Chapter 42 Lark
Lark
Location: Polícia Judiciária — Secure Wing (Temporary Command Room)
Time: Same
They move me again.
Different corridor.
Different door.
The energy shifts before I even step inside.
This room is bigger—but not permanent.
Too many mobile screens.
Too many people pulled in too quickly.
Too much urgency layered over structure.
This isn’t where decisions are made.
This is where they react.
More screens.
More people.
Fewer uniforms.
More suits.
That’s how you know the math changed.
This isn’t containment anymore.
This is escalation.
I step in on my own.
No one rushes me.
No one touches me.
That’s new.
That means they need something.
Badly.
A man I don’t recognize steps forward.
Tailored suit. Controlled posture. The kind of person used to rooms bending around him.
“Dr. London,” he says, “we have a developing international emergency.”
I meet his gaze.
Don’t move.
“Yes,” I say. “I told you.”
A few heads shift.
Not dismissive anymore.
Listening.
“We need to know,” he continues, “if you can prove that the list circulating is false.”
There it is.
The real question.
Not whether I’m guilty.
Whether I’m useful.
“I can do better,” I say.
The room stills.
“I can show you where it came from.”
That lands.
Murmurs ripple through the room—low, controlled, but real.
Eyes shift.
Calculations update.
“But,” I continue, voice steady, “not like this.”
The man tilts his head slightly.
“Like what?”
I let the silence stretch just enough to matter.
“Not as a prisoner,” I say.
I glance at the screens.
At the distance they’ve created.
“And not in a room where I don’t control the system you’re asking me to fix.”
That hits.
Because now it’s not just about me.
It’s about access.
Control.
Truth.
Silence settles—thicker now.
The woman from earlier steps forward.
“You’re in no position to negotiate.”
I turn to her.
Calm.
Certain.
“Then enjoy explaining the next body.”
The room goes very, very quiet.
Because now—
Now they understand.
This isn’t a negotiation.
This is a countdown.