Four hours from Washington to Varenholm if you obey traffic law.
Nadia drives. I sit in the passenger seat because my hands need something to do and the wheel is the something. Faye is in the back with her phone, managing the legal team, the regulatory confirmations, and updates from Reth. Reth follows in the second vehicle behind us while the city disappears in the mirrors.
Gregor went outside twenty minutes ago and did not come back.
I sit with that fact carefully. Gregor is sixty one years old. He spent twelve years inside Marre’s operation and the last two weeks inside my compound learning how to exist there again. He walked outside. Eight of Kelsh’s unofficial people arrived on the perimeter road shortly afterward.
Those facts are connected.
“He knew they were coming,” I say.
Na
