Page 82 of The Forbidden Center

“No.”

“Dropping objects?”

“No.”

“Mm.”

True today. Useful distinction.

She writes it down and goes back to the shoulder, and the numbers at the end of it are better than the ones at the start.

Astrid turns the screen toward me. “You have more usable range under load. You are compensating less. You still need to protect the work when the schedule gets heavy.”

“Can I put usable range on a contract offer?”

“You can. I cannot recommend the strategy.”

“Finally. An area where we disagree.”

Her mouth shifts and I get the almost-smile, which still works on me exactly as well as it did in November.

She hands me a revised program with the travel changes folded into the same page, and I read it once and then read it again, because it is the last one of these she’s ever going to hand me.

“Maren gets this?”

“The assessment, the handover, and the program.”

“When?”

“Today.”

“So I go back to being her problem.”

“You were always her problem.”

“Cruel ending.”

“Accurate ending.”

That one lands somewhere else. Ending.

Astrid closes the folder. “Change, and come back out to reception. Gabi has gone.”

“You getting rid of witnesses?”

“She left on time.”

“Suspicious.”

“Colt.”

First time. Eleven weeks of Mr. Riley and about four of Riley, and she puts my name down on the table between us like she’s been holding it in her pocket.

I grin at her and pick up my bag, and the joke gets me as far as the door.

It does not get me through what comes after it.

Reception looks wrong without Gabi in it. Half the lights are off, the printer’s quiet, and Astrid’s coat is folded over the back of a chair instead of already on her shoulders.