Then he sat back down at the breakfast bar and took a couple of paracetamol, because a paramedic ex had told him it was okay to mix them with ibuprofen. He wasn’t quite up to the walk to the Young Street hub yet. He couldn’t be bothered to watch the overnight news streams. If there was anything bad, ED would have called him in.

He slipped on his screen sunglasses. “Hey, Apollo, any calls or emails from Savi?”

“No.”

“Ping her mInet for me, pal.”

“No response.”

“Bastard.”

Callum didn’t get it. Six bloody days and not a single minute away from dumb student radical eyes? Maybe it’d all been some kind of con? She’d married him for his money, and the whole Diana Klub staff was in on it. They jacked a couple of romance-bewitched tourists every month, laughing as they cashed in his…His what? All he had were good prospects. Can’t take that to the bank.

He shook his head wearily. “Grow up, you moron,” he grunted angrily.

It was clear what his brain was doing—trying to deny the obvious conclusion. Something’s happened. Something bad.

“Apollo?”

“Yes, Cal.”

“Set up a new news filter. Find any female students fitting Savi’s description, but not her name, reported missing from campus in the last six days.”

“Which campus, Cal?”

He shrugged. “All of them.”

“On the planet?”

I’m paranoid. But am I paranoid enough? “Yes,” he sighed. “Everything on Earth.”

“That might take a while. May I purchase additional processor time?”

“Do it.”

When he walked into the crew’s office, he might have laughed at the state of Alana and Colin—except he didn’t exactly occupy the moral high ground. Besides, he suspected he looked even worse than they did. Their sunglasses weren’t as dark as his. Raina looked as lively and peppy as she always did. And he was sure he had a memory of her matching his vodka shots. There was even a vague recollection of a cocktail glass alight with blue flame.

Raina gave him a weary, sympathetic smile. “How’s it going, chief?”

“Still alive. Why aren’t you hungover?”

“Younger, smarter, know where to score better drugs.”

“Bastard,” he grumbled.

Moshi was at the small kitchen bar in the corner, washing down pills with a big mug of tea. He hadn’t shaved, and Callum was pretty sure he was wearing the same shirt as yesterday. “Morning,” Moshi said, and slumped back into one of the settees before closing his eyes.

For Henry it was just another morning, and all was well with the world. But then Henry had been a responsible adult last night and gone home before midnight to be with his expectant partner.

Callum looked through the glass wall into the M & C Center. Fitz grinned and gave him a mocking two-finger salute. Callum responded with one finger.

“Okay.” Callum tried to focus on the news streams running across the wallscreens. One of the central pair was still showing the Gylgen facility; there’d been a heavy snowfall overnight, covering some of the more blatant damage to the building. “What have we got?”

“Why do we care?” Moshi asked, his eyes still closed.

“Nothing even close to interesting,” Raina said. “Especially no plutonium scares today.”

Callum gave her an irritated glance. He knew she’d find out eventually. But she needed to be smarter about it, particularly inside their own office. Does Security bug us?

Dokal walked in and took a disapproving look around the human wreckage. “Jesus Christ, guys. You’re supposed to be professionals. Couldn’t you even wait till the weekend?”

“We’ll probably have saved the world twice more by then,” Moshi said.

“Not in this state you won’t. Are you actually active-ready?”

“Alternatively,” Raina said, “well done for yesterday, everyone; Connexion is delighted, so I come bringing news of your enormous thank-you bonus.”

“There are two other crews on shift,” Callum said. “If we get called after them, we’ll be ready.”

Dokal gathered herself up for a rebuke, then relented. “Actually, Corporate’s appreciation will manifest in your next salary payment.”

There was some feeble cheering from around the office. Only Henry looked genuinely grateful. But then he’d recently been telling Callum horrific stories of how much new baby gear cost.

“Cal, a word.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He followed her out of the office.

Dokal gave him a closer inspection. “Damn. The state of you.”

“Hey, it’s a mild hangover, okay? I’m entitled.”

“Yes, but you’re not as young as you were.”

“Bloody hell, don’t you start.”

“At least your hair is normal today.” She gave his clothes a final inspection and sighed in disappointment. “Come on, someone wants to meet you.”

“Who?” Callum asked.

“You’ll see. But let me tell you, your upcoming bonus is going to reflect the company’s sincere appreciation for how you handled yesterday. There were some very senior people watching the feeds from the M and C.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Would it have helped improve your operation?”

“No,” he admitted.

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