The Drafter

by Kim Harrison

  “What are you doing, Peri?” she whispered. But she knew. She was running for control of her life, for the answers to what had happened in Charlotte, for the knowledge of whether she was a dirty operative, or if just her anchor had been.

  Fingers trembling, Peri took off her watch and shoved it between the seat and the backrest. She had a feeling that Jack had given it to her and it probably had a tracker in it. Her phone, too, was suspect; popping open the side of it, she took the wafer-thin, glass SIM card out and dropped the phone under the seat. The wallpaper of a desert sunrise didn’t mean anything to her, but she was sure she’d taken it.

  Exhaling with what sounded almost like a sob, she leaned her head against the cold window, feeling the bus shift and jerk as it worked its way past passenger pickup, gathering people as it went. Someone was probably going to a hotel, and from there, she could get a bus ticket to Charlotte. That’s where the answers were.

  But she pulled to a full, adrenaline-pounding stiffness when out the window of the bus she saw a familiar face.

  “Silas,” she breathed, and the man in an exquisitely cut brown jacket leaning against the pylon met her eyes, not smiling as he folded up his paper and let it drop to the planter beside him. She tensed, but the bus jerked back into motion, and her heart pounded when he crossed the road and headed into the airport.

  He knew about Charlotte—had told her it was her last task. He’d know that’s where she was going.

  Great.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  Silas got out of the cab, his hand going to his head when he thought he’d left his hat behind, only to find it right where it belonged. Checking the street addresses against the list of Charlotte’s Internet cafés on his phone, he crossed the street, hand raised to stop a slow-moving car.

  Electric bikes darted unnervingly around him, and he eyed an erratic, low-flying drone, relaxing as he decided it was a courier and therefore not a threat. He was in university territory, and his high-end coat was getting noticed. She’ll know I’m not a student anyway, he thought as he took his tie off and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

  It had been almost twenty-four hours, and if he didn’t locate her soon, Opti might find her first. She’d done a fair job of muddling her destination, but they weren’t stupid. Once they ruled out her apartment, they’d realize she’d bucked her deep conditioning against being alone and focus on the obvious: the city her last task had been in. He figured she’d ditch her phone and search for both answers and anonymity at an Internet-access café, but after finding nothing at the three that were closest to the bus station and claimed to have gen-three glass technology, he was starting to wonder if she’d instead gone to the library and their slower system.

  Either way, his window was closing. Opti might know her conditioning, but he knew her soul, and he was counting on that to keep him one step ahead of them.

  “University Dregs,” he whispered, feet scuffing to a halt as he looked past the crackling e-board shorting out and into the modern if sparsely decorated café full of students soaking up the free hotspot. “Thank God,” he whispered, seeing her sitting alone at a small glass table, that same black coat he’d seen her steal at the airport draped over her shoulders. Her head was bent low over the glass screen built into the top, a ceramic mug of coffee and that man’s hat beside her. Even as he watched, she tapped a new phrase into the search engine and hit the ENTER key with enough force to make the screen phase and her coffee ripple. Clearly things weren’t going well, and she ran her hand through her short hair in a gesture of frustration as she looked up.

  Her expression blanked when she realized two young men across the store were gesturing for her attention. Her model’s cheekbones, long neck, perfect complexion, and toned dancer’s body had gotten her noticed, and he shook his head in memory when that full sweet smile of hers blossomed with just the right amount of annoyance to convince without ticking them off. Falling against each other, they dramatically pretended to be crushed.

  Okay. He’d found her. Getting her to trust him wasn’t going to happen, but he knew Peri would risk a lot if she was hungry, tired, and dirty. She looked all three.

  Taking a deep breath, he entered, head down as he went to the to-go counter and out of her direct sight instead of ordering from the store tablets at the tables. Peri looked half starved, and he added a muffin to his medium, straight-up black coffee, taking it in a metallic-footed store mug instead of a to-go cup. Turning, he unbuttoned his coat in the warmth and noise. Peri was scrolling through a list of recent local crimes, choosing one before sitting back and sipping her coffee while the screen loaded. She looked frustrated and—so well hidden he almost missed it—scared out of her mind.

  What am I doing? he asked himself as the barista put his paper-wrapped muffin on the counter; peeved, he vowed she wasn’t going to get one bite. She’d made her choice. He wasn’t her anchor to coddle her, reinforcing the pap that Opti filled her head with that she deserved it by right.

  And yet, seeing her last night, numb and in shock from something she didn’t recall, had shaken him. She was so rare, so fragile in her uniqueness—one in a hundred thousand able to twist time, and even more rare in having the skill set and drive to use it. It had been a painful relief when she’d gotten snarky, hiding her fear that she’d been cut adrift again. Even more obvious was that she didn’t know him.

  Closing his eyes, he exhaled to calm himself, not wanting to add to Peri’s mood. She looked as irate as he felt, tapping the store-supplied stylus against the touch screen with a frustrated quickness. She hadn’t changed at all—just as moody and irritating as ever. Her paranoia would be in overdrive—for good reason. He couldn’t simply walk up to her and tell her they had to work together to end the very organization she depended upon. She’d never believe him.

  Silas’s jaw clenched when someone knocked into her. And then he stiffened when, with a snap, the room reset and the last four seconds replayed, Peri adroitly shifting in her chair at the right instant to remain untouched. Time caught up, meshed, and he shook himself, a cold feeling slipping through him when Peri, oblivious to the skip-hop, leaned forward to read the screen.

  Uneasy, he pushed off from the counter. He’d watched her jump three times to escape the airport. It was doubtful she even knew she had drafted. Her mind was flirting with collapse, and that he felt responsible bothered him. It had been too large a task; too much of her life had needed to be erased.

  It was her choice, he reminded himself, but he still felt betrayed as he came closer, halting just within her range of sight and waiting to be noticed. Power and recognition meant more to her than he liked, but her determined drive had drawn him regardless. Even now, years later, he could feel it, and his jaw clenched.

  As if sensing it, she looked up, her hazel eyes and long lashes vivid against the heavy eyeliner she’d used to muddle any facial recognition software. Her shock melted into a quickly quashed panic. She was afraid of him. “You,” she said, eyes darting to the perimeter for others even as she blanked her screen. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s just me. I’m alone. You don’t have to run.”

  “You’re alliance, aren’t you?” she asked. Nodding, Silas set his coffee down, the electrical field in the base engaging the table’s heating circuits with an audible click. Her eyes were determinedly not on the muffin, but they lingered on his tablet tucked under an arm, and he set it tauntingly on the table between them. Immediately her gaze rose from it, traveling over his pressed shirt tucked into his high-end jeans, then dropping to his leather boots and belt, and finally his coat. Her eyebrows arched in question; he shifted his coat so she could see he had no weapon.

  “I do so love the scent of imported cashmere,” she said. “Armani?”

  He dropped his hat on the table, annoyed that she’d found the one nerve he had and stomped on it. So he was a clotheshorse. So what? “So you’ll understand if you dump your coffee on me like you did Allen why I’
ll throw mine in your face,” he warned as he took the hard-backed chair across from her. Still she said nothing, staring at him with that assessing gaze, and he ran a hand over his short-cropped hair to smooth it in unease.

  “I should have gone to the library,” she muttered.

  But she hadn’t run, and Silas took a sip of coffee, relieved. “I think this is what you’re looking for,” he said, hitting a few buttons on his tablet to bring up a news story. “Go on. Read it,” he said, pushing it toward her. “I’m not stalling. The alliance doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “No?” Suspicious, she used her stylus to drag it over, and he swallowed hard when she flicked her bangs in a gesture so familiar that Silas felt an unwelcome flash of hurt. Eyes darting, she read the highlights about the security guard and CEO found dead two days ago. It was being called a botched robbery, but it was how the guard had died that he wanted her to see.

  Her signature killing style was all over it.

  Peri’s fingers were trembling by the time she got to the end. “Is there any doubt why the alliance is trying to put an end to Opti?” he said lightly.

  Her eyes flicked up, and he spitefully took a bite of muffin, corralling the crumbs onto the scrap of wax paper. Her stomach growled, and he wondered why he was being so nasty—except that it had been a long, hard year when she’d left.

  “He must have killed me first,” she said, her words almost lost in the surrounding conversations. “I don’t kill anyone unless they kill me first.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said.

  Peri’s eyes narrowed. “Did you call the police? How far behind is the alliance?”

  He licked his fingers, elbows on the table as he leaned in close enough that she could smell the sugar on his breath. “I already said I’m here alone. But as for Opti?” He shrugged.

  “You’re not afraid I’ll draft and run?” she said, eyebrows high.

  He had to get her out of here. Clearly the enticement of food wasn’t going to do it—even half starved as she was—but the lure of knowledge might. “You won’t risk forgetting this.” Confident, he took his tablet back and tucked it into an inside coat pocket.

  She watched it go, and his pulse quickened as he saw her calculate the risk of making a scene in the busy café. “I could just leave and look it up later.”

  He nodded as if considering it, then went cold in the sudden realization that he’d made a mistake. He shouldn’t be here. He should have let someone else do it. But no one knew her better, that she was like a wild horse: canny, indomitable—and likely to run at the clink of a stone. “Go ahead,” he said, calling her bluff. “Make both our days.”

  Expression cross, she flopped back into the chair to stare at him, probably trying to figure out why he was here. There was a nasty-looking pen by her hand, and he watched as she shifted her fingers and drew it close. “I’m not a dirty agent,” she said, chin lifted.

  “Then why did you run away?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Her eyes avoided his. “They think I’m corrupt. I’m going to prove I’m not.”

  He snorted, sucking muffin crumbs out of his teeth as if he had all the time in the world. “Anyone who can do what you do is dirty.”

  Eyes narrowed, she leaned toward him. “I work for the government. I am a soldier.”

  Silas flicked a look at her hands, carefully flat on the table. The pen was gone, hidden somewhere. She’d never come with him unless she felt in control, and he looked at the ceiling, rocking his chair back on two legs. “Sure you are.”

  Even expecting it, he jumped when she reached out, grabbed him by the coat, and yanked the chair down on all fours. “I am a soldier,” she growled. “Say it.”

  Her hand gripped him just under his chin, both soft and strong at the same time. “Okay, you’re a soldier.”

  Satisfied, she let go.

  “A corrupt soldier who hires herself out to the highest bidder,” he added, not liking that people had noticed and were watching.

  “I might lose memories, but my morals don’t change,” she said. “I wouldn’t do a dirty job now, so I didn’t then.” But her eyes became crafty, worrying him. “You need my help.”

  Grunting, Silas put his arms on the table. Damn, he’d forgotten how good she was. “Something happened up there,” he said, tapping his coat where the tablet lay. “I want to know what. I think you do, too.”

  “I’m not helping you,” she said. “You’re trying to shut Opti down. We do a lot of good.”

  “For the Billion by Thirty club, sure, but not for me,” he said with a bitter laugh. “Not for that guy at the counter. Opti is going down regardless of what I find. If you’re corrupt, you’re going down with it. If you’re not, I’m the only one who can help you clear your name. Help me, and maybe you’ll survive. Maybe walk away. Live your life.”

  She didn’t move, but he could see the thoughts sift through her, and he chuckled. “You think you can use me and lose me?” he said, and she flushed. “Go ahead and try. But keep this in mind, Peri Reed. I knew where you were going. I know what you need, and I can take you wherever your intuition leads you.”

  “So why are you talking to me?” she said bitingly.

  Right to the point, he thought, fiddling with his coffee to make the heating circuits click on and off, until she noticed and he quit. “I, ah, need your help to get up there,” he admitted. “I don’t have your skills.”

  Peri’s eyebrows rose. “You seriously think I’m going to work with you? Right after you told me you think I’m corrupt and a joke?”

  “I never said you were a joke.”

  “You said I wasn’t a soldier,” she said. “I can’t work with you. You’re too tall to be subtle and you’ll scream like a little boy at the first hint of trouble.”

  Brow furrowing, Silas looked her up and down, crossing his arms to make his biceps bulge. “I can take care of myself.”

  “You will slow . . . me . . . down,” she said, her finger tapping the table in time with her words. “Yeah, I see your pretty muscles, but I bet you can’t run a mile without throwing up.”

  His lip twitched. He wasn’t built for speed, and he always felt like a hulk next to her slim quickness—even if his mind was as dexterous as hers. More so, maybe. “I’ll keep up.”

  She leaned in, daring him. “I’d be surprised if you’ve ever seen the inside of a firing range, Mr. Muscles. I. Can’t. Use. You.”

  Peeved, Silas leaned to within inches of her, his breath held as he quashed the thought that her eyes, a deep hazel that could morph into green depending on the light and her mood, were what had first attracted him to her—and they hadn’t changed. “I’m actually pretty good with a weapon, but I’m not the one in trouble, Ms. Reed. You’ve been drafting, and you don’t even know it.”

  She jerked back, her sudden flash of angst making him almost regret his words. Face white, she scanned the noisy coffeehouse. “I have not,” she said, but her hands were under the table, probably holding that pen of hers like the security blanket it was.

  “Yes, you have,” he said. “I wasn’t lying when I said I used to work for Opti.”

  Peri fixed him with a tight stare. “You trained to be an Opti anchor? You took Opti training and then left them to work for the alliance? Are you kidding me?”

  Silas forced his hands to unclench. “Most of us at the alliance worked for Opti at some point. Until we realized it was corrupt to the core and left.”

  “You washed out,” she said, and his eyes darted to hers.

  “I quit,” he said tightly.

  She was looking at him in distrust, but under it he could see her desperate need. He’d been playing on all the wrong triggers. She needed him like she needed a knife and a pistol. She needed him like a black suit and a fast car. He was a tool, a safety net. And right now, seeing the fear in the back of her eyes, he knew she’d do anything to keep him from walking out that door.

  “Prove it,” she
challenged him, but he could tell she badly wanted him to succeed.

  “What, here?” he said, his attention traveling over the noisy throng.

  Peri bit her bottom lip. “You don’t have to bring it back, just tell me where I drafted. What did I forget?”

  He almost had her, and he ran a quick hand over his hair as if thinking it over.

  “Fine,” she said, and she stood, shocking him even as she wavered. “This conversation is over. Can I have your tablet, please?”

  She stuck her hand out, expecting him to give it to her, but she froze when he took her hand in his instead. “You were seen leaving the bathroom,” he said, and she stared at him, fear in her eyes as his voice took on the singsong pattern of an anchor bringing back a memory. “It took three guards, but they got you down, and then you jumped. In the draft, you tripped a businessman into another to distract security and avoid them. That was right before you stole the coat. They caught you again at the top of the escalator until you drafted and hid at the jewelry stand until the family with the stroller showed up and you went downstairs with them.”

  Slowly Peri sat, her hand loose in his grip.

  “It took me a few minutes to get downstairs, but the next time you drafted was when Allen saw you at the coffee counter.”

  Clearly scared, she pulled her hand away. “I didn’t draft at the coffee counter.”

  “It was tiny,” he said, pity reaching his voice despite his intentions. “A skip, if you like, turning away at just the right moment in the draft so he didn’t see you. Just now, before I sat down, you skipped about three seconds so that kid in the corner who looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week wouldn’t bump you. Peri, you escaped Opti. You’re good, but it would have been impossible without drafting, and you know it.”