We pass through security without a hitch—I make her walk like she’s leading a prisoner, but she knows if she tries anything, my hands on that button under the coat. No easy way out of this one, old girl. I can tell she’s thinking like hell of a way to shake me, though, so I better keep frosty.

We pass through hallways lit up like the walls are ribbed with phosphorescent bulbs—everything’s immaculate, perfect, and bare. Techies walk by in suits of that same flawless white—most don’t pay us a second glance. I must look a lot more out of place here than her, two days down on sleep and nursing the plague.

Eventually we hit an elevator and go up about a hundred floors. I stare straight at her. My thumb’s starting to tremble on the button, to go slick with sweat. Wonder what the hell she’s thinking, behind those…

“Take off the shades,” I say suddenly, not quite sure why.

“Wh-why?”

“Because I’ve got you dangling by one hell of a thin wire. Do it.”

Slowly, a slight tremble in her hands, she reaches up and takes them off. Bright pools of blue.

“Ah,” I say. “You’ve got nice eyes.”

She just stands there, dumbfounded. And the elevator dings open.

“The uh-the Core’s right through there,” she says.

“The Core?”

Panic rushes across her features. “I mean the top—the top of CyberCorp, like you said—it’s through—through there.”

I jam the Close button, and the elevators slam shut. I put a hand against her shoulder and shove her against the back of the room.

“Talk. What’s the Core.”

“Shit”, I hear her mutter. She glances around like some kind of frightened rabbit looking for a way out. I start depressing the button.

“All right! All right. The Core holds the TRUScape Superserver—it triggers the launch. But you won’t make it there in time—look!” And she indicates the timer on the monitor at the edge of the elevator. It’s a countdown.

I snarl at the number. “Floor,” I say.

“Seventy!”

“If you’re wrong, I’m torching you first and asking questions later.”

“Allright—Seventy-One…”

“That’s better.”

We plummet thirty stories or so and the elevator dings and I’m walking, and sure enough I see this big chrome door embossed with just what I want to see.

“Jack,” says Tess, “I’m warning you one last time, please—for your own good—don’t go in there… You have no idea what’s inside.”

      “Only one way to find out,” I open the doors.

      “Explain,” I say.