The Drafter

by Kim Harrison

  Allen’s expression hardened. “We have five minutes. You want to spend it telling me how much of an ass I am, or do you want to figure out how we can fix this?”

  “I was there,” Silas said flatly, anger growing. “Ready to extract her. She had everything we needed to end this, and you scrub her? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  Allen looked out the grimy window. “Maybe because you drove Matt’s van into the Detroit River?”

  “Don’t get cute with me, you little pissant.”

  “I scrubbed her to save her life,” Allen reiterated, his attention coming back to him, but Silas thought there was far too much guilt in it. “You were already in transit before it happened. There was no way to tell you. And there’s still a chance to end this. Fran wants you to cut her loose, and I agree. She needs to come back to Opti to finish it.”

  “You scrubbed her because you finally had her with you!” Silas accused, satisfied he was right when Allen flushed.

  “I had to.” Allen slid from the desk. “Good God, Silas. She was dying. Dying in my arms and wouldn’t draft. Bill knows she is an alliance sleeper agent. He’s probably known since day one. If I had taken less than three years, they would have suspected me.”

  Maybe. Silas eased back as he recalled how low the odds had been when they’d started this five years ago. “Bill doesn’t know who she is,” he muttered.

  “He does.” Allen carefully stretched his damaged knee. “That’s why Jack kept scrubbing her to keep her oblivious and productive.”

  “Like you,” Silas said bitterly.

  “Not like me.” Allen frowned, eyes drifting to nothing. “The idiot shot her to get her to draft, and with her intuition—”

  “She never would have accepted him, scrub or not.” Silas’s focus blurred, his shoulders aching from being pulled back too tightly. Peri was a pain in the ass, demanding and particular, but he trusted her intuition more than most people’s facts, and there was no one he’d rather have watching his back in a tight spot. Even now.

  His eyes flicked up to Allen. Especially now.

  “So you let her kill him,” Silas accused. “When there was no one else to be her anchor.”

  Allen’s expression sharpened. “I did it in the hopes that with closure we could play this out to the end.” He pulled himself up stiffly, weight on his good leg. “The government knows Opti is rife with corruption, but they need Opti like bread needs flour. They tasked Bill to find it, which of course he did, using the opportunity to modify the list so as to keep his game going. Peri found out she was on the original and responded in her usual style.”

  Silas nodded, the drying blood on his face pulling. And in the aftermath, she’d drafted and forgot everything. “Where does that leave us?”

  Allen pushed his glasses up. “Bill has the list, but Jack kept the original chip with everyone’s names on it for insurance. Bill has already ripped their apartment apart looking for it. It’s not in her Mantis or the hotel they stopped in, and neither Peri nor Jack would have destroyed it. Has Peri said anything about it?”

  Silas snorted, his cuffs catching as he leaned back. “No. But she wouldn’t know, since you wiped her clear back to her first Opti anchor.

  “I think you’ve gone native,” Silas accused. “I think you like where you are, what you do, playing both sides. I think you like that Peri knows you and not me.”

  Allen hunched, angry. “And that’s why you’re buying her dinner, outfitting her for travel, refusing to cut her loose when Fran told you to send her back in? Peri doesn’t know anything, and I’m this close,” he said, his finger and thumb a mere inch apart. “If I can get Peri back and working, I can find who’s funding Bill. I’ve got a shot at finding how far it goes. I know the idea was she’d be the one to break it, but I can finish it and we can all go home.”

  Silas squinted at him, cheekbone throbbing. He never could decide when Allen was lying. He’d always relied on Peri to tell him. His eyes flicked to Allen’s broken fingers and damaged knee. No reason to change that now.

  “That woman does not like to be lied to,” Silas said, gaze rising to find Allen’s waiting.

  “Tell me about it,” the tired man said around a sigh. “You think I did this to be with Peri? Every time I touch her I’m scared to death I’ll trigger a wisp I didn’t fragment. She knows I’m lying to her, just not about what.”

  Allen is worried about leftover fragments, and the only things she remembers about me are a few inside jokes about asthma and shoes. Silas’s suspicions tightened.

  Fingers fumbling, Allen searched a pocket of his suit coat, holding up a theme book before setting it on the desk. “I haven’t gone native, but I’m starting to wonder about Peri.”

  “You read her diary?” Silas’s lip curled.

  “It was either me or Bill,” he said. “I told him it would help me convince her I’m her anchor, but I went through it to find evidence of Opti’s corruption. Something we could use.”

  “And?”

  Allen shook his head. “Nothing. If she kept track of her findings, it was somewhere else.”

  This was going nowhere. He had to get out of here. She wouldn’t wait forever.

  “She’s changed, Silas,” Allen said, bringing him back to the cruddy little construction trailer. “Her diary? She enjoys what she does a little too much. We don’t know what’s going on in her head apart from what she tells us and what we can piece together. What’s to say she’s not working for Bill to find the head of the alliance and assassinate the top people?”

  “Are you insane?” But she’d killed people before, even if she didn’t remember it.

  “Just be careful,” Allen said. “I’m telling you, she’s not the same woman.”

  Remembering Peri’s off-the-cuff comment about the fish, Silas huffed, “Tell me about it. When did the woman learn how to cook?”

  Clearly relieved at the change of subject, Allen smiled. “Haven’t you heard? Bill made it an Opti-sanctioned stress relief. She’s gotten good, from what I hear.”

  “And you’re eager to eat it up, eh?” he said. “Move right in where Jack stepped out. She made you sleep on the couch, didn’t she? That’s all you’re going to get.”

  Allen’s face darkened. “I’m not the one who tried to convince her to wash out. I supported her and her idea to bring down Opti. I still do.”

  Silas leaned in, his arms hurting. “You’re after the glory, Allen. That’s all you ever wanted, and you played on that need in her like it was an addiction needing to be fed because you couldn’t do it alone. You used her. Convinced her it was possible.”

  “It was possible,” Allen protested, and Silas’s eyes narrowed at the guilt. “It still is.”

  “You used her,” Silas pushed. “And now her mind is so full of holes that the traumatic draft you forced on her is going to ooze right through and drive her mad. This is your fault.”

  “This is not my fault.” Allen stood, white-faced. “She wanted to do it. She knew the risks.”

  “You encouraged her,” Silas accused. “You erased the year we trained for it.”

  “You agreed to it.” Allen began to pace in his odd step-scuff motion, pain only making him more agitated. “You were there with me, making sure I got everything.”

  “To try to keep her alive!” he shouted back.

  Allen hobbled closer. “She’s gone,” he said flatly. “She left five years ago. She chose to make a difference, but there’s nothing left of her. Let it go, Silas.”

  Silas forced his jaw to unclench. “She is waiting for me right now. Get these cuffs off me.”

  Allen straightened, eyes furtive. “Ah, you helped her escape. I can’t let you go.”

  Silas’s lips parted. “She’s waiting. Uncuff me, give me your gun. Tell them I hit you.”

  “Where is she?”

  Silas said nothing. Allen turned away and Silas jerked at his cuffs, making the smaller man jump. “She’s one bad draft away from a MEP,” Silas said.
“That crapfest at the bar is already trying to manifest itself. I untangled three potential memory knots just getting her to relax yesterday. She’s going to snarl up if she’s left alone.”

  “So tell me where she is so we can take care of her.”

  Take care of her? He meant another memory wipe. Pissed, Silas fumbled for the tether and gave it a yank. It pulled tight against the heavy cabinet and held firm. He didn’t trust Allen anymore, and his pulse quickened until his face throbbed. “Don’t do this, Allen.”

  “They trust me,” Allen said, suddenly in a hurry as he looked at his phone. “Tell me where she is, or nothing happens.”

  “Don’t do this,” Silas warned, and Allen jumped when he tried to stand, failing, stopped by the cuffs. “Allen.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes on the grimy windows as the sound of approaching agents grew louder. Lips pressed, he tucked Peri’s diary back behind his coat. “I’ll make sure you get a chance to read this. I think she’s beyond recall. All we can do is bring Opti down.”

  “Allen!” Silas exclaimed, furious as Allen hobbled to the door.

  “Where’s my car!” Allen shoved the door open and hobbled down the stairs.

  The door shut, and, fuming, Silas yanked at his cuffs to no avail. Allen was lying. Peri knew it, or at least her subconscious did, otherwise why would she break his fingers and fracture his knee? He had to get out of here. Warn her. It was never meant to go on this long. He needed to get her out before everything she’d been was gone.

  But he couldn’t even get out of his chair, and with a groan of frustration, he fell back, stymied and brooding. Allen had always been a tricky bastard, even when the two had been the best of friends. Nice to know some things never changed.

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTEEN

  Peri walked quickly across a student dorm parking lot, uncomfortable in Liz’s cheap, blue nylon coat and trying to look as if she knew where she was going. She knew what she was looking for, just not where it was. An early-model beater wouldn’t have a security system or computer that could be LoJacked, and taken from here, it might not be missed for days.

  It was starting to mist and the temp was dropping as it grew dusky. Clammy and cold, it was an ugly night in Charlotte. She fingered the long-handled screwdriver in her pocket that she’d lifted from the garage she’d passed. The lime-green two-door with the torn cloth top was a good bet. If she was lucky, it would be unlocked.

  She was.

  Smiling, Peri yanked the handle up and slid in as if she owned the ugly thing. It clearly belonged to a guy; there were shark’s teeth hanging from the rearview mirror, and silhouetted, naked-girl floor mats.

  And it stinks of aftershave, she thought, nose wrinkling as she slipped her boot off and hammered at the steering column until it cracked. She’d been jumping buses for almost half an hour, putting a fair amount of distance between her and the mall. The nylon coat rasped as she moved, and she thought longingly of the coat she’d left behind, not to mention everything else. If she’d even guessed she’d be looking to hot-wire a car, she’d have bought a knife instead of socks. At least she had clean underwear on and a few bucks in her wallet.

  And a phone, she thought as her back pocket began to hum.

  Guilt rose. She’d just walked out on Silas—no explanation, no nothing—but Liz’s unforgiving assessment of her burned. She was good at her job. She was not helpless alone.

  Frustrated, Peri yanked at the broken casing around the column until it pulled free with a loud snap of plastic. Sucking on the edge of a pinched finger, she wiggled the phone out. She didn’t have to look at the number; only one person would be calling her. Hitting ACCEPT, she put it to her ear.

  “Peri.” Allen’s low voice filtered out, the state-of-the-art technology catching every nuance in his anger.

  Eyes flicking, she looked in the rearview mirror, then locked both doors, her shoulder tape pulling when she leaned across the long bench seat. Jeez. No power anything. “Hi, Allen.” She reached for the tumbler, bringing it—and the attached wires—out into the dimming light. If she was lucky, all she’d need would be the screwdriver. “How’s the hand?”

  “Taped. It’s the knee that bothers me the most. Tore my ACL. I’ll be up and in a Flexicast as soon as the swelling goes down.”

  “Ouch, that’s a bitch.” There was no background noise. She couldn’t tell if he was in a hospital room or a surveillance van.

  “I’ve had worse, but usually a bike or parachute is involved. Running was a mistake.”

  Phone tucked awkwardly between her shoulder and ear, she tried turning the tumbler, getting nothing. Why can it never be easy? “So I guess you have Silas if you’re talking on his phone.” It was all going to fall apart fast if she couldn’t get this thing started.

  “Oh, yes.” It was smug. “It’s a shame I wasn’t there, or we might have you as well. No one moves like you, Peri.”

  That plastic knife was less than useless, and she leaned, shoulder protesting, to rifle through the cluttered glove box for something to cut and strip the wires with. He was drawing this out, meaning the call was being tracked. She thought the best they could do would be to find the tower she was using, but she could be wrong. “Why are we talking?” she asked to cover the noise of pulling everything onto the floor. A jackknife glinted, and she snatched it up, brushing the grit off before snapping it open. Gold!

  “Just sharing good news,” he said, and she heard background radio chatter. Great. He’s in a surveillance van. “But it’s not good for you. If it was my decision, I’d let you twist in the wind, but Bill thinks we can scrub you clean and start again. So here I am.”

  “Scrub?” The word sounded foreign, and an ugly thought pinged through her—Opti could control how much she lost when she drafted? They had lied to her. Even worse, the anger now lifting through her was too old for her not to have known this before. Allen took three years from me. I should have busted his jaw, not his knee.

  Ticked, she found the starter wires, following them down from the tumbler until she had enough to strip the ends and twist them together.

  “Personally, I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Allen said. “But if I work this right, I get the best of both worlds, attached to a high-profile drafter and the chance to screw you every night.”

  That was nasty, and she awkwardly held the phone to her ear as she touched the starter wires together, wincing as the engine turned over. It wasn’t the jolt so much as the burst of radio that startled her, and she dropped the phone to turn it down.

  “Thanks to you, Bill has an alliance representative willing to testify that you’re corrupt,” Allen was saying when she got the phone back to her ear, oblivious that she’d dropped him. “Where are you, Peri? We can protect you.”

  Like I’d tell you? “Silas doesn’t believe I’m corrupt.” The car was running, but three years’ worth of lost memories or not, she could tell it had been a long time since she’d hot-wired a car. Again, her anchor had probably done it on the rare occasions it was necessary. I am so stupid.

  “Believe?” Allen said, and she closed the vents to let the car warm up. “That’s a funny word, believe. Right now he believes you set him up. He believes that you knew all along that Opti is corrupt to its core and that you were a part of it. A nasty little mole working your way up the alliance rank and file to get close enough to take out the top alliance operatives.”

  Her face went cold. Opti was corrupt. She’d probably figured it out before her jump at Overdraft and Allen had scrubbed her. Bill, Allen . . . Jack? Oh God, she had killed him. She might not remember it, but if she’d found out he was dirty, she might have killed him. Silas had told her the truth. And I left him.

  “We’re going to let him escape soon,” Allen was saying, but Peri hardly heard him, struggling to take it in. “He’s going to use you to bring Opti down.” He laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. “You have to love his innocence. You can’t shut Opti down. To
o many high-profile bank accounts want us right where we are. Hell, the government wouldn’t be able to wipe their asses without us. But if you bring yourself in and work with us to remove the last couple of days—”

  “You can go to hell and die,” she said. “In that order.” The need to move was almost an ache, but the phone was too small to reliably hold between her ear and shoulder, leaving her one hand to drive. She couldn’t effectively drive stick with one hand in stop-and-go city traffic.

  “That’s what I told Bill you’d say,” he said, not at all regretful. “Think about it, Peri. If you run, every cop from here to both borders will be looking for you. You’re not that good on your own. The same patterns that keep you sane will be what we’ll find you with. It’s not your fault. We made you that way. Sooner or later, you’ll slip up and be brought down, tried, and put away as the corrupt Opti agent who killed her own anchor to hide her guilt.”

  “You can’t expose Opti,” she said, and he laughed. “The public would demand an end to all of us if they knew what we can do.”

  “Which is why your special abilities won’t be hinted at. You are hereby a homegrown assassin, Peri, a member of a government-funded special forces group belonging to a military project that has been alive since the forties, because we say so. We’ve got the paperwork to prove it. Ninety-five percent of it is true. It’s not as if we haven’t had to start from scratch before.”

  I am no one’s scapegoat. Frustrated, she pulled her knitted cap off and tossed it aside.

  “Opti will survive, but one way you’ll be in jail for the rest of your life, and the other will have you with me, oblivious and happy, doing what you like to do. What you’re good at.”

  “I need some time to decide.”

  “You don’t have any!” Allen shouted. “I need an answer. Before my pain meds kick in!”

  Stymied, she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t going back to be a dog doing tricks for them, wiped to ignorance every time she figured it out. How long? How many times?

  Allen’s voice was satisfied as he said, “I’ll take that as a no. See you soon, Peri.”