Chapter 5: The Tower

On Friday I rode up to the thirtieth floor of Lowry Holdings in a glass elevator with Adrienne Merrick.

She didn't look at me once.

She looked at her tablet, and I looked at the river getting smaller.

"Ground rules," she said. "You sit where I put you. You don't talk until my father asks you something."

"Does he ask a lot of questions?"

"He asks the right ones."

"What if I have my own?"

She finally looked up.

Her eyes were gray and tired, and a little amused in a way she clearly hated.

"You're nineteen," she said. "You can't read a balance sheet."

"You're going to sit in a leather chair that costs more than your dorm."

"Everyone in that room will smile at you."

"That sounds like a trap."

"It's a Friday."

The elevator opened.

The same power that sharpened my hearing had been working on my eyes.

On Wednesday I had taken off my glasses to clean them and read a sign across the street, small as a coin.

I had stopped wearing them Thursday.

The ring had fixed that, quietly, and I hadn't told anyone but my roommate.

The boardroom stretched across the whole floor with windows on three sides.

Twelve people sat around a table.

They all stood when I walked in, and I could hear their hearts.

Some were slow and bored. Some were fast.

The man at the head of the table was neither.

Gordon Merrick was tall and silver at the temples, in a gray suit that fit.

He walked around the table with both hands out.

"Wesley," he said warmly. "I am so sorry we're meeting like this. Your great-uncle was the best man I ever knew."

"Thank you."

His hand was dry and warm, and his pulse was steady as a clock.

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