SIXTY-FIVE

6.50 A.M.

I make my way back to the van hidden behind a public house and not visible from the road.

I saw her run in, and I watched her slope out, and I heard her scream somewhere in between.

I shake my head. They have no one to blame but themselves. They had everything they needed, but I bet they tried to cheat. It’s not on me. It’s on them. I didn’t kill him. They did.

They know the rules, and by now they should know how seriously I take them. I know they would have tried to stop the train, and that’s cheating. If they’d got there in time, they would have saved him.

I am surprised at the tinge of sadness I feel at Hiccup’s passing. We spent time together, and apart from the screaming and howling, I’ll miss him. He didn’t deserve to die, and he wouldn’t have if that team had their act together.

I take out my phone in anticipation. I have a Google alert for the Jester. My hand freezes. No notifications. I refresh. Still nothing.

Where is the article? It’s ten to seven. Where is the damn article?

I fire off a text before starting the car. I have to leave. Lightness is pinching at the sky, and I need the cover of darkness for the next part of the plan. But I can’t move until I have an answer.

The response is immediate. It is short. Two words. Not very nice words.

I reply demanding she write the article.

She replies with the same two words.

Despite my rising anger, I must continue.

She will have to wait, but she will learn that there are consequences. There are rules, and she has broken the most important one.

I put aside my dismay. This is the part I’ve been waiting for.

If the team thought they were under pressure before, they’re about to feel a whole lot worse.

Alas, this will be my last opportunity to observe proceedings before the finale. There is much planning and work to be done.

It’s about to get exciting.

It’s time for the next. And this one will certainly be missed.