“Where did you go?” he asks.
I shake my head and hurry to join the others, just as Jas is done at the weapons stall and calls us over. Charlie turns to look at the sudden commotion behind us; I risk a peek.
Several concerned people surround the stallholder now as he shouts. “It was a little witch, am telling ya! I swear it on the Old World. She wants locking up, the bitch!”
“Someone’s been at the shrub juice, I see,” Charlie says, shaking his head at the increasingly angry man.
Ari’s gaze darts from the stallholder to me, his eyes narrowing. I raise my eyebrows a fraction and shrug as we all walk away. I can’t risk attracting attention here, but that guy was well out of order.
We leave the lively space and descend via an iron staircase.
“How much farther down does this place go?” I ask.
“Low enough. We needed something deep down. It’s the only way we can be sure of—”
Charlie cuts off when Jas shoots him a hard, disapproving look.
“Oh bugger, I’m off again!” Charlie says. “Pay me no mind—I get confused sometimes. I mean who doesn’t want secure digs, right?” he hurriedly adds. “And this place was always designed to be off the grid, what with the illegal gaff above.” He opens a door for us. “It was the perfect place to set up the Den.”
The Den? I straighten, trying to summon courage I don’t really feel right now. I turn to Ari and he meets my gaze. The same doubt lurks in his. His hand moves toward me, his expression reassuring. But then he pauses and drops it before he touches me, and a deep russet blush spreads across his cheeks. Instead, he looks at me and nods as if to say it will be all right. I swallow and nod back, cursing the warmth in my own cheeks now.
Charlie enters a series of codes into the largest door yet, and we walk through. He halts before another similarly hefty door where a laser scans us. We’re granted entry. I gulp, my grip on the brolly tightening as I take in the sight ahead. Ari tenses beside me.
I’m not sure if they can fix the Kabul’s propeller.
But I do know these people are very definitely up to something.
The Den is considerably smaller than the place above it but far more intimidating. Technology of every kind dots the room. Real screens are lost among the sheer number of holograms, and information hovers everywhere you look. We pause just inside the doorway. The surrounding walls and ceiling reflect strange instruments.
I point at the odd apparatus. “What are they?”
Charlie whistles. “Only the most advanced scrambling and blocking signals!”
“Why? What do you guys do?”
He suddenly looks as if he thinks he’s already said too much; he glances away and presses his lips into a straight line. If only Theo were here. He’d not only love the place, but I bet he’d know exactly what they’re up to in an instant. How well does Papa know these people?
There are at least twenty-odd people around the space, all of them looking busy. Several work on the projections—sifting through what looks like endless charted data: coordinates, costs, and all manner of categorized info. An elderly, agile woman exits one of the many doors around the open space, heads straight for a giant wall rack and busies herself with the biggest armory I’ve ever seen. Why would they need weapons? She seems to be inspecting each piece, checking each one against a file hovering beside her.
Charlie takes Ari and me to a small group watching a news report. It’s an interview with Captain Sebastian. A chill comes over me as I’m reminded of his involvement in all this.
Are they tracking me in some way? I must trust in Theo’s modification.
We wait as Charlie moves to the front of the group and speaks with a Black woman. She turns around, and I immediately know it’s Bia. She most definitely looks like she’s in charge, her dark-brown eyes focused in a soft face. Bia, lean and statuesque, glances at both Ari and me. Her eyes linger on my face, and then she lowers her gaze and shakes her head, her expression tightening. I chew on my lip; have they changed their minds about fixing the propeller? She moves forward and beckons us all to a quieter area.
We take up a group of chunky, comfortable sofas, one of several seating areas randomly scattered around. Jas joins us, too. Ari refuses to take a seat and stands by, leaning on a structural post. Charlie brings food and drink. I shake my head at food but ask for a cup of tea.
I shift in my seat as Bia studies me; her oval russet-brown face is tilted, eyes searching. Long dreads hang down to her waist, and a bright orange silk flower is pinned to her dress. She crosses her legs.
“So you’re Hashem’s child,” she says. “Can I see the note?”
I pass her the paper Papa had scribbled her name on.
She nods after reading it. “Very well. You need help, and I will not turn you away. But know this: I’m deeply uncomfortable with you being here. Once your vessel has been sorted—” She breaks off to turn to Jas. He leans in, has a hushed exchange with her, and leaves the room. “Then you leave immediately. Understood?”
I twist my hair and nod.
“And know that very rarely are strangers allowed inside the Den,” she continues. “You’re only here because I trust your father without question. This place is years of hard graft, girl. You never mention its location to another soul. Is this clear?”
I nod again, hoping I’ll never forget. “How do you know my papa?”
“I just do. We’ve never actually met. But I have nothing but respect for Hashem McQueen. I’ve done what I can to help Gideon locate him since he went missing. And I know your father would not have you within ten leagues of this place. He wanted to keep you safe. And Hashem never felt you would be safe if he joined us here. That’s all I can tell you. Don’t worry about your vessel—people are seeing to it as we speak. And then, like I said, I would appreciate it if you left instantly.”
Well, wow, my head’s spinning. So many questions. “Are you a scientist?”
“No. And now I have to go, I have—”
“But why would Papa think this place is dangerous for me? What do you—”
Bia holds a hand up when a frowning woman hurries toward us and whispers something about an earthquake. They both look back at one of the hovering maps.
Bia stands. “My apologies, it’s a busy day.” Her eyes take in my face, strapped fingers, and the way I’m curling my arm around my ribs. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry about the attack. You did well to come out of it alive, and by all accounts they got what they deserved. Need anything, just ask someone.” She gestures to the room.
“Thank you.”
She nods curtly and moves away, conferring with the worried woman.
I take Jojo from Ari, and he sits down to tuck into the food.
“You’re not eating?” he asks, chewing on a large rib with a hint of concern in his eyes.
“I’m not hungry.” My head’s too full of questions; I can’t focus properly.
I check on Jojo. The puppy’s wound is healing nicely. The effects of the treatment are wearing off, and she’ll awaken soon. With any luck, she won’t remember what happened.
Charlie comes over with my cup of tea. “Are you sure you don’t want some grub with that? If you don’t fancy what I brought over, I can cook up a mean omelet in no time. No trouble, I swear.”