“Cloaking isn’t very effective out here,” Jovana says.
“It’s afternoon. Visual cloak doesn’t work well in full sun.” Mark’s voice is full of concern. “If she hails us, we have to stop.”
I want to ask what he means, but then the dash screen fills with big red words: VIGILANTE HAIL PROTOCOL.
“Don’t respond,” Jovana says quickly. “I’ll take the heat.”
Mark glances over at her. “That’s a downgradable offense in the network. I just made Phase Five last month.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Jovana says. “I’ll talk to Sutherland.”
I decide it’s time to play my trump card. “You sure about that? Because from what I’ve seen in the past twenty-four hours of knowing you, he isn’t returning your calls.”
The screen flashes again. RESPOND TO HAIL.
Jovana reaches forward and hits something. “I’ll do it.”
But the dash doesn’t change.
“Car won’t listen to your voice or respond to your fingerprint,” Mark says. He catches my eye in the rearview mirror.
Time to practice my lying techniques by mixing a little false stuff with the truth.
“Jovana called Sutherland last night from a parking lot in Nashville,” I tell Mark. “He wouldn’t answer.” I shift my eyes to her. “You also weren’t the first person she called to try to bail her out. The others knew better.”
Mark turns to Jovana. “Tell me she’s lying.”
She clasps his arm. “She’s lying. I talked to Sutherland last night.You can pull the records easily. And who was Sutherland’s original recruit? Me. Who got this whole plan started by taking Jax out of the picture?”
Mark relaxes. “All right.”
“She’s drugging you, can’t you see that?” I ask. “I’m not even a Vigilante and I can tell she’s using a prosthetic skin with a drug.”
He looks down. Jovana withdraws her hand.
Time to finish this up. “You probably want to offload me as soon as you can,” I say. “She kidnapped me because she was too desperate and out of choices to deal with any legitimate Vigilantes in the network.”
“SHUT UP!” Jovana yells. She almost flings her arm at me, but then remembers the laser grid and jerks her hand back before it crosses the lines.
Mark punches the dash. “Accept hail,” he says.
Jovana lets out a rush of air. “Don’t make me cut you out of the deal,” she says.
But she’s too late. The dash reads “Vigilante 07398 requests to commandeer your vehicle. This operative is your superior. Failure to comply will be instantly reported to your silo.”
“Don’t do it,” Jovana growls.
But Mark says, “Accept.”
We slow down and roll to a stop on the side of the road. Just ahead is a sign for a farm, the rusting metal pipes forming a rectangular arch over the slats of a cattle guard.
“System under control of Vigilante 07398,” the car announces. “Security deactivated.”
The laser grids blink, then disappear.
“Great,” Jovana says. “Just great.”
I let out a long breath. I push aside a piece of hair that fell over my eye hours ago that I’d been unable to move. I rub at the small of my back, where my tension has formed a knot.
