across Evan. “You’re stupid to come here with no weapon.”

“Maybe so,” Evan said. “But I have one advantage.”

Freeway bared his teeth. “What’s that?”

“I don’t have metal in my face.”

He hit Freeway with a haymaker cross. The studs moored the skin. There was a great tearing and a drool not of saliva. The straight razor clattered to the concrete as Freeway hit his knees, the wreckage of his face pouring through his fingers.

Evan picked up the razor from the ground, looked down at Freeway.

“Look what I found,” he said. “A weapon.”

70

Negative Space

Sitting at his kitchen island, Evan fanned through Van Sciver’s red notebook again. He stared at the scrawl standing out in relief from the pencil-blackened page in the middle.

“6-1414 Dark Road 32.”

He’d returned to Castle Heights to make a few arrangements, laying the groundwork for the battle to come. In light of the conversation he’d overheard in the church, he needed to check the notebook again. Staring at the words now, he sensed the puzzle piece slide into place.

He walked past the living wall, catching a whiff of mint, and stepped through one of the south-facing sliding doors onto the balcony. He crouched before a square planter at the edge that held a variety of succulents and slid clear an inset panel. It hid a camouflage backpack, which he removed and carried inside.

He returned to the island, the notebook page looking up at him, the scrawl rendered clear in the negative space.

Joey came down from the loft, ready to go. She paused and took him in sitting over the notebook.

“You know what it means now,” she said.

He nodded absentmindedly.

“You gonna share?”

Evan shut the notebook as if that could somehow contain the problem within. “Yeah. (202) 456-1414 is the main switchboard for the West Wing,” he said.

She processed this. “And ‘Dark Road’?”

“A code word. Presumably to kick the caller to a security command post in the White House.”

“And the 32,” she said. “That’s an extension.”

He nodded again.

“That goes to who?” she asked.