The Drafter

by Kim Harrison

  “Then you came to the wrong spot,” Taf said as two men in stable livery came out from behind the RV to take the animal’s head.

  It was the woman from the parking lot, and Peri refused to retreat as the horse shied. “I’ve never seen a horse that color before,” she said, thinking it had almost a metallic sheen.

  Taf eased up beside her, so close Peri could smell her expensive perfume. “It’s an Akhal-Teke gold. I think she spent more on it than on my entire education.”

  “She’s our contact!” Peri blurted, eyeing the woman in her velvet blazer and vibrant cravat. The dappled light caught the diamond-encrusted broach of a horse head, and her short, blond hair was bound up under a small but eye-catching derby hat. She looked like a politician’s wife with too much money and not enough to do. But then Peri spotted the security men behind the RV coming forward. An unsettled feeling crept into her, curling around twice before settling into the pit of her soul like a bad dog.

  The woman dismounted, graceful from practice. Taking off her hat and gloves, she handed them to one of the men. “Howard,” she said, eyes bright and color in her cheeks that makeup couldn’t hide. Her riding boots, unlike everything else, were well worn, and Peri looked for a whip, thinking it wouldn’t be out of place. “Your text was nebulous, to say the least. You’d better have a good explanation. This isn’t a good time.”

  “Is it ever?” he said, shaking hands with her, but the woman never took her eyes off Peri.

  Taf had shifted to make room, ultimately ending closer to Peri than to her mother. “Mother, this is Peri Reed,” she said formally, a stilted smile in place, and Peri shifted her coat to stick her hand out. “Peri, this is my mother, Fran Jacquard.”

  “Pleasure,” Fran said, motioning her security forward.

  “Hey!” Peri exclaimed when one took her hat and coat, and the other patted her down.

  “Seriously?” Taf complained. “Howard wouldn’t bring her here if she wasn’t clean.”

  “Mistakes happen.” Sculpted eyebrows high, Fran waved off the guard when he showed her the jackknife she’d taken from that beat two-door car she’d hot-wired.

  “Peri is clean,” Howard grumped as the security guys dropped back. “It’s what I do.”

  “Good, then.” Fran stood before Peri, her sharp attention making Peri stiffen. So she was dirty and smelled like a bus. She’d been working three days straight. “I understand you have something for us?” Fran prompted, and Howard shifted from foot to foot, making the beads in his dreadlocks clink.

  “Ah, actually . . . ,” he hedged, “we don’t quite have it yet. That’s why we’re here.”

  Fran turned to him, but Peri was wondering what the it was they were talking about. Taf, too, looked out of the loop. “It what?” Peri asked, feeling ignored.

  Fran leaned toward Howard, her expression twisting up in irritation. “Howard,” she said softly. “What is she doing here if she doesn’t have what we need to close Opti down?”

  Oh, that it, Peri thought. “Mrs. Jacquard, Opti has Silas Denier. He works for you, yes?”

  Fran’s attention shifted. “And you do not,” Fran said as Howard exhaled in relief.

  Peri’s eyes slitted. Pulse fast, she scanned the area for a fast way out. The horse had been led away, and the nearby golf carts might or might not be faster than someone running. They couldn’t outrun bullets, though. Coming here suddenly felt like a mistake, but she’d never left a man behind before, and she wasn’t going to start now—even if it was Silas.

  “Peri thinks Silas can bring back a memory that proves Opti is corrupt,” Howard pleaded.

  “And prove I’m not,” Peri added.

  “Opti is corrupt,” Fran said, motioning for her security to back off. “All of it.”

  “I’m not corrupt,” Peri said, working to keep her temper. Pissing off her alliance contact wouldn’t help. “And I’m not a scapegoat,” she added, feeling vulnerable under the woman’s accusing eye. “Silas can help me remember what happened at Global Genetics.” What if I remember more? What if he brings it all back? Do I want to remember Jack’s death?

  Asking for things was not unusual for Peri. She did it all the time and usually got what she wanted. But asking a group that was hell-bent on destroying everything she believed in was chancy—even if her success might mean a realization of everything they wanted. At this point, it was hard to argue that Opti was not rife with corruption. All she wanted was to clear her name.

  And yet, Fran’s expression as she stared at Peri made her feel . . . guilty.

  “This is counterproductive,” Peri said, trying for a firmer tone. “Every moment spent talking this over makes it harder to retrieve Silas. I need him to reconstruct what happened up in that office. You want to know who’s corrupt? So do I. But it isn’t me. Silas can bring it back.”

  “An anchor can’t defragment a memory he or she didn’t witness,” Fran said quickly.

  “Yes they can.” Peri warmed as she recalled Silas’s hotel room, his cool thoughts in hers.

  Howard inched closer, his knitted vest looking tired next to Fran’s high style. “I talked to Silas yesterday. He’s been working with her,” he said, and Peri wondered at the emphasis he put on the word. “He’s already had some success bringing back her past anchor. If he can do that—”

  “The one she killed, right?” Fran interrupted, and Taf’s lips parted in surprise.

  “Why are we still talking about this?” Peri said in disbelief. “I’m trying to help.”

  “To help yourself.” Fran frowned, clearly undecided. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  “I’m here because I need to know the truth,” Peri said, her pulse quickening.

  Fran sighed. “Don’t we all,” she said, then jumped when the phone on her hip vibrated. “How nice. Their plane came in early,” she said sourly as she took a look. “I have to go, but you are coming with me. You can explain on the way.”

  Peri didn’t move, gaze sliding from her dirty clothes to Taf’s understated elegance. Howard, too, looked uncomfortable, and he scrubbed a hand over his thick bristles making a dark shadow on his face. “Ahh, I know half-beards are in these days, but I could really use a shower before going to your box, Fran.”

  Fran jerked to a halt, grimacing. “I don’t have time for this.”

  Excuse me?

  “Mom.” Taf put a hand on Peri’s shoulder. “Go do what you need to do. Take Howard. He can wash up at the jockey showers. I’ll give Peri something of mine to wear. We’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. You can get your guests settled, and then we can talk.”

  Shower? Peri’s impulse to walk and keep going faltered. “You have something that might fit me?” she asked, and Taf nodded, eyes bright. “You are a lifesaver. I’ve been wearing this for three days.” She knew that if they got Howard alone he might dish the dirt, but she hadn’t done anything in the last three days that she’d do differently—given the chance.

  “Howard?” Fran prompted, and the man took both of Peri’s hands, surprising her.

  “You’ll be okay?” he asked, the depth of question in his brown eyes startling.

  “Y’all go along, Howie,” Taf drawled cheerfully. “I’ve got this.”

  But he didn’t leave until Peri nodded. Somehow it made her feel even more vulnerable.

  “I told you to lose that accent, Taf,” Fran said as she and Howard got into one of the golf carts, and Taf frowned.

  “I don’t know what they’re worried about,” Peri said drily when Fran told her security to stay with Peri. “They took my jackknife.”

  “Come on,” Taf said, her voice tight and accent almost nil as she tugged at Peri’s elbow. “I’ve got something that will go fabulously with your skin tone.”

  “I’d be happy with just something to cover my black eye, thanks,” she said distantly, following her up to the permanent decking that the RV was parked against. Taf was still smiling, but the tension between her and her mother was easy t
o see, old and deep.

  The shower was surprisingly decadent for something on wheels, and Peri indulged until the water went cold, appreciating the expensive soap and shampoo. After some talk about the nonfunctionality of the first painted-on dress that Taf had picked out, Peri settled into skintight white jeans and a black blazer with a white silk button-down shirt underneath. There was even a matching derby hat, and taking the glitzy black-and-silver monstrosity in hand, she left the tiny bathroom vestibule and went into the main space.

  Taf looked up from her laptop, her face lighting up. “Wow, you look better in that than I ever did. It’s a little casual for the races, but damn, girl! You look good!”

  Flushing in pleasure, Peri spun to show it off. “You don’t think the hat is too much?”

  “No.” Standing, Taf all but pushed her down into one of the cushy chairs. “Sit.”

  Flustered, Peri sat, watching Taf through the mirror as she pinned the hat in place. She’d never had many girlfriends. It was easier to drive potential friends away than have them think she was stupid when she couldn’t remember what they’d done together last week. “Thank you,” Peri said softly, not knowing what to make of the attention. “You’re not going to get in trouble about the pants, are you?” They were Fran’s, seeing as Taf had legs the size of toothpicks.

  “What is she going to do? Ground me?” Taf took the hatpin from between her teeth, carefully wedging it to hold the hat on. “Sorry about my mom. She’s intense. Here. Try this on your eye.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Peri said as she popped open the compact and used her finger to dab the makeup around her eye to find it was a good match. “My mom is worse. Bless her heart,” she added in a thick southern drawl to make Taf chuckle. “She wanted me to be a dancer,” she said, not knowing why she was opening up to Taf, except that they both had overbearing, controlling mothers. “I took all the classes, spent my summers at dance camps, blah, blah, blah.”

  “My mom just wants me to be married,” Taf said as she closed down her laptop.

  Peri laughed at the dry humor she’d put in her voice, but Howard’s crack about the MRS degree now made sense. “You’re one hell of an event organizer,” Peri said as she spun around to find Taf slumped into the cushions. “What did you minor in?”

  “Business,” Taf said glumly.

  Which was clearly not her first love. “What else did you minor in?” she prompted.

  Taf’s eyes flicked up and away. “All kinds of things,” she said, clearly avoiding the issue. “My mom thought it was a waste of time, but I’ve got almost-minors in half a dozen studies.”

  So she wouldn’t have to graduate, Peri thought, completely understanding. It was far easier to avoid a domineering mother than to stand up to someone you loved. And Taf did love her mother. “Taf. You can’t live your life on what your mother wants,” she said, and Taf looked up, shocked. “So it’s a hassle standing up to her. So she might cut you off. It’s your life. She already got your first twenty years. Don’t give her your second. By then, it’s too late.”

  Her lips pressed, making Peri wonder if she’d gone too far. But then Taf stood and held out a matching shawl. “We’d better get going.”

  Yep, she’d gone too far. Peri took the shawl from her, feeling depressed. “Thanks.”

  Taf’s pensive silence held all the way up the sawdust-packed path to the track, giving Peri time to stew over the stone-faced guards accompanying them in the golf cart. All around was colorful, early-spring attire, and the men were taking the rare opportunity to flaunt pinstripes and flamboyant colors as much as the women. Big hats, mint juleps, and outrageous ties made Peri think she should have gone with Taf’s first instinct of the short red dress.

  The silence continued to grow as the cart driver took a service road leading to the back of the main building, the cinder block painted a dull yellow and lined with one-way doors probably leading to kitchens and service areas. From the unseen track, a bugle sounded to bring the stragglers in. A rising exhalation from the stands rose into a roar.

  If Peri had been trying to get away, it would have been a perfect spot to act—quiet and unobtrusive, and the bodies wouldn’t be found until after the race. But she wasn’t, and the rising adrenaline broke over her with nowhere to go. Her pulse quickened as she got out of the cart.

  “Down the hall, through the doors, and up the stairway,” Taf directed, and Peri halted.

  “Taf. I’m sorry I said what I did about your mother,” Peri said, and Taf jerked as if slapped. “It was out of place, and none of my business.”

  Taf almost smiled, reaching out to give Peri’s elbow a squeeze. “No,” she said softly, leading her forward to the double steel doors. “You’re right. I need to grow a pair.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Peri said. “You’re not a coward. She’s your mother.”

  “Exactly.” Taf gestured Peri should go first, and feeling even more unsettled, Peri followed the first security man through the twin service doors. The sound of people laughing grew loud long before she saw them, and Peri balked when they turned a corner and the hall opened onto a huge room overlooking the track.

  “That way,” Taf said, pointing out the staircase, and Peri nodded. It was a fabulous southern affair, complete with a woman in full southern belle regalia at the base of it, her accent charming as she checked names on a list before allowing access to the second floor. Two men in servant livery waited to reject any unwanted visitors if needed. Haves were being parted from the have-nots, and Peri’s tension spiked. But the organizer of the event wouldn’t be in the stands.

  “Go right on up, Ms. Jacquard,” the woman said, drawling Taf’s name into four syllables.

  The noise muted as they rose, and the soft strains of a piano became more obvious. The wood floor was varnished to a hard black. “That’s ours,” Taf said, indicating an elaborate door, and Peri slowed as she entered the sprawling observation room.

  The floor-to-ceiling windows were expansive, and the comfortable seating was arranged like a living room, with coffee tables and plush pillows. Older women in bright colors mingled with thin women in tight black who threw their heads back to show off their necks when they laughed, mimicking those downstairs but in a higher tax bracket. The piano was live and the food in tiny portions. Overlooking it all was Fran.

  Seeing them, she excused herself from her guests, the group clearly from LA with their cool façades. “Taf, a word,” she said in greeting, then turned to Peri. “You can sit if you want.”

  “Why, thank you very much,” Peri said sarcastically, and Fran gave her a double glance, her expression inscrutable. Feeling as if she belonged, Peri eased down into the plush cushions of a chair with its back to the wall, where she could see everything. It was the nicest thing she’d sat in for three days, and she stretched her arms out along the back of it to make the space hers. From across the room, a man smiled and started over, but he jerked to a red-eared halt when the security men who had accompanied them in took up positions to either side of her.

  “No sense of adventure,” she said around a sigh, then beamed at the servers offering her hors d’oeuvres. Happy, she heaped a little plate high. Mouth full of foie gras, she beckoned over the man with the champagne. “Thank you very, very much,” she said as she took a glass, and he inclined his head, eyes bright.

  “Howard!” she called, seeing him at a window, looking like an awkward wallflower in his new suit and tie. His dreadlocks were pulled back in a ponytail, showing off the elegance of his face but still looking exotic. His face was damp from a quick shave. “You wash up good,” she said as he came over, giving her security a glance before gingerly sitting down in the chair beside her.

  “I could say the same for you,” he answered, but his brow was pinched.

  “What did you tell her?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

  “Nothing you wouldn’t want me to.” His eyes were on Taf arguing with her mother. “I don’t know, Peri. Something doesn
’t feel right. There’s too much talk going on.”

  “Yeah. I’m smelling what we’re stepping in, too.” Peri settled back to wait, the rich food not sitting well. Everything was achingly, wonderfully familiar, but her intuition was telling her to leave. It was only her need for their help in freeing Silas that kept her unmoving. That, and Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber beside her.

  “Taf, enough!” Fran said loudly, then forcibly eased her features into a pleasant expression. Taf, beside her, was pissed.

  “They’re posting!” Fran called cheerfully. “Everyone to the windows!”

  The excitement rose. Drinks were set down, and the little clusters of chatting people turned into a mob at the windows as personal space vanished in the thrill of the race.

  Peri set her drink down, standing up as Fran strode to her. “I’ve got a moment. You, come with me,” Fran said brusquely. “Taf, you and Howard can watch the race.”

  “I don’t want to watch the race,” Taf said, arms crossed over her middle.

  Howard looked between the two women in unease. “Ah, if it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’d like to stay with Peri.”

  Fran glanced at her security. Peri stiffened as adrenaline poured through the cracks of her conviction. “Watch the race,” Fran said tightly. “We’re just going into the kitchen.”

  Peri eyed the swinging door the servers had been going in and out. Something has changed. “Go ahead, Howard. I’ll be okay,” she said, not liking the determined slant to his lips.

  “There. See?” Fran said brightly, actually taking Peri’s elbow and turning her away. “Everything is fine.”

  But it wasn’t fine, and the only reason Peri had agreed to leave the room was so that Howard and Taf would be out of the line of fire. “What do you have for me?” she asked as she followed Fran into the kitchen.

  It was full of men with weapons.

  Someone touched her, going down when Peri swiftly broke his wrist. Head swiveling, she fell into a ready stance, but it was too late as safeties clicked off. She could draft, but she might lose the last half hour—forever.