Enders(44)

“It’s all right,” he said quietly, as if he read my concern. “We’re just going a few steps. I have something from your father.”

What could he have from my dad? I followed him through the club to a side door. This was the backstage area of the club, with unpainted walls and concrete floors. We went into a small, plain office space, and he closed the door behind us.

I tensed.

He knelt down and pulled out a key attached to his belt. He unlocked a file cabinet and reached way in the back for something. He got it, relocked the cabinet, and stood.

“Take this,” he said.

He handed me a small white object, about two inches long. It was made from a hard material with a glossy surface and was shaped like a flattened egg. A silver-colored design that looked like a feather decorated one side.

“What is it?”

“Don’t know. But I’m mighty glad to get rid of it.” He flopped into a chair. “You don’t mind if I rest my feet, do you? When I’m standing all night, they swell up like baby pigs.” He sighed. “Your dad was a good tipper. I used to see him come in here a lot.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “He’d order a bourbon and just watch people.”

I cradled the egg in my palm. “But how did you get this?”

“One night, about a year ago, your father was sitting at the bar when he turned and saw some men coming through the club.”

“Enders?”

He nodded. “But they looked strong. Your father slipped that to me with some big bills and said three words—‘Keep it safe.’ I put it in my pocket and went about my business.”

So this egg was that important. “And my father?”

“He got up to leave but the men surrounded him. They left together.”

“What did they look like?”

“Like all us Enders—white hair. They were tall, beefy, and wore shades even though it was night.” He grimaced a little.

I looked down at the egg. “I don’t know if he’s alive.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could tell you he was.” He stood and patted my shoulder, but his eyes were on the egg. “Be careful. Those men who wanted it were nasty fellows. Maybe you should find someone else to keep it.”

He gestured toward the door for me to go first. I slipped the egg into a zippered compartment inside my purse and left. As we made our way back to the main part of the club, I tried to make sense of all this.

It didn’t prove anything. It didn’t prove he was alive, didn’t prove he was dead.

Guilt rose in my throat. Of course, if there was even the slimmest chance that it really was my father in my head, I would be willing to live with the uncertainty for decades, until we found him. But that didn’t mean it was easy.

I went back to the lounge and found Michael sitting alone.

“Find out anything?” he asked.

I was dying to tell him, but not inside the club. “Where’s Daphne?”

“Gone.”

“You lost her?”

“She got paranoid and took off. Maybe we should too.”

I sent Hyden a Zing and he came to get us out front. Now I could show both of them what I’d found.

“My father left something at the club,” I said as soon as I closed the passenger door.

Hyden drove away from the valet area. “What?”

I took the egg out of my purse. “This.”

“What is that thing?” Michael leaned forward to see.

“I have no idea.”

Hyden pulled over and stopped. We were still on the club property, at the end of the long, circular entrance.

“Let me see.” He held out his hand.

I handed it to him. He examined it and then gripped the egg at both ends. He pulled but nothing happened.

“Don’t break it,” I said.

Hyden looked at me with a grin. “I think I can handle it.”

He twisted it and I watched in horror as it came apart in his hands. Then he held up the main part of the egg, revealing a metal end. “It’s a triple z-drive. Massive information storage.”

“A drive?” I said. “Why?”

Hyden motioned for Michael to move aside and he climbed to the back of the vehicle.

“Can’t you use the scanner airscreen?” I asked.

“Not powerful enough.” He opened the back computer, the one that could be used for transpositions, and inserted the drive.

The airscreen popped up. A lot of junk came across it.

“It’s encrypted,” Hyden said. “I’m not surprised. Your father wasn’t stupid.”

“So can’t you uncrypt it?” Michael asked.

“Decrypt. It’s not a coffin,” Hyden said as he plucked at the screen. “I’m setting it up now, but it could take a long time.”