Free Illusive by Emily Lloyd-Jones Page B

unusual enough, but even they are considered common next to… It takes Daniel a moment to remember the name.
Dominus.
    The implications make Daniel reel. The US government has a dominus. This information has to be top secret. If other governments find out—if the Republic or the Union find out—who knows what it could trigger. That’s why the cameras are turned off. There can’t be a record of this.
    The fact that Daniel has been allowed to see Aristeus, to understand what this man is… It means they have no intention of letting Daniel out of here. Not alive. Not carrying this knowledge. Which means, he realizes, that this is no simpleinterrogation. If the UAI is desperate enough to unleash a dominus, it means they know exactly what Daniel was sent to steal. They know about his job.
    The job that Daniel told Kit about.
    “Do you think the FBI can shut down the UAI?” Aristeus asks. “You think they can control us?”
    Daniel glances over and sees the two FBI agents; their expressions are torn between panic and shock.
    Daniel slumps forward onto the table.
    “I did offer to make you a deal,” Aristeus says, chiding.
    Daniel cannot bring himself to reply—he’s too busy dragging breath after breath into his lungs. A small line of saliva escapes his lips and pools on the table’s metal surface.
    Aristeus rests his chin in the palm of one hand. It’s a casual pose, one usually reserved for friends conversing with one another. He says, almost lazily, “You were recently contacted by a woman called Frieda Fuller, one of the leaders of the terrorist group called TATE.
I’d like you to tell me about it.
”
    Daniel’s lips crack open. They’ll overflow with secrets, he realizes. In a moment, he’ll be telling this Aristeus whatever he wants to know.
    Daniel is an eludere. He is supposed to be able to escape anything.
    Except his own mind.

8
CIERE
    M agnus rises to his feet in one graceful movement, getting to the window in two strides. His fingers twitch the blinds open. “Well,” he says, “there is no chance I’m meeting that accountant at five, is there?” He grinds his cigarette out on the windowsill.
    Ciere is already moving. “I think this is our cue to run.”
    “They’re after you?” Magnus says, but he sounds more surprised than accusatory.
    Ciere blinks. “What, you thought they were after you?”
    “Maybe,” Bellevue says in a faint voice, “they’re not after any of us.”
    “Maybe.” Magnus moves away from the window. “But we should still leave. Call the agency. Warn them that if there are any coworkers in the area, they should evacuate now.”
    Bellevue looks desperately glad for something to do; shefumbles in her pocket and withdraws a small tablet, unfolding it with trembling fingers.
    Already, Ciere can hear the shuffling feet, the cries of alarm, and then a siren screeches to life. “And there it goes,” Magnus says, satisfied. “Someone’s already pulled the fire alarm. That’s why I love this hotel.” He moves out into the corridor and gestures for the others to follow. Ciere immediately swerves to their left, but Magnus grips her arm. “What are you doing?”
    “Escaping,” she says, incredulous. “What are you doing?”
    Magnus’s long fingers encircle Ciere’s wrist. His fingers catch on the tracker bracelet. “You ever dealt with SWAT before?”
    Once. Just once. A long time ago.
    “No,” Ciere lies.
    Magnus draws her back against the wall, out of the path of two businessmen, who nearly flatten each other in their haste to get to the stairs. Magnus says, “The back exits are the first routes they’ll cover. Men will already be in place before they allow the main team to be seen. They’re smoking us out. Like rabbits from a hole. Whoever goes running out the back will be taken into custody.”
    It’s a frightening prospect, even more so because Ciere would have done exactly that. Sure, she could have shielded herself from sight, but Devon would be