“Before we begin, I’d like to put your minds at ease about something,” said the Grand Minister in his soothing voice, gazing at each person in turn. “You have, no doubt, heard many fantastical stories of my exploits, including, perhaps, the story of how I came to be in this wheelchair, missing a few important body parts. Yes, you don’t have to deny it; I know it’s true,” he chuckled, nodding as he watched the surprised expressions, the questioning, darting eyes. After a moment, he sobered. When he spoke again the faintest tinge of anger colored his voice. “My lifelong fight against the creatures who would kill every one of us if they could has indeed cost me a great deal. But I am not the only one who has paid a dear price, my friends. Each and every one of you has also paid. With your freedom, with your security, with the blood of your family and friends. We’ve all paid, in one way or another.”

Shocked silence. His words edged close to treason. No one dared speak.

“Even to the point of being denied the most powerful and beautiful natural resource of this planet, you have paid.” He paused, searching the gathering. “Who among you has ever seen the sun?”

After a moment of breathless quiet, all the older staff members raised their hands. Beside Lu, Liesel’s arm lifted slowly, until her hand was high above her head, trembling.

The Grand Minister’s voice turned hard. “I was there when it happened, when these filthy animals declared war on the human race. I was at ground zero in the jungles of Brazil on that day twenty-four years ago, and watched it all unfold firsthand.” He inhaled a shaky breath, then said vehemently, “They took our sun. The lifeblood of our world. Would you not agree with me that the theft of such a thing is an abomination? That the scorched sky and poisoned atmosphere and the decimation and degradation of life as it had evolved over millions of years is a crime so heinous it can never be forgiven?”

Vigorous head nods, murmurs of agreement. Lu tried to scratch her palms with the tips of her fingers, but couldn’t quite manage it while keeping her arms straight at her sides. The itch became almost unbearable, spreading out from her palms, snaking up her arms.

The Grand Minister’s face softened. He leaned back in his wheelchair; his hand loosened its grip on the cushioned arm.

“Friends, I’m not here to punish anyone. You’ve all suffered enough. On the contrary, any assistance given me today will be met not with punishment, but with reward. You may have witnessed things, heard things, perhaps even hidden things you thought might cause you or your family trouble if you spoke out. But speaking out will not get you into trouble. You have my word. Anyone who brings something to my attention that leads to the capture of one of these bioterrorists will be well compensated, treated as the patriots they truly are.”

The tension easing around her was palpable. Lu thought, You sneaky son of a bitch.

She was reminded of something her father often quoted, a line from the French poet Baudelaire. “The devil’s best trick is to persuade you he doesn’t exist.”

Well played, Grand Minister. Well played. Hatred hatched inside of her, foul as a rotten egg. He wasn’t fooling her with his soft voice and promises of mercy and reward. She knew a snake when she saw one, even if his poisonous fangs were sheathed.

Upstairs, several of the portraits began to shake, sending a tremor along the walls. The Grand Minister heard the sound and smiled, utterly without warmth.

“So,” he said, turning brisk, “I’ll meet with each of you in turn, and we shall see if we can get to the bottom of this, and then get out of your proverbial hair.” His gaze flicked over the room, searching. Then, horribly, as if magnetized, it settled directly on Lu. His chilling smile grew wider.

“Let’s start with you.”

From behind the pair of dented metal filing cabinets overlaid with a plain slab of stainless steel that served as the Administrator’s office desk, the Grand Minister sat in ominous silence, watching Lu as she stood nervously across from him, trying desperately to appear nonchalant.

Failing to appear nonchalant. Her breathing sounded like thunder in her ears.

“Fräulein . . .” the Grand Minister’s gaze dropped to the name tag on the lapel of her uniform. “Bohn.” His one blue eye gazed into her two brown ones. He seemed to be waiting for a response, so she nodded, and even that small motion felt loaded with guilt. She moistened her lips, waiting.

There were six men in the small office with them, lined against the walls on either side. Four more were posted outside the door. None of them had spoken to her as she’d been led in. None of them had touched her. Every one of them peered at her as if down the sights of a rifle.

All of them bore the faint scent of metal, and a much stronger odor of chemicals, bright as a new penny underneath the other scents of soap and cigarettes and skin.

Guns. Collars. Tranquilizers. The only things they’d need to take her down, and keep her there. When they moved, she heard the muted, musical chink of metal on metal as the collars hidden beneath their clothes moved with them.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the Grand Minister watched, his face devoid of emotion.

“I’m informed you were an eyewitness to the incident that occurred yesterday evening.”

Lu nodded, trying hard not to blink under his penetrating stare.

“And?”

Lu cleared her throat. “It was . . . ah . . . disturbing. Sir.”

His nostrils flared slightly, and she wondered if the man could actually smell a lie. If so, she was safe for the moment, because the incident had been disturbing, even if she’d been the initiator.

The Grand Minister kept staring at her in that inscrutable silence, and she was abruptly more angry than afraid. He’s trying to intimidate me into giving something away.

But Lu was used to keeping silent. And she hated bullies. She lifted her chin and said nothing.

The faintest hint of a smile curved his bloodless lips, there then gone. “Tell me, Fräulein Bohn,” he said, his tone conversational, “how old are you?”

Lu blinked. What an odd question. “Twenty-five, sir.”

He made a noise of interest. “Any health problems around your twenty-fifth birthday?”

Now Lu did more than blink. She did an outright double take. “Sir?”

The Grand Minister made a vague gesture with his skeletal hand. “Headaches, strange pains, sudden sickness, things along those lines. Anything out of the usual?”

Lu couldn’t help the look of incredulity on her face. This was what he was interested in? Her health? Where was the infamous assassin, the cruel tyrant of lore? It seemed innocent enough, but her senses prickled with the knowledge that this line of questioning was anything but innocent.

“No, sir. Nothing like that,” she insisted. “I never get sick.”

This piqued his interest, as evidenced by the lift of his brows. “Never? How lucky for you.”

Two of the guards shared a fleeting look. Lu’s sense that something was definitely wrong ratcheted a notch higher. “I mean . . . I . . . of course . . . the usual colds, that sort of thing, but nothing severe.”

This was a blatant lie. Lu had never been sick a day in her life. Not a headache, not a stomachache, not a single cavity. More than once, her father had insisted she take a “sick” day from work to hide that troublesome fact.

“I see,” said the Grand Minister, smiling now like the cat that has just devoured the canary. It was one of the most unnerving things Lu had ever seen in her life.