Chapter 15: Floor B2

In the car, Jonah talked fast and low, with his eyes on the road.

"She'll want you alone. She'll say it's kind."

"And you?"

"I'll be in the lobby with Dale, being the prodigal son." He turned the wheel. "Stairwell C runs from the loading dock to B2."

"Can you get in?"

"My card is dead since I resigned. The keypad beside it still works."

"Does Dale know the code?"

"Dale has used the same four numbers for three years. He thinks nobody watches him type."

"You watched."

"For two years." He glanced at her. "Give me ten minutes. Keep her talking."

"You said never go below three."

"I know what I said."

"You said neither of us goes alone."

"Then you'll be the one who breaks it," Jonah said. "I'll get there as fast as I can."

The Institute was lit up at one in the morning, and the lobby was empty.

The pastry table had a cloth over it.

Hester stood beside it in her grey cardigan, holding a teacup in both hands.

The red cord was looped over a button, with the keycard hanging from it.

"Maren," she said warmly. "And Jonah. How lovely."

She turned her smile on him.

"Jonah, sit with Dale. You must be exhausted."

Jonah sat.

He did not look at Maren as she crossed the lobby.

"Just us, dear," Hester said, and tapped the card against the brass plate.

The elevator took them down past three.

Maren had never felt an elevator drop so slowly.

She kept her bare hands folded in front of her.

"Tea?" Hester asked. "I made a pot."

"No."

"You're angry. I understand. I'd be angry."

The doors opened on B2.

It was exactly as the reading had shown her, a long concrete hall under white lights.

A row of steel doors ran down each side, with a small square window in each.

It smelled of bleach and something warmer under the bleach.

At the third door, a face rose to the glass.

It was a girl of about twenty, with a patch of scalp shaved above one ear.

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