She brought the hologram back to normal speed as cephalopod-like tentacles were force-feeding Grady as he screamed and struggled.

“Why are subjects force-fed? Why is he unclothed—and why is the cell empty?”

“The cells are completely self-contained to prevent prisoners from interacting with one other. All human bodily functions are superseded by the interrogatory AI.”

“Interrogatory?” She zoomed in on his head and the anguish there. “Why is it forcing—”

“Because Jon Grady resists domination, Alexa.”

She considered the hologram for a moment and then set it forward at many times normal speed. Slowing the imagery occasionally to hear and see the action in real time. As the weeks of surveillance imagery passed before her eyes, Alexa became at first horrified—and then almost physically ill. But one thing became clear:

Everything she had ever believed about the BTC was a lie.

Her mind again glazed over as the horrors unfolded before her. But the absence was no longer absence—it was hyperawareness. She finally realized.

They had deceived her. They had raised her from childhood to believe that what they were doing was saving humanity, but as she saw Grady crawling around his cell, screaming in agony, his entrails spilling out of him—this could not be part of that purpose. It must not be. Because if it was, then they had to reevaluate the very reason for their existence.

As the months of imagery and hours of real time passed, an idea began to form in her mind: Someone had lied to her.

Hedrick.

Alexa watched the muted imagery as Jon Grady wept in hopelessness. The AI’s tentacles entwined him—as his memories played on a wall moments before they were destroyed.

Tears rolled down Alexa’s face in the dim light of the hologram booth. But she did not fade away in absence. She felt the emotional trauma. She wanted to feel it. For once to know the truth.

Yet Grady continued to resist. For all their technology, the BTC could not beat him.

Varuna’s voice came to her. “Now do you see, Alexa?”

“Yes. I see . . .”

She was a prisoner, too—her very DNA the property of the BTC.

CHAPTER 21

Escalation

Denise Davis strode through the FBI’s Chicago field office with her right arm in a sling, bruises and cuts on her face.

Thomas Falwell kept pace beside her. “I don’t understand, Denise.”

“They’ve compromised our communications. Even our supervisors follow their instructions without knowing. It’s because they’re inside our computer and telecom network.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe this BTC stuff?”

She gave him an ambivalent look. “You weren’t there, Thomas. This Alexa woman damned near killed me with her bare hands, without breaking a sweat.”

“Nobody likes losing a fight—especially you. I get it, but—”

“It’s not just the fight. I can’t even tell you the other things I saw. You wouldn’t believe me—just believe I’m telling the truth.”

“And the twins—who Grady claims are clones?”

“I know it sounds crazy. But have faith in me.”

“And you’re determined to go through with Grady interviewing Cotton?”

“If I can get the SAIC to buy in, yes.”

He tugged her good arm to stop her and spoke quietly but intensely. “You realize this is a career-making case? That playing into this crazy BTC conspiracy story will ruin—”

“You weren’t there, Thomas.”

“I’ve worked ten years on this case, Denise. A big chunk of my life. I got demoted for it. And now you’re going to start saying that Cotton isn’t a bomber—that Grady isn’t dead. That maybe his other victims aren’t dead.”

She met his gaze. “The possibility needs to be investigated.”

Falwell glanced just ahead of them, toward the corner office of the Special Agent in Charge, where an admin was talking on the phone. “And you trust Bollings?”

“I don’t think the BTC has people inside—I think they eavesdrop on our systems. Technology is their thing. Besides, I need to get the SAIC’s buy-in for the Cotton interview—and I need him to be there as a witness.”

Falwell held up his hands in submission. “It’s your career.” He moved away, back toward the elevators.

“Thomas, you’ll be on the lookout for Grady where I said, right?”

He nodded grimly. “You know you can always count on me, Denise. Just be careful.”

Davis watched him go. She couldn’t really blame him. They had a slam-dunk case against Cotton. Cotton had confessed to everything. Of course Cotton wanted a trial for publicity, but in some ways so did the FBI.

She wondered about Cotton some more but then decided to march ahead. Davis smiled at a young male admin assistant as he hung up his phone. “Denise Davis to see Agent Bollings.”

He nodded. “He’s expecting you . . .” The admin got up to knock on his boss’s door, leaned in for a moment, then moved aside. “Go on in.”

Davis entered and was surprised to see another man, a big red-faced guy in a suit sitting on SAIC Bollings’s sofa.

“Close the door, Denise.”

She did so, keeping an eye on the unknown man.

The SAIC sat on the corner of his desk and gestured to the man. “Denise, this is Bill McAllen, the deputy secretary of Homeland Security.”

A wave of surprise rolled over her. “Good to meet you, sir.”

The man stood much taller than her and extended his large hand. “Call me Bill.”

The SAIC grabbed his laptop. “I’m going to step out and get some coffee, Denise. Give you and Deputy Secretary McAllen a chance to talk alone.”

“Yes, sir.” Davis watched him go with some alarm. The door closed again behind him.

The deputy secretary motioned toward a chair across from the sofa, and he sat back down. “Don’t be worried by my presence here.”

Davis sat uncertainly. “Okay.”

“I read your report about what happened in New York. But it seemed to be incomplete.”

“How so, sir?”

“It seemed to have the actual events missing.”

She stared at him.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been investigating something called the Bureau of Technology Control. Is that correct?”

Davis said nothing.

“You’re wise to be cautious. The BTC is not to be taken lightly.”

Now she felt a wave of shock. “Then Grady is telling the truth?”

“I don’t know all that he said to you in New York, but—”

“Clones. Fusion. Immortality. That they’re hoarding advanced technology.”

McAllen nodded grimly. “Yes. This prison Grady told you about—this Hibernity . . .”

“He said he escaped. Showed me holographic video from a tiny device he carried—it contained statements from prisoners. People who had apparently made breakthrough inventions.”

“Did Mr. Grady say where this black site prison was located?”

“He didn’t know, but the device contained some sort of tracker that could lead him back to it. He just needed technical assistance to read it.”

“Where is Mr. Grady now, Denise?”

She hesitated.

“I know. You’re worried, and you have no reason to trust me.” He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “But look at me. I’m a sixty-two-year-old father of three, five grandchildren, and I bowl. There’s only one thing that I care about, Agent Davis, and that’s leaving a world worth living in for my children and grandchildren. If this BTC is hoarding innovations that could improve the lives of billions of people—and if they’re using this technology to augment their own power—well, then we need to stop them, don’t we? Are we agreed on that?”

Davis laughed slightly. It seemed ridiculous, but looking at the large, blunt man, she really did believe him. “I don’t know where Grady is at the moment, Deputy Secretary, but I know where he will be.”