The Masked Man’s voice was barely audible through the receiver. “East lot. Five minutes.”
Diane hurried to the locker room to change out of her uniform. She groaned at the prospect of wearing her mistreated dress and punishing heels, but until she could get back to her apartment, this was all she had to wear. She changed quickly and made her way to the lot. A gleaming black SUV stood at the ready, with one rear passenger door ajar. She nodded and started toward the vehicle. Her progress was halted by a black bag dropping over her head and a hypodermic needle sinking into her neck. Seconds later, she was out cold.
Two men clad in full black body armor loaded her into the SUV and slammed the door. The SUV sped away, leaving the operatives to depart in a brightly polished red sedan.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Diane shook her head and freed her chin from the grip of the Masked Man’s gloved thumb and forefinger. She struggled against her restraints, then realized she wasn’t strapped to anything. She caught sight of her black body armor, but she couldn’t move. The Masked Man appeared to smile with amusement at her predicament despite wearing a nearly featureless mask. He tipped his head as if to study her. Diane hated it.
The Masked Man nodded. “You wished to speak with me?”
“He knows.”
“I am afraid I am not acquainted with the subject of that brief sentence, nor the verb to which it is attached. Please elaborate.”
“Hathaway. He thinks I took out the number two. He’s going to have the ACTF up our butts in no time.”
“Knows. Thinks. These are vastly different conditions. One is of interest to me. The other is of little concern. Frankly, Miss Pembrook, I have, as they say in the parlance, bigger fish to fry. I shall begin by inquiring as to why you believed an audience with me immediately following your colleague’s suspicious ravings would be anything but compromising, and therefore, counterproductive.”
“You said I was keeping the city safe. Each target I took out was a bad guy. One of the ten most wanted, or someone they didn’t know about yet that you wanted me to put down before he got famous for killing lots of people. Now I find out you made me kill the number two guy at the ACTF? How is that helping anybody?”
“For your service, we are most grateful. And you have been well rewarded. I find your outburst most… unappreciative.”
Diane struggled to move but remained trapped in her armor. “I agreed to help you kill the worst of the worst. I’m not a murderer.”
The Masked Man gripped her chin once more. “You are what we require you to be. No more, no less.”
“Then I quit. Find someone else to kill fellow cops. I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Perhaps your conditioning was not as thorough as I was promised it would be.” The Masked Man turned from Diane and took a few steps. “Or, perhaps you require a demonstration that illustrates your role in our organization, and the significant investment we have made in you. An investment that will pay sizable dividends, Miss Pembrook.” He raised a control wand and released his grip on her armor. Diane raised her arm and wiggled her fingers freely. “You may strike me down. I will not resist.”
Diane patted her thigh and produced her sidearm. She ejected the magazine and inspected it. As anticipated, the magazine was fully loaded. She didn’t care. Only one bullet would end him. She slammed the magazine back into the gun and pointed it at the back of his head. “My pleasure.”
To Diane’s surprise and dismay, she didn’t pull the trigger. She couldn’t. Her forehead throbbed intensely as she aimed the gun at her tormentor. She raised the gun and fired a shot over his head. The bullet was captured by thick padding on the wall. She adjusted her aim and willed herself to pull the trigger. The gun did not fire.
“You son of a bitch,” she growled. “What did you do to me?”
The Masked Man turned to her and aimed his control wand at her. Her armor stiffened, leaving her arm extended with her sidearm poised to fire directly at his forehead. He squeezed a button on the wand. Her fingers loosened their grip on the sidearm, then let it drop to the floor. The Masked Man tipped his head to one side, then the other. Diane craved the answer to who was under that mask. She vowed to expose him. Someone else probably wanted him dead. Exposure was deadlier than any bullet to him, she reasoned. He stepped to her side until he was only visible with her… peripheral vision. Peripheral. She knew the word. Her head screeched with pain at the revelation.
“You have been modified, Miss Pembrook. In your raw state, you demonstrated considerable talent with firearms, and a willingness to terminate hostiles at will. We recognized an invaluable security asset when you came to our attention. However, to deliver the performance we shall require as our mission priorities adapt and adjust to changing political and economic conditions, significant upgrades were necessary in your cognitive abilities. I confess, we are still fine-tuning those adjustments. The brain is a wondrous organ, Miss Pembrook, one that requires a delicate blend of art and science to truly master.”
“You gave me these headaches? You brainwashed me?”
“For as many improvements as we have implemented, you remain a maddeningly simple creature. I look forward to your advanced development. While your unrefined state is not without its charms, it will not serve you well in the long term. Perhaps we might take advantage of this unexpected time together. I am told a new serum is ready for deployment. You will become more… compliant going forward.”
“I’m not your monkey,” Diane said, and struggled fruitlessly with her unyielding armor.
“You’re our product,” the Masked Man said. “And to that end, we shall have no more of your self-indulgence. You will report to me as instructed. You will perform as instructed. You will be released to your residence after you have performed to my satisfaction. There will be no deviation.”
“What about Lady Diamond?”
“There is no such person. Lucid dreaming is an unfortunate side effect of the conditioning. We shall continue to make adjustments until this anomaly is remedied.”
Diane shook her head toward her studded heels laying on the floor. “Bull. Lady Diamond gave those to me. Same with my dress.”
“I do not recall any dress. I see nothing but bare floor.” The Masked Man gestured to a technician. “Proceed with modification protocol sixty-six. I want regular reports.”
The technician nodded and readied a metal cart loaded with tools and gadgets. Diane fought against her armor in vain until another needle was jabbed into the base of her neck. Her blood warmed up as a mysterious fluid was pumped through her veins. The room went blurry, then black. “I’m so sick of this shi—” Diane never finished her sentence. The technician slipped on a pair of black nitrile gloves and began to sort out the items on his cart.
The Masked Man crouched down and picked up one of Diane’s studded heels. He turned it around in his gloved hand thoughtfully, then grunted his dismissal. He dropped the shoe on the floor and gestured to another technician. “Dress her in appropriate attire. Dispose of these.”
“Right away, sir,” the technician said.
The Masked Man removed Diane’s comm unit from his pocket and handed it to a third technician. “Come, we have a mystery to unravel.”
Diane stood upright in her rigid armor, blissfully unaware of a deep incision slicing through her forehead. Blood trickled down her nose and dripped steadily onto her breastplate.
“She is ready for you, sir.” The technician who had performed hours of surgery and other modifications to Diane’s brain and nervous system stepped away from her prone form. Diane was not clad in her armor anymore. She wore a simple black jumpsuit and nothing on her feet. The Masked Man stepped forward and tipped his head curiously. Diane’s eyelids fluttered and opened. She only saw a dull gray blur at first, then focused on his infuriating mask.
“What did you do to me?”
“That is a question best answered with actions, not words.” He raised his arm. “Arise.”
Diane
did as she was told. She sat upright on a cold metal table and waited for her next command. Unlike her imprisonment in her body armor, she didn’t feel bound by anything but an overwhelming sense of dread. She had a sickening sense that something terrible would happen if she didn’t do exactly what the Masked Man commanded. He seemed to smile at this and took three steps backward.
“Turn to the right,” he said softly. “Stand up. Touch your nose with your right index finger. Lower your arm. Touch your nose with your left index finger. Lower your arm. Turn to the left. Say your name.”
“Officer Diane Pembrook, Panther Division.” Diane stared at a far-off point as she spoke.
“Pick up your weapon,” the Masked Man commanded. Diane found it on a metal cart. She bent her arm at a 45-degree angle and pointed the gun at the ceiling. “Is it loaded?”
Diane ejected the magazine and inspected it. “Yes, sir,” she said in a dull voice. “Fully loaded.” She slid the magazine back into the gun and pointed it at the ceiling once more.
“Proceed ten paces forward.” The Masked Man stepped back as she advanced. “Turn to the right. Turn again.” Diane faced the Masked Man and three technicians. One tapped furiously on a tablet as Diane performed her assigned tasks. The Masked Man arm-pointed to the technician who had taken Diane’s comm unit from him. “This is Technical Specialist Roberts,” he said.
“Understood,” Diane said.
The Masked Man rotated his arm to extend it in a receiving position. “Return Miss Pembrook’s comm unit, please.” Roberts nodded and obeyed. The Masked Man slipped the device into his inside coat pocket and took two steps back from Roberts. “Terminate him, Miss Pembrook.”
Roberts gasped. Diane pulled back on her slide and armed her weapon. She aimed directly for his head and dispatched him with a single bullet. She watched him crumple to the floor and raised her gun to the neutral position. “As you asked, sir.”
The Masked Man looked down at Roberts and nodded curtly. “Impressive,” he said. “Most impressive. I do not take kindly to failure.” He gestured to the other technicians. “Dispose of this.”
“Y-yes sir,” the lead technician said. He and his partner picked Roberts up and carried him away, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. Only Diane and the Masked Man remained in the room.
“Terminate me, Miss Pembrook. With prejudice.”
Diane did not budge.
The Masked Man took a menacing step forward. “You were given a direct order. Comply.”
Diane did not budge.
The Masked Man gripped Diane’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and cocked his head. Diane made no outward sign of her disgust at this habit, unlike previous encounters. Diane stared impassively forward as the Masked Man studied her virtually flawless skin.
“Chief Technician Zelnik never ceases to amaze me with his handiwork. Perhaps he is too skilled. To be this blemish-free is unnatural. He must make adjustments in the future to discourage unfortunate questions. But for today, he has done well. He may live.”
Diane continued to stare straight ahead. “Understood.”
The Masked Man released Diane’s chin. “Another target has been identified for elimination. You will locate the subject and terminate with prejudice. You will report the successful completion of this task when we next speak.”
“Understood,” Diane said. “Identify target, sir.”
“Officer Noah Hathaway. I believe you two are well-acquainted. You will terminate him at your first available opportunity.”
“I will see him in the morning in briefing room 1A, sir,” Diane said.
“There will be far too many witnesses for my liking. You will wait until you can eliminate him in secret. When you are alone and certain no witnesses are near, you will terminate the hostile.”
“Officer Hathaway is an ally,” Diane said flatly.
“Incorrect. I am pleased to hear you know of the two types of people who inhabit this fair city of ours: allies and hostiles. Officer Hathaway has shown himself to be the latter. He is involved in a scheme to disrupt the inner workings of the Panther Division. He deftly removed Sergeant Parcells without facing even token resistance. He believes you are responsible for terminating one of his closest allies: Assistant Director Stiller. He is incorrect. Assistant Director Stiller was a hostile, Miss Pembrook, contrary to your ill-informed belief. Lieutenant Kenner was to be deposed and a new regime installed at the Panther Division the following morning. This is why time was of the essence, Miss Pembrook. It was vital that he be removed from active service before this plot could be set in motion. You succeeded in stopping his plan, Miss Pembrook. You must succeed again to preserve law and order.”
Diane continued to stare impassively forward. “Understood, sir. I apologize for doubting you.”
“Apology accepted, Miss Pembrook. You may spend the remainder of the day as you wish. Tomorrow, I expect results.”
Diane nodded. “Understood, sir. I won’t fail.”
The Masked Man began to walk away, then turned around pensively. “Tell me, when Lady Diamond summons you, how does she make contact?”
Diane cocked her head. “She doesn’t. A car just shows up and takes me to her.”
“And you willingly choose to get into that vehicle instead of the one I send you?”
“You tell me to, sir.”
“Tell you how?”
“Message. Like this morning.”
“We spoke on a secure line, Miss Pembrook. Are you telling me we have spoken in this way other times?”
“No, sir. Short messages on the screen.”
“Hm. Of course. This was merely a diagnostic exercise. Modification protocol sixty-six complete.”
“Thank you, sir,” Diane said. A female attendant entered the room as the Masked Man left and brought Diane a full change of clothes. The Masked Man placed Diane’s comm unit on the pile before he disappeared through the exit. The attendant smiled and set her bundle on a stool, then departed without a word. Diane removed her jumpsuit and picked up a blue top. An array of blue faux gemstones sparkled along the neckline. “Ooh,” she said. “This is pretty.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Diane returned to her apartment and pressed her back against her front door. She let out a long sigh of relief and frustration. It felt strange to be home in the afternoon on a workday. It felt stranger to be without her dress and heels as provided by Lady Diamond. Diane ran her fingers through her hair and wondered how she would explain where they went. She cocked her head at the thought. Lady Diamond wasn’t real, she told herself. The Masked Man told her that Lady Diamond was something she made up, though she wasn’t sure why. The time she spent with her seemed real. Lady Diamond had touched her. She had gripped Diane’s chin the way the Masked Man did, and—
Diane shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Lady Diamond wasn’t real. Once again, the Masked Man was smarter than her, and Diane was left to sort out fact from fiction. She walked to her sofa and switched on the InTelNet. It had been days since she’d had time to catch up on the news. Lady Diamond rose from a rich wood table and smiled.
Diane blinked and slapped herself. She pressed buttons on her remote to dispel the illusion, but Lady Diamond remained on her monitor. She licked her teeth sensually and gave Diane a knowing smile. “You were given homework, Miss Pembrook. I’m ready to hear your report.”
“You aren’t real,” Diane said. “They need to fix this, so I stop imagining you.”
“Tch. This sounds like excuse-making for not completing your assignment. Is that so, Miss Pembrook? Have you failed to perform as I asked?”
“I, uh… I don’t know. I tried; I remember that. Brent Moorcroft was there. He got me real drunk and took me to jail. That’s all I remember.” Diane looked up and wiped a tear with her knuckle. “I guess I failed.”
Lady Diamond frowned. She lifted her chin and crossed her arms disapprovingly. “You’re not in uniform.”
“No, I took a sick day. I just got b
ack from… why am I telling you this?”
“Confession is good for the soul, Miss Pembrook. But I was referring to your heels. I told you to wear them at all times, when not on patrol.”
“Oh. They’re gone. The dress too.” Diane cocked her head. “Wait, he said there was no dress. And he didn’t see the heels when they were right freaking there.” She bit her lip pensively as she tried to grasp what had happened earlier in the presence of the Masked Man.
“He who?”
“He doesn’t have a name. I just call him—”
Lady Diamond raised her hand and cut her off. “No, Miss Pembrook, I won’t hear any more excuses. Get dressed. You’re coming to see me.”
“Dressed? I don’t have anything fancy, not like that dress.”
Lady Diamond gave her a dismissive wave. “Five minutes. Go.”
Diane hurried to her bedroom and wondered what she could put on that would be remotely passable to Lady Diamond. The dress and heels were gone, leaving her go-to black dress she bought for funerals and a pair of low heels. She decided those were better than nothing. She pulled open her closet doors and gasped.
Her wardrobe had been completely replaced. Three rows of spiked heels lined the floor of her closet. Sleek dresses and gowns clung to wooden hangers. Diane selected one at random and got a strong whiff of cedar as she held the dress at arm’s length. It was a champagne color, with a long v-neck adorned with pearly beads. She put it back in the closet and selected another. A daring backless black gown shimmered in the afternoon glow of her bedroom window. She quickly put it back on the clothes rod and sat on the edge of her bed.
None of this is real, she thought. I need to fix my head. Somebody needs to. The Masked Man needs to know how messed up I am. I have to terminate Hathaway tomorrow. I can’t miss work and fail.
Diane’s alarm clock buzzed. She slapped the snooze button with a yelp. The alarm buzzed again. Diane pulled the device off her nightstand and yanked on the power cord. The buzzing stopped abruptly as the cord separated from the wall. Another alarm sounded in her living room. Lady Diamond sat at the table and swirled a wine glass with an air of annoyance. Diane located the source of the racket. Her comm unit displayed an urgent message: NOW.
Hostiles Page 17