“And unofficially?” Ethan asked.
Margaret’s eyes moved to me.
“Parts matching restricted communications arrays used in black-site relay systems.”
The words struck me colder than the air-conditioning.
Relay systems.
Night Orchard had failed because our comms were jammed and rerouted.
I slowly sat down.
Shepard noticed.
“Claire?”
“The orchard has roots,” I said.
Margaret nodded.
“Someone has been rebuilding old networks.”
“For what purpose?” one colonel asked.
I looked at the photograph of Reaper Cell.
“To find everyone who survived.”
Ethan’s voice was low.
“Everyone?”
“There weren’t many,” I said.
“Claire,” Shepard said, “how many people knew you survived Night Orchard?”
“Officially? Seven.”
Margaret looked grim.
“Unofficially?”
I picked up the envelope.
“At least eight.”
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