59

Weary from the fruitless hunt and the disastrous night, Daragon slumped into the chair behind Ob’s former desk. He swept his arm across the desktop, knocking stacked printouts to the floor. Angry. Frustrated. Unable to give up. Would it never end?

Overhead, fish swam about, oblivious to the man below.

His uniform smelled of sweat, smoke, and drying blood. After a lifetime of searching he had discovered his father at last, a Phantom . . . then the man had died in Daragon’s arms.

And Eduard had escaped again. Daragon had no one to blame but himself.

His work as a BTL Inspector seemed the only stable thing he could grasp, but even the Bureau gave him no joy—not any longer. He rested his head on his crossed arms, feeling terribly alone. He had driven all of his friends away, but he didn’t know what he’d done wrong.

Back in the Falling Leaves, before the Bureau had taken him away, Daragon often felt uncertain and terrified. He knew something was deeply wrong with him, but Teresa had always comforted him in the dark. She would pull the blanket over his shoulders. His eyes flashed against hers in the shadows, straining to exercise his mind, attempting to swap with her. But he felt nothing stir, no sense of joining with her, or with anybody. He would finally squeeze his eyes shut, then bury his face in the hollow of Teresa’s neck. She would shush him, tell him everything would be all right.

How had he changed so much?

The COM screen buzzed insistently, startling him. Jax had left a message for him. “Come see me.”

Daragon sighed. The Data Hunter probably wanted company, maybe someone to read to him or chat with. He wiped the message from the screen, ignoring it—but words flashed back on in brighter, larger letters. “Come see me. You’ll be glad you did.”

Grumbling, he strode out of the office. He’d had enough screwups for one night, and he had no patience left. He marched down the undersea corridors and barged into the chamber with its mists and coolants, dim lights, and odd off-putting smells. His hands on his hips, he looked impatiently up at the harnesses where Data Hunters dangled from the ceiling, adrift in COM. He couldn’t even tell which of the pasty blobs belonged to Jax. “All right, what do you want?”

One of the pallid, soft-skinned forms lowered. Jax turned to him with a childlike smile and said in a taunting, singsong voice, “Guess what I found! Something you’ve been looking for.”

Daragon’s heart leapt. “Eduard? Where is he? Give me some good news.” He hesitated, still focused on the case. “Or did you find any of Chief Ob’s three former caretakers?”

Jax sounded petulant, as if Daragon had spoiled his fun. “The caretakers have utterly vanished, Daragon—their files permanently scoured, even to our experts. Which means, in my estimation, that those people are dead. Such a scandal for our former Bureau Chief, if that information were ever to be released. Naturally, that will never happen.”

“Are you saying there’s some doubt now? Could Eduard have been telling the truth?”

“Your friend has been found guilty, regardless of any extenuating circumstances, and further details about Master Ob’s possible bad habits will never be made available to the public. Higher up in the Bureau, it has been decided that such information would serve no positive purpose.”

Daragon’s face felt hot; he didn’t want to hear such things, didn’t want to know them. “Then why did you call me here?”

“Unlike you, Daragon, I have other cases to follow.” The voice from Jax’s speaker sounded like a huff. “I’ve found what your friend Teresa Swan was looking for.”

Daragon was taken aback. Months ago, he had pleaded with Jax to recruit the help of the Data Hunters, even promising to read another book out loud, cover to cover . . . if they came up with something. Jax would probably choose a massive tome such as Nicholas Nickleby or David Copperfield. But if they managed to help Teresa, then at last she might forgive him. Maybe.

“I can’t explain why we didn’t see it before.” Jax’s voice came through the nearest speaker. “Somehow our most careful searches missed a critical nugget of data, until now. Here’s where you can find her, a place called Precision Chaos.”

Daragon stepped forward, raising his chin. “Thanks, Jax.”

Finally, he could do something right again. At least he hoped so.