Rook

with a mental prod to their nervous systems. It was crude and short, but it got them moving.
    The large bodyguards acted in marvelous coordination. One picked Myfanwy up like a doll and slung her over his shoulder. Various parts of her that had been examined by doctors earlier in the day protested loudly.
    She thought briefly about struggling but decided that acting like a recalcitrant five-year-old would do her no good. The structure juddered over a curb, and they were all flung against a wall. The guard who was carrying her swiveled, protecting her with his body. The other bodyguard stomped along in front of them, shoving the hesitant techno-geeks out of the way. Ingrid and Li’l Pawn Alan held on to the harness of Myfanwy’s bearer and were dragged along in his wake. Myfanwy, dangling as she was, managed to make eye contact with Ingrid, who was looking disheveled for the first time ever. They exchanged grim looks, and then Myfanwy, still gasping for breath, craned her neck up to see that the staff of the command center were, with difficulty, following them. Watson was there, shouting, but Myfanwy couldn’t quite hear her over the racket of the trailer squealing across the concrete.
    “What?” she shrieked at the Scottish Pawn, straining to hear her voice.
    “You’re going the wrong way!”
    Myfanwy tried to twist around in the large bodyguard’s grip. They appeared to have come to the end of a hallway, and it was not one that led to any of the exits. She rolled her eyes and prepared to deliver some sort of withering observation to the bodyguard who’d led the way when he turned and called Li’l Pawn Alan forward.
    “You’re up, laddie,” he said firmly. Licking his lips nervously, the lanky Pawn placed both his palms flat against the steel-armored wall and tensed. There was a crackling sound, and when he took his hands away, a mottled gray streak stood out against the metal. The large bodyguard gestured for the young Pawn to move back, and then he wound up his fist and punched the flaw Alan had created, shattering a hole in the wall. Myfanwy’s bearer put her down gently and began to help his friend tear away the rest of the wall. The screech of ripping metal drowned the racket of the trailer’s journey backward, and everyone watched in awe as a rough but perfectly serviceable exit was created. Then the large bodyguard picked her up again and leaped through the opening.
    Myfanwy had forgotten how tall the trailer was—it was mounted on those big tires that could drive over a Volvo and had been jacked up on heavy metal legs. It felt as if they floated for a full five seconds before she was slammed against her bodyguard’s shoulder, flashing her undergarments at the gaping Checquy onlookers. The bodyguard slid her out of his arms and deposited her roughly on her feet. She took the opportunity to hike her trousers up before another security operative took her by the arm. Behind her, the large bodyguards were helping people out of the trailer, one guard simply picking each staff member up and tossing him down to his partner, who placed the person politely on the pavement. Ingrid and Alan had been the first to be passed down and were now being ushered away by some brisk-looking Pawns in camouflage.
    Myfanwy looked back. The trailer had been dragged much farther than she’d expected, almost to the steps of the police station, and was now being rocked back and forth. The din was horrendous, but what really caught her attention were the two flesh tentacles that had wrapped around it. Myfanwy shook off the guiding arms of the Pawn in camouflage and got down on her knees to peer under the trailer.
    “What did it get caught up on?” she shouted at the soldier, who was trying to figure out how best to lay hands on his commanding officer without getting court-martialed or becoming the victim of her infamous powers.
    “Some concrete bollards,” he said right in her ear. She nodded thoughtfully and became aware of a loud mechanical droning sound between the crashes. She looked up and saw Pawn Steele, clad in some sort of plastic armor, perched precariously on the roof of the trailer and hacking away at a tentacle with one of his infamous chain saws. As she watched in awe, he swept his arms up and brought down churning metal in a glorious motion that sent fluids spattering everywhere. The tentacle parted, and the banging of the trailer ceased immediately. Steele raised his head and gave a triumphant