Chapter 26 · The Occupancy Appendix Tears

"Twenty-six." Marco's voice comes out flat, like the cold ate the rest of it.

"Panel's live again." I'm still holding his appendix in my fist. Torn to confetti, my copy, not his. My shoulder's bare where the strap tore, and the cold room bites it raw. I don't care. Two amber lights blink on over the breaker rack — 26 and 25 — humming like nothing just happened on that steel counter behind us.

"That's not possible." I make myself look at the lights instead of him.

"You cut power to both of those. Twice."

"Wasn't me."

"Then who." He crosses to the panel bare-chested, a scratch running down his ribs where my nails caught him minutes ago. Doesn't flinch touching metal that's near freezing.

"Nobody's in this building but us and the fish."

"Marco."

"It's a counter." He taps the little backlit window under switch twenty-six. FOURTEEN OF FOURTEEN, green numbers, steady.

"Tide count. Automatic. Logs every high tide a Crowe die spends in this room. Customs wanted fourteen. We just hit it." Fourteen tides. The whole reason I signed anything with my name on it.