After the Golden Age (Golden Age 1)

“Delay the inevitable?” Celia said. “No. I don’t want to piss them off.” Frowning, Parks nodded.

Appleton actually had a set of handcuffs out as he approached her. She raised a brow.

“Are you arresting me?”

“That depends. Are you going to argue?”

“I’ll cooperate like a good citizen.”

He almost seemed disappointed when he handed the cuffs to one of the officers.

When Arthur followed them out to the cars, Appleton turned on him as if to say something. The angry pucker in his expression faded, though, and he only shook his head and stalked off.

At the station, Appleton put her in a holding room and let her have a Styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee. Arthur went to help interrogate the suspects from the History Museum heist, to skim from their minds what he could. She waited.

Listening to snatches of conversation from the time Appleton picked her up to the time he locked her in the room, she had a vague idea of what had happened. Appleton had ignored Celia’s call completely. The Olympiad, on the other hand, set a trap. They didn’t tell the museum or police what they were doing. Two of the gang members

were disguised as janitors; two more hid in their equipment carts. Just before the exhibit opened, they entered the room containing the display cases. Armed with glass cutters, they prepared to slice into the cases. The Bullet closed and locked all three doors into the hall before the robbers touched the first case. Olympus and Spark knocked them on their asses. It was a classic Olympiad operation, top to bottom. The team still had it.

Later, Breezeway reported a suspicious car parked in front of Celia’s apartment. It drove away in a hurry when news of the busted museum heist hit the police radio.

Finally, the door to the holding room opened and Appleton entered, pulling a spare chair from the wall to sit across the table from her. Even more maddening, Mark Paulson followed him and took up a place standing in the corner, his arms crossed sullenly.

“Should I have my lawyer here?” She sounded more bitter than she meant.

“If you’d like.” Appleton looked smug.

“What if we ask Dr. Mentis to sit in instead? So that somebody here knows I’m telling the truth.”

Appleton nodded at Mark, who went to the door, but it opened before he could touch it, and there stood Arthur. As if she’d called him. Maybe she had.

Scowling, Mark retreated back to his corner.

Arthur said to Appleton, “Would you like this to be a formal interrogation, Chief?”

Appleton looked at Celia. “Do you mind?”

She shook her head. She’d prefer this to be formal, with no ambiguity. It didn’t bother her—Arthur was the only person here on her side. He pulled up a chair directly in front of her. Their knees were almost touching.

“Relax,” he said. “Just answer the chief’s questions. Let your thoughts flow. You know the routine.”

Appleton asked simple, straightforward questions, and she answered them rote. How did you know about the robbery attempt at the history museum? She guessed. It seemed like about time for another robbery, and she guessed. What do you know about the Strad Brothers? Nothing. Do you recognize any of these people? He showed her mug shots: the four men arrested at the museum. Two of them she thought she recognized from the symphony gala. Sure enough, he showed her security shots from the Stradivarius robberies. They matched. Beyond that, she didn’t know anything. Appleton kept asking, kept looking at Mentis for confirmation, and the telepath only nodded. She’s telling the truth.

Arthur held her gaze. She only saw his calm blue eyes. It wasn’t that she couldn’t look away—she was sure she could, if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to. His focus, his steadiness urged her to keep looking. Meanwhile, her thoughts ran behind her eyes like a film. Mentis could watch, through her eyes. She felt hollow, invisible. The girl with the see-through skull. It felt strange, but she wasn’t afraid. If it had been anyone else but Mentis doing it, though, she would have launched into a screaming fit.

She’d seen that happen when Mentis searched other people like this.

Appleton finally paused. Without breaking eye contact with her, Mentis asked, “Anything else?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Appleton shrug. “What the hell—you ever sleep with the Destructor?”

You can’t kill him, she told herself. Can’t even hurl insults at him. He was waiting for an excuse to lock her up. She thought she saw a smile twitch on Mentis’s lips, quickly repressed.

“No. I. Did. Not.” She broke free of Mentis and looked at Mark, who dropped his gaze.

—We’re finished now. Rest easy.—Mentis looked away, and a weight lifted. She could breathe again. Briefly, she brushed his hand where it rest on his knee. He gave her hand a quick squeeze in return before turning to the police chief.

“Satisfied?” he said.