The Operator

by Kim Harrison

  Silas turned, a fuzzy knitted cover for the teapot in his hand. Okay, maybe I did manage to finish a project. “Steiner thinks you’re headed back for Opti with Jack. Harmony helped me get out, so it’s a fair assumption she still trusts you.” Silas pulled open a drawer and set a diffuser on the electric burner to insulate the glass kettle. “She’s not very happy, though. Steiner put her on unpaid leave.” Mood casual, he opened a cupboard and brought down two mugs. “I wouldn’t want to be her tae kwon do partner tomorrow.”

  Peri watched him, every move precise and deliberate. He knew where everything was, even the instant coffee both she and Jack had missed. Clearly he’d been here more than once, but she didn’t remember it. She was tired of forgetting. Peri glanced at the couch, now recognizing it was his scent in the cushions. More than a few times, it seemed. “She helped you escape?” she asked as water chattered into the kettle.

  “I find that hard to believe,” Jack said as he stretched his legs out under the kitchen table. “They just let you walk out the front door?”

  Silas dropped the kettle on the burner with a clatter. “That’s exactly what happened,” he said tightly, his expression easing when he turned to Peri. “I wasn’t going to let you run alone, Peri. Not this time. Allen would have been the better choice, but he’s beat up, and they watch Harmony too closely.” Silas shifted his shoulders as if he was uncomfortable. “Besides, I was the only one without an ankle cuff. So Allen blew up the parking garage. Started a fire in one of the electrical runs. I wanted to bring you Steiner’s stash of Evocane, but it’s locked down too tight.”

  Brow furrowed, Silas touched his coat to unconsciously indicate his inner breast pocket, and Peri wondered what was in it if not Evocane. Maybe he was lying for Jack’s benefit.

  “And yes, I just walked out along with the rest of the firemen,” Silas finished, his hand in his pants pocket now. “Allen is probably in a cell, but he can’t run with that busted knee.”

  “It never really healed, did it,” she said softly as she dug deeper to the bottom of the satchel past bottles of over-the-counter meds to find the smooth feel of her phone. “Thank you,” she added, relieved that Harmony wasn’t angry with her. “For everything.” She wiggled her phone in explanation before tucking it away in a pocket. Cam had called again.

  “It’s clean,” Silas said as if Jack might argue.

  From the table, Jack grumbled, “You’re going to bring them right to her.”

  “He is not.” Peri’s gaze shifted between the two men, seeing more than casual trouble brewing when Silas lifted a shoulder and let it drop, anger in the slant of his eyes.

  “I can get you through the withdrawal,” Silas said. “You’ve only had two doses.”

  Jack scoffed, picking at a flake of laminate on the table. “You really think she’d leave without a source of Evocane already in place?”

  “She is not going back to Bill,” Silas said firmly.

  “Not Bill,” Peri said, wondering whether there was time for another shower now that Silas could watch Jack. “LB.”

  “Who is LB?” Silas asked warily.

  “The punk who owns the arena,” Jack said, He touched his forehead with a finger, then pointed it at Peri as if they were thinking the same thoughts. “I thought you might leave him one. Good thinking, Peri.”

  Like I had a choice? Peri stifled a frown, not wanting to talk about LB in front of Jack. But then again, he’d probably figure it out on his own when she dumped Jack there on the way out. “He’s a feral drafter,” Peri said softly, and both Silas and Jack jerked.

  “He’s a what?” Jack exclaimed, his shock too real to be faked.

  “A feral drafter,” Silas said clearly excited. “In Detroit? Like five minutes from here? Does he know? Does Steiner know?”

  Peri couldn’t help her smile as she shook her head. “I gave LB the down-and-dirty of it. I gave him your number, too. He might call when his curiosity gets the better of him. I told him the Evocane is worthless without the accelerator to make it all work, but he’ll probably shoot up with it and get himself hooked anyway.”

  Silas’s expression suddenly dimmed. “You don’t need me at all.”

  Jack chuckled. “No, we don’t, little professor.”

  “Shut up, Jack,” Peri said, wishing she didn’t have to deal with this right now. Seeing Silas standing before her, still in his coat and scarf, that same broken look on his face she had read about in her diary, gave her a headache, as if something was trying to come back. Disjointed memories that Allen had burned to ash flickered at the edges of her soul, filling her with a need to respond, but not answering why. Within her mind, there was Silas, and her, and a growing feeling that she was being remiss, intentionally keeping herself blind so she could remain safe and alone. But she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

  Throat closing, she turned away, her focus blurring on the satchel he’d brought. It wasn’t just clothes and her phone, but his desire to help her made real. And here she was, not only having voluntarily erased the memories of their love but intentionally keeping herself oblivious to any chance of recall. Had it been worth it? She didn’t think so anymore.

  Taking a resolute breath, Peri touched the clothes, knowing he’d brought them in the belief that he was useless. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, voice low so it wouldn’t break. “I don’t want to go through withdrawal alone. Thank you.”

  Silas’s hands relaxed and his shoulders eased. He glanced at the warming water and then came forward. “You’re limping.”

  Immediately she put her foot up on the low table and pulled the torn slacks up over it.

  “I looked at it last night,” Jack said from the kitchen. “It’s fine.”

  The couch slid her into Silas when he sat beside her, and she stayed where she was, feeling his warmth against her, trying to recall why it felt so right—but there was nothing.

  “When did you get shot?” he asked, brows furrowing.

  “I didn’t. At least I don’t think I did. There’s no bullet,” she said, then caught her breath when Silas carefully lifted the tape and it pulled. “Ow?”

  “Have you put anything on it?” His eyes flicked up, his worry obvious.

  “Just an antibiotic. It’s not warm, so it’s probably not infected.”

  “I told you I looked at it last night,” Jack said, ignored.

  Silas pulled the bandage back into place, using the old tape to fix it back down. “I brought some stuff, but nothing for infection. We can stop at a pharmacy. I need to pick up a few things, anyway.” His tone caught her intuition, and her eyes jerked to his. Shrugging, he added, “I want to try weaning you off it. Tonight. The more you take, the harder it is.”

  Peri glanced at the atomic clock on the shelf, understanding. “We can stop on the way to LB’s,” she said, her ire flashing into existence when Jack cleared his throat in protest. “I want to pick up his vial of Evocane.” Fear tightened her gut, fear she might not be able to kick it. “It would probably be easier to wean me off it if you had some.”

  “You’re not ditching me, Peri,” Jack threatened as he tugged his sleeves down and fastened the cuffs. “You’re going to need someone experienced to bring in Michael. Denier is a couch warrior, a bloody psychologist, and you are his latest pet project.”

  Silas stood, slipping out from under Peri’s soothing hand. “If you don’t shut up, I will pop you in the mouth, Twill.”

  “Try it, big man,” Jack taunted. “You will only get her dead.” Jack stood from the kitchen table, his motion smooth as he put his suit coat on. It made him look more polished, even if it was dirty and torn. “I bet you can’t run a mile without puking.”

  Peri rubbed her temple. No wonder her head hurt.

  Silas ran a hand over his hair and turned to her. “Why is he still alive?”

  “He made me breakfast. I was waiting to kill him until he finished the dishes.”

  The water was boiling, and Jack flicked the burner off.
“Very funny. Ha-ha. You need me if for nothing more than to get close to Michael. Admit it. Once you get your Evocane, you’re going after him. I’m your ticket in.”

  Silas eased into the kitchen to stand aggressively before Jack until he moved. “Is he for real?” he asked as he tore open two packets of coffee and filled the mugs with steaming water.

  Peri shrugged, thinking the brewed coffee smelled old. “How much cash do you have? Everything I left under the silverware drawer is gone.” She took the mug as he handed it to her, grateful even as she felt guilty that he’d risked his life to find her—again. And she was going to ask for more.

  “Few thousand, but it’s on my phone.” Silas’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not drinking this.”

  “Caffeine is caffeine,” she said, wondering why Jack was standing before her bookshelves. “What are you doing? Hey!” she exclaimed when he reached for the photo of her on a Harley. That she didn’t remember it being taken bothered her, but not enough to throw it away.

  “You need money, right?” he said as he took the back off and bills fluttered down to land on the faded braided rug. Great, he’ll never let me forget this, she thought as he gave it another shake before setting the picture down and crouching to collect the money.

  “You’ve been tucking it away for years,” Jack said, his demeanor mild as he extended the bills to her. “A little every time you visited, depending on how fed up you were with Bill at the moment. You said when you got enough, you were going to quit and drive away, but you don’t remember that anymore.”

  Setting down her coffee, she took the bills and made a rough count. “There’s enough here for two bikes,” she said, shocked, and Jack’s lips pressed together tightly.

  “You noticed that, huh?” he said stiffly. “I’m going to do right by you, Peri. I promise.”

  I was going to ride away with him, she thought, not liking that at all. But it did make one thing very clear. Her safe house wasn’t safe. Everyone, apparently, knew about it.

  “We need to go,” she said, deciding her shower would have to wait. “Silas, you remember where I stashed the weapons, right?”

  Mug almost lost in his big hands, Silas looked at the ceiling. “We bugging out then?”

  “Yep. Soon as I change.” She looked at the coffee mug. “And maybe put that in a paper cup from downstairs.”

  “Good.” Silas set his coffee on the counter and dragged the kitchen chair to sit right under the ceiling fan. “You want noisy or quiet?” he asked as he stood on it and carefully lifted a ceiling tile.

  “Quiet.” Her knee was throbbing, but she ignored it as she gathered her clothes and headed for the bathroom.

  “Noisy,” Jack added.

  “You aren’t getting any,” she said, suddenly reluctant to enter the tiny bathroom. It still smelled like Jack’s aftershave, and in a surge of pique, she stalked to the yarn bag, dropping the half-knitted thing into the trash, needles and all. It was an Opti-sanctioned calming technique, and she was done with it. Done with Jack, done with knitting, done with it all.

  Silas pulled his head out of the ceiling at the noise, and he and Jack exchanged odd, wondering looks. “If I’m coming with you, I should be armed,” Jack said hesitantly.

  “You’re not coming with us,” Silas said, his voice muffled as he stuck his head back into the ceiling. “We’re going to tie you up and leave you here for Steiner.”

  “You need me, Peri. You are not leaving me here!” Jack said, louder.

  Half in and half out of the bathroom, Peri sighed. “No,” she said reluctantly. “We’re not.”

  “Peri . . .” Silas complained as he came back down off the chair, putting two knives, a Glock, several magazines, clips, tactical sound bombs, and a handful of small-radius EMP grenades into her satchel and giving it a shake to settle it all.

  Smug, Jack took a dollar out of his wallet and tucked it behind the frame as if it was seed money. “Suck it up, couch warrior. I’m more useful than you.”

  But that wasn’t it. She might not be able to dump Jack in the trash like a ball of yarn and walk away, but she was not letting him back in her life. Not now, not ever. “No weapons,” she said, and Jack grinned as if he didn’t care. “No phone. If we feel like tying you up or locking you in a closet, you go without complaint. Got it?”

  “Sure.” Jack flopped onto the couch to wait.

  She retreated into the bathroom, unable to tolerate being in the bloody, filthy clothes a second longer if she had clean ones. Silas caught the door as it shut, clearly wanting a private word. “Don’t start,” she said, knowing just by the slant of his brow where his thoughts were.

  “You’re going to leave him in the arena, right?” he said softly, his feelings of helplessness almost palpable.

  Her eyebrows high, Peri slipped her hand behind his coat, watching him start when she took out the capped syringe. It was the accelerant, and her first flush of disappointment that it wasn’t Evocane was lost under a sudden desire to use it—become what she could be, something other than this broken thing that could be used. “Silas,” she choked, torn.

  He covered her hand, glancing at Jack before angling himself deeper into the bathroom. “I didn’t bring it for you. I took it so Steiner can’t use it. It might help me create an Evocane substitute. It’s poison. You know it.”

  She nodded, not liking the ugly feeling of want as he took it out of her hand and hid it away again. “You mind if I carry it?” she asked.

  He resettled his coat about his shoulders. “I do, actually. Look, I know I’m not the best agent, but I can do more than bring you a new set of clothes and your phone.”

  His belief that he was not fast or nimble enough to keep up cut her to her soul. “I don’t need his help. We need his help,” she said, cupping his face with his hand and drawing his eyes to her. Emotion plinked through her, and feeling uneasy, she looked over his shoulder to where Jack played with the remote. “At least for the moment.”

  Silas let go, grimacing. “And the second we don’t, we leave him behind.”

  “Absolutely,” she said, believing it to her core.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The cracked lime-green vinyl seats of the Pinto, which was currently parked outside a fuel station, smelled like crayons. Peri’s lip curled as she tried to decide whether she wanted to touch the vent to angle the warm air from the running engine to her, or just live with the damp chill that gripped Detroit despite the afternoon sun. Jack’s sigh was heavy from the cramped back, and her eyes shifted from the refueling station’s twin glass doors to him. He’d wanted to jack a BMW using her phone and an app that connected him to the owner’s security company, but she’d nixed it, wanting the less obtrusive, no-computer Pinto instead—even if it was a POS.

  Silas was inside, changing her Harley fund into p-cash connected to a new, neutral phone. She’d pulled into the upscale hydrogen station under the excuse that there would be little traffic, but the reality was that she’d wanted to get a closer look at the new Jaguar parked under the refueling kiosk, the pack panel open as the black expended cylinders were exchanged for shiny new white ones.

  It hadn’t taken her long to realize how badly she’d chosen when the government drones began to drop in and take off from the quick charge on the roof. Apparently Detroit had given the Feds a place to recharge their surveillance drones in exchange for subsidizing the expensive hydrogen stations, technology still so new that stations couldn’t survive on their own. She was making mistakes, either from fatigue or worry, and she didn’t like it.

  A woman with two kids came out of the associated convenience store, squinting at the sudden light and cold. Fumbling for their hands, she headed for the nearby rail stop. The wind gusted, billowing her coat and drawing Peri’s attention to the nearby fallow green space where last year’s faded banners flapped, put there to discourage the local deer population that made their home amid the skyscrapers and light commerce. A new species was evolving, smalle
r, less sensitive to noise and dogs, and having the occasional white coat. They kept the environment students at Detroit University busy charting their slow, steady domestication.

  A whining hiss gave her warning, and Peri lowered her head as another drone dropped in.

  “He’s taking too long,” Jack said, and her thoughts went to the smut stick she’d found at her apartment. Adding a little facial-recognition deterrent would only get her noticed, though.

  “I’ll go in and see if he needs some help,” Jack added.

  Peri smoothly slipped Silas’s Glock from the satchel and angled it toward him, the flat finish glinting dully in the sun. “Stay in the car.”

  Eyebrows high in challenge, he reached for the door, never dropping her gaze.

  “Please, continue. It will make my life so much easier,” she said, smiling painfully. She wanted a memory that would only hurt her. Had she and Jack really been squirreling money to buy bikes? Her bank account had once held more than enough. The money behind the frame had been a promise, not a gathering of funds.

  Jack hesitated, then eased back into the seat. “You are such a bitch when you don’t get your sleep,” he said, and satisfied, Peri tucked the Glock away as two late teens got into the Jag and drove off. They were laughing at her Pinto, and Peri scowled. She didn’t do anything without a reason—even if she didn’t know what it was, exactly.

  Her phone, on the dash in case Silas called, lit up. She scrambled for it, her adrenaline falling when she saw it was Cam. “I’m taking this,” she said, thoughts shifting to her cat. “Keep your mouth shut.”

  “I would’ve brought you back your favorite candy bar,” Jack grumped, falling into an untidy mess in the back.

  “You don’t know my favorite candy bar,” she muttered, hitting the accept key. But the truth was, she didn’t know what it was, either; her memory of it being a Three Musketeers bar when she had been ten was probably out-of-date. “Hi, Cam. Everything okay?”