“Her daughter has a prescription due tonight. Miss Marquez appears determined to spend the money on a stranger.”
Elena stared at him. She had never told Victor why she needed to leave on time.
He had clearly examined her scheduling request.
Bennett looked at her.
“Your daughter needs medicine?”
“She has epilepsy.”
“And you are giving away the money?”
“I’m not giving it away.”
“What would you call it?”
“Using it.”
Bennett studied her as though she were a financial statement that refused to balance.
“On a man whose surname you do not know.”
“His surname won’t change whether he survives the night.”
Gideon stirred.
His eyes opened and found Bennett standing above him.
The old man went perfectly still.
The whistle slipped from his hand and struck the marble.
Bennett flinched at the sound.
Gideon raised a trembling hand.
“Ben?”
Bennett’s jaw tightened.
Elena looked between them.
The old man’s voice softened.
“Little Falcon.”
Bennett stepped backward.
No one had called him that in seventeen years.
No one alive should have known the name.
1. THE NAME IN THE STORM
Bennett’s mother had invented the nickname when he was six.
He had climbed onto the roof of his father’s signal workshop, spread his arms, and announced that he could see every train in the world.
His father had shouted at him to get down.
His mother had laughed and called him her little falcon.
After she died, only one person had continued using the name.
Bennett stared at Gideon’s mud-streaked face.
Time had reduced the man he remembered.
The shoulders were narrower. The cheeks had hollowed. The white beard disguised the shape of his mouth.
But the scar above his left eyebrow remained.
Bennett had caused it accidentally at age eleven by releasing a model locomotive before his father was ready. The engine had jumped the track and sent a piece of metal into Gideon’s forehead.
His father had needed seven stitches.
Bennett had cried harder than he had.
“Mr. Ashford?” Elena said.
Bennett heard her from a great distance.
Victor examined the old man.
“Do you know him?”
Bennett forced his voice into its familiar calm.
“No.”
Gideon’s raised hand fell.
The hurt in his eyes arrived before confusion covered it.
“I thought…”
“You are mistaken,” Bennett said.
Elena watched him carefully.
Gideon closed his eyes.
“The storm makes ghosts.”
Bennett turned to the security officer.
“Take him to the executive medical suite.”
Victor blinked.
“We need that space for the Harrington delegation.”
“Move them to the conference car.”
“The suite overlooks the platform. They requested it specifically.”
“Then disappoint them.”
Victor lowered his voice.
“Bennett, the launch begins in thirty minutes.”
“Then you have thirty minutes to solve it.”
The guard handed Elena back her envelope.
Bennett nodded toward it.
“Pick up your daughter’s medication.”
“I should stay until the doctor arrives.”
“That was not a request.”
Elena folded the envelope but did not move.
“Will someone sit with him?”
“A nurse will.”
“He’s frightened of uniforms.”
Victor gave a short laugh.
“He is not a child.”
Gideon opened his eyes.
“Everyone becomes a child when no one believes them.”
Bennett looked away.
Elena slipped the envelope into her handbag.
“I’ll remain until he is stable.”
Victor’s mouth tightened.
“You are already late returning to your assignment.”
Bennett looked at him.
“Miss Marquez is reassigned to the medical suite for the remainder of her shift.”
Victor’s expression became unreadable.
“As you wish.”
A wheelchair arrived.
When Elena helped Gideon into it, he grasped her wrist.
“Do not let them send the train over the bridge.”
“What bridge?”
“The Raven Cut.”
Victor stepped in.
“The Northstar route crosses Raven Cut at twelve forty.”
Gideon’s attention sharpened.
“Then stop it.”
“The line was inspected yesterday.”
“By men who listen to computers.”
“And you listen to mud?”
Gideon looked toward the rain streaming down the terminal windows.
“Mud does not lie to protect a promotion.”
Victor’s face darkened.
Bennett caught the change.
“What does that mean?”
The old man’s clarity vanished as quickly as it had come.
He searched the crowd.
“Where is Abigail?”
Bennett’s mother had been dead for twenty-three years.
A pressure spread behind his ribs.
Elena pushed the wheelchair toward the private elevators.
Before the doors closed, Gideon turned.
“Ben,” he called.
Bennett remained motionless.