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Back in his room—Vanya had escorted him from the operations room, said his access to doors still wasn’t working—Rodin checked for Eyes. He couldn’t do a scan—there were no suitable routines on the screen from Don—so he climbed up on the bed, ran his hand around the top of the wall, down the corners. He pushed the ceiling tiles up one by one, ran his fingers around their edges, around the frame they sat in. He investigated the shower, checked the desk and chair.
Only once he was confident he wasn’t under surveillance did he pull out Don’s screen. It only took a moment to connect to Authority’s system, and a dialogue box opened up. Rodin typed.
In position. Assessing.
In position. Assessing.Don must have been monitoring, because a response came as Rodin paced the room.
