by Kim Harrison
“I can do something other than catch Peri when she falls,” he muttered, eyes returning to his tablet.
“Not today, Swift,” Harmony said, her fake mood of nonchalance wearing thin.
Peri leaned in, the flats of her arms aggressively on the table. “What does your team have in case you’re wrong and we’re interrupted by a stray guard or employee coming back for his or her phone?”
“I’m not wrong,” the woman insisted indignantly.
Allen tossed his tablet to the table. “What am I here for? What is she here for?” he added, pointing to Peri. “You’re the team leader, right? Use your tools. Don’t lock them up in your tool chest because they might get scratched.”
Harmony’s jaw clenched, then relaxed. “Okay,” she said, voice even. “Allen, if there are any unexpected guards, they’re your responsibility as long as it doesn’t interfere with you anchoring Peri.”
“Check.”
Allen takes care of any unexpected guards? What kind of a plan is that? That closed-in feeling was growing. Peri took enough crackers and cheese to make three mini sandwiches, knowing that for whatever reason, Harmony felt as if she couldn’t. “What is Michael’s target, anyway?” she asked, crumbs falling onto Harmony’s intel.
“Ah . . . some kind of carbon filter,” Harmony said, her attention on the crumbs.
Carbon filter? “And you think this is a legit task, not a trap?”
Allen slumped deeper into his chair. “And it was going so well, too.”
“Not that it matters,” Harmony said tightly, “but he’s stealing proprietary information concerning a new process to modify existing autonomous carbon scrubbers used to collect airborne carbon into a usable form, in essence making fuel from the air. It lowers CO2 levels and supplies a clean fuel to pay for itself. If Bill can secure it, the oil and gas companies will pay through the nose to keep it out of production.” Clearly irate, Harmony turned back to her notes. “It’s not a trap. It’s a game changer.”
That it is, Peri mused as she thought through the ramifications. “You’re right,” she said, and Allen looked up, shocked. Peri frowned at him. “What?” she said sharply, brushing the crumbs to the floor. “She is.”
“I never said she was wrong.” Allen hunched over the schematics. “What’s the plan? Wait until Michael goes in, then use the building to contain him until we can bring him down?”
Harmony crossed her arms over her middle as if expecting him to protest. “That’s it.”
That’s it, Peri thought. They were going to die. All of them. “Michael has been known to draft up to a minute,” she said, not knowing why she was telling Harmony this. They could use everything she said to capture her as well. “If you don’t have Amneoset, you’re going to have to dart him with the sedative when he’s rewriting time. Otherwise, he’ll just draft his way out of it.”
“Rewrite,” Harmony echoed, eyes on a cracker as she carefully snapped it in two and ate the smaller piece. “What difference does it make?”
Allen chuckled and went back to flipping through the schematics, and Peri was satisfied that he’d find a way out when it all hit the fan. “You can’t draft within a draft, so a rewrite is the only span of time you have to make something stick,” she said, thinking Harmony should know this already. “You dart him with anything other than Amneoset, and Michael will simply rewrite time to avoid getting hit, and that includes being shot. Amneoset is wicked fast, but a sedative takes time before it shuts down the ability to draft, and that’s all he needs.”
“And that, Agent Beam,” Allen said distantly, stylus between his teeth, “is why Steiner wanted me here.” He looked up, taking the stylus out. “I’m the only one besides Peri who can tell you when you’re in a rewrite. It’s not hard to bring down a drafter when the timing is right. Unfortunately, you’re a three-dimensional person, and only someone who can see in four has a hope of bringing down someone who lives in four.”
Harmony brushed the crumbs from her, clearly trying to keep the distaste out of her expression. “Fine, so we sedate him during a rewrite. It shouldn’t be hard after that,” Harmony said, and Peri sighed. “You don’t agree?” Harmony said provocatively.
“Stopping a drafter from jumping doesn’t negate them,” Peri said. “It’s like shooting someone in the foot and expecting him to drop down dead.”
“No, we just fall down and roll around a lot,” Allen grumbled, eyes still on his tablet.
Harmony’s lips pressed together. “Then what do you propose we do?”
“Offhand? I don’t know,” Peri said honestly. “There’re too many variables, and I usually leave the planning up to my anchor. It’d be easier if I had something more lethal than an empty boot sheath, though.”
Her phone was buzzing, and Peri pulled it to her from across the table. Cam. Damn it, if Carnac had run off, she was going to be ticked.
“Go ahead and take it,” Harmony said as she stood. “I need to make a call.”
“I’m familiar with anything you have,” Peri offered, knowing Harmony was likely going to clear the ingoing assets with Steiner. “And Michael will be, too.” Shoulders tense, she muttered, “We aren’t just magic ponies.”
Motion stiff, Harmony made her way to the rear of the plane, settling herself in an aisle seat where she could watch everything, her phone already to her ear.
Smirking, Allen went back to the blueprints. “I don’t know why you have such a hard time making friends.”
“Hey.” Peri hit the connect button. “I’m not the one being stingy with the assets.” Hardly taking a breath, she said, “Hi, Cam. What’s up?”
“Good afternoon.” Cam’s cultured voice eased into her like melted chocolate, sweet, bitter, and addictive. “Should I let Carnac out if I won’t be awake to let him in until morning?”
“Ah, sure,” she said as Allen made a sad sound and focused on the intel. “Just make sure you leave a dish of water by your door.”
“The only reason I ask is that he didn’t come back last night when I called. He’s here now, but I’m worried he might try to go back to the coffeehouse.”
An unexpected heartache went through her at the missing rhythm of her coffeehouse, and she ate another cracker, not hungry. “If he came back once, he’ll come back again. You must be feeding him something he likes.”
“I took him into the store, and he picked it out.”
She could hear a coffee grinder, but it was low volume. He ground his own coffee? “You took him into the store?”
“Why not? People were taking their dogs in. And that’s another thing. The bag says half a cup per ten pounds of cat. He’s not eating it all.”
“You can leave it out,” she said, smiling from the mental image of Cam holding a cat up to the shelves and looking for a response. “He’ll eat when he’s hungry.”
“I thought so.” There was a slight hesitation, then, “What time zone are you in?”
“Huh?” Shocked, her eyes flicked to Allen, who’d caught the question as well.
“The only reason I ask is because I don’t want to call you at three in the morning. By the sound of it, your jet is too small to be going to the West Coast. Still Eastern?”
“Ah, Central.” Damn, he was good. “How—”
“I traveled a lot for a while. You get to know the sound of the engines. Are you okay? Need anything?”
Allen was silently laughing, and she made a face at him to keep quiet. “I’m fine,” she said, embarrassed. “It might take me longer than I thought, though.” Harmony was digging in a back locker, and the duffel bag she’d just dropped in the aisle held promise. “Ah, I’ve got to go,” she said, not liking that her pulse had quickened at the thought of some firepower. “Thanks again for watching Carnac. He means a lot to me.”
“No problem. Talk to you later.”
“Bye.” She hit the end icon. Allen was watching her sourly.
“He’s going to be trouble,” he said, perking up when Harmony’s duffel
hit the table with a familiar, comforting set of sliding clinks and thuds.
“He’s just a guy watching my cat.” Peri leaned forward when Harmony opened it up to show several Kevlar vests, handguns, and three dart rifles. “Which one is mine?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Harmony stood over them, brow furrowed. “The vest isn’t optional.”
She hadn’t worn a vest since graduating Opti’s boot camp, and she wasn’t starting now. It would take a head shot to stop her from drafting, and a vest wouldn’t prevent that. But Allen reached for one, eyes widening in pleasure. “Yes, ma’am!” he said as he picked out a handgun first, checking the clip. “These don’t shoot darts. Can we kill him?”
“Not even if he kills you first. The Glocks are for emergency only.” Expression closed, she sat. “Peri, is a ring chip okay? I can put it on a wristband instead if you want. It should be close enough.”
Peri looked up from checking the dart rifle’s chamber to find it empty. The heavy slickness of the instrument was soothing, though. “Chip?”
“The firing chip,” Harmony said, then hesitated, her eyes brightening. “You don’t have these? Or did you just forget.”
“No,” Allen mused. “This is new. A firing chip?”
Smug, Harmony reached for a Glock. Using a tiny tool from a small kit, she opened the hilt. “It’s German. We’ve had it for a while. The chip has to be within two inches of the butt or the weapon won’t fire. We’re the first large-scale trial for the company who makes them. You haven’t heard of this?”
It was obvious by her self-satisfied smile that she knew they hadn’t. “Not that it was available in the States.” Setting the rifle aside, Peri took the ring Harmony was extending. It was thick, like a class ring, and she put it on her index finger, where it almost fit. It was a great idea. If she lost the weapon or it was taken from her, it couldn’t be used on her or sold.
“Ha.” Allen took off his watch and handed it to Harmony to be fitted. “I never thought I’d see you with finger bling, Peri.”
“Me either,” she said sourly. Harmony was clearly in a better mood, and Peri’s suspicions deepened. “I’m assuming there’s a tracking chip in it, too?” she asked, and Harmony brightened.
“Obviously.”
Peri’s hand clenched into a fist and she eyed the ring with WEFT imprinted on it along with a serial number. “Well, at least it’s not in my ass.”
Allen’s laugh choked off at the sudden turbulence. Harmony froze, her detailed work to get the chip onto Allen’s watch interrupted. “We’re landing,” she said, checking her phone before shoving the empty satchel under a seat. “We move right to the warehouse. Steiner says Bill has pushed Michael’s timetable up.”
The jet was jostling in the unsettled air to make Allen grip his armrest. “Now?” he blurted, suddenly pale. “I thought we weren’t going to be on-site until two in the morning.”
“In and out.” Harmony checked her hopper before sliding the weapon away. “Bill changed his plans. We adapted. The locals won’t even know we were ever there.”
This was getting better and better. Peri eyed Allen for his opinion, but he was too preoccupied by the jostling. “Why did Bill change his plans?” she asked, and when Harmony shrugged, Peri’s unease strengthened. “We need to take a step back and find out.”
“There’s neither the need nor the time.” It was quick, and Harmony looked ticked. “We go now. I’m sorry we can’t check in and get a nice meal and a swim first.”
Peri’s lips parted. “Meal and a swim?”
Harmony eyed her past Allen clenching the armrests. “You want to stay in the jet?”
“You want to get shot?” Peri snapped.
“One more word and you don’t leave the airfield,” Harmony said, interrupting her.
“This is a mistake.” Peri pushed back into the seat as the jet kissed the tarmac and Allen sighed in relief. If Michael’s jealousy didn’t kill her, then Harmony’s pride would. And needing to draft to come back from that would really piss her off.
CHAPTER
NINE
“How many people are out here?” Peri slung her dart rifle, cold fingers brushing her Glock to reassure herself she had it. January in St. Louis wasn’t warm. At night in an open field dotted with industrial buildings, it was positively frigid. Her frown deepened at the government van parked in the shadows behind the warehouselike building. It was disguised as a local furniture mover, the panels caked with too much dirt to not be suspect. Should have used salt and grime, not mud.
“Eight.” Kevlar vest showing, Harmony handed her a radio and earpiece. She was little more than a voice in the freezing blackness. “We’re on channel B.”
“Eight?” The cold from the cinder-block wall Peri was pressed against was seeping into her. “Why are eight people out here?”
“Because that’s my team.” A glow blossomed as Harmony fiddled with her phone, clearly the medium the radios were working through. Shadow heavy on her face, Harmony glanced at the radio still in Peri’s hand. “You know how the radio works, right?”
“I know how a radio works.” Peeved, Peri dropped the wireless receiver in a pocket and fitted the earpiece. Satisfied, Harmony closed out the app, and her phone and her face went dark.
It was nearing midnight, the night cloudless and gripped with a cold too bitter for snow. Traffic had slowed on the adjacent expressway. And whereas Peri would usually say midnight was too early for a B and E, the place was deserted, nothing but open flat land spotted with light manufacturing and service roads rimed with salt reflecting back the moonlight.
Peri eyed Harmony’s Kevlar vest, wishing now she’d taken one if for nothing more than another layer. Allen looked warm enough in his. “Do you seriously expect you can have eight agents out here and not alert Michael to your presence?” she grumbled as she blew on her fingers, and Harmony’s posture stiffened. “You don’t think Bill has the guard on his payroll? That your men have been spotted and word sent back? Good Lord, you don’t leave a multibillion-dollar piece of equipment in a manufacturing facility with a three-hour security window. This is a setup. They know we’re here. They moved the timetable up to put us off balance.”
“Thank you, Agent Reed,” Harmony said, then louder to the agents already on-site, “Can we get inside, maybe?” and one jogged away.
“Agent Reed” echoed in her ear, and Peri started. “This is Steiner. I’ll be monitoring the airwaves during this task. I trust you can keep the chatter to a minimum. I remind you that this is Agent Beam’s task. Understood?”
Peri took the piece out of her ear and dropped it into her pocket. “I’m not questioning your methods,” she said. “But thinking that Michael doesn’t know you’re on-site is ridiculous.”
“I expect that he does,” the woman said as she touched her earpiece. “Try to not let him kill you.” She thumbed a button on her radio. “Viper moving in.”
“Viper?” Peri muttered disparagingly. “I’ve never needed a code name.”
Allen’s slim hand landed warm and heavy on her shoulder. Leaning close, he pushed her to the fire door now propped open by an agent. “You’ve never worked with more than one other person before,” he said, looking eager behind his thick glasses and faint stubble.
This was not how she did things, but she followed Harmony into the hangarlike building, appreciating the warmth. She couldn’t help but feel as if she were shooting a lion who’d been tied down the evening before, all the while the lioness circling behind her.
Peri halted at the outskirts of the small group, hands in her armpits to warm her fingers as she scanned the heavy machines in rows and the cranes silent above them. A squatty mushroom-shaped container the size of a bus sat under a spotlight, and she figured it was the carbon condenser. There were too many people here. She liked her tasks simple. Fewer moving parts meant the less that could break.
“Allen?” she whispered, and he sidled up to her, squinting in the dim light.
“J
ust go with it. You might like this new army.”
Doubt it. Not happy, she pulled him aside as Harmony stood with another agent and looked over the latest info on their tablets. “Michael is sitting somewhere, laughing at us.”
“You want to ditch the posse and find him?” Allen asked, and she nodded, eyes flicking to Harmony. The woman would be pissed, but they were underestimating Michael. Badly. They were treating him as if he played by rules, and it was going to get them killed.
Peri straightened when Harmony came up to them, eyes bright. “Offices are through the double doors at the far side. Heat map indicates that’s where he’s at. Let’s go.” Peri didn’t move, and Harmony jerked to a stop after two steps. “You want to show me how good you are?”
Allen jiggled her elbow to say something, and Peri took a breath, biting back her first sarcastic response. Then she turned and walked away.
“Hey!” Harmony barked out, hardly above a whisper. “Where are you going?”
Peri spun, wanting an end to it. “With Allen to find that surprise guard. Do I need a chip to fire the dart gun or just the Glock?” she asked, wanting to be sure, and Harmony frowned.
“Just the Glock. Michael is that way,” Harmony said, pointing.
“You can go that way. My gut tells me to go this way.” Peri pointed in the opposite direction. “Or don’t you want to show me how good you are?” The man who had let them in flicked his eyes from one to the other, and Peri pushed into Harmony’s space. “I’m not turning on you. I’m hunting. Or don’t you trust me?”
Harmony’s eyes narrowed. “Check in every five minutes. Wear your radio.”
“Sure.” As Allen fidgeted, she fitted her earpiece and turned the volume to zero. Finished, Peri jogged across the flat expanse, jerking out the earpiece as soon as the dark took her. Allen was close beside her. Emotion tightened her gut and gave her a slight headache. It wasn’t because she’d stood up to Harmony and slipped her leash. No, it was because she was working.
