The Operator

by Kim Harrison

  Jack let his hands fall. Wincing, he felt his ribs. Maybe he deserved it.

  “I don’t like feeling stupid,” Harmony said, voice muffled.

  “I didn’t lie to you. I came here to kill Bill. It’s the only way Peri will believe I love her.”

  Harmony snorted and pulled her head up. “You don’t love her.”

  He took in her fatigue and weary uncertainty, seeing in her that she’d given up almost everything. “You want to hear what happened?” he asked, and she dropped her head back to her knees. “When they came in the door the first time, they were surprised to find me. If I had shot Bill, Michael would have drafted, and it would have been for nothing, so I said the only thing that would keep them guessing.”

  “Yeah, and here you are. In a cell.”

  “I lied to them,” he said, trying to make her believe it. “I still had my gun, and you took it from me. Shot Michael in the chest.” He took a slow breath. “I told you to shoot him in the head.”

  “I wanted him alive,” she complained.

  Jack wiped the blood from his nose, then smeared it off onto the hem of his pants. “If you had shot him in the head, we wouldn’t be here. You can’t take a resisting drafter alive without drugs.” He sighed heavily, satisfied she was listening now. “But you shot him in the chest and ran out the door thinking I had betrayed you. And then you died in the parking lot with Sean’s five bullets in your chest.”

  Her eyes were high in disbelief. “Five? You can call me superwoman.”

  “But all you remember is me giving you up.”

  “Yep.” Harmony arranged the laces of her boots to make them lie perfectly.

  Bringing his feet forward, Jack awkwardly worked the plastic pin out of the hem of his slacks. “I was hoping that if you shot Michael in the first draft that you’d do it again in the second. I hadn’t counted on him downing you so fast.” He gently bit his lip as he got the pin in the cuff lock. “And you’re mad at me?”

  “You’re blaming me for this?” she said incredulously, then chuckled when she realized he was trying to be funny. “You are a lying bastard, Jack, and I don’t trust you.”

  But she had laughed, and he shrugged, struggling with the cuff pin. “You can’t bring down a drafter without a lot of planning, and they caught us off guard.” His chest hurt, and he gave up on the cuffs, easing the strain on his ribs as he took a break. His thoughts drifted to Peri, and he sighed.

  For a moment, Harmony was silent, her eyes flicking to his cuffs. “How long do you think they’ll keep us here?”

  He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Until Peri shows. Then they’ll hurt or kill us to make her draft so they can scrub her.”

  Harmony eyed him. “You seriously think she’ll show? She hates you. If it were me, I’d be halfway out of the country by now with my sexy psychologist.”

  “You think Silas is sexy?” he asked as if affronted. “The man is all brawn and—” He hesitated. “Yeah, okay.”

  She laughed, turning to take the cuff pin. In three seconds, it clicked open. Relieved, he took the cuffs off, biting his tongue when Harmony tucked them in her pocket along with the key. “She’ll show,” he said as he rubbed his wrists. “If only to kill me, she’ll show.”

  And that, of course, was why Bill had stuck him here instead of killing him outright. His only hope now was to convince Harmony he’d done it for Peri. For love.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-THREE

  The soft alert ding from her car was as subtle as the predawn morning light, but it rang through Peri like a shot, jolting the mild highway hypnosis from her in a spark of adrenaline. Silas was asleep against the door, never having heard it. The last of the stars were fading in front of her, and she was beginning to smell salt. A steady hum from the engine had her in a light, meditative state, and she hadn’t even noticed when the GPS system had flicked on the car’s front display. But there it was, a bright pink line superimposed on the map to Newport.

  “Prepare to exit right in one mile,” her car said, the male voice soothing in its proper British accent.

  I didn’t set the GPS. Peri frowned, then hit a few buttons to pull the display back and see that her car wanted her to exit onto Gilbert Stuart Road instead of continuing on 138. ETA was eight minutes, but it looked like it ended at the middle of a wetland and nowhere near Newport. Concerned, she reached out and nudged Silas.

  His soft groan was achingly familiar, and he stretched, his long legs jerking back when they hit the underside of the dash. “How close are we?” he asked, peering at the predawn sky, and then his watch. “I told you I’d drive the last leg.”

  “Did you set the GPS?” she asked, pointing it out with her chin.

  Silas exhaled heavily, still not fully awake. “No.” Thick finger extended, he toggled through the touch screen to find the destination. “And again no. Where the blazes is Nokewa?”

  Lips pressed together, she drove past the exit. Her computer told her it would recalculate, and the screen shifted to show her getting off at the next exit.

  Silas ran a hand over his sleep-mussed hair. “I thought this was an unregistered car.”

  “It is,” she said, then jumped as her phone rang. Uneasy, she looked at the screen. The number was coming from . . . Uruguay? Clearly it was being rerouted to hide its location.

  “You going to get that?”

  “Reeves. Answer the phone,” she said loudly, and when nothing happened, she said it again, this time using a fake accent. “Reeves. Answer the phone.”

  This time it worked, and her grip on the wheel tensed. “Hello?”

  “Peri Reed?” a woman said, the sound of wind and ducks behind her.

  Shit. “Sorry. Wrong number.” Peri reached for the disengage button.

  “This is Helen Yeomon. Bill works for me,” the woman said, and Peri jerked her fingers back. “I’ve heard you’re wanting out and not averse to causing a significant amount of damage to achieve it. Would you be available to talk with me about it?”

  His head going back and forth, Silas touched her knee.

  “I’m not coming back,” Peri said, her voice holding all her determination.

  “That’s why I want to meet,” the woman said. “I’m loath to lose you, but I understand that when it’s time, it’s time, and perhaps after we talk, I’ll be better able to convince Bill that this is the right direction for everyone. Do you have the morning free?”

  Do I have the morning free? She looked at Silas in disbelief, but he was pointing at the screen. They’d found her car. Set her GPS. They couldn’t gain control of her vehicle, but clearly they knew where she was. “You want me to follow your bread crumbs so you can bury me in a salt marsh?” she said, sifting through the options. “Not a high enough payout for so great a risk.”

  “Risk?” Helen made a disparaging noise. “If you want to risk Bill sticking his nose into it, we can meet at my office. I thought you’d prefer open space and many exits. Bill is unaware I’m meeting with you today, and I promise to keep it that way.”

  But a marsh, a true marsh, wasn’t open or easy to exit. And still, even as she thought it, the curiosity wound through her. Hesitating, she looked at Silas for his opinion.

  “We should stash the Evocane,” he mouthed, and she held down the toggle that would normally put her flashers on. The car’s onboard monitor whined, lifted, and slid back to show the car safe. Silas turned awkwardly in his seat to open the through-hatch to the trunk, pulling her short-job bag forward and onto his lap. There were only four doses left now, after she’d shot up last night at a rest stop.

  “I’m trying to find a gracious compromise,” Helen said as if growing impatient. “That, and perhaps stop throwing good resources after bad. Bill is very good at what he does, but he doesn’t know when to let go. Can I expect you and Dr. Denier this morning?”

  His thick fingers were nimbly filling two syringes with Evocane as Silas shook his head no, but Peri liked Helen’s no-nonsense approach. �
��You understand it’s not my habit to take people at their word,” Peri hedged.

  Helen chuckled. “Neither do I. But we both got where we are by taking risks. I’d like to meet you. See firsthand what Bill has developed with you. You’re important to me. If I meant ill will, I would’ve given Bill your car’s address and had him bring you in, but as it is, I’d rather have a quiet chat. I hope you decide to come.”

  With a click, the connection ended from Helen’s end. Focus distant in thought, Peri used her thumb to open the safe, but she frowned when Silas put the syringe of accelerant and the two Evocane syringes he’d just made inside. It wasn’t truly secure. Anyone with a Mantis catalog would know it existed, and she didn’t like putting them together like that.

  Taking the accelerant out, Peri twisted the knob off the drive shaft and dropped the syringe into the column, leaving only the two syringes of Evocane in the safe.

  “That’s not very secure,” Silas said as she recapped it, twisting it slightly to make sure it was aligned properly.

  “It’s also not in the manual,” she said, and he nodded in understanding.

  “Which is why I want you to carry half the Evocane,” he said, handing her the original vial with only two doses left in it. “In case we have to run.”

  She dropped the heavy glass into her jacket pocket, seeing the wisdom in it even as she loathed carrying it to a meeting with the money behind Bill. Peri looked at the screen as it slid back down. The GPS wanted her to exit. Without a word, she did.

  Silas straightened in his seat, clearly uneasy. “This is so bad for my asthma,” he said, the familiar phrase coming from him startling her.

  “She’s like eight minutes away.” Peri gestured at the road ahead of them, silent and empty at the early hour. “If she wanted me dead, there’d be a car behind us ready to shoot out my tires. You see anyone back there?”

  Grunting, he turned in the small seat to look. “I still don’t like it,” he muttered when he spun back and began searching the glove box. There was a set of needles and a ball of yarn in there, and Peri’s head started to hurt. “You got any more weapons in here?” Silas muttered.

  “I wouldn’t take one even if I did,” she said. There was a stop sign before the right onto an even smaller road. “They’ll only confiscate it. All the Glocks stay in the car.”

  Clearly peeved, Silas leaned back into the seat, big arms over his chest. “What does Jack say?” he asked, and she felt herself warm.

  “He hasn’t weighed in,” she said, not sure whether that pleased her or not. “But this woman is holding Bill’s purse strings, and I want to talk to her.” They had left the cluster of commercial buildings beside the expressway behind, and it had gotten wild surprisingly fast with winter-bare trees and scrub. Carr Pond? she thought as they passed a “Natural Resources” sign. “If I can convince her that I’m not going to go work for anyone else, she might get him to back off. Bill is a dick. If anyone can get him to back off, it’ll be the one paying his rent.” And then maybe I won’t have to kill him.

  A left at a blinking light put them on a dirt road, and she followed it past the wetland preserve sign. The headlamps began to show on the vegetation pushing up against the car, and though it wasn’t anything she recognized, it reminded her of her grandparents’ farm. The old woods was damp and broken from years of high water alternating with decades of drought. “If I don’t like what I hear, I’ll be no worse off than I am now.”

  “If she lets you walk out of there, sure. But what if she doesn’t?”

  “Silas,” she complained as the trees dwindled and vanished, replaced by tall scrubby brush. “If she wanted me dead, there are easier ways to do it. Would you rather spend the morning trying to break into Opti and risk capture there? Or talk to a woman who is so wealthy she thinks she’s bulletproof?”

  He chuckled. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Peri?”

  She gave him a good-natured smack on his shoulder, idling the car forward over a packed dirt road elevated a foot or so above the marshy surroundings. There were dead trees among tall grasses, and she could smell decay even in frozen cold. They wobbled over the ruts, and she slowed when they found a man in camouflage standing beside the wooden, easily surmounted gate. It was pulled aside to let them in.

  Silas whistled in surprise when the narrow road expanded into a wide turnaround. Three identical vans were parked in the center of the large lot, and a comfort station set up with a cook and an open fire. Three happy Labs watched in interest as they pulled in, their tails wagging. “I’d say this is it,” he said as he jabbed a thick finger at the car’s screen and dismissed the GPS.

  Eyes searching for the hidden snipers, Peri parked for a fast exit. Putting the car in park, she didn’t get out, searching her gut to find there was no answer. She was willing to talk to Helen, but trust was another matter.

  “What do you think she’s doing out here?” Silas said, squinting at the brightening sky.

  Peri looked through the skylight at the flock of birds overhead, and then the familiar pop-pop of a rifle. “Duck hunting?” she guessed, and then got out, hesitating just outside the car to take a deep breath, pulling the smoky air deep into her lungs and feeling it relax her. There were eyes on her, but they only made her feel daring, and she stretched like a lioness, showing her fangs to those who might test her. Her boots scuffed, and she collapsed in on herself. Her black jeans and the turtleneck sweater she’d put on this morning would make it easy to get lost, hard to find in the predawn gloom.

  “There,” Silas said softly, and she turned to follow his gaze. A man had come out of one of the vans, bundled up and carrying what looked like coats and boots. He had a dog with him, and her eyebrows rose when the man hailed them.

  “Agent Reed? Dr. Denier? Ms. Helen took the liberty of arranging for the proper attire!” he called out, red-cheeked from the cold as he came to a confident halt before them.

  Peri dropped her hand for the dog to sniff, feeling the lingering cold on his fur as she gave the happy animal a quick ear rub. He was a hunter, not security, and he liked his people. Silas cleared his throat, and she shrugged, reaching for the smaller of the two coats.

  “Thank you.” It smelled new, and she tugged it on over her WEFT jacket, feeing the warmth of the rich wool immediately, but Silas shook his head, content with his long coat—as out of place as it looked amid the broken marsh grass.

  “I’ll take you out to where she’s at when you’re ready,” the man said sociably. “Would you like a coffee? Ms. Helen insists the ducks can smell it, so we can’t take it to the blind, but there’s no hurry.”

  So she really is duck hunting, Peri thought as she glanced at Silas, then answered for both of them. “No. Thank you.”

  The man set the boots down, eager to please. “You’ll find the boots are sized as well.”

  Silas looked at his inappropriate dress shoes still holding the salt from Detroit’s streets, and Peri wasn’t surprised when he shook his head again. “I’ll keep my boots, too. Thanks,” she said.

  “Then let’s head out,” the man said, and the dog trotted ahead of them, clearly knowing the way. Walking slowly behind, Peri wrapped the scarf that had come with the coat around her neck. It didn’t smell like anyone, which said that they had been expected for at least a day. Ms. Yeomon, whoever she was, was a planner, and concern stole around Peri’s heart.

  But the gloves she found in the coat’s pockets were warm, and she put them on as their guide led them deeper into the marsh. They had a removable flap for the fingertips—shooting gloves.

  Silas leaned close as they found the boardwalk. “They didn’t search us.”

  “You don’t think we were scanned?” she said softly. “Probably before we even got out of the car, at the bridge we had to go over. My car is bullet resistant, not scanner proof.”

  “I suppose.”

  Her pulse jerked at the sound of another shot, and the dog with them whined eagerly. The scent of gunp
owder was strong as they came out onto a cleared platform that was probably used for observing wildlife on less dangerous days. Though they were near the ocean, it was a freshwater pond, and she squinted at the puddle ducks still flying in, the lure of a resting spot overriding the obvious danger.

  Silas nudged her, and she brought her gaze back to the two people standing at the blind at the edge of the structure—one man, one woman. Helen, obviously. The dog trotted ahead, getting a fond ear rub, shortly followed by a command to sit—which it did without hesitation.

  Peri exhaled slowly, not sure what she had expected. The woman was older, in her late fifties, probably, despite the well-done efforts to keep her face from showing it. She was dressed in camouflage-colored fur and held an open twelve-gauge shotgun over her arm. Seeing Peri and Silas, she smiled and beckoned them forward, her hands sleek within her shooting gloves.

  “If you don’t need anything,” their guide said, but it was clear he’d been dismissed.

  “Thank you, no,” Peri said distantly, wishing Silas would quit scowling. “Smile, will you?” she said out of the side of her mouth as they crossed the worn planks.

  “I don’t like that they’re the only two people with a weapon.”

  True. “Relax. If anyone can get Bill to back off, it will be a rich, attractive, powerful woman. He’s a sucker for powerful women.”

  Silas dropped his head. “I’ve noticed.”

  “Agent Reed.” The woman beamed as she handed her shotgun to the athletic-looking man beside her, taking her glove off before extending her hand to grip Peri’s. “Can I call you Peri? Please, I’m Helen. I was so pleased when I heard you and Dr. Denier had arrived. Thomas, give her your weapon. It’s more fun being cold when you can shoot at something.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The woman’s grip was surprisingly strong, and Peri took the shotgun when her security passed it reluctantly over. It was still warm from his hand, and she knew that it had shot in it; he hadn’t wanted to give it up. And yet he did without complaint, she thought, wondering at the woman’s personal power. “It’s been a while since I’ve shot,” she said, looking the gleaming steel over and calling it good.