“The train schedules have to match up between Echoes, or you end up on the tracks.”
Which was exactly why Walkers never used mobile pivots. Any Walk could lead you into danger. It was part of the reason we navigated by familiar routes so often—moving between known, mapped pivots was safer, if less efficient. But Ms. Powell seemed confident, so I didn’t question her further.
We crossed through outside the station, waiting as the Echo train squealed and thundered to a stop. Once we boarded, I automatically reached for my ticket, despite the pitch buzzing in my ears. “No need,” she reminded me.
I slid my train pass back into my bag and followed her to a vestibule at the far end of the train. The metal handrail was cold to the touch, and I pulled on my fingerless gloves, swaying from side to side. Ms. Powell checked her watch. “About five minutes,” she said. “You should hold on to my arm as we cross, but in case something goes wrong, here’s the pitch.”
She played the frequency on her phone, its shrillness competing with the shriek of the wheels. The doors opened and the conductor strolled through, oblivious to our presence. “Tell me about seeing your grandfather.”
“How did you hear?”
“I told you before: We have people inside CCM. Not many, and their access is limited, but they keep us in the loop.”
I wondered if I knew them—if I’d been interacting with Free Walkers all along.
“How was he?” she prompted.
I gripped the metal railing. “I think they’ve tortured him. The cell that connects to the oubliette looks like an operating room. There are restraints on the table.”
“That would fit with what we know about the Consort’s methods,” she said, her usually ruddy cheeks turning pale.
“I didn’t want them to torture him. I hate him, but not like that.”
“Your visits are probably protecting him from further interrogations. Tell me about the setup. We’ve never been able to get someone into the sublevels before—at least not in and out.”
I thought of Gil Bradley, trapped in one of those cells, awaiting execution. I didn’t even know what he looked like, but I couldn’t help imagining a thirty-year-old version of Simon, and my heart stuttered as I described the layout, including the cameras and guards. “They monitor everything,” I said. “ID cards to get in and out, video feeds in all the cells. They only have two people watching the hall, but they don’t need any more than that.”
“Don’t sound so defeated, Del. Information is power, and this is more than we knew before. What did Monty say?”
I folded a star out of notebook paper. “He gave me a message. A puzzle, and when I solved it, I found a frequency hidden in Rose’s journal. In a song.”
She nodded. “We use that technique to encrypt locations.”
“Well, this one’s incomplete. The chord wasn’t complex enough to match an Echo.”
Ms. Powell, I noticed, did not look surprised.
“Do you know where it leads?” I asked.
“In a general sense. That’s what we want you to help us with.”
“Help you how?”
She looked out the window at the warehouses flashing by. “I’m not really the one to ask.”
“Who is?”
“The people we’re going to meet.”
My heart stuttered. “Simon?”
She smiled like a child with a secret. “Among others.”
“You said it would take time! Not that I’m complaining.”
“The Consort’s planning a Tacet, as you’ve probably heard. Our timetable has moved up.”
My stomach pitched but my voice was even. “You’re sure Simon will be there?”
“That’s what I’ve been told. We’re going to meet with my contact. She’ll take you to another meeting site, and the people there will transfer you to the Echo where Simon will be. He’ll be doing the same on his end.”
“That sounds . . . elaborate.”
“It is. It also makes it difficult for the Consort to trace our movements.”
Before I could ask more about Simon—or the secret Echo—the crackling loudspeaker announced the next stop. “Here we go,” Ms. Powell said. “Feel the pivot?”
I did—a rent in the air, a foot away from the compartment door. Ms. Powell edged toward it, her face stern with concentration, and I put my hand out, searching for the catch and pull of the new frequency. She checked her watch again. “On three. I’ll pull you through, so hold tight.”
“Got it.”
“One . . . two . . . three!”
She lunged forward and I was dragged in her wake, the cacophony of the multiverse swallowing me. An instant later we were through both the pivot and the doors, stumbling down