Page 142 of Lone Wolf

“The individual.”

“So that means…”

“We give it to them. Democratize it.”

Joey nodded. “Crowdsource the countermeasures.”

“At least everyone’ll have the same fighting chance.”

He moved the files back to the desktop.

Hovered the mouse over the UPLOAD button.

“Are you sure?” Joey asked.

“Of course not.”

He thought about what Jack would do. Tommy and Candy. What Aragón’s slant on it would be—and even Luke Devine’s, though he mostly detested the man. Then he closed his eyes, exhaled deeply, and scattered their voices to the wind. There were no rules for this, no commandments.

At the precise moment he’d made up his own mind, Joey rested her hand atop his on the mouse.

Together, they clicked.

EPILOGUE

No Please

Evan had entered a rare pure phase of mindfulness meditation. Cross-legged on his floating bed, eyes veiled, a full awareness of every last—

DONCHA WISH YER GIRLFRIEND WUZ HAAAWT LIKE ME?!

That goddamned alert.

Half drunk with endorphin release, he grabbed the RoamZone from the comforter beside him and asked “Do you need my help?” before realizing it was not a call but a text.

forgot 2 tell u i left a gift 4 u in the vault

Okay, he texted back. And then: Change my ring and text alert remotely.

kewl kewl i’ll dig thru some classic Menudo 4 u

I don’t know what that is but no please.

He slid from the bed, set his bare feet on the poured concrete, and stretched deeply, feeling his back pop. Then he padded through the bathroom, passing through the secret door in the shower and into the Vault.

Vera III was floating.

Just like his bed, her tiny white pod had been hoisted magnetically. Above a small electronic base she rotated, a perfect rosette atop her multicolored glass pebbles. Her fleshy leaves splayed outward in a roller-coaster display of fun. She looked like she was having the time of her life.

He walked over to his L-shaped desk and sat before her. She spun and spun, free of gravity and earthly concerns.

Her floating bed delighted him. The perfect gift.

He was rising to go when he saw a new alert for his account: [email protected].

The email was from Melinda Truong. The subject line read: FINALLY SOURCED KARISSA LOPATINA’S ORDNANCE SUPPLIER.

Crouched a few inches above his chair, he felt it come on at the base of his spine, premonition tightening into dread.