I saw one agent stifle a grin, and their eyes all met for a second.
The first man, Dean Mickelson according to his card, smiled ruefully. “We know you’ve been through a lot, Max. And we’re sorry that . . . Nick got hurt. You’re in a bad spot here, and we can help.”
I was really tired and needed to think. My flock was watching me, and I could smell their hot breakfasts from where I sat. “Angel,” I said, “give Total some of your food and see if he keels over. If he doesn’t, you all can go ahead and eat.”
As if he knew his name, Total leaped up onto a chair next to Angel and wagged his tail. Angel hesitated—she didn’t want to take a chance.
“Look,” said the female agent. She stood up and took a bite of Angel’s scrambled eggs.
The other two agents followed her lead, sampling the three other trays. Just then there was a tap on the door, and a younger agent handed in a fifth tray, for me. An agent took a bite off my plate, then set the tray on the table. “Okay?” he asked.
We watched the agents with interest, waiting to see if they would suddenly clutch their throats and fall gasping to the floor.
They didn’t.
“Okay, dig in, guys,” I said, and the flock fell on their food like, um, Erasers.
Gazzy was done first—he’d practically inhaled his. “Can I have maybe two more trays?” he asked.
Startled, Dean nodded and went to give the order.
“So, how are you here to help us?” I said between bites. “How did you know we were here?”
“We’ll answer all your questions,” said the other guy. “But we need you to answer some questions too. We thought it might be easier if we went one-on-one—less distracting. If you’re done eating, we can move into here.”
He opened a door behind him leading into a larger conference room. Several more agents were milling around, and they stopped talking to look at us.
“You’re not separating us,” I said.
“No, just separate tables,” said the woman. “All in the same room, see?”
I groaned inwardly. When was the last time we had slept? Was it only two days ago we were escaping through the sewer tunnels in New York? Now Fang was under the knife, we were surrounded by God knows who these people really were, and I didn’t see a way out of it. Not without leaving Fang behind. Which I wouldn’t do.
Sighing, I pushed away my empty tray and nodded to the others.
Let the questioning begin.
14
“And what’s your name, sweetie?”
“Ariel,” said Angel.
“Okay, Ariel. Have you ever heard of anyone named Jeb Batchelder?”
The agent held up a photograph, and Angel looked at it. Jeb’s familiar face looked back at her, and it hurt her heart.
“No,” she said.
“Um, okay . . . can you tell me what your relationship is to Max?”
“She’s my sister. You know, because of the missionaries. Our parents.”
“Okay, I see. And where did you get your dog?”
“I found him in the park.” Angel fidgeted and looked over at Max. She thought, Okay, enough questions. You can go.
The agent sitting across from her paused and looked blankly at the notes she was writing.