They were up in Poole’s office above the arena, and Poole leaned forward on his desk, looking down at the raid order resting between his hands. Ben focused on staying calm and hoped Ronin was right about paranoid men, because without his Locus, he was just an Ennay. An Imp. If Poole turned on him, Ben was defenseless. “How did you come by this?” Poole asked. “I told you,” Ben said. “I’m a prodigy. The League trusts me. It wasn’t hard to steal.” Poole sat down. “This is Weathersky’s signature.” Ben nodded. “He’s in town to personally oversee the operation.” “This is two days away.” “That’s right.” “You told me a week.” “Weathersky moved it up.” So far, they were on script, Locus or not. “They’re worried about Dr. Hughes and the portable augmenter.” Poole snapped a glare at Ben. “I know you’ve put it together, you and Ronin. You know why I’m out here, hiding like a rat.” “And we figure the augmenter’s probably out here, too.”
