by Kim Harrison
The air suddenly went chill, and Silas slowed as he came around the corner. The wide back door was open, spilling the heat of the complex into the January night. Two men in combat gear were sitting propped up against the wall, ignored as they tried to stanch their shoulder wounds while around them agents buzzed like angry hornets over tablets spewing data.
“Doc!” one of the downed men shouted, gesturing at him with his good hand, and Silas stared until he realized he was still in his lab coat.
He didn’t see Steiner or Peri, and, pulse fast, he went to the two wounded men, checking the younger one first as he tried to stay unnoticed. “You’re going to be fine,” he said as he moved to the other, looking under the makeshift bandage to the torn fabric and bleeding tissue. “In and out. Just apply pressure, and you’ll be back on the range in two weeks.” Peri did this.
He stood, wanting to go out, wanting to find her, afraid it would be too late.
“Doc.”
The man grabbed his sleeve, and Silas paused. “You’ll be fine,” he repeated, then realized there was powder residue on the man. The shot had been close, really close. “Did Reed do this?” he asked, dropping back down to crouch before the man. “Did she kill those men?”
The man grimaced, clearly in pain. “Reed shot both of us, yeah, but Twill was the one who killed everyone in the other van. It was so fast they didn’t have a chance. The bastard.”
Silas stood, his mind shifting into a new worry. Jack? Here? He looked down. “Where is she? Is she hurt?”
“Hurt? No.” The man took a peek under his soaked pad. “She’s gone.”
And then with a curious flip of sensation, time caught up and merged with hardly a whisper of disturbance. Silas took a breath, estimating the length of it. Forty-five seconds or so. It had been his Peri. She was running. Steiner had found her, captured her, and tried to bring her in. And Peri had balked, right at the gate by the looks of it.
Head shaking, Silas started for the open doorway and the pavers bathed in the stark white of electric lights. Steiner had made the mistake of not darting her to keep her from drafting. It was hard to fault him for it. Most people would make the same assumption that reliving a minute of time would change nothing, but knowing how someone was going to react gave her an immense advantage. Couple that with her training to evade . . . Steiner wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“It was perfectly executed,” the man was saying. “Like they planned it.”
“Shut your mouth, Taylor!” Steiner shouted as he came in, clothes scuffed, bloodied, and filthy from melted snow. “I want a locator cuff on this man. Now!”
Silas pulled himself to his full height. “Why? I’ve been here all night.”
Steiner halted right before him, the anger in his cold expression easy to read. “It’s either that or a cell. I should put you in a cell anyway.”
Feet spread wide, Silas crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m doing exactly what you told me to do,” he said, but he lost his aggressive stance when Allen was dragged in between two men. Old bruises between new swellings decorated his face, and there was a cuff on his ankle already. Their eyes met, and Allen smiled, giving him a thumbs-up as he was dumped unceremoniously beside the two wounded agents.
“Now,” Steiner demanded, and Silas grimaced when a man he had once trained came over, an open cuff in his hand.
“Sorry, Dr. Denier.”
Knowing it wouldn’t fit, Silas obediently pulled his pant leg up, smug when the band wouldn’t clasp shut. “Ah, sir?” the technician called out, helpless.
Angry, Steiner snagged a passing man with an unfired rifle in his hand. “You. Watch him,” Steiner said. “If he tries to leave, shoot him in the foot.”
“Yes, sir!” the man barked.
Silas looked his new babysitter up and down, assessing the threat at a low three.
Apparently satisfied, Steiner started down the hallway, trailing a half-dozen aides. “I want to know how she got so far so fast. And why we can’t find her. She’s in a car, isn’t she?”
“She is, sir,” the man at his elbow said. “But it’s an old model and doesn’t have a computer. A Gremlin, we think.”
“You want me to put out an APB on a Gremlin?” Steiner rubbed his forehead, then said, “Do it. I want the borders shut and the river patrolled. No one crosses without an eyeball check.”
“She’s not going over the border,” Silas said, and Steiner stopped short, his entourage scrambled to get out of his way as he turned.
“And how do you know that?”
“That’s not where Michael is,” he said, and Allen nodded, his head down in exhaustion.
Steiner pushed his aides aside. “You expect me to believe this is so she can go after Michael?”
“And Bill.” Silas looked at his watch, wondering how far she’d gotten. “And when they are dead, she is going to vanish, and you will never find her.”
Steiner walked slowly back. “I don’t think so, Dr. Denier,” he said, holding up a vial. “She needs this. She either comes in, or I will kill her. No more darts, no more second chances. I will kill her. Tell her that if she contacts you.” Turning, he walked away again, his aides following.
“Not if she finds Bill first,” Silas said loudly.
Steiner kept walking. “Swift, get yourself looked at,” he said over his shoulder. “I want you in my office in an hour. Armand, where are the lockers? Are there executive showers in this facility?”
“This way, sir,” someone said, and the entire group quickly strode down the hall.
“Yes, sir,” Allen said sarcastically, still on the floor. “Right away, sir. I don’t remember you signing my paycheck—ass hat.” He looked at the two wounded men beside him, giving them a weak wave as the incoming medical people smothered them. “Hey, no hard feelings, okay?” Wincing, he held a hand up to Silas. “Get me out of here, will you?”
Weight on his back foot, Silas extended a hand and hauled him up. “Where’s Peri?”
“Yes, I did get shot and beat up by both Bill and a Detroit gang,” Allen said loudly. “Thanks for asking.”
Silas jerked him off balance. “Where is Peri?” he intoned.
Pulling out of his grip, Allen rubbed his wrist. “The Detroit Astoria?” he said, knowing as did Silas that any conversation in the hall would likely be monitored. “I don’t know. Steiner figured out she’s hooked on Evocane and she freaked out. I don’t think she meant to leave with Jack, but you know her.”
“She doesn’t like to work alone.” Silas felt a new worry slip in behind the old. Jack . . .
Allen started down the hallway, slow and awkward. “Do you think she’ll return to Opti?”
“No.” Silas looked at his watch, estimating her next dose to be around midnight. She’d likely try to tough it out, and when that failed . . . He didn’t want it to be Bill she looked to, but Steiner was worse. He had to get out of here. Take her what Evocane he could find. Give her the time she needed to gather her thoughts, weigh her options. But that would take planning, and he was sure his office was bugged. Steiner was oblivious, not a fool.
“You don’t think the CIA got rid of the twenty-four-hour kitchen when they took over, do you?” Silas said, affecting a false lightness. “I’m starving.” The table under the air conditioner would be open at this time of night. If it was running, any listening devices would be useless.
Allen’s eyes were bright among the bruises. “Maybe they still have that guy who cooks eggs to order.” He reached for a wall for balance and left a dirty handprint. “I liked him. He always got my yolks runny.”
“Let’s find out,” Silas said, his thoughts on the Opti-initiated technological fence he was going to have to get through, because he was not going to let Peri run back to Bill. He glanced at their escort. His weapon would be handy. His security card would be helpful, too. “Are you going to be with me twenty-four/seven?” he asked, beginning to think about gathering resources.
“Yes, sir.
”
Silas’s eyebrows rose. “If you try to sit at the cool kids’ table, I’m going to tip your tray.”
“Yes, sir.”
He couldn’t help his sarcastic smile as he looked up at the ceiling camera before taking Allen in a more secure hold and helping him down the hallway. The lights were dimmed because of the late hour, and it felt like old times at Opti, beaten and bruised as they limped down the hall at the speed of “ow.”
“I haven’t slept in like two days. I just want to eat and go to bed. Steiner can make it with a goat if he thinks I’m going to show up in his office in an hour.” Then he leaned toward Silas. “You still have the code for the climate control, right?” he asked softly.
“Why would they change that?” The lunchroom was predictably empty, and Silas stifled a sigh as he took in the low-ceilinged, whitewashed blandness of tables in rows and cafeteria-style food. He hated cafeterias. It was one thing he and Peri shared.
Resigned, he put a damp tray on the bars, disliking the sound of plastic on metal. Behind him, Allen hit the disinfectant stand with a tired vengeance. His hands still glistening, he slapped a tray onto the bars, clearly not happy that their babysitter was following.
Leaning in, Silas put three milky-plastic cups on his tray. “What was Jack doing there?”
Allen looked at their guard picking through the silverware. “Complicating things.” Expression brightening, he smiled at the night chef, who had come forward to flick on the griddle. “Four?” he asked. “Scrambled?” he added as Silas took his tray to the oatmeal station. May as well make it breakfast.
Allen loaded his tray with something full of fat and grease, then limped after him. Silas looked at the cameras in the corners, recording everything. Shifting to put his back to their guard, Silas filled a bowl with oatmeal. “Why did Bill send Jack instead of Michael?”
“Bill says you can’t reverse-engineer the Evocane in time.” Allen’s eyes roved over the empty tables. “He sent Jack more as a goodwill gesture, trying to convince her to return rather than force her. He’s that certain that she’ll come back once she sees what he’s giving her.”
“A lifetime of addiction?” Silas said bitterly, and Allen’s expression became grim.
“The freedom to remember her drafts, the assurance that no one could use her again.”
But it came with a steep price. Silas ached that she might be willing to pay it because the more Steiner pushed her, the more she would be pulled to Bill.
“Damn, I’m tired. Where do you want to sit?” Allen asked, seeing that the table under the air conditioner was missing.
Agitated, Silas filled his three cups with chocolate milk. Tray in one hand, he indicated one of the tables near the air vent.
“My eggs aren’t done yet,” Allen said. “I’ll be right there.”
Silas took his tray over and set it down. Eyeing the nearby vent, he grabbed the table and pulled it, scraping and screeching, to sit directly under it. The unit wasn’t running, but he could fix that. “Don’t even try,” he said as their babysitter hustled forward, Allen limping close behind.
“Steiner said watch us.” Allen pointed at a second table. “Watch from over there.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed, and Silas crossed his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge. “Don’t,” he said, and after a tense moment, the guard took his tray and sat down twenty feet off and out of earshot.
“Dumb-ass,” Allen muttered, sighing heavily as he slumped onto the bench.
Silas took his phone from his pocket before he settled himself as well, using his pinky to handle the tiny icons as he logged into Opti’s climate control. Above them, the fans began to whirl. Cold air spilled down over them. The guard frowned, but he made no move to join them.
Silas resettled in a huff of satisfaction, but it faded when he looked from his bowl of oatmeal to Allen’s heaped tray of bacon, eggs, sweet pastry, and sausage. Resolved, he poured chocolate milk over his oats. “She’s going to go into withdrawal by midnight tomorrow.” He hesitated, his hand propping up his chin and milk dripping from the spoon to land on the brown sugar and melt it into the chocolate milk. “I’m not letting that happen.”
Allen snorted as he dug in, the steam rising from his eggs to mist his glasses. “She might be able to tough it out.”
“Maybe, but this stuff is ugly. It was bad forty years ago, and Bill has made it not just hard to quit but impossible.” Guilt swam up, and he hunched over his bowl, not hungry. “I’m weeks away from even knowing how it works, longer if they don’t give me a decent lab.” He couldn’t leave her to suffer withdrawal alone. Steiner had two vials now, and the accelerator.
“So what do you want to do?” Allen slumped deeper onto his bench. “I’m all escaped out,” he added, tapping his ankle bracelet against the table supports.
Silas’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t useless. That they thought him a lab geek had worked well for him so far. But there was a reason he hadn’t gone all the way to be a field agent. He was too big to be evasive. “I need to talk to Steiner,” he said, and Allen chuckled. “Maybe encourage him to free up a sample or two for me to work with, then slip out the front door.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Allen hunched over his food as if he were in prison. “They’re watching you a lot closer now since your little walkabout from Atlanta to Detroit.”
Uneasy, Silas tucked his phone back in his pocket.
“She’ll be okay,” Allen said. “I bet she’s planning her way back in right now to get her Evocane out of Steiner’s office. Frankly, I’m more worried about Jack.”
His chest clenched. “She isn’t going to stay with Jack,” Silas muttered, but she might—if she forgot who she wanted to be.
“He might wipe her,” Allen said, and Silas looked up, hating how easy that came out of Allen’s mouth. “He has before,” he muttered as he shoveled eggs and sausage into himself with an eerie focus.
Silas put his spoon down with a clatter. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”
As if only now hearing how he sounded, Allen looked up. “I gave her a phone,” he said, swallowing his latest mouthful. “She’ll call us if and when she needs us.”
Silas stared at him. “You really think she’s going to call you? I know where she’ll go. To catch her breath, anyway.” He had to get out of here, but it was going to take more than just him. He needed help. Allen, though, was in bad shape, half-starved and resources tapped out. He’d be good for a distraction, but not much else.
Silas jumped when Harmony stiff-armed one of the glass doors to the cafeteria open, hitting it so hard it nearly smacked into the wall. The woman stopped dead in her tracks when she saw them, the thought to turn around and walk back out obvious on her face. But with a slow intake of breath, her fire washed out of her. Slumping, she took a tray and pushed it along the silver bars.
“I don’t trust her,” Silas said, his lip twitching when Allen chuckled.
“Peri does.” Allen was smiling, seeming to enjoy Harmony’s bad mood. “She knew Peri was hooked on Evocane even before she left St. Louis and didn’t tell Steiner.”
She trusts Harmony . . . Pensive, he leaned across the table to Allen under the excuse of reaching for the salt, whispering, “Do you think she might help me get out of here?”
Allen’s eyes shifted to watch Harmony push her tray past the steaming sausage and bacon, taking nothing but a bowl of Jell-O and a yogurt. “Maybe,” he said. “Steiner is pissed at her if that ankle bracelet on her foot is any indication. She could chuck what’s left of her career to help you, or chuck you to Steiner to save what’s left of her career.”
That didn’t help at all, and Silas stiffened when Harmony plopped herself down across from him. Still silent, she put a spoon in her Jell-O, then pushed her tray to the center of the table and hid her head in the cradle her arms made. “I’m changing my name to Phillips, I’m so screwed,” she said, voice muffled. Her head came up, and she took in Silas and Allen, one in
a lab coat, the other still in the down-filled WEFT coat he’d gotten in the van. “Good God. Why is the air on? It’s freezing in here.”
“It keeps out the bugs.” Allen pointed up, and Harmony’s expression shifted from wonder to anger to a deep-set fatigue and resignation.
“Of course it does.” She pulled her Jell-O closer. “Steiner is a dick.”
“And baby makes three,” Allen said, eyes alight as he started in on a sticky bun.
Watching them eat made Silas’s stomach hurt. Time was moving, and he had so little to spare. He had to get out of here. He had to tell Peri how bad the Evocane was before she shot up with a third dose. The stuff was not just highly addictive, but after enough exposure, it would kill you if you quit cold turkey, such was Bill’s zeal to keep his drafters.
Allen shoved a fold of bacon into his mouth, a happy mmmm making both Silas and Harmony look at him in envy before dropping to their respective bowls of oatmeal and Jell-O. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell Steiner she was addicted,” Allen said around his full mouth. “It might have gotten you out of the doghouse. If he finds out you knew before Atlanta, you’re really up crap creek.”
“Then he’d better not find out.” Harmony eyed his bacon-strewn plate. “Besides, they can’t fire me twice.”
“They fired you?” Silas exclaimed, and Harmony held up two fingers spaced an inch apart.
“This close. Are you going to eat that bacon?”
Allen started. “Ah, yeah.”
“Thanks.” She took a long piece, her eyes closing in bliss as she chewed. “I just flushed my career saving your ass. You can float me some bacon. You’re welcome, by the way,” she added with zero sincerity.
Silas snorted as Allen fidgeted. “Thanks.”
“My dad would be pissed,” Harmony said. “Everything wasted. I don’t know if it would have made any difference if Michael had been there and we had brought him in. Damn it, this sucks. I can’t believe I’m eating bacon!”