When Christof first saw the display mounted behind Sakhr's desk, he mistook it for a collection of smaller screens, though it was actually a single surface spanning from waist to ceiling and wide enough for several to stand before it. It just happened to be displaying several small windows, each either Mobile Security drone footage or an overhead map display. Christof stepped up beside Sakhr and Sibyl and studied its displays.

They showed a building complex in Lyons, France. Glowing dots on the overhead map indicated a person. Other screens showed still images of people through apartment windows: a black family, an asian man, and a white woman with black hair. She was familiar, as though Christof had passed her on the street ages ago.

"Who is she?" Christof pointed the woman out.

"A flair." Sakhr replied. "Victoria was tracking her before we escaped. Her name is Josephine."

"Josephine what?"

"Just Josephine. No records. The military lost track of her in all the chaos, but a few days ago someone reported her. From what I gather, the military has tried several times to bring her in."

"How?"

Sakhr offered Christof a tablet displaying the woman's profile. It was sparse. Her physical description was the longest section. The rest was list of her known crimes, mostly break-ins of Lakiran facilities. Then there was a brief mention about her ability to manipulate minds. No one was to approach her directly.

"This is all you know?"

"A few soldiers knew more. She makes people forget about her. It limited Victoria's knowledge base."

"What do you want from me?"

"With her? Nothing." Sakhr enlarged two windows. One showed a handcuffed girl waiting in a detention room somewhere else in the citadel. The other was of a woman, probably the girl's mother, kept in a different room. They were the same family shown in the apartment photos. "Alex caught them away from the others. They arrived here last night. Apparently, the girl is some kind of glyph breaker, a major reason Victoria couldn't catch this Josephine. And she's possibly the answer to our prayers for these runaway glyphs." He turned to Christof. "I want you to interrogate her?"

"Why don't you get Alex? Isn't he your resident thumb screw tightener?"

"Alex left last night for China to do God-knows-what. Talk to her. Look at her power if you can."

"When you say she breaks glyphs, do you mean breaks breaks them. Do they come back?"

"No. The glyphs remain broken."

"So you want me to risk my power—"

Sakhr turned to Sibyl. "Tell him."

Sibyl spoke. "She's been on the outskirts of my range all afternoon. Every time she gets within it, my power stutters. I can't sense anyone. But it's fine as soon as she's out of range again."

"Okay, but why should my power work if yours doesn't?"

"Maybe it will. Maybe it won't," Sakhr said. "I'd do it myself, except I'm carrying my master glyph. So either you do this interview, or Alex does when he gets back." Sakhr pointed out the girl, who now fiddled with her handcuffs. She was nearly the same age as Helena, the poor girl Christof kept in his shower because there was no safer place for her.

"You or Alex," Sakhr said. "Your choice."