Julian stood on the van’s tailgate, the cold river mist swirling around his shoulders.
The words from the Casio register’s speaker still hung in the damp air like frozen breath.
Terminal Nine. Lost-and-Found Cage Nine. Dad’s 1996 Census Key.
Beside him, Lin Mei leaned against the van’s steel door frame, her hand pressing Elena’s clean gauze to the fresh red welts on her throat. Her dark eyes were wide behind her soot-streaked lenses, fixed on the small black calculator register in Julian’s coat pocket.
“Julian,” Lin whispered, her voice still rough from the ribbon’s choke. “Your sister... she knew where the census key was all along.
She hid it in the one place the syndicate couldn’t touch without an open transit audit.”
“She always was three steps ahead of the paperwork,” Julian said, his voice quiet and steady. “When we were kids, she used to hide the house spare key inside the municipal water meter box because she knew the landlord was terrified of city inspectors.”
“Thirty-five seconds, people!” Mac Cole bellowed from the driver’s seat of Bus #404.
