"Yeah, they tend to attack with the tail first," Taylor explained. "Their venom won’t necessarily kill you if you can treat it immediately, but the anti-venom doesn’t always work. Besides, there’s no guarantee because the Zoo constantly mutates, so what works today might not work tomorrow. It’s incredibly painful, though, and a fucking slow and brutal way to die. I’m no doctor but I’ve heard medics talk about hemotoxins and neurotoxins and shit, so yeah, it’s something you want to avoid."
"Fuck yes," Banks said.
"Nicely put," Bobby agreed.
Vickie frowned. "What are you guys look—oh, wow."
The woman came around to see what it was that they were all watching, which happened to be a video of the researcher attacked by the scorpion locust. The tail had come out and it now used its jaws, the bottom half of which split down the middle. The mutant savaged the armor and bit into the flesh beneath while the man screamed in sheer agony.
"Oh, he dead." Taylor grimace. "He really, really dead."
"I don't know, if someone can…nope. Nope, now he's dead," Bobby confirmed. "That's his liver coming out of the hole there."
"Liver?" Vickie asked. "I…hate liver…"
"I bet you Jiminy the killer scorpion locust feels differently." Taylor turned to look at the woman and realized she seemed a little green in the face.
"I do not like," she said and covered her mouth with her hand.
"Don't you dare throw up on my floor," he ordered, scowled, and pointed over her shoulder. "The bathroom is that way."
She spun a little desperately and all but ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.
"Well, thanks for that mess," Banks said and shook her head. "You're both assholes, by the way."
"You say that like this is new information to you," he retorted. "Now, both of you get off your asses and help me clean up."
Chapter Fifteen
It took about ten minutes to complete the cleaning. It should have taken far less time, but Bobby resisted the idea that he should be expected to help and instead, watched more of the ZooTube videos. That, of course, distracted them all very effectively until it looked like Banks would be sick too.
Taylor drew the line at that point. With no other bathrooms nearby and within bolting distance, he wouldn’t risk her throwing up on his floor. He knew he would have to clean the mess, and he said so in no uncertain terms—and threatened to make his companions do it instead, at gunpoint if necessary.
With that incentive, Banks and Bobby joined him with sudden enthusiasm and so avoided making a bigger—and way nastier—mess.
When they had finished, he realized that Vickie was still in the bathroom.
"Shit. Did I turn the water on for that bathroom?"
"Yep," Bungees said. "I happened to check when we first cleaned up after you moved in and it was already on."
"How do you not know what's happening in your own building?" Banks asked.
"It's not like I have full control over the whole premises," Taylor protested. "Well, I do, but that doesn't mean I exercise it. My priority is those sections I need for the business and the living quarters. Besides, there are busted pipes everywhere, so if I leave the water on in the entire building, my water bill will go through the goddamn roof. It only makes sense to turn certain sections off when I'm not using them."
"Back to the topic at hand," Bobby said, “it does seem like Vickie is taking a little while in the bathroom. Maybe she needs help."
"She'll call us if she needs us," he replied. "Especially when it comes to the water."
The agent stared at him with a critical expression and raised an eyebrow.
"What? I haven’t been in there, and it's not like we were prepared to have a lady on the premises. You should know we didn’t expect you to be around since you said you would be on the other side of the country. And we certainly didn't think you would bring company."
"Okay, that’s a good point," she admitted. "Although I would add that you still don't have a lady on the premises. She's female but not a lady by the strictest definition."
"Well, we're not ready to have a member of the British nobility over for a visit either since we're being all technical for some reason." Taylor rolled his eyes.
"True." Banks grinned. "And it's not like I would call the two of you gentlemen, to be honest."
"Right, because a gentleman wouldn't tell you to go eat a whole bag of dicks," he retorted. "But me being merely a regular dude who makes money off the sweat of his own brow can say that—and mean it—because my money doesn't come from the fact that… Shit, I actually don't know how lords and ladies make their money.” He looked at his friend. “Probably like…investment banking, right? Or maybe owning land?"
"Maybe a combination of both?" Bobby suggested. "Besides, I heard they don't even pay taxes, so that's always a plus."
"No, that's only the royal family," Banks said.
"Which constitutes about a solid half of the gentry." Taylor grimaced in disapproval. "Those guys have intermarried and bred enough over the past three or four centuries that I'm surprised they aren't all genetically horribly related by now."
"They are," she said. "And it's been for much, much longer than the past four hundred years."
Bobby shuddered. "How did we get to talking about the British royal family again?"
"Who the fuck knows." Taylor shrugged dismissively as the door to the bathroom opened.
Vickie stepped out and looked a little ashamed when she saw the three of them staring at her.
"I’m sorry I took so long," she said softly and kept her head lowered.
"Don't worry about it," Taylor said. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah." She didn’t look it, however, and definitely appeared a little paler than she had earlier. "Seeing that stuff is a little hard on the stomach, especially since we had barely finished eating."
"Yeah, sorry, my bad," Bobby said and owned up to his mistake with a cheerfulness that diminished the effect somewhat.
"Unfortunately, when I get going, everything from the smells and the appearance of things around me tend to make it a vicious cycle for a little while, so I usually want to make sure I'm done before I come out. I'm seriously fine, honestly. It got rid of most of the pizza I ate, though, so that sucks. It was good stuff."
"True," Taylor agreed. "Those guys make good food. I think I'll order from them again. It sucks about the waste, though."
"I know." She looked around and craned her head to the side to see behind him. "There was still some left over, right?"
"Yeah?" Taylor replied warily.
"It should take me a couple of hours to get the taste and the memory out, but I'll be famished then. Is it too much to ask to save the pizza for me until then?"
"I won’t make promises, but I don't think we'll eat anytime soon. Anyway, now that we're done with lunch and…uh, getting rid of lunch, what say you we talk business?"
"Okay." Vickie found one of the half-empty soda bottles, took a swig from it, and swished the sweet liquid around her mouth before she swallowed. "Have you decided if you'll hire me yet?"
"Yeah, I have," Taylor said. "I'm not great at first impressions, though, so we can call it a test period to make sure we work well together. That goes both ways, of course, for you and me. I can probably have contracts written up if you want, and your first paycheck will come through next week or whenever you can open a bank account."
"I have a bank account," she confirmed.
"Cool, we can get the paperwork started tomorrow morning, then. Once that's done, you can start work and take time to decide if you want to stick with us for the long-term or if you prefer to head out somewhere else. With no hard feelings, obviously, and I could probably give you a reference too since your probation requires you to have a job, right?"
"Yes." The woman scowled. "It’s bullshit if you ask me. I tend to prefer the freelancer life so there's no steady paycheck. Unfortunately, the people in the government love them their
steady paychecks and the ability to pull the taxes out before a person gets their hands on it." Banks sent her a hard look and she added hastily, “Or so I’ve heard.”
"Right." Taylor grinned at the agent’s glowering expression. "Oh, and I can show you to your room if that's still the idea. Again, it’s not the Ritz or anything, but you’ll have a bed, food, a working kitchen, and running water and electricity, so you'll be able to live here until you find someplace better. Besides, since you probably don't have a car of your own yet, you don't even need to drive to work. In exchange, we'll start work at nine tomorrow morning. That's my offer and like I said, it's non-negotiable."
She hesitated and glanced at Banks who now showed no indication of her opinion or any emotion on her face. This was Vickie's choice, and hers alone.
"Okay, let's go with that," she said when she realized she would have no help from that quarter. "How do I know you won't change the terms of the arrangement when you want to?"
"Because you could always call your…aunt?" Taylor glanced at Banks.
"Not even close," the special agent replied with a chuckle.
"You'll be able to call Banks, and I have the feeling that she can suddenly fill my life with a slew of problems. Since you guys have a personal relationship, I have the feeling she'll enjoy making my life a living hell. Well, that and the fact that she'd probably not mind simply being a bitch to spite me."
"He's right. I would enjoy that," Banks confirmed smugly.
"There you go." Taylor gestured at his new employee. "You have the whole of the FBI as a guarantee that I'll hold firm to our deal."
Vickie paused, thought about everything he had told her, and appeared to come to a decision.
"Okay, I'll take the job," she said.
"It’s not like you had much of a choice anyway," Banks grumbled under her breath.
"She did and she chose here," Taylor said in a stern voice. "I'm sure you would have been able to find some other form of employment, but I promise you this is the best choice given that your other option would probably be to flip burgers in a local restaurant. Admittedly, there are some nice places around here, but from what I hear, the pay is terrible."
"I get it. You're the best of a bad bunch," Vickie said and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I have conditions."
"Conditions?" Taylor asked.
"Yeah, I was about to ask too," Banks said. "What do you mean by conditions?"
"Nothing you'd disapprove of." The woman put a hand up to halt further questions. "I only want to make it clear that our relationship will be one hundred percent professional. We'll work together and maybe even be friends. If that happens, it happens, and there's no way to control that, but I need to say up front that I'm not on the market, as it were. We won’t be fucking, so don't even try any of your…charms."
"Charms?" Taylor looked at Banks, who shrugged.
"Yeah, I was about to ask," Bobby interjected and laughed. "What do you mean by charms?"
Vickie pointed to Taylor. "I don't know, exactly, but a big guy with bright red hair and beard who looks like an Irish Jason Momoa…well, he's the type of guy who has charms.”
"I'm not a fucking leprechaun," Taylor protested. "I'm not even Irish."
"Not lucky charms, moron," she countered. "I mean, like…plays. You have tricks you use to get women to sleep with you. I merely need to know that you won’t ever try to use any of those tricks on me. I’m not saying they wouldn’t work, but at the moment, you aren’t to try them, understood?"
"Now is not the time to mention that tricks are for kids, right?" Taylor said and looked at the others for support.
"Answer the fucking question," Banks snapped.
"I understand that you will not tolerate any advances on my part," he said with a firm nod. "And that any advances on my part will be rebuffed and result in you leaving. I will not use any…tricks or charms or anything like that on you for the duration of your employment here."
"Good." Vickie mirrored his nod with an even firmer one of her own. "As long as we're clear. Don't even try to get all charming on me."
"Don't worry," he said with a small smirk. "You're not really my type anyway."
"Nor you mine," she retorted. "So, I think we're done here, right?"
Taylor nodded.
"Awesome." I think I'll start on giving the bathroom a deep, deep cleaning.” She looked around. “Where are the mops and stuff?"
"Down the stairs in a little closet to your right," he said, and she sauntered away as he turned to Banks.
"Thanks," the agent said. "She won’t let you down, and if she does… Well, give me a call."
"As long as you know you owe me one now," he replied with a grin.
"Right," she said. "I'll head out. You guys have a great day."
"You too, Special Agent. Let me know when you have more work for me."
"Will do." She waved to the two men, her demeanor much closer to the Banks he knew and… Well, not loved, of course, but certainly respected despite their exchanges that might suggest otherwise.
"I fucking hate this car," Jon said and glared as he once again scrutinized their sedan. The abusive heat of the sun beat down on them despite having the air conditioner on at full blast.
"What's wrong with it?" Mike asked. "It's perfect for this kind of mission. No one notices a nondescript gray sedan like this, and with the tinted windows, most people won’t even realize we’re here."
"It's so cramped. I feel like we've been stuck in here forever and I think I'm about to go fucking crazy."
"Well, what would you suggest?"
"Think about it. The car of choice for a stakeout is always a van, right?" Jon asked. "It has enough room and gives you space to work with. Not much, but some. More than this fucking car at any rate."
"Yeah, these days, when anyone sees an unmarked van outside their place, they immediately know someone's watching them," Mike said. "We might as well scream our position to the people inside. No, believe me, the sedan was the better choice."
"I don’t dispute the choice." Jon tried to stretch but banged his hands on the roof instead. "I know you made the best choice at the rental place, given our options. I only wish this was something with a little more space. Like an SUV or something."
"Jesus Christ, stop complaining," his partner snapped irritably. "It's not like we'll be here for too much longer. We already have the guy's place of residence and most of the people he knows and interacts with regularly, so it won't be long before we can make our move. We merely have to be careful. That goes against the grain for both of us, I know, because we’ve been spoilt. We’re used to the quick in-and-out operations that make the best use of our skills. But we’ve talked about it and both want more, and we won’t get far if we stay stuck in the same old routines. We have to be flexible and learn new skills. Besides, from the reports, it looks like this guy has friends in high places and it won't do to piss them off."
"Why not?" He knew the answer, of course, but he hadn’t worked with the man before so wanted his take on the situation. It was always good to find out where their reasoning might diverge.
"Because they won't retaliate against Rod fucking Marino. They'll target us for retribution," his partner pointed out.
"You’re right." The agreement was given a little begrudgingly—not because he didn’t actually agree but because it was a very effective handbrake on all his instincts that clamored to simply do the fucking job in the way they knew best.
Their attention was drawn away from their cramped vehicle and what was essentially a meaningless debate when someone exited the building driving an SUV. Of course, it would be the kind he thought would be perfect for their situation except for the undeniable fact that a big black SUV parked outside a building was about as subtle as the unmarked van. Only one woman was inside, which meant the one who had been in the passenger seat when they arrived had stayed.
"That’s one of the friends in almost high places, right?" Jon glanced at his partner for con
firmation although he’d already scanned the information they had.
"Niki Banks," Mike confirmed and consulted the file they had been given for a moment. He’d also done his homework but it was good to refresh one’s memory and besides, it helped to pass the time. "She’s a special agent with the FBI and probably the go-between for McFadden and his friends in high places, I assume."
"We haven’t been able to confirm that, though. She might be exactly the kind of leverage we might need in case plan A falls through. It’s always good to have a plan B."
"I agree that we need a plan B," Mike said. That was a no-brainer, especially in their line of work. They’d already discussed it when they formed the tentative plan A but as yet, hadn’t found what they considered a viable option. "But you have to be the special kind of crazy if you think we can use someone from the FB fucking I."
"I have been called crazy on occasion," Jon admitted. "But yeah, I get your point. Leave Banks off the list."
"On the other hand, there is the girl she left behind. I don't have any names or ID on her as yet as she’s obviously a new player here, but she might be what we're looking for. We'd better do our homework. Get on the phone."
Jon nodded and dialed the number of Marino's people who ran research on the case for them.
Chapter Sixteen
The day passed quickly. Taylor showed Vickie up to her room, which constituted a small kitchen, a military cot, and its own bathroom but still managed to have more square feet than most apartments in the city. He left her there to start getting her shit together.
She had brought a couple of bags in Banks' SUV and needed to unpack. He’d suggested that she start the next day so she would have time to settle in.
It would also give him and Bobby the chance to get some work done in the afternoon while they adjusted to the concept of having a new member on their little team. He felt sure she would fit in well enough, and even if she didn't, Banks had left it open for them to call her and pull the plug on the whole deal.
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