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“No one knows for sure why the Neanderthals went extinct,” John said. “Some scientists say climate, some think it was direct conflict with Homo sapiens, others believe it was finite resources. Whatever the reason, the fact is that there was a species on the planet that was better able to survive. Simple as that. The gifted are the new order, Shannon. Conflict is inevitable. I’m just speeding things up a bit. And guaranteeing victory.”

“Nice history lesson,” she said. “But all you’ve done is turn the rest of the world against us. We’re going to get creamed, John.”

He laughed. “I don’t think so.”

She stared at her friend and longtime compatriot. A man she had fought and killed for, back when she believed all he wanted was equality. A man who had evaded capture for years, despite being the most wanted man in America, and who had built up a revolutionary army while he did it. A man who beat three chess grandmasters at the same time when he was fourteen.

She’d been nervous all along. Suddenly she was afraid. And not for herself.

“Anyway, I’m sorry it’s happening this way. I hate killing brilliants, and I consider you a friend. But you’re on the other side, and you’re dangerous.”

Shannon felt her pulse kick up, her hand start to shake. She looked at Colin. “Don’t do this. You’re just a boy, don’t—”

“He’s a holy warrior,” Smith said, “ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good.”

Colin didn’t quite smile, but the words filled him with light, a feverish glow that strained at his pores and spilled out his eyes and made his thumb quiver on the trigger. He wanted to do it, she saw. He believed he was following a prophet, believed it with teenage certainty.

“John, there are civilians,” she said, careful to keep her voice low. If anyone overheard and started to panic, Colin would undoubtedly press the button. “Innocents. Across the aisle there’s a woman with a baby.”

“I keep telling you. This is war. There will be blood. How can you not get that?”

He’s not bluffing.

Time to see if that ace is worth anything.

“I do, John. And I have something to show you.” Very slowly, hyperconscious of Colin’s twitching thumb, she took out her own d-pad and activated it. Turned it so that he could see the video.

A plain white room, surgical and too bright.

A tray lined with glittering instruments: scalpels, pliers, wires.

A table with a man strapped on it.

“Soren?” John said incredulously.

“Thought he was dead, huh? I’m told he has a T-naught of 11.2. A second of pain to us is more than eleven to him. Can you imagine?”

There was a long moment of silence. When John spoke again, his voice was thick. “I was wrong. I’m not disappointed. I’m disgusted. This is beneath you.”

“I agree. It’s not me doing this. It’s you.”

Shannon sat perfectly still. Every cell in her body screamed. She could smell her own sweat. The lives of everyone in the train car depended on two things: how much John really cared for his friends—and how valuable he believed killing her was.

“You’ll let him go?”

She laughed. “Not a chance. But you’ll notice that he hasn’t been touched, not a mark on him—apart from Nick kicking his ass, of course. But Epstein patched him up, and they’ve kept him humanely. So how about Colin puts away his remote, gets off the train, and we all go on with our lives?”

Smith’s face revealed nothing, but she could imagine the calculations behind it. Weighing costs and benefits. She had no doubt that he would sacrifice Soren to agony and burn everyone on this train if he believed it was worthwhile. Out the windows, the scenery began to slow. They were coming into the next station. If he triggers the bomb there, even more people will die.

“John,” she said. “I’m not that important.”

Across the aisle, the baby let loose a squeal.

“Fine. Colin, you did well. Get off. If anyone tries to stop you, blow the train.”

The boy seemed almost disappointed, but he put his hand back in his pocket and rose swiftly. As the train glided to a stop, he vanished in the crowd at the door.

“I misjudged you, Shannon. How does it feel to get dirty?”

“Lousy,” she said. “But I’ll just have to comfort myself with the thought that I saved all these people’s lives.” She clicked disconnect before he could reply.

And buried her head in her hands.

“I have no information on that. We only investigate crimes.”

—BIRMINGHAM POLICE COMMISSIONER JARRETT EVANS ON ALLEGATIONS THAT OFF-DUTY POLICE OFFICERS KIDNAPPED AND EXECUTED THREE ABNORMS IN ALABAMA

CHAPTER 7

Bay Avenue was a collection of bleak warehouses, light industrial buildings, and garages. The palette ran from brown to gray, and the air smelled faintly of fish. When the winter sun flared through a narrow slit in the clouds, dull glints fired off broken windshields in the auto salvage yard.