The Operator
Page 26

“Which we can use to our advantage as much as Michael,” Allen said, studying the last page where the electronic fence was detailed out.
Peri pulled her tablet closer, flipping past the grainy, probably drone-obtained cover photo of a standard warehouse/manufacturing facility to find the rough building blueprint and see where the exits were. Not liking them, she put her lower lip between her teeth and studied the air ducts and considerable upper crawl space. Though Everblue’s facility looked like a one-story, it was really three apart from the big hangar where the heavy machinery was. “Generators?” she asked, not bothering to decipher the diagrams Allen would be more familiar with.
“No,” Harmony said. “City hookup. Intel says no need to cut it.”
Depending on people she’d never met before felt wrong in about three different ways. “Live guard?” she asked.
“Nothing we can’t work around.” Harmony reached for a piece of cheese as if it was guilt itself. “There’s a three-hour window between on-site presence. I told you, we have this.”
Peri was starting to feel like the punch line to a joke, coming in at the last minute. Allen was taking it even worse, a born plotter, and she could see him chafing, torn between trying to replan everything and dealing with the stress of being a team player and trusting someone else. She, though, didn’t have a problem making waves. “Are you sure?” she asked.
Harmony’s chewing slowed. It was the only indication of her mood. “Yes.”
Emboldened, Allen leaned forward. “What if Michael cuts the power? Shouldn’t we—”
“My team is already there,” Harmony interrupted. “You, Swift, are to stick with Peri in case she drafts. That’s it.”
“I can do something other than catch Peri when she falls,” he muttered, eyes returning to his tablet.
“Not today, Swift,” Harmony said, her fake mood of nonchalance wearing thin.
Peri leaned in, the flats of her arms aggressively on the table. “What does your team have in case you’re wrong and we’re interrupted by a stray guard or employee coming back for his or her phone?”
“I’m not wrong,” the woman insisted indignantly.
Allen tossed his tablet to the table. “What am I here for? What is she here for?” he added, pointing to Peri. “You’re the team leader, right? Use your tools. Don’t lock them up in your tool chest because they might get scratched.”
Harmony’s jaw clenched, then relaxed. “Okay,” she said, voice even. “Allen, if there are any unexpected guards, they’re your responsibility as long as it doesn’t interfere with you anchoring Peri.”
“Check.”
Allen takes care of any unexpected guards? What kind of a plan is that? That closed-in feeling was growing. Peri took enough crackers and cheese to make three mini sandwiches, knowing that for whatever reason, Harmony felt as if she couldn’t. “What is Michael’s target, anyway?” she asked, crumbs falling onto Harmony’s intel.
“Ah . . . some kind of carbon filter,” Harmony said, her attention on the crumbs.
Carbon filter? “And you think this is a legit task, not a trap?”
Allen slumped deeper into his chair. “And it was going so well, too.”
“Not that it matters,” Harmony said tightly, “but he’s stealing proprietary information concerning a new process to modify existing autonomous carbon scrubbers used to collect airborne carbon into a usable form, in essence making fuel from the air. It lowers CO2 levels and supplies a clean fuel to pay for itself. If Bill can secure it, the oil and gas companies will pay through the nose to keep it out of production.” Clearly irate, Harmony turned back to her notes. “It’s not a trap. It’s a game changer.”
That it is, Peri mused as she thought through the ramifications. “You’re right,” she said, and Allen looked up, shocked. Peri frowned at him. “What?” she said sharply, brushing the crumbs to the floor. “She is.”
“I never said she was wrong.” Allen hunched over the schematics. “What’s the plan? Wait until Michael goes in, then use the building to contain him until we can bring him down?”
Harmony crossed her arms over her middle as if expecting him to protest. “That’s it.”
That’s it, Peri thought. They were going to die. All of them. “Michael has been known to draft up to a minute,” she said, not knowing why she was telling Harmony this. They could use everything she said to capture her as well. “If you don’t have Amneoset, you’re going to have to dart him with the sedative when he’s rewriting time. Otherwise, he’ll just draft his way out of it.”
“Rewrite,” Harmony echoed, eyes on a cracker as she carefully snapped it in two and ate the smaller piece. “What difference does it make?”
Allen chuckled and went back to flipping through the schematics, and Peri was satisfied that he’d find a way out when it all hit the fan. “You can’t draft within a draft, so a rewrite is the only span of time you have to make something stick,” she said, thinking Harmony should know this already. “You dart him with anything other than Amneoset, and Michael will simply rewrite time to avoid getting hit, and that includes being shot. Amneoset is wicked fast, but a sedative takes time before it shuts down the ability to draft, and that’s all he needs.”
“And that, Agent Beam,” Allen said distantly, stylus between his teeth, “is why Steiner wanted me here.” He looked up, taking the stylus out. “I’m the only one besides Peri who can tell you when you’re in a rewrite. It’s not hard to bring down a drafter when the timing is right. Unfortunately, you’re a three-dimensional person, and only someone who can see in four has a hope of bringing down someone who lives in four.”
Harmony brushed the crumbs from her, clearly trying to keep the distaste out of her expression. “Fine, so we sedate him during a rewrite. It shouldn’t be hard after that,” Harmony said, and Peri sighed. “You don’t agree?” Harmony said provocatively.
“Stopping a drafter from jumping doesn’t negate them,” Peri said. “It’s like shooting someone in the foot and expecting him to drop down dead.”
“No, we just fall down and roll around a lot,” Allen grumbled, eyes still on his tablet.