Root of Unity Read Online Free PDF

and horrible police response times. “Where are we?”
    “Bolt hole. Mine.”
    “Wait, since when do you have bolt holes?” I’d been after Arthur to keep safe houses for years; I was shocked he might’ve actually listened to me. He tended to think I was paranoid.
    Arthur cleared his throat. “Just the one.”
    “Thank Christ,” I grumbled. “See? I told you so. It pays to be prepared.”
    “Stop gloating.”
    “Fine. What about Halliday?”
    “I reached her. Told her to lie low. She’s going to her friend’s, Dr. Martinez’s—says she’s safe.”
    “Good.” Well, unless Dr. Martinez was the one responsible for all this, I reminded myself. Fuck. I pushed my fingers against my throbbing temples. The violence was escalating so quickly…“Why wouldn’t they have just killed Halliday in the first place?”
    Arthur flinched. “From what you said about deciphering the math, maybe they knew they might need her. ’Sides, the authorities would investigate a murder. They must’ve figured intimidation would work better.”
    “And if they kill us, it doesn’t connect back to Halliday if no one knows about the proof, because there are a thousand other good reasons people might want one of us dead. Plus maybe killing us intimidates her more,” I said, thinking aloud. A ploy like that could have worked out very well for them, if they hadn’t failed at the killing-us part. “How did they even know she talked to us?”
    “Ain’t no stretch to think they’re watching her. They track my license plate, find out I’m a PI…”
    “Then they figure they’ll knock you off, and she’ll be real reluctant to hire anyone else,” I finished. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, and my stomach bucked and heaved again. I swallowed hard against it and almost choked. Stupid body and its stupid limitations. “We should go pick her up,” I said.
    “Was just waiting on you. You good?”
    I wasn’t, really—every time I tried to hang onto a coherent thought, my brain got all loopy, as if it wanted to do what my stomach had done. Concussion, a pretty bad one. A lot of other things wanted to hurt as well; I pushed it all away and stood, steadfastly ignoring the way the world wobbled. “I’m always good. Let’s go. Hey, you have an unburned phone?”
    Arthur fished a disposable out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Talked to Checker already. I think I was able to explain the gist. He’s looking into what he can.”
    Maybe someone had left electronic fingerprints on Halliday’s emails or something. Worth a shot. “You still want to crime-scene her house?”
    He hesitated. “Might be too dangerous now. Let’s get Sonya safe first; then we can figure out what next.”
    Two cars were parked inside the warehouse—one, presumably, the stolen car that had gotten us here (I started making mental bets on whether Arthur would find its owner and apologize afterward), and the second a boxy old compact. I reached for the driver’s door.
    “Not a chance,” said Arthur. “You’re concussed.”
    “I’m still the better driver.”
    He squinted at me. “You gonna be making calls?”
    Jesus, my head was pounding enough already without him arguing with me. “Yes, and I’ll still be the better driver. What if they try to run us off the road again?”
    “And what if the cops see you on the phone? This car ain’t registered. Can’t get stopped.”
    I felt a brief moment of pleasure at Arthur’s law-breaking—my paranoia was rubbing off on him; excellent—but it was eclipsed by frustration. “We’re not going to get stopped. I’ve never been pulled over for that.”
    “You want to take the risk?”
    “You want to take the risk we get attacked again?”
    A muscle in Arthur’s jaw twitched. “Speakerphone, then,” he said, and went around to the passenger side.
    “Fine,” I groused.
    I dialed Checker as soon as I figured out which way I was going and manhandled the clunky old car onto the freeway.