“He was dying. And there was a lab nearby that had a drug he could alter to help him.”
“What did he have?”
“He had Thalik’s.”
“Thalik’s?" I suddenly felt heavy. What were the odds the Professor and Ruth had the same thing? Seemed really unlikely to me, but there it was. Thalik’s. Stinking disease.
“He never said a thing.” My anger fled me and I leaned back, rubbed my eyes. God I was exhausted.
Gus laughed sadly. “Prof never did.”
“True.” For a short Empowered wearing glasses—nearly unheard of for one of us to have eye trouble—he had been charismatic, but he played things close. He'd been unbeatable in poker.
Thalik’s.
“I was on my way back when the hammer fell,” Gus said. His voice got small and his eyes widened, staring into the past and reliving a horror I couldn’t feel.
“So you did the only thing you could do.”
“Ran like a coward.” He gulped air. “I didn’t even get what the Professor wanted. The lab I broke into didn’t have the drug he wanted. Nobody did. It was a dead end. I only lived because I was sent off on a fool’s errand.”
I swallowed. I had wanted to kill Gus ever since that day. But really, what other choice did he have? None. I was the only one who had survived the attack on the Renegades, in the underground haven we’d made. Everyone else had died. I’d spent years in Special Corrections reliving that day and being angry at Gus.
He hadn’t fled because he’d tipped off the Hero Council. He’d been doing a secret job for the Professor.
I squeezed his shoulder. “No. You stayed free.”
Gus blinked away tears, stared outside. He wiped his eyes and sobbed. I hugged him close then, let him cry against my chest, my hand on his head, pressing him against me.
Keisha was sitting up on the futon when I returned with her breakfast.
She wrinkled her nose. “What is that crap?”
“Insta-meal mushroom and cheese omelet.”
“Where the hell did you get those?”
“Liberated them from a food services outfit that had extra.” Back in the Renegades, Professor used to say that the best lies were the plausible ones.
“Great,” Keisha grumbled and began forking egg into her mouth. “Tastes like shit,” she said around a mouthful of omelet.
Nice to know Keisha was still Keisha.
My phone woke me up, vibrating in my pocket. I groaned, rolled over and blinked. I was in one of the other bedrooms, lying on my coat. Wind rustled the arbor vitae outside. It was around noon.
Not a huge surprise, the caller. Mutter. The phone kept vibrating. He didn’t stop at three.
I went into the living room. Gus sat in the one chair, lost in thought. He looked up as I came in.
I held up the phone. “Our leader calls. He’s just letting it ring and ring.” Up to fifteen rings now.
“Better answer then.”
“Yes, but it isn’t…” I trailed off. It wasn’t the damn phone protocol Mister Big had insisted on using.
Gus shrugged. “He must really want to talk to you.” Great. I stared at the phone.
The hell with it.
I thumbed the receiver button. “Hello.”
“About time you answered me.” Mutter’s voice was ice-cold. I was glad we weren’t having this chat face to face. My throat ached already.
“We’ve been busy.” No excuse in my voice, just kept it matter-of-fact.
“Too busy to answer your phone?” Ice-cold, but there was rage underneath. Royally pissed, but controlling it. For now.
There was no easy way around it, so I just told him. “The job went south. The Scrambler--”
He cut me off. “No details over the phone. This needs to be discussed in person.”
His voice deepened on that last word. Made it sound menacing and dangerous.
“Got it.” I struggled to keep worry out of my voice. “Where do I find you?”
“Call me from a pay phone in one hour, and I’ll give you the address. Bring the others with you.”
He hung up. Why couldn’t he have just given me the address over the phone? If I had been fingered, wouldn’t I be followed? Okay, so I actually was compromised, in that I was an agent for Support, but Mutter didn’t know that. Unless he did, and I was taking myself to my own funeral. Crap. Couldn’t worry about it. If I didn’t go he’d be suspicious for sure.
The kitchen suddenly felt like my old prison cell in Special Corrections. Too small. I paced the house.
Gus trailed behind me, asked me something, but I was lost in thought. I was in deep shit—we all were.
There was a tug on my arm. Gus. “Stop for a second, Mat.”
Keisha watched from the futon, her anger clearly bubbling just below the surface. She was barely keeping it together.
“Mutter’s mad at us,” I said. “He wants me to call him in”—I glanced at my watch, “fifty-three minutes.”
Keisha leaned back on the futon. “Of course that asshole is angry. We screwed the job.”
“It wasn’t our fault,” Gus said. “The Scrambler didn’t work.”
“You’d better hope he sees it that way,” Keisha told him. She looked at me. “You wrecked his goddam safe house.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t been trying to kill me.”
She pulled herself up, began gesturing.
Gus looked from her face to mine, and back to Keisha. “Stop it,” he said.
Keisha looked astonished. I must have looked surprised, too, because Gus smiled.
“Where do you get off being so tough all of a sudden, Silco?” Keisha asked him.
He looked at his hands. “You guys have a lot in common.”
“No we don’t,” Keisha and I said in unison.
Gus gave me a sideways look. “Like I said, you two have a lot in common.”
“Don’t go spreading lies, Blender,” Keisha said. She looked pissed.
Keisha and I didn’t have anything in common.
He pointed at me. “That look you just gave me? That’s an annoyed and soon to be angry look.”
I pushed my boot’s toe into the floor. “I’m not annoyed. Irritated maybe.”
Keisha shot him a dirty look. “Where do you get off saying she and me are the same?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say you were the same. I said you have a lot in common.”
She crossed her arms, simmering anger tightening her forehead. “Lots of people get angry.”
Yeah, and Mutter was one of them.
Gus turned on a portable radio. “Music calms me down,” he said.
He didn’t have nearly as much to be worked up about as me or Keisha, but I wasn’t going to argue. His nervous pacing made me twitchy, and I wanted to punch him when he pointed out that I did the same thing. But I didn’t want Keisha to lose it, and I didn’t want to get angry again, either. This time one of us could wind up dead.
A blander than bland boring pop music tune finished. Thank God for small favors. Then a news update came on.
“Police and the FBI are investigating the apparent murder of billionaire tech titan Jonathan van Cleeve, founder of three technology companies and three-time recipient of the Friendship Medal, awarded by the Hero Council for Meritorious assistance by a civilian to the Empowered. Van Cleeve and his security detail were found dead in his West Hills mansion late last night.”
Gus paled and looked sick.
“What is it?” I asked him. The news story seemed to have smacked him upside the head. But why? No way Gus knew someone like Van Cleeve. Billionaire tech dudes didn’t mix with rogue Empowered guys like Gus.
His eyes took on a haunted look. “I can’t say.”
“Spill it, Gus,” Keisha said. “Otherwise, buck up and don’t let on you know something we don’t.”
“Why can’t you say?” I asked him.
“Mutter wouldn’t like it.”
Keeping secrets for M
utter was no surprise, but this was different. Gus was scared to death.
I wasn’t going to push him. But I’d damn sure tell Support.
The dead neon sign in the grimy window said “Atlas Motors.” The two-story brick building wasn't far from the old National Guard Armory. The place looked like a total dump on the outside, but inside bright fluorescents lit clean, uncluttered garage bays.
Mutter waited for us in the main bay, perched on a stool, tapping his fingers together. He looked like a fashionable undertaker, wearing a high-collared black suit. His snakeskin boots were gray-green in the garage lighting.
A spendy four-door was parked behind him. A silver Pontiac Elegant, from the looks of it. Funny how Mutter always had nice rides. Peep stood next to the car, fiddling with his glasses and not looking at us.
“Nice of you to show up, asshole,” I shouted at Peep.
Keisha surprised me by joining in. “Thought you’d be long gone by now, coward.” He flinched, but kept his head down, still fiddling with those damn glasses of his.
Mutter’s face was a mask of cold fury, making me take a step back. He raised a hand, made a twirling motion. “You are the last ones to take umbrage at Lyle’s actions.” The air gusted around me, rustling the remains of an old newspaper lying on the garage floor. I breathed faster, desperate to keep the oxygen coming. My throat throbbed.
I pointed at Peep. “He ran off.”
Mutter’s mouth moved, he gestured and wind slammed me. I fought to keep standing. Keisha and Gus backed away.
Mutter raised a hand and the wind whirled around me, tighter and tighter, squeezing my sides. He didn’t smile this time, like he had back at the Imperial Hotel. Instead, he looked like a psycho who was ready to kill me.
“He cut and run!” I yelled.
Mutter snapped his fingers and the air was still. “With good reason.” He gave Keisha and me both the stink eye. “You wrecked the safe house after making an absolute hash of the assignment.”
I stayed silent. No excuses.
Mutter stared at us like a judge.
“Good,” he said. “You understand your failure.” His sudden attitude swings gave me whiplash.
He ordered us to report what happened, so I did. I left out the part where I wondered were the hell he was. This was all on my team, even if his being gone might have helped screw things up. That wouldn’t help things here in the garage with our deadly boss.
I finished and watched his reaction.
“That was certainly quick thinking on your part to block the hallway,” Mutter said. I couldn’t believe it. A compliment? At least a kind of compliment.
“Keisha? Why couldn’t you find the documents?” She didn’t answer. He began twirling his fingers. She flinched.
I spoke up. “We did find the file, but it wasn’t in a red binder like you said.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Rising to your enemy’s defense? My, my, how things have changed since you tried to kill her in the house. My house.” Everything seemed to be Mutter’s, including us.
“I started it,” Keisha said.
“Really?”
“Yes—I was mad because she and Peep left when I wanted to search further.
Gus was shaking visibly.
Mutter raised his fingers to his lips. “Guilty conscience, Blender?”
Gus shook his head.
“The Scrambler was fully functional, Gus. I wonder why it didn’t go off?”
“I deployed it, Mutter, I did, really.” The words tumbled out of Gus’s mouth. “I did what you ordered. The lights were green, they were!”
Mutter walked over to Gus, a nasty grin on his face. He put a finger on Gus’s lips. “Something is rotten in Denmark, and I will learn what the source of the stench is.” He wrinkled his nose. “The urine stink is obvious.”
A dark stain spread down the front of Gus’s cargo pants. “Oh, God,” he wailed.
“It is me you need to worry about,” Mutter said. He turned to Keisha and me.
“I’m surprised at you, Keisha. Why aren’t you angry with Mat for nearly killing you, even if, as you say, you started it?”
“She saved my life.” Keisha glanced at me. “Thank you.”
“Touching,” Mutter said. “And how did you manage that, Mat?” He steepled his fingers. My heart pounded faster.
“Got in touch with someone from the old days.”
“Really?” His voice went ice-cold again. “Did you compromise my cell’s secrecy?”
“No. I told him nothing.”
“And who was it?”
“I’d rather not say.”
Again air slammed me, and I staggered backwards. “You’ll answer my question.”
Keisha got between me and Mutter, stumbled back toward me and caught herself.
“It isn’t important,” I heard her shout over the wind.
The wind stopped. Mutter cocked his head to one side.
“And how do you know? You were unconscious? Do you suddenly trust her that much?”
I squeezed Keisha’s arm, stepped up next to her. “Doctor Rance Silverly,” I said.
“Never heard of him.”
Good.
A sound like a celestial bell pealed in the garage.
Mutter scowled. “Do not move,” he ordered us, and sauntered to the far side of the garage. I glimpsed him loosening his collar and fingering a medallion around his neck. His lips moved, but he was too far away to hear.
“His boss,” Keisha whispered. “The Scourge inner circle.”
Talk about bad timing for Mutter. The bosses wanted to know how his job had gone. The answer was the job had gone south.
“Thanks for speaking up,” I told her.
She shook her head. “You’re still an idiot, but I had to say something.”
Peep smirked at Gus. “Nice going.”
Gus ducked his head.
“Leave him alone.” I glared at Peep.
He backed away, hands in front of him. “Hey, I don’t have a beef with you.”
“Because you’re afraid I’ll clean your clock. Which I will if you don’t shut the hell up.”
Peep cringed. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave it.”
Mutter returned.
“Now, where were we?” His brow furrowed. “Ah, yes, Gus’s betrayal.”
Gus shook his head, desperate. “I told you, the Scrambler was operational.”
“Precisely. It would have worked if it had been functional, which it was. Therefore, it wasn’t activated.”
“I did activate it.”
“We’ll see.” He muttered low, wordless sounds, making lazy circles with his arms.
“No, it’s not my fault, Mutter. Please, don’t,” Gus begged. The air howled around Gus and pulled him off the ground. The wind changed, became a rushing sound, like water over rocks. Mutter pinched his fingers. Gus thrashed in the air. His face began to purple.
“Stop it!” I yelled. Gus continued to thrash and Mutter ignored me. Gus’s eyes rolled up.
I wanted to make Mutter stop. I wanted to run to Gus, protect him somehow. But I stayed put like a good little soldier. Watched the horror show, my stomach churning.
“You tipped off the police by not correctly activating the Scrambler. The question is, was it deliberate or mere incompetence?” Mutter lowered his arms.
Gus fell to the ground, gasping for breath, and sobbed.
“Well?” Mutter asked.
“I swear I didn’t tip off the cops. I didn’t.”
Mutter stared at Gus with a snake-about-to-eat-a-mouse expression. Gus got to his knees, and crawled toward Mutter, whimpering and begging not to be killed.
I looked away.
Mutter grinned wickedly. “I’ll forgive your incompetence, Gus. This time.” He laughed. “All things considered, the job went well.” Another whiplash from another sudden attitude switch. He was pleased with himself. Toying with Gus. Bastard.
It hit me then.
“We were just a decoy, were
n’t we?” A slow rage began to build in my gut.
“Smarter than you look, Mathilda.” He laughed again, sending ice down my spine. “Yes, you were, and you played it well.”
“What the hell?” Keisha said. “This was just a frigging red herring?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, but quite important.”
The Scourge’s inner circle had commanded Mutter to do this job, so he set us up to do it, but he had been up to something else. Whatever it was, it had been something he was willing to risk the rest of us to accomplish.
He and the secret member of our cell had been dressed in HC jumpsuits and visored helmets—sanctioned Empowered, or so people would think.
The news story about Van Cleeve’s death.
Somehow that was connected.
The dive bar was called “the Hole-in-the-Wall,” and the name fit. Cracked plaster walls, and linoleum so yellowed it looked like lemon peel. A red neon Schlitz sign glowed on the wall below a stuffed bear’s head. Two slouching trucker types played a lazy game of pool on a beat-up billiards table across the room while a muted TV over the bar showed a boxing match.
A couple of scummy looking dudes gave me the hopeful eye while I waited in a booth for Winterfield to show up. I ignored them and drank my beer. Empowered can actually get drunk or high, but it takes some work, and the buzz doesn’t last long.
I hadn’t hit the booze when I got to “the Hole-in-the-Wall,” but I was still shaking inside after that scene in the garage. Gus had disappeared as soon as Mutter finished the briefing. Keisha took off as well, while Peep followed Mutter around like a puppy that’s been swatted a few times and is desperate to prove it can obey. He made my skin crawl.
I finished my beer. Mutter’s briefing at the garage had been bullshit. He had ranted at us and tortured Gus, nearly killed him. What had been the point? Just to make Gus crawl? I couldn’t get the sound of his begging Mutter not to kill him out of my head.
“You look like hell,” Winterfield said. He slid onto the bench across the table from me. He took one look at my face and motioned at the bar maid. When she looked over he pointed at my bottle, and held up two fingers.
I did a double take. He didn’t look so good himself. He had dark circles under his eyes and beard stubble on his chin. Winterfield was the alert and razor sharp type, always clean shaven and button-downed. Now he looked like a stockbroker who’d just lost his shirt.
The Empowered Series (Book 1): Empowered (Agent) Page 16
