The Thirteenth Skull (Alfred Kropp 3)

“Call it serendipity.”

“If you kill me, you’ll never get your hands on it.”

“I have no intention of killing you, Alfred. You are far too valuable to us alive. Perhaps as a gesture of goodwill, the Company could bring its resources to bear in finding those responsible for this most heinous and wicked attack.”

“That would be really sweet of you guys. What about me?”

“You?”

“Extracting me. Isn’t that what you call it? Extract me from this interface. Make these charges go away.”

“That would prove a bit more complicated, I’m afraid.”

“But you could.”

He smiled, this time blessing me w

ith an eyeful of his gorgeous orthodontics.

“And what in exchange for the benefits of such an extraction?” He was talking about the Seal. I said, “It was never about killing me, was it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Mr. Delivery Dude. He wasn’t supposed to kill me. The whole thing was a setup, to put me in a bind so I’d have to make a deal.”

“Killing you seems more expeditious.”

“But for all you knew I hid the Seal and told nobody where I hid it. If you killed me, you might never get it back. So you had to keep me alive but stick me in a trap only you could get me out of.”

“You give me too much credit, Alfred. Even I would not anticipate your, shall we say, ruthless response to the attack this morning. Are you refusing to hand over the item?”

“If I hand it over now, there’s no reason for you to let me live.”

“As I’ve said, you’re far more useful to us alive than dead.”

“Why?”

He smiled. “The answer to that question, I would think, is obvious.”

13:12:41:36

Before he left, Nueve asked if there was anything else he could do. I told him yes, there was, and he promised he would arrange it.

Then he studied my face for a long time without saying anything, until finally he said, “Does it not work on yourself?”

“What?” I asked, but I knew what.

“The healing power of your blood—you cannot use it to repair your own wounds?”

I shook my head. “No. It doesn’t work on me.”

“A gift, then—not a treasure,” he whispered. “You carry a special burden, Alfred Kropp.”

He paused at the door. “Allow me a few moments to make the arrangements, yes?”

He pressed a small object into my hand. It looked like a ballpoint pen.

“What’s this?”