We entered what seemed to be an office. The room wasn't large, and it was mostly white and cold like the hallways were, but it was also beautiful, and the furniture in it--all modern and angular--looked expensive. There were some of the usual office items: a desk, a chair, file cabinets. There were gadgets on the desk, and though I couldn't identify any of them, they likely made up some sort of computer system. Everything was gleaming and shiny, but the most impressive thing was that one wall, the back wall, was an entire dark fish tank, with sand and rocks and seaweed down at the floor and gleaming jellyfish floating weirdly up and down. How that thing managed to get into the small underground space was beyond me, but I was beginning to realize that this entire place's mere existence defied expectation.

Nobody was there, and there were no doors or anything else. Were we in the right room? Before either of us could ask, the giant jellyfish tank emitted a sort of buzzing sound, and all of a sudden a door-sized portion opened in the middle and produced a woman who strode confidently toward us, obviously expecting that we'd be there. It took me a moment to understand what had happened--that the tank was not a tank at all but a screen, like a illusion, and it was only creating the image of a giant aquarium. Something about that unsettled me even more than when I'd thought it was an actual tank.

What was this place?

The woman that had emerged was tall and thin, attractive in a flowy white blouse and straight black pants, her heels clicking on the concrete floors. She looked like a particularly stylish, attractive business woman, but what was most remarkable about her was her hair: it was as red as a poppy, and it hung down her back in a fat braid. She sat down at the desk and indicated that Henry and I should take seats on the small bench in front of it, which I was about to do until I realized that Henry had no intention of sitting, and so I remained standing, too.

So far, everything had seemed just . . . surreal. So odd. But it hadn't exactly begun to frighten me perhaps as much as it should have. If I'd really thought about all the steps we'd gone through just to get to this office--how much security seemed to be in place--maybe I would have been more adequately afraid, but this woman didn't appear too intimidating, and nothing as of yet had threatened to hurt us. In fact, Slim had been more bizarre than she was, and he'd clearly been a fan of Henry. That Mr. Clean had been scared of Henry. Whoever these people were, Henry had so far wielded a sort of power over them, even if he didn't understand it. I held out hope that he'd continue to have that upper hand.

The woman uncurled her fingers as if in expectation, then changed her mind and clasped them on the desktop. She licked her lips, looked around the room, and then said flatly, "I insist, Henry. Sit down."

"Tell me what this all is, how you know my name," he replied, as I held my breath.

"Not until you sit down," she repeated, and though no impatience showed itself in her features, I sensed it crawling under her skin.

I instinctively sat, and Henry followed me, though I knew it was against his will.

The woman briefly flicked her eyes toward me but then refocused on Henry, faked a weak smile, and said, "It's good to listen to those who have your best interest in mind."

"I'll judge that for myself."

Her smile tightened just slightly. "You've always struggled with pride, Henry. We hope your current," she eyed him up and down, "situation has tempered it somewhat."

"Is that a threat?"

"Consider it advice."

I looked from one to the other. It was like the two of them were having some sort of competition, and I couldn't keep up with it. Henry sat up straight, emotion impossible to read behind his stoicism. But there was something about him that seemed fragile, at that moment . . . I was beginning to feel the fear I should've felt much earlier. It was forming a small but growing knot in my stomach.

"I want to know what you are," demanded Henry. "What is this . . . this Circuit? Why do you and that person--Slim--act as if you know me? I can't remember anything about any of this, so first, if you expect me to listen to anything you say, I need some information. And second, you can keep the familiarity to yourself, because until I understand all of this, the only side I'm on is mine and Nadia's."

"Nadia?" said the woman. She didn't even look my way, but I heard the spite in her voice. "Is that what you're calling her?" Before Henry or I could respond, she put up a hand to silence us and spoke over anything we might have said. "I am in charge of all communications here at the Circuit. I appreciate respectful, mature conversation, in which I do hope you'll be able to engage. I can see that you're frustrated and distrustful, but contrary to whatever feelings you think you're having, Henry, we greatly regretted your loss and are thrilled to see you return to us. We didn't know what had happened to you. For months, you've been missing. None of our spies or recruiters could find you. You want to know why you don't remember anything? We couldn't say, because we don't know. Where you've been? We don't know that either."

"That can't be true," interrupted Henry, disdain and disbelief evident in his voice. "You sent that scab or whatever to find me. He said he was told I was out and wandering--"

"Yes, dear," the woman insisted, cutting off Henry with a cloying sweetness. "We received word from a member that you were suddenly in the area again. So naturally, wondering what had happened to you, we wanted to bring you back in. If you'll allow me, Henry, I will grant you what you ask--information. Perhaps then you will recall something of your part in the Circuit. But you must sit down if I'm to continue this conversation. We don't act like children, here."

I caught my breath. How could she speak to him that way? Would he let her? Henry tensed, then lowered himself back into his seat, saying nothing. I wondered if he was struggling to keep quiet. Perhaps he was willing to sacrifice his integrity if only for a moment in order to gain information. I convinced myself that that's what it was; I didn't like thinking he'd let anyone speak to him in such a way otherwise.

The woman nodded in approval, a curt motion to go with her terse smile. "The Circuit is an organization, Henry. It's simply an organization. One that was built decades ago by our visionary founders and has grown to involve hundreds of people working here in San Judo. We've locations in every big city this side of the Mississippi River. We're in the process, at present, of expanding, even considering international franchises. However, our foundation is here, in San Judo.

"As you're an intelligent young man, you want to know what sort of business we conduct, and that answer is also simple: we are in the supply trade. We supply services to those in need of them, and our valued clients request and benefit from all of the services we provide." The woman clasped and unclasped her fingers again, and her eyes moved around the room. "Now, you and I both know, Henry, that nothing is free, and the Circuit doesn't run on philanthropy, although we do offer a sort of charity in the sense that we recruit young people for our organization--young people with no prospects, whose lives have been and would otherwise be a waste, whose lack of ties and family bonds we wish to make up for."

"You mean it's convenient that they won't have people out there looking for them."

She was working hard to maintain her patience. I sensed danger and wanted to get up and go right that moment, but Henry was too entangled in what she was saying; his entire face glowed with the knowledge he was acquiring, his body language revealed he'd been drawn in. He sat slightly leaning toward the woman, long hands grasping his knees, his entire frame taut and waiting for more. He'd been like that with Slim, as well--as if the information was more important than anything else in orbit around him.

"As I said--we provide a service. We train young people who would otherwise have no home, no food, and no future. We give them education; they develop skills with us that very few possess. Each young person we train is well cared for and prepared for a future that ensures employment. Our high-paying clients always have need of our best-trained recruits, you see."

"What I see," Henry responded, "is that you take in kids off the streets, teach them to be criminals, and hire them out to people too privileged to get their hands dirty, who can't afford to get caught."

"And that surprises you?" laughed the woman. Her laughter was hollow. I had no idea how Henry had pieced everything together so fast, but the woman didn't seem surprised. "I am happy to see that your mind still works quickly, Henry, in spite of its lapses. As I stated, we merely provide a service. We are meeting a need. Isn't that what all businesses do? And a little bad must come with all good. Risk is a factor in any business model."

"But they're the ones having to take the risks," seethed Henry, beginning to rise from his seat again. I took in a quick breath, lifted a hand as if to pull him back down but hesitated. This place was unsafe, no matter how this woman was trying to spin things. Henry wasn't scared enough, I thought. "You don't get hurt, and your clients don't get hurt. These kids do. You teach them to be criminals—and that's a good thing?"

The woman's face hardened. "There's no need to get emotional. You asked for information, and I'm providing it. You may or may not appreciate what we do, here, but your behavior is petulant. The fact that you so easily succumb to your feelings is worrisome. Whatever's happened to you, it's weakened you, Henry."

I didn't know what to make of what was going on. Henry pushed away from the desk, stood apart as if to think. The way she spoke to him infuriated me, but he was more concerned with comprehending what this all was. I, too, was intrigued--it was a gang, essentially. It appeared a highly organized gang, but it was a gang all the same. They brought in street kids and trained them to be criminals for hire by outside clients. I wondered how much crime there was in San Judo, if this were the only place this Circuit was operating. It must be exponential. But more worrisome was the fact that Henry had been involved with them. If it were true, his placement at Oliphant might have been fitting. And me? Had I been a part of this Circuit, too? What sorts of crimes had we potentially committed? Then again, this woman didn't seem to remember me. So . . . what was my place in all this? I wanted him to stop digging. It seemed that we were only going to find out things we were better off not knowing, just as I'd feared from the beginning. But Henry wouldn't stop. He needed to know.

"So you're telling me you know nothing about my lost memory or why I was at Oliphant?"

The woman looked surprised, confused. "The juvenile detention facility? You've been there all this time?"

"You must not have a very reliable spy network if you didn't know. I'd assume a large number of your recruits end up at Oliphant when things go wrong."

"None of our recruits go to Oliphant. We wouldn't allow that."

"Then why were we there?" Henry indicated me with a swing of his arm. It was the first time he'd acknowledged me since their conversation had begun.

"As I mentioned, I don't know."

"No," Henry turned to face her. "I don't buy it. If you're as good as you say you are, you have to know. If I'm someone that mattered to all this, you'd do a better job of finding me." The woman attempted to say something, but Henry cut her off. "And what was I doing when I went missing? What about Nadia? What was she doing?"

Eyeing me with obvious dislike, the woman took a deep breath, as if she didn't even want to think about me let alone talk about me. "This one was low-level. I don't even know what she was doing. I'll have to leave that to her supervisor. But you, Henry? You were one of our elite. Months of months of training, you understand, and so when you went missing, it was a real loss to us."

"Was it? At least you didn't lose your memory."

"I will take your sarcasm as a sign that you haven't lost your edge. Enough! No. I'm weary of this conversation; I don't tolerate disrespect well, you'll understand." She stood, and at the motion of her hand, another person suddenly emerged from the moving jellyfish screen. I recognized him, much to my horror--it was the man I'd seen leaving the office at Oliphant, the one rectangle head had been arguing with.

I immediately went to Henry's side. "It's him!" I whispered. "The person who was talking about you, in the office!" I didn't know if my words made sense to him at first; he didn't say anything in response to me. But then he turned on the woman.

"You're lying. He was at Oliphant. He knew I was there--you knew we were there!"

Warning signals went off in my head and no doubt in Henry's as well; they were so vivid I felt sure red lights were flashing in the room around us.

"Did you put us there?"

The woman entirely ignored us. "This is Mr. Aguado. He'll be responsible for your reinstatement, Henry. We must make sure you haven't lost what you gained in your training."

"What is this? I'm not getting reinstated. Didn't you hear what I asked you?"

Rubbing her forehead, the woman turned to Mr. Aguado. "You see what we're working with? Why did they ask this of us?" He nodded in something like sympathy but simultaneously lifted a finger to his lips as if to quiet her.

"We have to go," I hissed to Henry, knowing that whatever was happening, it wasn't going to end well for us. "Now."

He turned to me, his eyes flashing with some sort of inner light. I wanted to grab hold of him, throwing all reservation aside--I needed the security of his presence--but he went straight away to the door with the intention of opening it. We realized for the first time that there was no inner handle. "Open the door," he demanded of the woman, turning back to her.

"You aren't leaving," she said casually. "But you aren't in danger, Henry. I promise you. We want only to rehabilitate you. Please--you must recognize that we're trying to help you."

"I don't want any goddamn rehabilitation! You're lying to us. You've had something to do with whatever's happened to us. You're all criminals--"

"So superior, aren't you?" The woman suddenly grew colder than ice; I could almost feel the chill emanating from her. She rounded her desk, came within a few feet of us. Henry pulled out his Swiss army knife, but she didn't even seem to notice it. "Our toys are far better than yours." Behind her, Aguado methodically retrieved from his jacket something that definitely resembled a gun. "No one wants this to become contentions," she added dangerously, ominously, "but you seem determined. There's hope in that. But I will say this to you once, and I'll say it clearly. You have absolutely no room to condemn any of us. You made your choices, Henry. You chose this training. And you should be proud of it. Your Circuit is the most prestigious by far. The Zion Circuit, which Mr. Aguado, behind me, oversees. It was on one of your jobs for Zion that you were pulled from our reach." She waved at the man behind her, and he came slowly toward us.

Henry and I stood rooted, and for the first time since I'd met him, I worried that he couldn't protect us. Not now. They were tightening their grip around him, and all he needed to break him, at this point, was to know what he'd done.

"What does Zion do?" Henry's voice trembled. He knew the answer.

Lacing her fingers in front of her, the woman lifted her gaze from the ground and right up to meet Henry's, her grin practically diabolical. "The Zion Circuit trains assassins. You were homicide-for-hire, Henry. And you were very good at your job."