Luka murmurs against my hair. We’ve called the others, who ended up abandoning the car in the traffic jam, which Jester’s convinced was orchestrated, and told them to meet us in Zurich in two days.“The good news is that the cameras at the vault don’t record video, in order to keep it anonymous,” Jester said.Not that it matters now.And then we directed the driver the other way. East, toward Bratislava. It’s too close to Budapest for my comfort, but it’s the largest nearby city with an airport. From there, I don’t care where we go.“I think Claudia knows we’re not meeting them in Zurich,” I say.Luka strokes the hair that isn’t really mine and murmurs, “Then she knows you want to keep her alive. It was coming to that, anyway.”Yes. I want to keep her alive. And with the others headed to Switzerland, I can at least concentrate on the life I’m concerned about right now: Luka’s.The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror—has done so twice in the last minute.I’m not her.
