The Operator
Page 117
Michael hit the dash instead, and the car flashed a warning. “Yeah, that’s right,” Peri said raggedly as she wiped the blood from her nose with her sleeve, her hands still cuffed. “You either take me to Silas and let him go in return for your Evocane, or you get nothing.” Frustrated, she took a breath. “You hear me!” she screamed, fed up with dealing with him. “Nothing!”
But Michael was busy with his notepad, scribbling frantically before the fifteen seconds ended and they both forgot.
“I will kill you someday for this,” he whispered, going still when the world shifted red and time caught up and meshed.
Her eye hurt, but her gut was agony. Peri pulled herself out of her hunch, carefully touching her cheek to estimate the damage. She was still in cuffs and was missing the last fifteen seconds, but there was an empty vial at her feet. Michael’s confusion turned to virulent anger as he read a note, and she guessed that her idea to force him to take her to Silas for a new source of Evocane had worked. Please be close, she thought as the memory of withdrawal drifted through her.
Michael ripped his note free from the pad and crumpled it. Expression stoic, he clicked the pen closed and dropped both it and the notepad into the briefcase beside the unused syringe. The capped syringe of accelerant went into a front shirt pocket, and he put his hands on the wheel. It had worked. Hadn’t it?
“Well?” she said as they sat going nowhere, thinking that not remembering seemed like a small price to pay compared to her freedom. Her face and gut hurt from a beating she didn’t remember, but inside, she was singing. She’d forgotten, and it was like sweet water on a hot day.
Michael put the running car into drive, his hands gripping the wheel with a white-knuckled strength. “I get you to Silas. He gives me the Evocane. If you don’t run fast enough, I kill you both.”
“That’s all I wanted in the first place,” she muttered, wincing when they drove out into the setting sun and her eye ached. Shit, it was going to purple up. She just knew it.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
There were at least three people at the fueling station that she could have signaled for help, but she sat meekly in her seat, pride and the shadows from the overhead light keeping her cuffs hidden. Michael slammed the quick-charge plug away, tapping his card to pay for it and striding back to the driver’s-side door with an air of excitement. The accumulated insults of alarms and security measures had left the batteries so low that the solar paint couldn’t keep up with the demand. The sun was down, but fortunately they were only a few miles from Helen’s research facility. Getting to Silas was her main goal. After that, she’d be going by feel.
Michael opened the door. Peri turned to him, jumping when he shot her with a dart.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, plucking it out and throwing it at him. “Show a little class.”
Grinning, he slipped in behind the wheel, starting the car with an obvious satisfaction. She pulled back in a huff, scrunching into the corner to sulk. One thing was certain in her nebulous plans. Michael wouldn’t survive them.
“You were a good girl,” Michael said, tossing her a candy bar.
It was an insult, but she said nothing, afraid he might take it away, and she was starving. Awkward from the cuffs, she tore the crackling cover off, the tingle of the antidrafting drug in the dart making the chocolate taste funny. The first hints of a headache had joined the faint tremor in her fingers. Withdrawal was coming. A few hours, maybe. That early dose yesterday had shifted her due time. She hadn’t been sure until just now.
Disgusted, Peri put her head against the window. She was going to kill Bill for this. Helen would be a nice second. Michael didn’t know it, but he wouldn’t live out the night, either.
His mood insufferably cheerful, Michael looked both ways before gunning into traffic. It was busy, and she held on to the door and he changed lanes and made a nuisance of himself. “Your girly car is starting to grow on me. Maybe I’ll keep it when you’re dead. Get it repainted.”
Peri wadded up the candy wrapper and swallowed the last bite. “Reeves. Change amplitude thirty down.”
The car made a pleasant ding. She almost could feel the electric blanket running through the car change as, outside, the car shifted from white to a steely gray.
Michael grunted. “Remind me to beat the master code out of you so I can reprogram it.”
Peri gazed listlessly at the entrance to the industrial park in all its bland grandeur. “Michael, honey, you’re not going to survive the next twenty-four hours.”
He chuckled. “I’m not the one slipping into withdrawal.”
Newb, she thought, rubbing a hand under her nose. “I’m not going to die of withdrawal, and you won’t live long enough to have to worry about it.”
Michael glanced at her, then back to the big three-story cube of a building they were aiming for, the landscaping lit up by flood lamps to show stark branches waiting for spring. “You still think you’re going to kill me?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think you’ll give me the chance.”
“Got that right.”
The sign on the lawn said YEOMON INDUSTRIES. There were three cars in the lot, and Michael pulled into a spot at the outskirts, worried about a possible ding, perhaps. Peri watched Michael check his clip, watched as his game face settled in: a blank nothing holding his tension in check. “We’re just going to go in?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m not letting you stay in the car like a golden retriever.”
“Good, because I’m not going to.” Even with the cuffs on, she got out before he did. Worried, she looked at the receptionist behind the window of glass. There was only one end here. Feeling ill, she sent her gaze to the cameras focused on the lot and the front door. Helen would be coming, called when someone she had asked to be killed walked in the front door of her research facility. Peri would have to have it done by then, or the woman would take steps to scrub her. Evading that would be a pain in the ass, and she was tired. This is so bad for my asthma.
Michael grabbed her arm, yanking her into step beside him. “Keep your mouth shut,” he said, weapon hidden by his leg as he strode forward to the door. “We are not a team, and I’m not going to draft if you get shot. If you die, it’s your own fault.”
But Michael was busy with his notepad, scribbling frantically before the fifteen seconds ended and they both forgot.
“I will kill you someday for this,” he whispered, going still when the world shifted red and time caught up and meshed.
Her eye hurt, but her gut was agony. Peri pulled herself out of her hunch, carefully touching her cheek to estimate the damage. She was still in cuffs and was missing the last fifteen seconds, but there was an empty vial at her feet. Michael’s confusion turned to virulent anger as he read a note, and she guessed that her idea to force him to take her to Silas for a new source of Evocane had worked. Please be close, she thought as the memory of withdrawal drifted through her.
Michael ripped his note free from the pad and crumpled it. Expression stoic, he clicked the pen closed and dropped both it and the notepad into the briefcase beside the unused syringe. The capped syringe of accelerant went into a front shirt pocket, and he put his hands on the wheel. It had worked. Hadn’t it?
“Well?” she said as they sat going nowhere, thinking that not remembering seemed like a small price to pay compared to her freedom. Her face and gut hurt from a beating she didn’t remember, but inside, she was singing. She’d forgotten, and it was like sweet water on a hot day.
Michael put the running car into drive, his hands gripping the wheel with a white-knuckled strength. “I get you to Silas. He gives me the Evocane. If you don’t run fast enough, I kill you both.”
“That’s all I wanted in the first place,” she muttered, wincing when they drove out into the setting sun and her eye ached. Shit, it was going to purple up. She just knew it.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
There were at least three people at the fueling station that she could have signaled for help, but she sat meekly in her seat, pride and the shadows from the overhead light keeping her cuffs hidden. Michael slammed the quick-charge plug away, tapping his card to pay for it and striding back to the driver’s-side door with an air of excitement. The accumulated insults of alarms and security measures had left the batteries so low that the solar paint couldn’t keep up with the demand. The sun was down, but fortunately they were only a few miles from Helen’s research facility. Getting to Silas was her main goal. After that, she’d be going by feel.
Michael opened the door. Peri turned to him, jumping when he shot her with a dart.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, plucking it out and throwing it at him. “Show a little class.”
Grinning, he slipped in behind the wheel, starting the car with an obvious satisfaction. She pulled back in a huff, scrunching into the corner to sulk. One thing was certain in her nebulous plans. Michael wouldn’t survive them.
“You were a good girl,” Michael said, tossing her a candy bar.
It was an insult, but she said nothing, afraid he might take it away, and she was starving. Awkward from the cuffs, she tore the crackling cover off, the tingle of the antidrafting drug in the dart making the chocolate taste funny. The first hints of a headache had joined the faint tremor in her fingers. Withdrawal was coming. A few hours, maybe. That early dose yesterday had shifted her due time. She hadn’t been sure until just now.
Disgusted, Peri put her head against the window. She was going to kill Bill for this. Helen would be a nice second. Michael didn’t know it, but he wouldn’t live out the night, either.
His mood insufferably cheerful, Michael looked both ways before gunning into traffic. It was busy, and she held on to the door and he changed lanes and made a nuisance of himself. “Your girly car is starting to grow on me. Maybe I’ll keep it when you’re dead. Get it repainted.”
Peri wadded up the candy wrapper and swallowed the last bite. “Reeves. Change amplitude thirty down.”
The car made a pleasant ding. She almost could feel the electric blanket running through the car change as, outside, the car shifted from white to a steely gray.
Michael grunted. “Remind me to beat the master code out of you so I can reprogram it.”
Peri gazed listlessly at the entrance to the industrial park in all its bland grandeur. “Michael, honey, you’re not going to survive the next twenty-four hours.”
He chuckled. “I’m not the one slipping into withdrawal.”
Newb, she thought, rubbing a hand under her nose. “I’m not going to die of withdrawal, and you won’t live long enough to have to worry about it.”
Michael glanced at her, then back to the big three-story cube of a building they were aiming for, the landscaping lit up by flood lamps to show stark branches waiting for spring. “You still think you’re going to kill me?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think you’ll give me the chance.”
“Got that right.”
The sign on the lawn said YEOMON INDUSTRIES. There were three cars in the lot, and Michael pulled into a spot at the outskirts, worried about a possible ding, perhaps. Peri watched Michael check his clip, watched as his game face settled in: a blank nothing holding his tension in check. “We’re just going to go in?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m not letting you stay in the car like a golden retriever.”
“Good, because I’m not going to.” Even with the cuffs on, she got out before he did. Worried, she looked at the receptionist behind the window of glass. There was only one end here. Feeling ill, she sent her gaze to the cameras focused on the lot and the front door. Helen would be coming, called when someone she had asked to be killed walked in the front door of her research facility. Peri would have to have it done by then, or the woman would take steps to scrub her. Evading that would be a pain in the ass, and she was tired. This is so bad for my asthma.
Michael grabbed her arm, yanking her into step beside him. “Keep your mouth shut,” he said, weapon hidden by his leg as he strode forward to the door. “We are not a team, and I’m not going to draft if you get shot. If you die, it’s your own fault.”
