The Operator
Page 121
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Does he remember? Breathless with the need to know, Peri tried to tug away from the man holding her. “Michael,” she said, not caring whether her quavering voice gave her away. “Do you remember? Michael! Do you remember!”
Someone jerked her back, and Helen gave Michael a little pat before rising and turning to her. “You, Agent Reed, are astounding. I don’t know how Bill managed you. The amount of damage you can inflict in your ignorance is breathtaking. If Michael fails to metabolize the Evocane well, I will have no choice but to wipe you and start over.” She frowned. “You are apparently more valuable when you can’t remember. Bill will be so pleased,” she finished sourly.
Fear swamped her jealousy that Michael might have what she wanted, but she couldn’t move, fixed by the need to know whether it had worked. His face pale, Michael had begun to shake. “Did you hear that, Michael?” she said, hoping he hadn’t gone too far to reason. “I’m valuable because I forget. She doesn’t want you anymore.”
“Did you really think he was going to let you walk after you gave him the accelerator?” Helen said as she checked her watch and brusquely motioned for her security to take care of the body behind the desk. “Michael said what was needed to get what he wanted. Lesson one.” Her amusement faltered when she noticed Michael was trembling, white-faced and shaky. “Get them out of here. All of them. Put Michael in my car. We need to talk.” She frowned at him. “Don’t we, Michael?”
“He deserved to know,” Peri said over her shoulder as a nameless guard pulled her to the door. Two more men had the body of the receptionist. “You were never going to accelerate him, and now that he is, you’re going to shove him in a box with no windows. Tell him!”
It took the remaining security to get Michael upright, the drafter muttering incoherently. They didn’t know he was struggling to reconcile two timelines, but Peri did, almost feeling sorry for him as she remembered the chaos, the confusion, the simple one-plus-one not equaling two anymore.
“Put him in a cell?” Helen said, waiting for them to get him out first. “Why? He’s my best agent. Or he will be, once we get that shoulder fixed up.”
But Michael was falling apart before her eyes. “He never was your best,” she said. “And he certainly isn’t now.”
“Ma’am?” one of the guards holding Michael said when he began to violently shake.
Helen turned, her irritation shifting to confusion when Michael looked at her, his lips moving slowly as he tried to form words. “You sent Peri to retire me,” he said, voice thready.
“I told you to kill her,” Helen reasserted, and Michael moaned, holding his head. “You’ve really messed this up. Not a feather of patience in you.”
“I see everything. Everything!” he exclaimed, and his security struggled to hold him, their efforts stifled by Helen’s earlier demand to not hurt him. “And now you’re scared.”
“Of you?” Helen laughed, not seeing the death in his eyes, watching her from under his lowered brow and sweat-soaked hair. “I made you. Go wait in the car.”
“Peri,” Silas muttered, his newly cuffed hands before him, the nervous security man holding his shoulder watching Michael, not him. “Get out. Right now.”
But Peri couldn’t move, riveted. He remembered, and it was driving him insane.
“You kept the accelerant from me. Why!” Michael shouted, finding the strength to stand.
Helen looked him up and down, still confident he was her toy. “You weren’t ready.”
“Peri, go,” Silas begged even as he quietly worked the cuff key out of his pocket and got himself free, but she couldn’t move, fixated on Michael.
Michael laughed, the evil sound tripping over the bumps in her spine to make her shudder. “I think you weren’t ready for me,” he said, shuffling toward Helen.
“You have had—” Helen said, and then Michael backhanded her.
The woman fell against the reception desk, crying out in affront. “Don’t shoot him!” she exclaimed when the patter of safeties going off tripped through the air. “He’s worth more than all of you combined. Use your darts!”
“You weren’t ready for me!” Michael shouted, her security too slow when he drew his Glock and fired into her.
“Out!” Silas grabbed Peri and dragged her to the door, but she twisted out of his grip, unable to leave the thunderous sound of three Glocks unloading into Michael.
Falling to his knees, he slowly collapsed onto Helen. Someone rolled him off her, and he lay on his back, forgotten as they clustered around the dying woman. It was too late.
“Peri . . .”
Pulling free of Silas, she went to Michael. He was still alive, trying to laugh as blood bubbled about his lips. She fell to her knees, awkward with her hands cuffed. “Michael.” She grabbed his shirtfront, shaking him until his eyes focused on her. “Michael. Is it worth it? Is it?”
He blinked, taking a racking breath. “To remember?” he said, shaky hand touching her face, the slickness of blood separating them. “Oh yes,” he said, voice becoming thready. “Don’t forget. If you die . . . it’s your own fault.”
His hand fell from her. The warm smear of blood he’d marked her with quickly turned cold.
The sound of Helen’s security trying to keep her alive had gone frantic. Numb, Peri let Silas pull her away. She stumbled beside him into the parking lot, hardly recognizing it when he took the cuffs off her. She went without protest into her car, and he drove her away.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
Lloyd Plaza was busy with giggling kids running from kiosk to kiosk for their games and activities. At the far corner under the massive monitor, a band was setting up for tonight’s party. The beer tent and dance floor had been in place since last night as the city tried to pull as many people off the streets as possible and into a controlled environment for the last day of Detroit’s yearly music/cabin fever festival. Tonight would be capped off by coordinated fireworks at the casinos as local and international bands “broke winter’s back,” but right now the kids held sway in the plaza, enjoying their January candy-fest under the faultless blue of a late winter sky. Peri lingered at the outskirts, clearly not a parent and feeling out of place as she scanned the large square with its permanent tables and benches bolted to the cement tilework. It was hard to get a good fix on anyone with the kids milling about, and she forced herself to relax when Silas eased up beside her, handing her a hot coffee that smelled of warm milk and caramel.
Someone jerked her back, and Helen gave Michael a little pat before rising and turning to her. “You, Agent Reed, are astounding. I don’t know how Bill managed you. The amount of damage you can inflict in your ignorance is breathtaking. If Michael fails to metabolize the Evocane well, I will have no choice but to wipe you and start over.” She frowned. “You are apparently more valuable when you can’t remember. Bill will be so pleased,” she finished sourly.
Fear swamped her jealousy that Michael might have what she wanted, but she couldn’t move, fixed by the need to know whether it had worked. His face pale, Michael had begun to shake. “Did you hear that, Michael?” she said, hoping he hadn’t gone too far to reason. “I’m valuable because I forget. She doesn’t want you anymore.”
“Did you really think he was going to let you walk after you gave him the accelerator?” Helen said as she checked her watch and brusquely motioned for her security to take care of the body behind the desk. “Michael said what was needed to get what he wanted. Lesson one.” Her amusement faltered when she noticed Michael was trembling, white-faced and shaky. “Get them out of here. All of them. Put Michael in my car. We need to talk.” She frowned at him. “Don’t we, Michael?”
“He deserved to know,” Peri said over her shoulder as a nameless guard pulled her to the door. Two more men had the body of the receptionist. “You were never going to accelerate him, and now that he is, you’re going to shove him in a box with no windows. Tell him!”
It took the remaining security to get Michael upright, the drafter muttering incoherently. They didn’t know he was struggling to reconcile two timelines, but Peri did, almost feeling sorry for him as she remembered the chaos, the confusion, the simple one-plus-one not equaling two anymore.
“Put him in a cell?” Helen said, waiting for them to get him out first. “Why? He’s my best agent. Or he will be, once we get that shoulder fixed up.”
But Michael was falling apart before her eyes. “He never was your best,” she said. “And he certainly isn’t now.”
“Ma’am?” one of the guards holding Michael said when he began to violently shake.
Helen turned, her irritation shifting to confusion when Michael looked at her, his lips moving slowly as he tried to form words. “You sent Peri to retire me,” he said, voice thready.
“I told you to kill her,” Helen reasserted, and Michael moaned, holding his head. “You’ve really messed this up. Not a feather of patience in you.”
“I see everything. Everything!” he exclaimed, and his security struggled to hold him, their efforts stifled by Helen’s earlier demand to not hurt him. “And now you’re scared.”
“Of you?” Helen laughed, not seeing the death in his eyes, watching her from under his lowered brow and sweat-soaked hair. “I made you. Go wait in the car.”
“Peri,” Silas muttered, his newly cuffed hands before him, the nervous security man holding his shoulder watching Michael, not him. “Get out. Right now.”
But Peri couldn’t move, riveted. He remembered, and it was driving him insane.
“You kept the accelerant from me. Why!” Michael shouted, finding the strength to stand.
Helen looked him up and down, still confident he was her toy. “You weren’t ready.”
“Peri, go,” Silas begged even as he quietly worked the cuff key out of his pocket and got himself free, but she couldn’t move, fixated on Michael.
Michael laughed, the evil sound tripping over the bumps in her spine to make her shudder. “I think you weren’t ready for me,” he said, shuffling toward Helen.
“You have had—” Helen said, and then Michael backhanded her.
The woman fell against the reception desk, crying out in affront. “Don’t shoot him!” she exclaimed when the patter of safeties going off tripped through the air. “He’s worth more than all of you combined. Use your darts!”
“You weren’t ready for me!” Michael shouted, her security too slow when he drew his Glock and fired into her.
“Out!” Silas grabbed Peri and dragged her to the door, but she twisted out of his grip, unable to leave the thunderous sound of three Glocks unloading into Michael.
Falling to his knees, he slowly collapsed onto Helen. Someone rolled him off her, and he lay on his back, forgotten as they clustered around the dying woman. It was too late.
“Peri . . .”
Pulling free of Silas, she went to Michael. He was still alive, trying to laugh as blood bubbled about his lips. She fell to her knees, awkward with her hands cuffed. “Michael.” She grabbed his shirtfront, shaking him until his eyes focused on her. “Michael. Is it worth it? Is it?”
He blinked, taking a racking breath. “To remember?” he said, shaky hand touching her face, the slickness of blood separating them. “Oh yes,” he said, voice becoming thready. “Don’t forget. If you die . . . it’s your own fault.”
His hand fell from her. The warm smear of blood he’d marked her with quickly turned cold.
The sound of Helen’s security trying to keep her alive had gone frantic. Numb, Peri let Silas pull her away. She stumbled beside him into the parking lot, hardly recognizing it when he took the cuffs off her. She went without protest into her car, and he drove her away.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
Lloyd Plaza was busy with giggling kids running from kiosk to kiosk for their games and activities. At the far corner under the massive monitor, a band was setting up for tonight’s party. The beer tent and dance floor had been in place since last night as the city tried to pull as many people off the streets as possible and into a controlled environment for the last day of Detroit’s yearly music/cabin fever festival. Tonight would be capped off by coordinated fireworks at the casinos as local and international bands “broke winter’s back,” but right now the kids held sway in the plaza, enjoying their January candy-fest under the faultless blue of a late winter sky. Peri lingered at the outskirts, clearly not a parent and feeling out of place as she scanned the large square with its permanent tables and benches bolted to the cement tilework. It was hard to get a good fix on anyone with the kids milling about, and she forced herself to relax when Silas eased up beside her, handing her a hot coffee that smelled of warm milk and caramel.
