A thunderous knock at the door made Buttercup jump. She ended the call and stuck the phone in her pocket.

"Police," said a male voice behind the door. "The building has been evacuated already. You're not supposed to be in here, we gotta search all these rooms."

"Okay," she said. "Okay, I'm coming."

She'd have to call Silver back. She swiped the screen on the phone to activate it, but it prompted her for a four-digit pin. That meant she wouldn't be able to call back—or access the device's memory to verify Silver's claims. Hopefully he would call her again. She stuck it in her pocket.

It occurred to her that she didn't really know how she would get her money. Some kind of transfer? She felt panic rising in her chest—she was flying blind, way out of her league. She took several deep breaths to calm herself.

More pounding on the door. "Let's go! We're waiting on you here!"

Buttercup grabbed her pack from its spot next to the door and slung it over her shoulder. She grasped the door handle, but lingered a moment to look back over the room. The bed was made, its sheets arranged neatly just the way the maids were taught. Nothing cluttered the bare desk. Even the chair was pushed all the way back in.

It was like she'd never been there.

Buttercup opened the door. Standing in the hallway were two officers wearing standard blue patrolman's uniforms.

"Sorry," she said.

"Yeah, whatever, kid," said the fat one in back. "Just move outta the way, we gotta sweep the room."

Buttercup moved past them into the hallway, and the fat one produced a small, round object that fit into his palm. He clicked it with his thumb and threw it into the room, where it hovered and scanned the room with a wavering red light for several moments. Then the sphere dinged like a kitchen timer and fell to the ground.

"Clear," he said, and retrieved the little object.

Buttercup left them to their work. She had everything she needed in her pack anyway—it was a habit she'd picked up long ago. One change of clothes (pants, shirt, socks, underwear), her phone (an old one Hargrove had given her), her knife, a water bottle, a few snacks, and a jacket.

It was time to go find Hargrove. She wasn't sure if she would tell him about the map yet, or Silver's offer, but she knew she had to at least say goodbye before she left. He would be shaken up after what happened, and he'd worry if he noticed her missing. She might be gone for hours and didn't want him calling her later at some inconvenient moment.

As she walked down the hallway to the stairs the phone went off in her pocket again. She hurried the rest of the way down the hall and answered it as she opened the door to the stairwell. Silver's face appeared on the screen.

"So far I've found working with you extremely unprofessional," he said.

"I never claimed to be a professional," Buttercup said as she descended the stairs. Her voice echoed off the walls.

"Well do you want your half up front or not? I don't like waiting."

"How will you give it to me?"

"I've got someone we can trust at the Rising Star Bank on inner Fifth," he said. "Just walk in, ask for Julissa—remember that: Julissa—and tell her you're interested in opening a new account for your dog-walking business. Mention my name. Julissa will take care of the rest."

"Dog-walking business—"

"It's a code."

"Okay, I know where it is," Buttercup said.

"Good. I'll call you again in thirty minutes. That should be plenty of time, yes?"

"Plenty," she agreed.

Silver hung up.

Buttercup pocketed the device again and continued downstairs. Dog-walking business? She guessed it didn't have to make sense—it was just a code. The Rising Star Bank on Fifth was only a five minute walk from the hotel, but she still had to track down Hargrove.

Upon reaching the bottom floor she opened the door and walked into the lobby. It was totally empty. She was used to seeing it like this during the night shifts, but even then there was always someone behind the front desk. Now, in the middle of the day, it was abandoned.

Buttercup heard a thump and some yelling from Hargrove's office behind the front desk. She walked softly on the worn carpet, edging her way around the desk so she could get a look inside. The door was shut, but through a crack in the blinds she saw Hargrove at his computer. He pounded a fist against the desk and ran his other hand back through his thick, dark hair in frustration.

She rapped a knuckle against the glass, and Hargrove flinched. He turned and glared through the window, but his expression softened when he saw it was Buttercup. He waved her inside. Buttercup opened the door and stepped in, shutting it behind her.

"Just trying to chip away at some of these endless incident reports," he said, waving a hand at the screen. "But this piece of junk machine is running so slow."

"Let me see," she said, and Hargrove scooted off to the side in his rolling chair. He had about a thousand windows open. "I thought they evacuated the building."

"Well, they're only checking all the rooms to be sure. No one really thinks there's another one—just standard procedure."

Buttercup started closing some unnecessary programs that were gumming up the ancient machine's dwindling memory. If computers could be considered classics, it would definitely qualify. The delay between her commands was maddening, but it was improving quickly.

"Do they know why he did it?" she asked.

"Could be someone was trying to send a message. They've been coming closer to the Core every year. But Lee took those suitcases, so it seems theft could also be the primary motive." Hargrove noticed her pack and poked it. "You going somewhere?"

She closed a few more extra windows and stepped away from the screen. It was running fine.

"Yeah," Buttercup said. "Yeah, just for a little while. I'll be back by tonight."

Hargrove gave her an unhappy, concerned look. He didn't like her evasive answer. "Lee may know you're the one who tipped the police off. I need you safe, little worker Bee."

Buttercup smiled at the nickname Hargrove had taken to calling her and looked away. 

"He knows I saw his face, and he got a good look at me too," she said, nodding. "But the streets are crawling with police right now. If he's still in the city he won't be worried about me. And besides, he didn't seem too bright."

Her joke didn't even crack the grim mask Hargrove wore.

"It doesn't seem like a good idea," he said. "I figured you would stay in like every other night."

Buttercup knew he didn't like to pry into her affairs—she'd made it clear that her business was her own. But he'd grown to love her like a daughter, and he was trying to look out for her.

"I just need to take a walk for a little while. I'll be back by tonight," she said.

Buttercup felt the slight sting of shame at lying to him, but she couldn't tell him the truth. She could see he'd never let her go in peace. Her lame excuse hung in the air as Hargrove searched her face.

"Okay," Hargrove said finally. "Okay, I see. Well be careful."

And that was it. He turned back to his forms.

#

It all happened so fast. Buttercup had decided to use an alias to provide herself some anonymity, but by the time she got to the point where she was sitting down instead of asking discreetly for people named Julissa and remembering secret codes she just glanced into the little red identification scanner when she was told to "look here please."

The red light flashed across her eyes and Buttercup's information immediately popped up on the viewscreen on the desk between her and Julissa. It was an old picture, from the day she set up her bank account with Hargrove. She looked maybe fifteen.

"Lovely," said Julissa. She was a plump middle-aged woman with glossy pink lipstick and Buttercup thought her clothes looked a bit too tight on her.

"So what happens now?" Buttercup said.

"Well, we'll have your account open in just a moment, that's the easy part," Julissa said. "Then you can deposit any funds you obtain into your account. That's the part people tend to have trouble with."

"I do have a customer already," Buttercup said slowly, unsure what exactly to say. "He wants to pay me up front today, but I don't have his number."

"What about his name?"

"Yeah, it's Bill Silver."

Julissa's green eyes flared with excitement.

"Oh, you are Mister Silver's associate," she said. "That won't be necessary. He's already cleared the funds to be transferred. Just let me take care of that."

Mister Silver. He commanded respect from this woman, Buttercup could see that plainly. She wondered who he was.

Julissa turned the viewscreen out of Buttercup's line of sight and tapped away at the projected keyboard, issuing a flurry of commands in quick succession. Buttercup checked out the compact cubicle they were tucked away in. It was in a far corner away from the lobby area, very private. Julissa's desk was meticulously organized, with everything placed at right angles to each other.

"All set," Julissa said brightly.

She swiveled the screen back with practiced precision. On it, Buttercup saw the words CHECKING ACCOUNT BALANCE next to the number 5,000 and struggled to contain her joy.

#

Bill Silver crowed and pumped his good right fist in the air as his eyes darted across Buttercup's information on his viewscreen.

"Thank you, Julissa," he said.

He used her name to run some queries in different databases. Not too bad, not too bad. Orphan, good. Some foster care. Legally on her own though, at eighteen. Just one complication—her job. He could come up with something for that if it came to it, but so far she was following directions.

Nothing would jeopardize the expedition.

#

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