Random Sh*t Flying Through the Air (The Frost Files)

by Jackson Ford

  “Teagan,” Reggie says. “This is not the time.”

  “You didn’t come to LA for Paul’s thing.” I wave at the house. “You don’t give a shit about Paul. You came down here to can Reggie. Or am I wrong?”

  Tanner looks away. “I don’t discuss personnel decisions with—”

  Which is all the information I need. I turn to Reggie. “Wow. Your old Army buddy’s a cunt.”

  Reggie gapes at me. Tanner’s teeth are gritted so hard I’m surprised her jaw doesn’t implode.

  I don’t care. All the anger and horror and fear I’ve dealt with in the past two weeks is coming up for air.

  “You are way, way out of line,” Reggie says.

  “Actually, you know what?” I put a hand on the top of her chair. “I’m kind of done with giving you pep talks, Reggie. Because here’s the thing: she obviously knows about how you discovered the earthquake boy, and she has to know about all the stuff after. You were the one who kept us all going. You had the smarts to make us go to the museum. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. She knows that, and she still wants you gone? And you’re just gonna sit there and take it?”

  On second thought, asking a quadriplegic if she’s going to sit there is probably not the best idea. Oh well.

  “Ms Frost,” Tanner says slowly. “You’re going to go back inside. You’re going to drink your beer, and you’re going to forget you ever saw me today.”

  “Do you get off on talking like this? Like you’re gonna vanish the second my back is turned or something? What are you, fucking Batman?”

  “I am not—”

  “She’s right,” Reggie says.

  Tanner and I both look at her.

  “Who?” I say. “Which one of us is right?”

  Reggie doesn’t look at me. Instead, she tilts her chin up, eyes locking on Tanner’s.

  “Moira,” she says slowly. “I know you believe I don’t have a hold on this operation. But if it weren’t for me, we simply would never have known about the boy. And beyond that…”

  She pauses, as if gathering herself. I know exactly why. If there’s one thing I’ve gotten to know about Reggie McCormick, it’s that she has a real issue with talking herself up.

  “After Paul was killed,” she continues, “I helped keep the team together. I did it without having the immediate ability to contact you and ask for orders.”

  Tanner says nothing.

  “If I hadn’t done my job, we would be in a different situation right now. You and I don’t always think alike, Moira, but that’s something we should use. It shouldn’t be something you view as a problem.”

  “That’s right, go on, tell her.” I nod enthusiastically. It’s only a second later that I realise Reggie’s done.

  Tanner is silent for a good fifteen seconds. Not speaking. Not moving. Just looking at Reggie. And Reggie stares right back at her, as if daring her to try argue this. If it wouldn’t look and feel really weird, I’d give her a little punch on the shoulder.

  Eventually, Tanner takes a deep breath, lets it out. “Very well. We’ll continue as before, with the team structure intact.”

  Forget punching Reggie on the shoulder. I feel like doing a victory dance. Reggie gives Tanner a small smile, nods her thanks.

  “We still need to have a formal debrief,” Tanner tells Reggie.

  “Wait a second,” I say. “How did you guys not know about the kid?”

  “Teagan, enough now,” Reggie says.

  “No, she doesn’t get off that easy. First she completely drops the ball on Jake, and then this kid appears out of nowhere, and—”

  “Stop.”

  Tanner’s voice is soft, so soft I shouldn’t be able to hear it over the noise from the house, but I do.

  Her eyes on me, she bends down to speak to Reggie. “Would you give me a minute with Ms Frost, please?”

  After a moment, Reggie nods. As she wheels past me, she nudges me with her shoulder. I find it, squeeze hard.

  “I’ll see you folks inside,” Reggie says. Nestling her beer in the chair’s cup-holder, she trundles smoothly across the grass towards the back door.

  It’s the first time I’ve been alone with Tanner in… shit, literally years. It is exactly as uncomfortable as it was the first time.

  All the same, I’m not about to back down. “If you’re planning on giving me the runaround about me not being able to understand how this works…”

  Tanner closes her eyes for a moment, as if steadying herself. When she opens them, there’s a different look on her face. It’s like she’s drawn a line under the previous conversation.

  “First off, I wanted to say I think you did the right thing by bringing Mia Wong into the fold.”

  Her praise takes me off guard, especially given the little rumble we just had. “The scientist? From the museum?”

  “That’s right. It can’t have been an easy decision – you’re obviously aware of how seriously I take breaches of classified information. But… in this case, it was the right call. It resulted in actionable intelligence, and led us directly to the boy who called himself Matthew Schenke. I’m willing to give it a pass. This time.”

  “How nice of you. What happens to her now? Guantanomo Bay?”

  “Hardly. She’s signed the same NDAs as Mr Kouamé did.”

  Africa. “OK? And?”

  “She’s agreed to a small retainer fee as a scientific advisor. I don’t think you’ll need her on the team full-time, but she’s a bright girl. It would be good to have her around.”

  “Yeah, well.” I can’t think of what else to say to that, so I settle for, “You’re welcome.”

  I’m planning to steer us back on track, ask her why she didn’t know about Matthew before he wrecked California, when she says, “You will notice that I have not yet mentioned your actions at the Vance Creek Campground.”

  “My actions?”

  “Indeed. The boy had to die.” Said like she was ordering a cup of coffee. “Once you’d positively identified him, the course was clear. He was far too dangerous – and we were already running a major risk letting him get that close to Cascadia. And then there you were, trying to prevent my team from doing their jobs.”

  “Hey, your sniper missed.”

  “Master Sergeant Okoro missed because you moved her rifle barrel, Ms Frost. And don’t insult me by pretending you didn’t. It is simply impossible for someone with Okoro’s skill and experience and temperament to miss at that range – or so unlikely as to be effectively impossible.”

  The retort I had ready dies on my lips. Tanner fills the silence herself. “And tell me: what did you gain from confronting the boy? What information did you extract?”

  “That there was a school in New Mexico. And there were other kids like him – or other people, anyway, he didn’t say how old they were. How can you tell me that information wasn’t useful?”

  “Oh, it’s very useful. It’s also the kind of thing we could have easily uncovered ourselves, after the boy was dead. Okoro’s instructions were to kill him, not his mother. She was not considered a threat, and we believe she would have given up the information readily.” Her voice is a low monotone, dull as a torturer’s knife. “You performed admirably in the immediate aftermath of the earthquake, I will grant you that. But you put yourself and your colleagues in danger because you forgot what you were supposed to be doing. And then you see fit to question my decisions in front of other employees?”

  “Oh, fuck you.” I get in close, anger overriding the fear. “I’m so sick and tired of being treated like a little kid. Like I can’t understand, and I should just let the grown-ups take charge and decide what’s best for me. You do it. Reggie does it. Even Paul, he…” I stop, stunned at the lump in my throat. Choking off the words.

  “You can’t understand,” Tanner says softly.

  “And there it is. Same old shit.”

  “It’s not personal. I would say the same thing to Ms Cruz. Ms McCormick. Even Mr Marino, were he
here. None of you have the capacity to gather intelligence in a meaningful way.”

  “Do you ever say anything nice? Or did they remove that part of your brain at birth?”

  She at least has the good grace to wince, very slightly. “I admit, the phrasing there could have been better.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.”

  “But I want you to understand this. It’s imperative you understand it. Gathering actionable intel is hard. I’ve been doing it for decades, and it has only gotten more difficult. Our intelligence community is simply not set up to deal with people who have abilities like yours. It is a big, grinding battleship, and we are asking it to do a three-point turn so it can track a tiny thing made of shadows. That’s part of the reason you’ve been so useful in the first place – because the enemies of this country can’t see you coming, either. But it works both ways. You have no idea – the battles I’ve fought, the politics I’ve had to play. Just to convince my superiors to keep you in the field.”

  “And I’m supposed to be grateful?”

  “A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt, yes. But let’s not get distracted. So there was a school in New Mexico, containing other individuals with abilities. Was it an actual school? Or was this just the boy’s way of thinking of it? Where was it? If it’s still there – and I very much doubt it is – where did it come from? What shell corporations funded it? Who owns them? Is there a paper trail? More importantly: how? That psychokinetic you faced a few months ago – Jake – was one thing. There’s a logical explanation for where he came from. There is no logical explanation for a young boy who can cause earthquakes. It goes far beyond your parents’ research – something completely new. And the other people at this school? What can they do? And why would someone set up a facility to develop them in the first place? What’s the end game here? If you can answer these questions – if you can answer even one – then I’ll never bother you again. I’ll let you do as you please.”

  I can’t help but look back towards the house, as if Reggie is going to come to my aid. She’s at the kitchen table with Annie. The dreadlocked dude from before is there, too, in the middle of some story or other.

  I turn back to Tanner. “So what you’re saying is, I’m just a little cog in your intelligence machine.”

  She sighs. “Once again, you have completely misinterpreted what I said. You’re not just a cog. You’re the cog. You are the central gear around which all of this turns. You are our entry-point into this world.”

  “Oh, come on.” I fold my arms. “I break into safes and crack locks and lift people onto roofs and plant tracking devices and shit. Little stuff.”

  “For your information, everything you’ve done has furthered the security of this country. I don’t waste my assets, Ms Frost – something you should know by now. I don’t bother with the little stuff. In any case, that was before. Things are very different now. And you cannot just throw yourself into situations without thinking it through. You are far too important. Especially now that your abilities extend to organic matter.”

  Her words take a second to sink in. I try very hard to keep my face neutral… and fail spectacularly.

  “What are you talking about?” I say.

  “Ms Frost, you were underground longer than Mr Marino was – whatever your talents, they do not include the ability to hold your breath longer than a former Navy man.”

  “Yeah, but I—”

  “I have already told you, Ms Frost.” She’s dead still. Even her lips hardly move. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

  Oh.

  I get it.

  Back on Schmidt’s plane, when Tanner first told me that Annie and I were going to Washington State. There was something off about what she was saying – a weird element to it I couldn’t put my finger on.

  She claimed that it made logistical sense for Annie and me to be together at at least one of the ETS zone sites. That it would be better than us patching in by video, having us ID the kid remotely. It sounded strange then, and now I know why. She wanted me up there.

  She must have known about my newfound ability before I did – but how? And how could she have known it would show itself in Washington?

  Crap. If she knows, then other people in the government know, too. If she isn’t able to protect me any more, then I have a real fucking problem.

  “I suspected your ability had changed as you’d gotten older,” Tanner says. “No, don’t interrupt. I didn’t know how – or by how much. I certainly didn’t know you had the power to affect organic molecules.”

  The confusion must show on my face, because a hint of a smile creeps onto hers. That’s how she likes it – when she knows more than everybody else.

  “I took a risk, Ms Frost. A calculated risk. I had no idea what the outcome might be, but I wanted to see if your new abilities would present themselves. I’m pleased to say they did.”

  “No. You’re wrong. I don’t—”

  “You can rest easy, by the way. At present, Ms McCormick and I are the only ones who know. It’s going to stay that way.”

  She doesn’t have to say the last part. I can hear it just fine. It’s going to stay that way… as long as you continue to do what I say.

  Tanner purses her lips. “And you are definitely far too important to be spending your time at culinary school.”

  I blink. Did I mention that to her? The last few weeks have been a blur, but I’m sure I would remember if…

  She shakes her head, as if shooing away a fly. “I would be a very poor intelligence operative if I didn’t understand what it was my assets wanted.”

  “… Why can’t I? What difference does it make?”

  “Because I know you, Ms Frost. You would launch yourself at it, to the exclusion of everything else. Your work with China Shop would suffer, and I can’t allow that. Not with so much at stake.”

  “Oh, bullshit. You can’t just… just run my life like this. Anyway, I’ll do it on my own time. I’ll pay for it. If I’m allowed a life outside of China Shop, then I should be allowed this.” I hate that I’m bargaining with her, doing it without meaning to. “Everybody thinks they know what’s best for me. Nobody’s ever asked me what I want.”

  “Tell me,” Tanner says quietly. “If you could have stopped Matthew Schenke from ever reaching California, but in doing so you’d be required to give up your dream of being a chef for ever, would you have done it?”

  “So I’m just selfish now? That’s what you’re saying?”

  The very slightest smile. “Ms Frost, you’re putting words in my mouth. Think of it this way. Jonas Schmidt – who you seem to have developed quite a bond with, by the way – turned his plane around when the San Andreas fault went off, at considerable risk to himself. What do you think his answer to my question would be, if he was in your shoes?”

  I don’t reply. Which is a good thing, because I’m not sure I could do it without swearing. A lot.

  “We’re not finished with this,” I tell her.

  “I have no doubt. And in case you’d thought I wouldn’t mention it, we are going to have a thorough debrief on the Schmidt operation. But, for the foreseeable future, you and I are going to continue working together.”

  “Might be a pretty boring job.” I spread my arms, gesturing to the rest of the world. “LA isn’t exactly what it used to be. My guess is the world’s super-criminals will probably take their shit elsewhere.”

  “On the contrary, our targets may flock to Los Angeles. A damaged place is always profitable, if you don’t care about damaging it further.

  Would you be kind enough to – ah, never mind. There she is.”

  Reggie’s obviously been watching, keeping half an eye on us. She’s wheeling her way back out from the kitchen. “They’re doing Jäger shots,” she says to me.

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  “Yep. Believe they told me that if you don’t join them, Annie is going to sit on you while her cousin pours it down your throat.”

  “I’ll do one i
f she does one,” I say, jerking my finger at Tanner, who looks like I’ve just invited her to go skinny-dipping in a pool of pee.

  “She’s more a wine gal,” Reggie says. Tanner has turned away from us, hands clasped behind her back. Surveying the empty yard, as if examining captured territory.

  “Of course she is. Care to get shitfaced with us?”

  “You go on ahead. I’ll come over in a bit.” She looks over at Tanner – and this time, there’s no fear in her eyes. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  Halfway across the yard, my phone buzzes in the pocket of my jeans.

  Phone service is still spotty, but they’ve managed to get a basic version of it back online. And I know without looking exactly who is texting me. He’s sent so many messages over the past few days that I can probably figure out what he’s saying, without reading it.

  I pause for a moment, hand wavering over the pocket of my baggy cargo pants. Then I let it go, head back inside. I probably need to be a lot more drunk before I deal with that. Actually, before I deal with anything. My little chat with Tanner has left me feeling like there’s still an earthquake happening, the ground shaking under my feet.

  It isn’t just Annie doing shots. It’s about ten people, and they all cheer when I duck into the kitchen. I was introduced to a few of them earlier, but I’ve already forgotten their names. Hands reach for me, pull me into the circle, squashing me down on a chair next to Annie. She looks over at me, the grin on her face at odds with her red-rimmed eyes. She’s drunk now, not quite able to focus on me.

  I reach over, wrap my arms around her. “I love you, Annie. You know that, right?”

  She mumbles something in my ear, impossible to make out over the loud voices.

  But she squeezes back.

  Someone shoves a whiskey glass filled with a double shot of black liquid into my hand. Everybody has one, and everybody shoves their own forward into a giant communal toast. It’s a miracle we don’t break any of them.

  As the horrible concoction nukes the inside of my mouth, there’s a commotion from the front of the house. Shouts. Laughter. The blat of an engine – and not a car engine either.

  Annie’s eyes meet mine. “The fuck?” she mumbles.