The Operator
Page 27

Harmony’s lips pressed together. “Then what do you propose we do?”
“Offhand? I don’t know,” Peri said honestly. “There’re too many variables, and I usually leave the planning up to my anchor. It’d be easier if I had something more lethal than an empty boot sheath, though.”
Her phone was buzzing, and Peri pulled it to her from across the table. Cam. Damn it, if Carnac had run off, she was going to be ticked.
“Go ahead and take it,” Harmony said as she stood. “I need to make a call.”
“I’m familiar with anything you have,” Peri offered, knowing Harmony was likely going to clear the ingoing assets with Steiner. “And Michael will be, too.” Shoulders tense, she muttered, “We aren’t just magic ponies.”
Motion stiff, Harmony made her way to the rear of the plane, settling herself in an aisle seat where she could watch everything, her phone already to her ear.
Smirking, Allen went back to the blueprints. “I don’t know why you have such a hard time making friends.”
“Hey.” Peri hit the connect button. “I’m not the one being stingy with the assets.” Hardly taking a breath, she said, “Hi, Cam. What’s up?”
“Good afternoon.” Cam’s cultured voice eased into her like melted chocolate, sweet, bitter, and addictive. “Should I let Carnac out if I won’t be awake to let him in until morning?”
“Ah, sure,” she said as Allen made a sad sound and focused on the intel. “Just make sure you leave a dish of water by your door.”
“The only reason I ask is that he didn’t come back last night when I called. He’s here now, but I’m worried he might try to go back to the coffeehouse.”
An unexpected heartache went through her at the missing rhythm of her coffeehouse, and she ate another cracker, not hungry. “If he came back once, he’ll come back again. You must be feeding him something he likes.”
“I took him into the store, and he picked it out.”
She could hear a coffee grinder, but it was low volume. He ground his own coffee? “You took him into the store?”
“Why not? People were taking their dogs in. And that’s another thing. The bag says half a cup per ten pounds of cat. He’s not eating it all.”
“You can leave it out,” she said, smiling from the mental image of Cam holding a cat up to the shelves and looking for a response. “He’ll eat when he’s hungry.”
“I thought so.” There was a slight hesitation, then, “What time zone are you in?”
“Huh?” Shocked, her eyes flicked to Allen, who’d caught the question as well.
“The only reason I ask is because I don’t want to call you at three in the morning. By the sound of it, your jet is too small to be going to the West Coast. Still Eastern?”
“Ah, Central.” Damn, he was good. “How—”
“I traveled a lot for a while. You get to know the sound of the engines. Are you okay? Need anything?”
Allen was silently laughing, and she made a face at him to keep quiet. “I’m fine,” she said, embarrassed. “It might take me longer than I thought, though.” Harmony was digging in a back locker, and the duffel bag she’d just dropped in the aisle held promise. “Ah, I’ve got to go,” she said, not liking that her pulse had quickened at the thought of some firepower. “Thanks again for watching Carnac. He means a lot to me.”
“No problem. Talk to you later.”
“Bye.” She hit the end icon. Allen was watching her sourly.
“He’s going to be trouble,” he said, perking up when Harmony’s duffel hit the table with a familiar, comforting set of sliding clinks and thuds.
“He’s just a guy watching my cat.” Peri leaned forward when Harmony opened it up to show several Kevlar vests, handguns, and three dart rifles. “Which one is mine?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Harmony stood over them, brow furrowed. “The vest isn’t optional.”
She hadn’t worn a vest since graduating Opti’s boot camp, and she wasn’t starting now. It would take a head shot to stop her from drafting, and a vest wouldn’t prevent that. But Allen reached for one, eyes widening in pleasure. “Yes, ma’am!” he said as he picked out a handgun first, checking the clip. “These don’t shoot darts. Can we kill him?”
“Not even if he kills you first. The Glocks are for emergency only.” Expression closed, she sat. “Peri, is a ring chip okay? I can put it on a wristband instead if you want. It should be close enough.”
Peri looked up from checking the dart rifle’s chamber to find it empty. The heavy slickness of the instrument was soothing, though. “Chip?”
“The firing chip,” Harmony said, then hesitated, her eyes brightening. “You don’t have these? Or did you just forget.”
“No,” Allen mused. “This is new. A firing chip?”
Smug, Harmony reached for a Glock. Using a tiny tool from a small kit, she opened the hilt. “It’s German. We’ve had it for a while. The chip has to be within two inches of the butt or the weapon won’t fire. We’re the first large-scale trial for the company who makes them. You haven’t heard of this?”
It was obvious by her self-satisfied smile that she knew they hadn’t. “Not that it was available in the States.” Setting the rifle aside, Peri took the ring Harmony was extending. It was thick, like a class ring, and she put it on her index finger, where it almost fit. It was a great idea. If she lost the weapon or it was taken from her, it couldn’t be used on her or sold.
“Ha.” Allen took off his watch and handed it to Harmony to be fitted. “I never thought I’d see you with finger bling, Peri.”
“Me either,” she said sourly. Harmony was clearly in a better mood, and Peri’s suspicions deepened. “I’m assuming there’s a tracking chip in it, too?” she asked, and Harmony brightened.
“Obviously.”
Peri’s hand clenched into a fist and she eyed the ring with WEFT imprinted on it along with a serial number. “Well, at least it’s not in my ass.”
Allen’s laugh choked off at the sudden turbulence. Harmony froze, her detailed work to get the chip onto Allen’s watch interrupted. “We’re landing,” she said, checking her phone before shoving the empty satchel under a seat. “We move right to the warehouse. Steiner says Bill has pushed Michael’s timetable up.”