Untouched tgitb-2

by Robert J. Crane

  He didn’t say anything else, just pulled away, leaving me speechless, standing there with my wet hair, and walked to the door. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and the door shut before I could answer.

  Chapter 29

  I sat across from Old Man Winter, playing the staring game. Oddly, my eyes didn’t seem to burn this time, so I just kept going.

  Ariadne was there, of course. “We’ve already gotten M-Squad’s report and spoken with Scott and Kat, so we have a general idea of how everything went, for the most part. Zack said that Henderschott showed up?” She flipped through the file in her hands as if looking for confirmation.

  “Yeah. He had the campus under surveillance and picked us up as we left. He must have followed us all the way to the IDS tower, because I saw the cable truck he was driving pass us as we went into the lobby. Didn’t really put it together until he hit me, but that’s the only way it could have happened unless someone tipped him off we were going to be there.”

  Ariadne closed the file. “Makes sense. Would you like to explain your actions?”

  I was still locked on Old Man Winter’s ice blue eyes. “Which ones?”

  Ariadne coughed. “Taking two untrained metas and yourself into combat with not one, but two, extremely deadly foes, stealing a Directorate car, assaulting our guards, interfering in our efforts to contain the situation—”

  “Your containment strategy sucked,” I said, still not breaking my gaze away. Ariadne’s jaw dropped and she took a step back. Old Man Winter didn’t look away from my gaze. “It would have resulted in about a million deaths; the crosswinds on top of the tower made a clean shot against Gavrikov near impossible without a stable platform to shoot from. Hell, I’m amazed Parks even hit him.”

  “And your plan was better?” she said with an air of snottiness. “Byerly almost got burned to death, Forrest was cornered—”

  “But I saved her,” I said.

  “—Zack jumped from a helicopter, injuring himself, and Clary ended up going through the roof—”

  “That was his own fault, you can’t blame me for Clary being stupid.”

  “And then there’s you.” She came around and sat on the edge of the desk, just to the side of my staring contest with Old Man Winter. “You disobeyed our explicit commands and substituted your own judgment for ours.”

  “You’re right,” I said, firm. “Based on my experience with Gavrikov, I handled the situation as I thought best. None of the rest of you knew him personally or knew what to expect from him. Don’t put me in a position where I have to watch countless people die. Let me take the responsibility a thousand times before you hand it off to someone else who will screw it up. I won’t stand by and take dumb orders. I did what I thought—what I knew was right. And if you expect anything less from me as an agent or a retriever or a whatever you wanted me to do, you need to find someone else for the job.”

  There was a freezing effect in the room, as though all particle motion had halted, and Ariadne spoke first. “I’m sorry, what?”

  I still didn’t look away from Old Man Winter. “The job offer you extended. If it’s off the table in the wake of this incident, I understand. But I figured you ought to know that if it was still open, that I’m not some brainless shell that you get to use just for my powers.”

  Ariadne shifted from where she was sitting on the desk. “I…don’t think we would ever expect anything less than your full opinion at any time. And…” She looked to Old Man Winter, who finally broke his gaze away from me to look to her. I mentally declared victory and pumped my fist. They pretended not to notice. She turned back after a look was shared between them. “The offer is still on the table.”

  “Then you have a trainee,” I said. “And I have a signing bonus, I believe.” I looked at her. “Do I get paid with checks or cash? Because I don’t have a bank account. Yet.”

  “I’ll…have someone cut you a check,” she said, standing. “I’m sure we can find someone to take you into town to make banking arrangements.”

  “I’d like to go to the mall.” I stood. “I need some clothes.” I pulled on the shoulder of the black turtleneck, the thousandth I’d worn since arriving at the Directorate. “Nothing personal, but I’m kind of sick of wearing black all the time. Who does that?”

  She nodded. “Anything else?”

  I thought for a moment and remembered something. “One last thing. Henderschott, before he died—”

  “Ah, yes.” Ariadne opened the file. “Rather spectacular, that. A 57-storey plunge to the street?” She looked away from the photograph I could see in the folder. “Not a pleasant way to go, especially when strapped into a tin can as he was.”

  “He said something before he died, about his employer.” The silence in the room became oppressive in an instant. Old Man Winter seemed to perk up and Ariadne had a wide-eyed look on her face. “He said they’d keep coming after me. I asked him who, and he gave me their name—Omega.” I looked at the two of them as they exchanged a look. “That mean anything to you?”

  “No,” Ariadne said after appearing to consider it for a moment. “So we have a name for this new threat—”

  Old Man Winter cut her off. “No. Not a new threat at all. Not Omega.” His blue eyes glowed, shining in the dimness of the tinted office. “An old one, rather. A very, very old one.” The office was warm enough, and I was already wearing my coat. But the way he said it, the timbre of his voice, the delivery—gave me a very real shudder that was absolutely unrelated to the cold.

  Chapter 30

  It was a Monday, I think. I let the nice agent (he didn’t sneer or get pissy at all with me, a rarity for people from the Directorate in my experience) drive me to the bank. They were very pleasant and understanding, having had a long relationship with the Directorate, and so I opened an account and the money was in it within just a few minutes. Which was fortunate, because I didn’t have a driver’s license. Somehow, Ariadne had gotten copies of my Social Security Card and Birth Certificate, which made things easier.

  I left the bank with a temporary checkbook and a debit card, walking across the parking lot back to the car where the agent was waiting for me, the heat from the exhaust causing the tale pipe to steam in the cold. And it was cold, cold but beautiful, the sunlight streaming down from above, shining off all the ice and snow. I looked up, just to make sure the sun was still there. It was, seated in the middle of the blue sky. I smiled and got in the car.

  The drive to Eden Prairie Center only took a few minutes. I entered through the same entrance by the food court that I had fairly destroyed last time I was there. There was still a hole in the wall where I’d thrown Henderschott through, though they had workmen patching the damage. I passed by without paying too much attention, trying to appear innocent.

  I stopped at a lot of different stores, and I bought a few things. I had decided before I walked in that I was going to try and spend less than five hundred dollars, because even though I had ten thousand, I didn’t ever want to be stuck in a situation where I needed money and didn’t have it. I tried to find the bargain tables, checked the prices on everything before I bought it, and did the math in my head. It all worked out well and I found some very nice things (all of which were long sleeved and didn’t show much in the way of flesh, because every inch of it I exposed was an inch that could kill someone) but that took my wardrobe beyond the dullness of Ariadne’s. Not that it would take much.

  I walked out of the store I was in, having stocked up on some professional-looking outfits and started to make my way back to the car. By my estimate, I was a couple hundred under my limit and quite content with that until I passed the store I’d gone by with Zack only a week earlier. The dress was still in the window, the red one that I had seen on the woman I had thought was my mom. I hesitated outside, staring. It was impractical. It wasn’t for me. But I went inside, and they had it in my size.

  I tried it on and stood in front of a mirror, staring at myself again. I looked…so different
, now. I bought it and I couldn’t define exactly why. Call it recklessness (even though I questioned whether I’d ever wear it in public), call it desperation (because to be able to wear it meant consequences that could be quite dire) or you could call it…hope. That things would change somehow, get better.

  I was walking out of the store, lost in thought when a flash of red drew my attention to someone standing in my path. I looked up and found her staring at me, the woman from before. She still wore red, but it was a different dress this time. This one was cut to the knee, a little more conservative but not much. I could still see every curve she clearly wanted displayed, and it made me want to shrink away in envy. I tried to smile and go around her, but she stepped into my path. “Hi there,” she said.

  “Hello.” I didn’t know quite what to say. I could feel the hint of flush on my cheeks. “I’m sorry about last time, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…saw you from a distance and thought you were my mom.” She stared back at me, impassive. “She’s missing, so…anyway, sorry.” I half-expected some soft, cooing sound of sympathy like I had heard from the women on TV. She didn’t make a noise like that.

  She laughed. “Don’t worry about it, although you have to admit, it was kind of a foolish mistake to make.” I feigned a smile and as I started to leave she blocked me again. “It’s hardly the first time it’s happened, though. I mean, growing up in the shadow of Sierra Nealon wasn’t the easiest experience.” My blood turned to ice at the mention of my mother’s name and I locked my gaze on hers and noticed for the first time that her eyes were blue but flecked with green. She laughed again. “I had to find some ways to stand out from big sister.” She ran a hand down the side of her dress. “See what I mean? Your mother would never wear this.”

  I froze and my shopping bags slipped from my fingers one by one. I knew the look on my face was pure shock and she reached out for me, grasping my arm, hooking it in hers and angling it so I didn’t drop my bags. “You look surprised. I take it mommy dearest never told you about her little sister? That’s all right. We’re three of a kind—you, me and her.” Her hand found its way to her chest. “But where are my manners? I’m your aunt, Charlene—but you can call me Charlie.” Her smile was ten thousand watts, bright and vibrant. “I’m here to help you.”

  A Note to the Reader

  If you enjoyed this book and want to know about future releases by Robert J. Crane, you can CLICK HERE to sign up for my mailing list! I promise I won't spam you (I only send an email when I have a new book released) and I'll never sell your info. You can also unsubscribe at any time.

  I wanted to take a moment to thank you for reading this story. As an independent author, getting my name out to build an audience is one of the biggest priorities on any given day. If you enjoyed this story and are looking forward to reading more, let someone know - post it on Amazon, on your blog, if you have one, on Goodreads.com, place it in a quick Facebook status or Tweet with a link to the page of whatever outlet you purchased it from (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo, etc). Good reviews inspire people to take a chance on a new author – like me. And we new authors can use all the help we can get.

  Thanks again for your time.

  Robert J. Crane

  Acknowledgments

  Who's in charge of this mad house of literary achievement (or mediocrity, depending on your perspective)? Well, technically, as the author, I am. But that's not the whole story.

  Shannon Garza once more gave me her whole-hearted effort at making sure my characters didn't jump the emotional shark, as it were. She gave detailed feedback and commentary that allowed me to keep a pulse on how everyone was feeling, what everyone was doing, and how it all fit together to create a reading experience, and for that, I owe her my thanks.

  Debra Wesley once more came to the rescue with countless technical details and thought of things I didn't even consider.

  More thanks also to Calvin Sams, who once more read the draft and provided some additional critique.

  We also had a new addition this round, the great Robin McDermott, who took time away from her busy life as a new mommy to parse the book, and she found some insights that no one else did.

  Lastly in the editorial department, but certainly not leastly, muchas gracias to my esteemed Editor-in-Chief, Heather Rodefer, who not only finds my errors and corrects my grammar, but also found the flaming man in the cover art for this work! That's why she's the Editor-in-Chief.

  The cover was put together by Karri Klawitter (artbykarri.com) using a work done by user dmv-bros on dreamstime. I don't know who dmv-bros is, but I know Karri did an amazing job turning it into a fantastic cover.

  My apologies to the city of Glencoe, Minnesota. It was nothing personal; it was down to either you or Norwood Young America, Minnesota, and frankly, look at the name on them! You expect me to type that over and over? Simplicity was your undoing. Accept it with grace and move on.

  My mom marvels at my ability to churn out books (frankly, so do I, but let's not look gift equines in the oral cavity, okay?) and recently asked me how it came to be, since neither she nor my father have even the remotest interest in writing. The answer is this - my mom has read more books than any other person I've ever met. If she ever created a Goodreads profile and plugged in all the books she's read, it'd crash the site (thanks for not doing that, mom). My father, on the other hand, is not much of a reader, but is quite the wordsmith. He makes up rhymes and turns phrases just for the fun of it. Nothing narrative, just idle amusement. But when you combine my mother's love of story and my dad's enjoyment of messing around with words…well, you get me. Someone who wants to write a lot of novels. For their respective contributions to my career path, I owe them my thanks.

  Finally, we come to my wife and kids. Once more, I owe them everything, because without them, I wouldn't be doing this.

  About the Author

  Robert J. Crane was born and raised on Florida's Space Coast before moving to the upper midwest in search of cooler climates and more palatable beer. He graduated from the University of Central Florida with a degree in English Creative Writing. He worked for a year as a substitute teacher and worked in the financial services field for seven years while writing in his spare time. He makes his home in the Twin Cities area of Minnesota.

  He can be contacted in several ways:

  Via email at cyrusdavidon@gmail.com

  Follow him on Twitter - @robertJcrane

  Connect on Facebook – robertJcrane (Author)

  Website – http://www.robertJcrane.com

  Blog – http://robertJcrane.blogspot.com

  Become a fan on Goodreads – http://www.goodreads.com/RobertJCrane

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: ooofbtools-2013-3-13-11-37-6-1419

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 03/13/2013

  Created using: OOoFBTools-2.10 (ExportToFB21) software

  Document authors :

  Boo

  About

  This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.

  (This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)

  Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.

  (Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)

  http://www.fb2epub.net

  https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/

 

 

 
-o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share