The Operator

by Kim Harrison

  Harmony was indicating the car, but Peri could tell she was hoping Peri would go for the street beyond so she could shoot her in the back.

  “At least you’re not in a cell,” Allen muttered.

  Peri hesitated, wanting to run but needing what they had more. Not in a cell? Not yet. Not until they got what they wanted. Then they’d incarcerate her for the rest of her life, using Bill’s wonder drug as both their carrot and their stick.

  Bitter, she ran a hand over her hair, thinking she needed to cut it. Jack was gone, and it made her feel abandoned. “Sounds like it’s the same offer Bill gave me,” she said.

  Beaming sarcastically, Harmony gestured again. “That’s what I told them.”

  She had little choice, and Peri smiled insincerely. “Looks like I’m your girl.”

  “Ahhh, shit,” Harmony swore softly, and Peri strode forward, the suits at the outskirts scrambling to get to the car before she did.

  Fantabulous. Just effin’ fantabulous. She was working for the God-blessed government again.

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  The air was on—the air was always on in Atlanta—and chilled, Peri settled deeper into the white leather couch, feeling forgotten in the informal, glassed-in meeting area between the CIA labs and their adjoining offices. Harried interns hustled amid the low-partitioned office space. On the other side were three labs, only one of which was lit. The central area where she waited was a cross between a lounge and a conference room, and being three stories down, it had direct access to the parking garage through the nearby elevator.

  So far, everyone was ignoring her. Impatient, Peri rubbed the soft swelling on her jaw where Michael had struck her. The entire area had the open layout of an Opti facility, and she wondered whether her master password would work.

  Her new glass-technology, WEFT-supplied phone hummed with an incoming call, and she cautiously picked it up off the low coffee table. She’d given WEFT one of her alternate, low-use phone numbers to rebuild her account. Until today, only two people had known that particular exchange—her mother’s care facility and her bank—and her pulse quickened at the unfamiliar number. Bill? she thought as she answered the call with a hesitant “Yes?”

  “Peri?” came a soft-spoken, masculine voice, and she had to think twice.

  “Cam?” she finally guessed, mystified. “Where did you get this number?”

  “From your cat’s collar,” he said, and Peri’s eyes closed in a slow blink. And Carnac. “Are you okay? I found him outside your shop. You’re not open today, bu-u-u-ut you probably know that.”

  A crash from the lab jerked her attention up. “Are you trying to kill her?” Silas shouted, neck red as he fronted a belligerent man in a lab coat. “The residues will build up on her synapses and give her MS!”

  The chemist in question dramatically dropped his tablet on the counter and stalked out. Uneasy, Peri held the phone closer as the unknown doctor hit the elevator button hard and turned his back on her while he waited. “Um, what are you doing with my cat?” she asked Cam.

  “Feeding him,” Cam said, and she swore she could hear Carnac purring. “He was still there when I went back after lunch, so I picked him up. He looked hungry. Are you okay?”

  Peri glanced into the lab where Silas was still reaming out some poor tech, blurry behind a huge holographic wave screen detailing what looked like a neurological pathway. “No, but I will be. Hey, could you do me a favor? Two favors?”

  “Sure. What?”

  The elevator dinged cheerfully, and the slighted chemist stalked inside and hammered at the button to close the door. “Could you watch Carnac for me for a few days, ah, weeks?”

  “He’s housebroke, right?”

  “Of course he is,” she said, then added, “As long as you give him a cat pan.”

  “Mmmm,” Cam muttered. “And two?”

  “Could you forget you have this number?”

  “Peri, whatever trouble you’re in, I can help.”

  “Um,” she stammered, embarrassed now. “It’s really sweet of you, but I’m okay. I’ll tell you about it when I pick up Carnac. Okay?”

  “Yea-a-ah,” he hedged. “You’re coming back, right?” he asked, clearly not believing her.

  She was silent, thinking of how long it would take Silas to reverse-engineer the Evocane. “Sure,” she said, hoping she was telling the truth. “Of course. Thanks. I owe you big. Bye.”

  She ended the call before he could say anything more, staring at the empty screen and trying to decide whether she was going to keep it or not; it was likely bugged.

  Foreboding crept through her, and she wasn’t surprised when the elevator dinged and Jack got out of it, looking so good in his Armani suit and day-old stubble that she didn’t care that the elevator hadn’t truly opened and the happy eighties music filtering out from it was all in her mind. Something had flagged her subconscious that a threat was looming, and Jack had come to warn her. Either that, or one of her old boyfriends worked at the CIA and was on his way down.

  The illusion pretended to shoot her with his finger before he sat beside her, his shirt untucked and top button undone. He looked fabulous, and she harbored a growing sensation she’d seen him like that before, probably with a glass of wine in his hand after a successful task. She understood the wine now. It probably hadn’t been easy lying to her day after day that their jobs were legit.

  Nah, she thought as the hallucination gave her a sideways grin. He just liked his wine.

  “Why are you here?” she whispered so whoever was behind the camera in the corner wouldn’t think she was talking to herself.

  “The longer you sit here, the harder it will be to slip them.” Leaning back, he dropped an ankle on a knee. “Me, I’d bug out. Find a hole. Leave Silas to do what he does best. Wait for Silas to find you. He will, you know.”

  It was a good idea, but if she left, they might kick Silas out of the lab. The chance that he could reproduce the maintenance drug was worth hanging around for.

  “But you never listened much to me, did you?” he said.

  “Clearly more than I should.” The elevator dinged again—this time for real. Allen’s voice filtered out even before the door opened, and she stretched her arms in a façade of confidence across the back of the couch. The silver doors opened. Harmony strode out, followed by an older man in a suit and tie. It was there Peri’s attention lingered, recognizing his wealth and privilege—the expectation that his word would be acted on without question.

  “Oh look. Your new leash holder,” Jack said, rising to help himself to a coffee from the narrow table against the wall.

  The man’s shoes were high-end, and she breathed deeply, looking for the scent of cologne. His Burberry suit was perfection even if it was a bit stiff, woven from black and white threads to give the illusion of gray. He’d gone gray with his tie as well, lined with white and silver. His piercing blue eyes undimmed by age took everything in with efficient swiftness. Peri pulled her arms back to herself, unconsciously accepting his authority until Jack snorted and she shifted her posture to one less accommodating.

  “Mr. Steiner, this is Agent Peri Reed,” Allen said as he pushed ahead of Harmony to do the introductions. “Peri, this is Mr. Steiner. He’ll be directing your involvement in bringing in Michael Kord and Bill Heddles.”

  Peri stood, slowly extending her hand. “Steiner,” she said, thinking the sound of his suit sliding over itself was soothing. “Nice sandbox you have here.”

  He shook her hand, his eyes showing no emotion. “Thank you.”

  Her attention strayed to Jack, and he shrugged his opinion. It was obvious that Steiner relied too much on what other people told him. But she probably should play nice if she wanted to keep Silas in his lab.

  Allen, ever the political grease, jiggled on his feet nervously. “Ah, I’ve been telling Steiner what I know of Michael. They’ve been monitoring him for six weeks.”

  “Really.” There were chairs surround
ing them, but no one was sitting down. “How long have you been watching me? Did you see my abduction the other day? What did you think? I should have killed Michael and walked away by the looks of it, but then we wouldn’t be here having this conversation. Maybe you would have sent me a big, fat check if I had.”

  “I read the report,” Steiner said smoothly, but she’d seen his flash of ire, and the need to bait him was irresistible—if Jack laughing at the coffee counter behind him was any indication. “I’m pleased you agreed to help us capture Michael,” Steiner finished evenly.

  “Agreed?” Peri smiled brightly to make Allen cringe at what might come out of her mouth. “That implies I had a choice. I had a choice?”

  “Sir.” Allen adjusted his glasses, giving her a look to shut up. “What she means—”

  “No, I’m curious,” she said, not flinching under their stares, her thoughts on the adjacent garage and her chances at simply walking out. “What are you going to do with Michael and the rest of us drafters once you find us? Put us in camps? Science labs?”

  “Peri, stop it,” Allen said outright.

  But she was learning so much, and she watched in interest as Harmony tried to get her superior’s attention. Steiner was impervious to the woman, focused on Peri, the man clearly knowing she was seeing how far she could push before someone pushed back.

  “What happens to Michael afterward isn’t your concern,” Harmony said, and at that, Peri’s fake good mood vanished. Harmony saw it leave, and there was a rush of motion as the woman stepped in front of Steiner. Tension sang in Peri, and she glanced at the camera, wondering who was behind it watching.

  “It’s very much her concern,” Steiner said, and Harmony flushed when he physically moved the woman out from between him and Peri. “I’d be uncomfortable if she didn’t ask. Reed, the entire branch of the CIA was kept in the dark about Opti’s special skills until Opti was shown to be corrupt and other heads were put in charge of disbanding it.”

  “Thanks to Peri,” Allen muttered.

  Behind him, Jack shook powdered cream into his coffee. “He’s got that right.”

  Steiner sighed at the raw emotions. “If drafters were any other group of people, it wouldn’t matter,” he said, noticing Peri looking over his left shoulder at Jack. “But every one of you is highly trained and unwilling to live quietly.”

  “I was working in a coffee shop,” Peri accused. “That’s not exactly noisy.”

  “You were gaining the trust of high-profile people who had their fingers on the pulse of the economy. Your ability to steal secrets and sell them was unparalleled.”

  “I was giving them a secure place to work, not stealing their secrets,” she said, peeved.

  “You were surrounding yourself with everything you lost,” he said, and she met his gaze, unwilling to drop her eyes. “That you limited your guilty pleasure to that is why you’re here and not in the Opti-designed cell that waits for Michael.”

  “You want me to bring him in so you can jail him?” she asked.

  Steiner’s lips curved into a smile. “You’ve done worse to those who deserve it less.”

  She took a step closer, not liking that he was right. Harmony stiffened. Behind him, Jack set his coffee down and mirrored Peri, pinning the older man between them. “Not when my name was on the next cell over,” she said. Steiner probably had access to all her records, knew more about what she’d done than she did herself. Peri had no defense other than a paper-thin, plausible deniability. She might have been manipulated into her actions, but Michael liked hurting people. She’d seen it in his eyes in front of her coffee shop.

  “Your help in the matter will not go unnoticed,” Steiner said.

  “My cell will have a window. Gotcha.”

  “Peri,” Allen whispered. “Will you give him a chance?”

  “I’m listening,” she said, her thoughts on the stolen vials.

  Steiner made a small noise as if she’d passed some sort of test, but he rocked back to glance behind himself, searching for whatever Peri kept looking at, the man oblivious to Jack frowning at him. “The alliance’s dewy-eyed idea that the drafters would come in when Opti fell apart was a poor one,” Steiner said. “They predictably scattered, most going into hiding as you did. We’re finding those who use their skills for monetary gain by reputation. That is, when a crime goes unsolved, we can figure out who did it by your quirks of methodology. WEFT has been tasked with bringing them in. I’m focusing on problem drafters first. It’s my hope to find you all before your abilities become common knowledge.”

  “Yes, the world knowing about us would be a problem,” she said bitterly.

  “How do you think the common man will react if it’s suddenly known that a small demographic can change the past?” Steiner accused. “You think they’ll listen rationally? Take you in as the next evolutionary step of mankind and celebrate you? No. They’ll believe whatever lie makes them feel justified in hunting you down. They’ll not only kill you but go after your parents, siblings, and anyone else they think you’ve infected.”

  “Infected!” Jack exclaimed, but Peri didn’t like the hallucination giving voice to her outrage. Is he threatening my mother?

  “It will be genocide, Agent Reed,” Steiner continued. “And you will be at the center of it. I’m trying to avoid that by bringing in drafters as they reach my notice. If a drafter’s actions don’t become an issue, I have no reason to bother them apart from the request that they remain childless.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And if we don’t like that last part?”

  “We’ll insist.” He hesitated. “And why do you keep looking over my shoulder?” Steiner asked, anger finally reaching his voice.

  “I’m watching the monster creeping up behind you,” she said cryptically, and Allen cringed, knowing she was talking about Jack.

  Peri had never wanted a family, but to force the issue didn’t sit well, and when Jack began to pace, Peri sat down. “I’m still listening,” she said, and Allen exhaled, clearly relieved.

  Steiner stiffly lowered himself into the chair across from her, the empty expanse of the glass table between them. “Bill Heddles sent Michael Kord on task this morning. They have abandoned the Detroit facility and Bill needs immediate funds to set up anew.”

  I bet Bill is happy about that. “Okay.” Peri glanced at the photos that Harmony had taken from a shiny blue file folder and spread across the low table.

  “His flight is for St. Louis,” Harmony said, pictures spinning to land in front of her where Peri stopped them with a quick hand. “We won’t know until he boards the plane, but he’s probably going to be there with this woman. Her name is Jennifer.”

  She pointed down, and Allen bent at the waist, peering at the razor-sharp images. “She was in the van when they tried to snag me,” Peri said.

  “You spilled coffee on her, too,” Allen said, clearly relieved that Peri wasn’t baiting Steiner anymore.

  “Due to his current lack of resources, we feel Heddles might be on-site as well,” Harmony said. “If he is, we bring them both back. Think you can handle that?”

  And then I’m in my cell until they need me again, she thought, jerking as her eyes lit upon a photo of Jack among the rest. Steiner cleared his throat knowingly at her reaction, and she slumped, settling back as if she didn’t care. But the damage had been done.

  “You think Jack might be there, too?” Allen said as he picked up Jack’s photo.

  “He was your last Opti anchor, right?” Harmony questioned suspiciously.

  Peri nodded, her eyes lifting from the photo to Jack standing before the coffee urn. Setting his mug down, Jack crossed the room to peer over her shoulder. “I don’t remember that being taken,” the hallucination said.

  Harmony’s head shifted back and forth. “Sir, her flight risk is too high. Reed stays here.”

  “Excuse me?” Peri began to laugh, but it was bitter even to her ears. “You think I’m going to run away with Jack? Do your homewo
rk, Agent Beam.”

  “You are a flight risk,” Harmony insisted. Frustrated, she turned to Steiner. “It’s bad enough I have to work with Swift.”

  “You came to me,” Allen muttered.

  “Seriously?” Peri pulled the photo from Allen’s hand and threw it in the trash. “You honestly think I’m going to trust Bill? Go running back to him? You think I like losing chunks of memory and being remade into whatever suits him? But I can see why you might be worried. Your great plan is to commit a slow and morally comfortable genocide on a new kind of human.”

  Steiner’s expression was placid, but mistrust had tightened the corners of his eyes. Behind him, Jack took his photo from the trash and propped it up on the coffee counter. Peri didn’t want to know the mental gymnastics going on in her head right now. The photo was still in the trash. She knew it. But there it was, in Jack’s hand as he carefully wiped off a smear of coffee from it. Maybe I’m not over him as much as I thought.

  “Peri shot and left Jack for dead when she found out he and Bill were using her,” Allen said, indignant. “She’s not going to go back to him or Opti.”

  “Yeah, that hurt, babe,” Jack said, carefully shifting the photo to catch the light.

  “Sir, this is my team. We’ve worked together for over a year. I don’t want to add a new element,” Harmony protested. “Besides, her radioactive tag will give us away.”

  “At this point, it takes four hours for enough radiation accumulation to ping a meter,” Steiner said, clearly not caring. “That’s deemed acceptable.”

  Jack sipped his coffee, saying, “If Harmony goes alone, she’s dead and you know it.”

  Why do I care? Peri thought, but it was obvious she did. Or maybe she just wanted to crush Harmony’s misplaced confidence. “You don’t have the ability or skills to bring in a drafter alone,” she said, and Harmony rounded on her.