More sirens than he’d ever heard in his life were wailing in the distance. There were even air-raid sirens going off mournfully somewhere.

Grady listened. He then leaned down to look between the railings of the stairwell. He saw a form race in front of the light on the floor below, and he gave chase, rushing down the stairs. Halfway down he activated the gravis to gain speed and heard a horrendous cracking sound. He turned off the gravis as he touched the landing and dove aside as a concrete slab collapsed where he’d just been standing.

He took a deep breath. Apparently gravity modification was not advisable in here . . .

He moved out onto the floor in the direction he’d seen the fleeing shadow move and was relieved to see that this level, too, had few walls. He studied the layout and started moving toward the far corner—where he was pleased to see that another stairwell door was bricked up with newer cinderblocks. There did not appear to be an exit that he couldn’t easily see. And he knew Hedrick didn’t have a gravis.

Or a weapon. Hopefully.

Grady crunched across brick dust and garbage, listening carefully and glancing in every direction. He was moving toward the tall windows now, and he could see there was broad ledge out there. Another glance and he realized that the thick window columns were the best cover for getting past him on the floor. So he carefully edged out toward it, standing in the shadows for a moment before leaning out.

Ten feet away, clinging to a corner, was Hedrick in his now torn and dirty business casual clothes. He was bleeding in several places, his normally immaculate hair disheveled. Hedrick clung to a corner wall on the ledge but risked wagging a finger at Grady.

“Do you realize what you’ve done, Jon?” Hedrick pointed up into the sky.

Grady followed his gaze to where the BTC office building still rose into the sky like an alien mother ship.

“You’ve destroyed the greatest storehouse of knowledge since the library at Alexandria. You have doomed the Western world to be eternally decades behind a . . . a synthetic intelligence in Russia and some mnemonic freak in Asia.”

“I know you have other facilities, Hedrick. Hibernity for one. And I need to know where it is.”

“Where?”

“And you have copies of those technologies—of all the plans for making them.”

“There are no backups, you idiot. We couldn’t keep those plans off-site because of the danger of BTC Asia or BTC Russia raiding us. Keystone technologies like the cure for cancer, immortality, the gravity mirror—all of that went up with BTC headquarters. Don’t you realize what you’ve done?”

Grady felt a sinking feeling, but after a moment he nodded grimly. “We can reconstruct them. Especially if we have the innovators behind those technologies—and they’re at Hibernity.”

Hedrick gritted his teeth as he looked out across the decayed building. “This is what happens when we don’t act as responsible stewards, Jon.” He gestured to the ruins. “Michigan Central Station—done in by the automobile. Disrupted out of existence. The entire city practically in ruins.”

Grady stepped out on the ledge. “You’re coming with me.”

“No! Stand back.” Hedrick peered nervously over the edge. “I’m the only one you know who’s aware of Hibernity’s location.”

Grady considered this. “You need to tell me where Hibernity is, Graham.” He started walking closer.

“I’ll jump.”

Grady could see Hedrick was shaking—coated in sweat. “I don’t think you will. And even if you do, I’ll jump off after you with the gravis and stop you.” Grady moved forward and reached out for Hedrick’s sleeve. “Just come with me.”

But then Hedrick raised the arm he had hidden around the corner—and in his hand was a piece of rebar with a chunk of concrete on the end. He lashed out with surprising swiftness and strength, and only then did Grady realize Hedrick might have had some genetic enhancements as well.

Grady ducked back against the wall as the chunk of concrete grazed his cheek, then impacted his bulk-diamond helmet—which sent Grady falling backward. He caught himself on the window frame and pivoted to see Hedrick—teetering on the ledge, wavering his hands for balance.

Hedrick had apparently been propelled toward the edge by the counterforce of his own swing.

“Jon!”

And just like that, Hedrick tipped over the edge, screaming as twenty stories yawned below.

Grady leapt over the ledge after him, punching the gravis’s power button as he did so. He dove straight down like a diver, twenty feet behind Hedrick, whose screams trailed off as the floors raced past them. Hedrick’s panicked expression and outstretched arms reached for Grady. But Grady couldn’t close the distance. And after straining with everything he had, he reluctantly had to reverse gravity—slowing and slowing as Hedrick screamed anew. Receding.

“No!”

Grady came to a stop hovering four floors above the massive roof of the main station hall. Below him Graham Hedrick slammed into the stone roof like a bug on a windshield. Rivulets of his blood drained into a nearby rainspout. Grady felt a sensation of utter failure come over him as he looked down on the body of the former BTC director.

Moments later Alexa descended into the air near him.

He looked toward her with some measure of relief to see her safe.

They exchanged grim looks.

Grady looked down at Hedrick’s remains. “Newton’s third law is a bitch . . .”

CHAPTER 34

Loose Ends

Grady and Alexa descended in broad daylight onto the roof of the Fulton Cold Storage building—discretion be damned. Skyscrapers were falling into the sky today. They didn’t care who saw them.

Grady approached the stairwell security door. “How do we get in?”

Alexa glanced back at him as she ran. “I’ll tear this building down with my hands if I have to.”

Alexa moved like a panther toward the security door, passing Grady. She slowed suddenly as they both noticed the thick door was slightly ajar—with a brick holding it open.

“Careful . . .”

Alexa just pulled the door open and raced down the stairwell. Grady rushed to keep up, but he had trouble taking the steps six at a time without a gravis—ill advised indoors. By the time he’d gotten to the bottom of the stairwell, he could see that the diamond-aggregate nanorod door that Cotton was so proud of was open, and Alexa had already raced inside.

“Damnit! Alexa . . .” Grady rushed in after her and saw her striding through the place.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, “Cotton! Where the hell are you?”

Grady glanced around the kitchen and living areas but didn’t see any signs of movement. He soon followed Alexa toward the large workshop, and there they heard motors whirring.

It was immediately obvious that Cotton had gone. Most of his equipment had been removed—the shelving empty and the laser cutters and robotic milling equipment missing. The space echoed with their footsteps as they moved across it.

But there was still one well-lit workbench with holographic displays flickering above it against the far wall. Robotic arms there were busy working on something, and as they approached, they could see the screens were filled with images of cellular biological activity—cells dividing in culture.

On the workbench the robotic arms appeared to be tending the cultures. The video was a close-up of one petri dish.

As they stood looking at it, another holographic screen popped up nearby: Cotton’s face.

He smiled apologetically. “Yeah, hi, guys. I know I’m just a recording, but even I can tell you’re mad.” His hologram held up his palms. “Way out of line launching those pricks and their headquarters into space. But if you’re here, well then . . .” He shrugged. “You’re here, right?”