“No one’s asking you to be afraid,” said Tia. “Just not reckless. There’s a difference between the two. Most people know that. I don’t know why we’re arguing. You’ve already agreed to take a few days off. It’s only your bullheaded resistance to doing the sensible thing that’s pissing you off. Forget that. Enjoy a few days with Byron.”
Connie smiled. “I can do that.”
“I know you can.”
Tia’s cell rang. She struggled to pull it from her pocket.
“I need to speak with Connie,” said Apollonia on the other end. “She’s not answering her phone. Is she with you?”
“No, thanks,” said Tia. “We’re not interested right now.”
She disconnected.
“Now how about some lunch?” she asked Connie.
“Who was that?”
“Nobody important. I’m feeling burgers.” Tia’s cell started ringing. “Wrong number.”
“You didn’t look at it.”
Tia glanced at the phone. “Yeah, wrong number.” She ignored the call.
Connie held out her hand. “It’s for me, isn’t it?”
“What? No. It’s just Hiro.”
“I thought you said it was a wrong number.”
The phone rang again. “It was a wrong number before. Now it’s Hiro.”
“You didn’t even look at it.”
Tia repressed a scowl. She wasn’t a great liar. Connie didn’t have to be a master detective to see through Tia’s clumsy dishonesty. But Connie was a master detective, which just made it worse. But Tia kept trying via sheer stubbornness rather than any sensible reason.
“Ever since Hiro broke his leg, he’s been acting like an invalid. He probably needs me to rush home to fluff his pillow or find the TV remote. It’ll be good for him if I don’t answer. Teach him some self-reliance.”
The cell rang again. Tia turned her back to Connie as she answered it. “Stop being a big baby and take care of yourself. Stop calling me.” She silenced the phone, disabled the vibrate function.
“Hiro’s ring tone on your phone is ‘Kung Fu Fighting,’ ” said Connie.
“I changed it. It was racist. And not even appropriately racist.”
“I’m going to need to see that phone, Tia.”
Tia stiffened defiantly. “No.”
“No?”
“You heard me.” Tia stomped her foot down because it felt appropriate, realizing immediately that it seemed like a child’s futile defiance of authority. “No. It’s my phone. If I don’t want you to see it, I don’t have to show it to you.”
“I can always take it from you,” said Connie.
Tia clutched the phone tighter.
“You could, but you won’t.”
Connie didn’t move, didn’t twitch. She only stood there, relaxed. Tia had once seen Connie, while sitting and without getting up, take out a sumo wrestler, so her posture didn’t mean much.
Connie held up her hands, and Tia flinched. There were dozens of ways for Tia to be incapacitated without hurting her. Some of them made the victim wake up more refreshed. There was a nerve pinch that put someone to sleep for thirty seconds and cured migraines and did wonders for lower-back pain.
“Fine. It’s your phone,” she said. “Let’s get some lunch.”
They walked to a nearby sidewalk café. While they waited for their food, they talked about nothing important. All the while, Tia’s phone sat quietly in her pocket. Maybe getting calls. Maybe not. She didn’t check.
“The call was for you,” said Tia finally.
“No shit.” Connie stirred the ice in her soda and smiled knowingly.
“I hate when you do that,” said Tia.
“Do what?”
“Smile knowingly.”
“Is that a thing I do?” asked Connie without dropping her smirk. “I had no idea.”
“People who smirk come across as obnoxious.”
Connie sipped her drink with a slight grin and a raised eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“I’m trying to protect you, you idiot!” said Tia.
Their server, walking toward their table, abruptly changed direction and headed back to the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re clever,” said Tia. “Bringing me out in public so I won’t make a scene. Well, I’ll make a goddamn scene if I goddamn feel like it!”
She raised her voice. She didn’t care.
“It’s my job to look out for you. Not just my job. I’m your best friend. You heard what I heard. You can’t adventure. All you need to do is take it easy for a few days. You’ve already made plans with Byron. What about him? He might have the patience of a saint, but it’s not fair to him.”
“No, it isn’t.” Connie’s smile dropped.
“With everything you do, I get that you think you’re invincible, but—”
“Tia, I’m not an idiot. I know it’ll end one way or another, probably violently, but I also know that since weakening the spell or destiny or curse or whatever, I’ve had more choice in the matter. I can ignore adventure’s call more than I could before, but it’s still out there. It’s still waiting. Sometimes, I can ignore it. Sometimes, I can’t.”
“And what makes you think you can’t ignore this one?”
“I don’t know. It’s just an instinct. I can’t quantify it.”
The sudden steady thump of helicopter blades beat the air as the UH-1Y Venom descended.
“I just know.”
The wind kicked up by the rotors tipped a few nearby tables, sent dishes and tablecloths flying. Connie, having heard the helicopter approaching a minute before, had the presence of mind to cover her salad with a spare plate. Tia saved her burger, but her fries were lost.
The copter set down in the middle of the street, between two cars, and a pair of agents in gray suits approached.
“Ms. Verity, we have a call for you.” The agent reached into his jacket pocket and held out a cell phone for her to take.
She didn’t.
“You’re my advisor here,” said Connie to Tia. “Tell me. What do you think I should do?”
Tia relented with a wave of her hand as she ate the one fry she had managed to save.
Connie took the phone. “Please, state the nature of your emergency.”
Apollonia spoke up from the other end of the line.
“Larry’s missing.”
19
The day was winding down when Wilcox stopped by Byron’s office.
Wilcox never just stopped by. He might act as if he wanted to say hello or share the latest joke making the rounds around the floor. He might ask you about your problems, and he might listen just enough to fake interest if he ran into you at the break room later. “Hey, Steve, how are little Brenda’s braces coming along?” “Oh, Vera, don’t tell me Travis is still having trouble with his back.” And you’d reply because it would be rude not to while staring into his vacant wide eyes, waiting for him to ask for his favor, sometimes reasonable, sometimes not.
Wilcox kept his feet in the hall while leaning forward, bracing himself on the doorjamb and knob. “Hey, Byron. That’s a great tie, buddy.”
Byron didn’t glance up from his computer. “Thanks.”
“I’ve always admired your style.” Wilcox eased a foot into the room, as if testing for a pit trap.
Byron squinted at the screen, hoping to convey a sense of urgency and concentration. There were very few accounting emergencies, but Wilcox sometimes got the hint and went in search of easier prey.
He stepped in with his other foot. Once breaking the seal, he sauntered over to the chair across the desk and had a seat. “Hey, man, where do you get those shirts, anyway? I have to get the name of your tailor.”
Byron, having failed to avoid this interaction through indifference, looked directly into Wilcox’s eyes. It was another desperate tactic. Like a mouse staring into the eyes of a cobra, hoping to scare it away through sheer bravado.
“Sears,” said Byron. “They have tables full of them. Ties, too. And pants.
The whole ensemble.”
Wilcox kept Byron’s gaze, and in that primal moment, the mental struggle between the two men might have been the stuff of legends if anyone wrote legends about interoffice politics. Byron had fought this battle before, and this was always a risky tactic. If Wilcox was successfully repelled, he’d offer mumbled thoughts about the weather or sports or some other inanity before beating a hasty retreat. If it failed, it would only extend the conversation.
Wilcox grabbed a photo off Byron’s desk and whistled. “Say, is this your girlfriend?”
“Yes.” Byron’s reply was curt, emotionless. The final gambit would be to answer all questions with only one word to avoid being lured into a conversation. It didn’t work often, but desperate measures and all that.
“That’s a pretty lady,” said Wilcox.
“Thanks,” said Byron with the cold response of a voice synthesizer simulating human speech but not giving a damn enough to really try.
“How’d she end up with a loser like you?” Wilcox chuckled with a smarmy grin. “Hey, I’m just kidding you, buddy. You know I love you, right? I always tell everybody. Byron’s my guy. The guy I can always count on around here.”
Byron replied with a nonspecific noise that he invented on the spot.
Wilcox asked, “She looks familiar. Is she famous or something?”
“Something.”
“How’s the live-in situation? Getting it regular now?” He stood, reached across the desk, and slapped Byron on the shoulder. “I’m just kidding you, buddy.”
Byron admitted defeat. “Something I can do for you, Wilcox?”
“See? That’s what I mean. You’re a stand-up guy. Always ready to help out.” He stood, repeated the entire routine just to slap Byron’s shoulder again. “That’s why you’re my guy.”
“What do you need?”
“I’m having some trouble with the Ramsey account. I was hoping you’d stick around tonight and maybe help me sort it out.”
“Can’t do it,” said Byron. “Connie and I are going out of town this weekend.”
“I get it. I get it. Gotta keep the girlfriend happy, right? A little alone time. A little romance.” He winked and then he winked again, in case Byron missed the first time. “But seriously, dude, it’ll only be an hour or two. I swear.”
“Can’t do it,” said Byron.
“Okay, I guess it isn’t an emergency. We can always untangle the whole mess on Monday. I’ll drop the files by your desk tonight so that when you come in Monday, fresh from your”—he paused, winked yet again, and made a kissy face—“alone time, you can just get right to it.”
It was classic Wilcox maneuvering. He was okay at his job, but he was great at getting other people to do it. Byron couldn’t recall agreeing to anything, but somehow, promises had been made. It was all lost in the fog of battle.
“Monday. Sure, whatever,” said Byron, his will to fight fading. Anything to end this conversation.
Wilcox jumped to his feet and waltzed out the door. “That’s a relief. Can’t tell you how much better I feel knowing you’re on the case. Later, buddy.”
He snapped his fingers and made a clicking noise and bumped right into Connie.
“Oh, hey. Connie, right? Great to see you!” He gave her an unsolicited hug. “Take special care of my guy here, would you? Enjoy your”—wink—“alone time.”
He walked away, off to hide in whatever hole he squirreled away in around forty-five minutes before quitting time to avoid getting any more work.
“Am I wrong or is that guy a real asshole?” she asked.
“You’re not wrong. What’s up?”
Connie entered the office, hands in pockets. “You’re going to hate this.”
Byron leaned forward. “Let me guess. Aliens are invading Greenland.”
“Something like that.” She crossed around the desk and hugged him from behind his chair, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I wouldn’t if it wasn’t an extra-big emergency.”
“I know.”
She kissed his head. “It’s okay to be mad.”
“I’m not mad, Connie.” He turned the chair to face her and hugged her, resting his head on her chest while she stroked his hair. “It goes with the territory, right? We can always get away next weekend.”
“Sure. Next weekend.”
“You could’ve just called if it was an emergency.”
“My phone was destroyed by a . . . Never mind. I would’ve, but since I was passing through the neighborhood, I thought I’d do the polite thing and tell you in person.”
“Just passing through?” he asked.
She pointed up. “I’ve got a helicopter waiting for me on the roof.”
“Of course you do.”
She took his hands, and he stood. He wasn’t upset. He really wasn’t. He was annoyed, irked, irritated, but not angry. He didn’t hide it. She would’ve seen through him if he had.
“I know I’ve been crazy busy lately,” she said, “but once I get this wrapped up, things will be more manageable. I swear.”
She kissed him, and he couldn’t stay mad at her. Not that he had been mad. But she was a good person, out there saving the world. He couldn’t even be irked with her.
“Sounds great,” he said.
“Thanks, Byron. You’re the best. Really.”
He nodded. “I know. Now get out of here and go keep the universe from exploding. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Barely four seconds after she’d walked out of his office, Wilcox poked his head in.
“Trouble in paradise, buddy? My ex-wife kept making excuses to cancel plans on me. Turned out she was having an affair with our gardener. But I’m sure that’s not happening to you. Forget I said anything.”
“What do you want, Wilcox?”
Wilcox stepped into the office, carrying an armload of ledgers. “Couldn’t help but overhear. So, if you’re free, you’d be doing me a solid if you got these sorted out ASAP. Falcone has been riding my ass for a week about it.”
He was about to throw the ledgers on the desk when Byron held up his hand.
“Do it yourself.”
“But, Byron, buddy—”
“Do it yourself.”
“Hey, I get it, dude. I do. You’re pissed because your lady is blowing you off, but that’s no reason to take it out on me.”
Byron switched off his computer. “First of all, I love that lady. But you I barely tolerate. And maybe if you just did your fucking job instead of working so hard to avoid doing your fucking job, you wouldn’t be so far behind.”
Wilcox whimpered.
“The rest of us do our jobs,” said Byron. “Even my girlfriend is off doing her job, even when it gets in the way of our relationship. But you, Wilcox, can’t be bothered. You, Wilcox, are the special office exception. Nobody’s allowed to say anything to Wilcox. Heaven forbid Wilcox do his goddamn job!”
Outside the office, the heads of various midlevel employees popped out of their cubicles.
Byron said, “So, do your job, buddy! Or don’t do it, pal! Either way, I don’t give a shit.”
He got up and pushed his way past Wilcox, who dropped a few papers. When he bent to pick them up, more went spilling across the floor.
“I’m going home early!” shouted Byron to the office as he stabbed the elevator button.
It was a long eleven seconds before the doors finally opened. Another long four before they started to close.
“And I am not upset,” he grunted to the empty elevator.
20
Connie boarded the helicopter. From there, she and Tia were flown to the airport, where they were ushered onto an experimental supersonic jet. The total trip took only an hour from leaving Byron’s office to touching down and being driven to Larry’s last known location, a secret base hidden outside Helena, Montana.
Tia only asked how Byron took the news once.
“He was fine with it,” replied Connie while sipping a Coke on the jet. �
�He gets how it is.”
“Sure. He gets it,” said Tia, but there was something in her voice. A tone. A lilt. A cadence. Whatever it was, Connie elected not to read anything into it.
“I can’t just abandon Larry,” said Connie.
“No, you can’t.” The something was now accompanied by a sardonic eyebrow raise.
“This is life-and-death,” said Connie.
“Yes, it is.” Nothing accompanied the words. Nothing but a shrug.
“What about Hiro?” asked Connie. “Aren’t you worried about him?”
“Hiro can take care of himself,” said Tia.
Connie leaned forward. “Yeah, but what if something happens to you? Did you think about that?”
“Oh, sure. We’ve talked about it.”
Connie had blundered into booby traps and ambushes before, but she was usually smart enough to not be caught completely unawares.
“Hiro knows sidekicking is dangerous,” said Tia, “but going full-time was his suggestion in the first place. And it’s not as if he’s new to this lifestyle. Before he moved in, we set the ground rules.”
“How practical.” Connie noticed something in her voice. A tone. A lilt. A cadence. Whatever it was, she didn’t like it.
“It helps to know where you stand,” said Tia.
“He’s still stealing,” said Connie, and immediately felt bad about that.
“Well, no shit,” said Tia.
“You know?”
“I’m not a moron. He’s the world’s greatest ninja-slash-thief. He steals. I willingly follow an adventurer into dangerous situations, and tacos make me gassy. Nobody’s perfect.”
Connie wished there was a window to gaze out of. Something to pretend to distract her.
Tia said, “If I don’t make it back from one of these adventures, he’s already agreed to mourn for two months before moving on.”
“Two? It must be love.”
“It’s Hiro. I’ll take it as a win.”
Damned if Connie wouldn’t too. Hiro wasn’t a bad guy, but he always had himself in mind. As far as Connie knew, he’d never cheated on her. Betrayed her, yes, and left her in the lurch. But even at his worst, he’d never broken his word, never went back on a deal. Unless a significantly better deal came along. Somehow, it never seemed dishonest when he did it. Maybe because he was consistently upfront about it.
Constance Verity Saves the World Page 17
