That's when Connor sees the picture. There are several photos up on the wall, but the one that captures Connor's attention is of a smiling kid about his age. The smile looks familiar. In fact, it looks exactly like the Admiral's smile. It's just like Roland had said!
Now Connor wants to bolt, but Risa's voice is in his head again, telling him to scan his options. Sure, he can run. Chances are, he can get to the hatch before the Admiral can stop him—but opening the hatch won't be easy. He could hit the Admiral with one of his tools. That might give him enough time to get away. But where would he go? Beyond the Graveyard there's just desert, desert, and more desert. In the end, he realizes his best choice is to do as the Admiral says. He sits down.
"You don't like me, do you?" asks the Admiral.
Connor won't meet his gaze. "You saved my life by bringing me here. . . ."
"You will not avoid answering this question. You don't like me, do you?"
Connor shudders once more, and this time doesn't even try to hide it. "No, sir, I don't."
"I want to know your reasons."
Connor lets out a single rueful chuckle as his answer.
"You think I'm a slave dealer," says the Admiral. "And that I'm using these Unwinds for my own profit?"
"If you know what I'm going to say, why ask me?"
"I want you to look at me."
But Connor doesn't want to see the man's eyes—or, more accurately, doesn't want the Admiral seeing his.
"I said look at me!"
Reluctantly, Connor lifts his eyes and fixes them on the Admiral's. "I'm looking."
"I believe you are a smart kid. Now I want you to think. Think! I am a decorated Admiral of the United States Navy. Do you think I need to be selling children to earn money?"
"I don't know."
"Think! Do I care about money and lavish things? I do not live in a mansion. I do not vacation on a tropical island. I spend my time in the stinking desert living in a rotting plane 365 days a year. Why do you think that is?"
"I don't know!"
"I think you do."
Connor stands up now. In spite of the Admiral's tone of voice, he feels less and less intimidated by him. Whether it's wise or whether it's foolhardy, Connor decides to give the Admiral what he's asking for. "You do it because of the power. You do it because it lets you keep hundreds of helpless kids in the palm of your hand. And you do it because you can pick and choose who gets unwound—and which parts you'll get."
The Admiral is caught off guard by this. Suddenly, he's on the defensive. "What did you say?"
"It's obvious! All the scars. And those teeth! They're not the ones you were born with, are they? So, what is it you want from me? Is it my eyes, or my ears? Or maybe it's my hands that can fix things so well. Is that why I'm here? Is it?"
The Admiral's voice is a predator)' growl. "You've gone too far."
"No, you've gone too far." The fury in the Admiral's eyes should terrify Connor, but his cannon has come loose, and it's beyond locking down. "We come to you in desperation! What you do to us is ... is .. . obscene!"
"So I'm a monster, then!"
"Yes!"
"And my teeth are the proof."
"Yes!"
"Then you can have them!"
Then the Admiral does something beyond imagining. He reaches into his mouth, grabs onto his own jaw, and rips the teeth out of his mouth. His eyes blazing at Connor, he hurls the hard pink clump in his hand down on the table, where it clatters in two horrible pieces.