Page 210 of Breaking Rosalind

“Are there any more of your trackers in my body?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“What’s its range?” I ask.

“Mainland United States of America,” he says.

“What about Canada, Mexico, and all the surrounding islands?” I ask, disguising my question to protect Miranda’s location.

He shakes his head. “They don’t work, which is why we make sure our operatives wear devices that use satellite GPS and cellular triangulation and Wi-Fi.”

Relief loosens my chest, and I exhale. This lines up to what he said earlier about my location vanishing at the airport. The sensation doesn’t last long as my thoughts shift to my best friend.

Swallowing back a lump in my throat, I ask, “How did you find Britt?”

“She was sneaking about the lower levels of the mall,” he rasps. “I can only assume she was trying to make contact with you.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. She was supposed to leave the country, but must have stayed behind out of worry. When he shot her with a tranquilizer gun, there was no one to rush to her rescue.

Cesare places a hand on the small of my back. I turn to meet pale eyes that shine with worry, and I give him a reassuring nod.

“Who else has access to the GPS trackers?”

“Senior management,” he croaks. “Gunther, Henry, Marlena, Major Kline, and the director.”

“What’s beneath level ten?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just a data bank.”

“The data center is on level eight.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. Levels eleven to thirteen are where we keep the artificial intelligence servers.”

I already guessed that they kept enough data on operatives to create digital avatars of us after our deaths. No one would doubt that an operative moved overseas when they were available for telephone conversation or video chats.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out and check the screen, only to find a message from an unknown caller that says: Midnight in Paris.

Looks like Xero wants to meet us tonight at the Parisii Cemetery.

When I nudge Cesare and show him the message, he asks the doctor, “What do you know about Xero?”

The doctor’s lip curls. “That terrorist?”

“You know him?”

“He’s an anarchist who wants to destroy all kinds of organized crime. If you ever get the chance, kill him.”

I roll my eyes at the exaggeration. The only organization Xero wants to destabilize is the Moirai. If we can convince him to let us use his network of contacts, it will only be a matter of time before we catch up with Matteo.

But until then, I’ll keep this old bastard alive.

EIGHTY-FOUR

CESARE

The message Rosalind received didn’t contain any specifics about where in the cemetery Xero wanted us to meet. After turning that old bastard upside down again, we set off for the Parisii Cemetery.

It’s in the Parisii neighborhood, one of the oldest in Beaumont City and surrounded on the east, south, and west by houses and parkland. I drive to the only entrance that appears to be manned and slip the guard a hundred-dollar bill.