He looked it over. I watched his gaze track the floor plan, pause on certain areas. His mind working.
“What about it?” he asked.
“I think that’s where we can get Vormund’s attention.”
His head snapped up. “How so?”
“He won’t come unless I give him a reason,” I said. “I want to give him one he can’t ignore.”
His first instinct was to say no, but he caught himself. I watched the emotion flicker over his face. I braced myself for his resistance, but instead he surprised me.
“Which is?”
“I’m his prize prototype. He wants me back for recalibration.” I paused, gave him a pointed look.
He considered my words. “So, what, you walk in there and hand yourself over?”
Clearly, he hated that idea.
“No, I walk in there, destroy some of his research, and leave a message to draw him out. We need him in the open. Exposed.”
“What kind of message?” he asked.
“The kind that says his prototype is hunting him now.”
He sat back in the chair, ran his hand over his eternally stubbled chin. Did the man even own a razor?
“No, I don’t,” he said, mouth twitching.
I blinked. “You heard that?”
“Yes.”
Ah, so he was testing me. Or he was testing himself. He’d been doing that more often—turning it off and on without warning. I never knew when he was listening.
Then I wondered how he managed to keep his face groomed like that forever. The mystery deepened. Obviously, questions living in my head that were totally unnecessary.
“So, while you’re fucking up his research, what am I doing?”
“You’re getting us in and out alive,” I said.
He studied the floor plan. “I need a schematic of the building. Security systems. Weak points.”
“Right here.” I slid the second paper toward him.
“You could have opened with that,” he said.
“I wanted to hook you first.”
“I suppose you have guard rotation, too?”
“Well, I don’t, but Silas does.” I pushed that toward him next.
He studied it a moment too long. Then nodded once.
When he was silent for longer than I liked, I said, “Well? Can it work?”
“We can make it work,” he said.