The Peyti Crisis: A Retrieval Artist Novel: Book Five of the Anniversary Day Saga (Retrieval Artist series 12) Read Free

others. Doors darkened, no windows, no access to the outside at all.
    In fact, it looked like she was walking past black wall after black wall after black wall, when she had actually passed twenty cells so far.
    At the end of this corridor was the specially designed cell that held the highest value prisoners that probably would not be permanent guests of this facility. They were supposed to lose their cases, and move to maximum security prisons far away from the Criminal Courts, prisons in the far reaches of the Earth Alliance, prisons that made this one look like a resort in the prettiest place on Planet Earth.
    The light around that cell was red, but it wasn’t flashing and there were no sirens. Just a deep red light that she should never see this far inside the prison.
    “Oh, no.” She didn’t realize she’d said that out loud until she heard her voice echo off the walls.
    A dozen scenarios flashed through her brain: Frémont had somehow co-opted Didier and gotten him to contact her; together, Frémont and Didier would overpower her and make her help them escape; Frémont had killed Didier and would get her next—
    “Oh, thank God, Jhena.” The voice didn’t belong to Frémont. It belonged to Didier.
    He stepped into the light. He was a burly man, mostly muscle, and his uniform made him look more formidable than the android guards. Although at the moment, he didn’t look formidable at all. The red light bathed his bald pate, and put his eyes in shadow. He seemed creepy, almost like a prisoner himself.
    “I’m not coming any closer until you tell me what’s going on,” she said.
    “Um, it’s better if I don’t say. You need to look.”
    She shook her head. She wasn’t getting near that light, particularly now that a smell was reaching her. It was foul—as if someone hadn’t cleaned the toilets in this section ever.
    “I’m going to throw your evidence bags at you, and then I’m leaving,” she said.
    “Okay,” Didier said, sounding like it wasn’t okay. “But then you’ll miss your only chance to make a small fortune.”
    “I’m not helping a mass murderer escape,” she said.
    “Oh,” Didier said. “There’s no need to worry about that. Frémont’s not going anywhere.”
    “How do you know that?” she asked.
    “I told you,” he said. “Take a look.”
    But shut off your links, he sent through her private link. All except emergency links.
    She bit her lower lip. She hadn’t shut anything down, not yet, and that little request would be recorded. If she complied, it would mean—what? That she had conspired with Didier? Or that she simply didn’t know better?
    God, she hated second-guessing.
    “If you don’t join me in fifteen seconds, don’t bother,” he snapped.
    She still couldn’t see his face. That worried her.
    But she would probably get in trouble just for being here, especially if something had gone wrong. After ten seconds clicked off on the timer she displayed on her right eye, she shut down all the various recording links, then shut down her contact links except for the emergency links.
    As she did, the timer in her eye vanished.
    Oh, great. She had forgotten the timer was connected to the network. Now she wouldn’t know how much time had elapsed. She could probably set another timer with her emergency links, but that would require a jury-rig, which she doubted Didier would give her time for.
    She stepped forward.
    The red light was actually warm or, at least, warmer than the rest of the corridor had been.
    “What the hell’s going on?” she asked, trying to ignore the way her stomach flopped at the stench. It felt like a live thing, as if the air itself had sewage molecules, and they were coating her.
    Didier nodded at the cell.
    She could barely see inside it—the cot that extended from the wall was still out, not recessed like it should have been at this time of day. The toilet didn’t look like it had overflowed, but it was hard to see in the deep red