Every fork except Wilkes’s stopped moving.
“I won’t lie: they hit us pretty hard. We believe now that AFGC has targeted our president, Keats’s prime minister, the Chinese president, the Japanese and Indian prime ministers. Five targets. But the Armstrong Twins hit our Chinese and Indian cells very hard. So we’re probably going to have to give them up. And that’s very bad.”
“The Japanese cell is very tight, and they don’t seem to have been hit. So we’ll leave the Japanese PM to them. Same with our British cousins.”
“God save the king, eh?” Wilkes said to Keats.
“Or at least the prime minister. Even if he is a Tory,” Keats answered.
“Nijinsky and I are the first team on President Morales. Wilkes and Ophelia run counterforce for that,” Vincent went on.
“What’s counterforce?” Plath asked.
“There are three ways to stop a twitcher,” Ophelia explained. “You can beat him down in the nano. You can incapacitate him in the macro: in other words, kill him. Or you can wire him. Wilkes and I will be looking for the twitchers. They’ll use multiple locations near the UN Building to avoid having to use signal repeaters.”
“Their repeaters are junk,” Nijinsky interjected.
“We have word from Lear—possibly from a mole inside AFGC—that one of the locations will be inside the UN.”
“Inside the building? What, inside the UN itself?” Plath asked.
“Armstrong Fancy Gifts Corporation,” Ophelia said. “They still run more than four hundred gift shops in airports, in train stations in Europe, and in places like museums. And in the basement of the UN.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Keats said.
“That’s what we think,” Vincent confirmed. “So Ophelia and Wilkes are going to see if we can’t at least disrupt them there. Maybe expose them so they have to withdraw.”
“What about Keats and me?” Plath asked.
Vincent glanced guiltily at Nijinsky.
Nijinsky frowned, sensing that something bad was coming. He said, “They aren’t ready for—”
But Vincent cut him off.
“Lear has ordered … and I agree … that we need a counterattack. Something to throw them off. It has to be something real, with a real chance of success. The other side isn’t stupid—we can’t just wave our hands in the air and distract them.”
Nijinsky put down his wineglass with a little more force than necessary. “What are you sending them into?” He was seated directly across from Vincent.
Vincent took a sip of wine, stalling. Then, with no more emotion than he might have in announcing that tomorrow’s weather would be rainy, he said, “We’re going after the Twins directly.”
“May I speak to you in private, Vincent?” Nijinsky said through gritted teeth.
“My friend Jin thinks I’m sending you two on a suicide mission,” Vincent said, staring hard at Nijinsky, who glared back.
“Are you?” Plath asked.
Vincent nodded slightly. “Probably.”
“What if we say no?” Plath demanded.
Vincent turned from Nijinsky and met her gaze. “You won’t.”
“What makes you so sure?” Plath said. “Have you done something to me, is that it?”
“I told you I would never—”
“Then how the hell are you so sure we’re going along with this suicide mission?”
“Because they murdered your father and your brother. And they damned near killed you,” Vincent said. “And when I mention that to you, your eyes blaze and your teeth start to show, and you’re aren’t a person who lets her family be wiped out without fighting back.”
“This is how we repay her father?” Nijinsky demanded. “By getting her killed?”
Vincent slammed the side of his fist down on the table. Every dish jumped. No one breathed. “Do you think I like this, Shane?”
Almost as shocking as Vincent showing emotion was Vincent using the name “Shane” instead of Nijinsky.
“You don’t like anything, Vincent. That’s why Lear has you running this cell. A man without pleasure is a man without any idea what life is about.” Nijinsky pointed at Plath. “She’s sixteen, for Christ’s sake. She’s barely trained. And him, young Mr. Hormone there, he’s already in love with her. If she goes, he’ll go.”
Nijinsky was shaking with emotion. Vincent had already brought his under control.
“Yes. That’s what I figured,” Vincent said. He stood up carefully, pushed his chair back, said, “I’ve had enough. Enjoy your dinner,” and carried his plate to the kitchen.
TWENTY-THREE
“You think maybe the time has come to tell me how the hell we’re going to do this, Vincent?”
Vincent answered, “Lear made it very clear that the plan stays with me until there is no other choice.”
The two of them were walking down Third Avenue past the British Consulate, a building of no particular interest once you had noted the Union Jack flying alongside the Stars and Stripes.
“British Embassy?” Nijinsky asked, eyebrow raised.
“We’re heading over to Lex. Over to the W Hotel. We’re meeting someone.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t ask who?”
“You may recognize her. Tatiana Featherstonehaugh.”
“I won’t lie: they hit us pretty hard. We believe now that AFGC has targeted our president, Keats’s prime minister, the Chinese president, the Japanese and Indian prime ministers. Five targets. But the Armstrong Twins hit our Chinese and Indian cells very hard. So we’re probably going to have to give them up. And that’s very bad.”
“The Japanese cell is very tight, and they don’t seem to have been hit. So we’ll leave the Japanese PM to them. Same with our British cousins.”
“God save the king, eh?” Wilkes said to Keats.
“Or at least the prime minister. Even if he is a Tory,” Keats answered.
“Nijinsky and I are the first team on President Morales. Wilkes and Ophelia run counterforce for that,” Vincent went on.
“What’s counterforce?” Plath asked.
“There are three ways to stop a twitcher,” Ophelia explained. “You can beat him down in the nano. You can incapacitate him in the macro: in other words, kill him. Or you can wire him. Wilkes and I will be looking for the twitchers. They’ll use multiple locations near the UN Building to avoid having to use signal repeaters.”
“Their repeaters are junk,” Nijinsky interjected.
“We have word from Lear—possibly from a mole inside AFGC—that one of the locations will be inside the UN.”
“Inside the building? What, inside the UN itself?” Plath asked.
“Armstrong Fancy Gifts Corporation,” Ophelia said. “They still run more than four hundred gift shops in airports, in train stations in Europe, and in places like museums. And in the basement of the UN.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Keats said.
“That’s what we think,” Vincent confirmed. “So Ophelia and Wilkes are going to see if we can’t at least disrupt them there. Maybe expose them so they have to withdraw.”
“What about Keats and me?” Plath asked.
Vincent glanced guiltily at Nijinsky.
Nijinsky frowned, sensing that something bad was coming. He said, “They aren’t ready for—”
But Vincent cut him off.
“Lear has ordered … and I agree … that we need a counterattack. Something to throw them off. It has to be something real, with a real chance of success. The other side isn’t stupid—we can’t just wave our hands in the air and distract them.”
Nijinsky put down his wineglass with a little more force than necessary. “What are you sending them into?” He was seated directly across from Vincent.
Vincent took a sip of wine, stalling. Then, with no more emotion than he might have in announcing that tomorrow’s weather would be rainy, he said, “We’re going after the Twins directly.”
“May I speak to you in private, Vincent?” Nijinsky said through gritted teeth.
“My friend Jin thinks I’m sending you two on a suicide mission,” Vincent said, staring hard at Nijinsky, who glared back.
“Are you?” Plath asked.
Vincent nodded slightly. “Probably.”
“What if we say no?” Plath demanded.
Vincent turned from Nijinsky and met her gaze. “You won’t.”
“What makes you so sure?” Plath said. “Have you done something to me, is that it?”
“I told you I would never—”
“Then how the hell are you so sure we’re going along with this suicide mission?”
“Because they murdered your father and your brother. And they damned near killed you,” Vincent said. “And when I mention that to you, your eyes blaze and your teeth start to show, and you’re aren’t a person who lets her family be wiped out without fighting back.”
“This is how we repay her father?” Nijinsky demanded. “By getting her killed?”
Vincent slammed the side of his fist down on the table. Every dish jumped. No one breathed. “Do you think I like this, Shane?”
Almost as shocking as Vincent showing emotion was Vincent using the name “Shane” instead of Nijinsky.
“You don’t like anything, Vincent. That’s why Lear has you running this cell. A man without pleasure is a man without any idea what life is about.” Nijinsky pointed at Plath. “She’s sixteen, for Christ’s sake. She’s barely trained. And him, young Mr. Hormone there, he’s already in love with her. If she goes, he’ll go.”
Nijinsky was shaking with emotion. Vincent had already brought his under control.
“Yes. That’s what I figured,” Vincent said. He stood up carefully, pushed his chair back, said, “I’ve had enough. Enjoy your dinner,” and carried his plate to the kitchen.
TWENTY-THREE
“You think maybe the time has come to tell me how the hell we’re going to do this, Vincent?”
Vincent answered, “Lear made it very clear that the plan stays with me until there is no other choice.”
The two of them were walking down Third Avenue past the British Consulate, a building of no particular interest once you had noted the Union Jack flying alongside the Stars and Stripes.
“British Embassy?” Nijinsky asked, eyebrow raised.
“We’re heading over to Lex. Over to the W Hotel. We’re meeting someone.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t ask who?”
“You may recognize her. Tatiana Featherstonehaugh.”
