The Operator
Page 65
“We’re in a draft?” Harmony said, and then she became angry. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t tell him.”
“Look out!” the driver shouted, and Peri fell as the van swerved to avoid crashing into the vehicle ahead of them. Pain lanced through her knee as she hit the floor, and she ignored it. Her grip tightened on the Glock, refusing to let go even as the van lurched to a stop. Eyes wide, she watched out the front window as Jack’s van careened into one of the trees strategically placed to line the drive to the gate. Muted gunfire sounded from inside it, and their driver reached for his sidearm.
“Firefight!” the driver said, reaching for the door even as he turned to look behind him for permission to leave, his eyes widening as he saw the guard out cold and Steiner down under Allen. He scrambled to bring his weapon to bear, then froze as his buddy in the front seat already had, Peri’s Glock pointed at his head.
“Not happening,” Peri said, still on the floor, and she shot them both in the arm.
The twin pops and kicks jolted her. Adrenaline was a sweet drug, and she rolled, knee throbbing, to the sliding side door. As the men in the front howled, she opened the door and slid to the ground. Guards were coming out of the nearby gatehouse, and they all had weapons.
“Peri!”
She turned at Allen’s demanding call, and he threw a phone at her. She caught it, feeling the warmth of the guard he’d taken it from.
“Call me,” he mouthed, pantomiming a phone with his thumb and pinky, and then he went down under the two guards she’d shot in the arm. “Go!”
Grimacing, she ran for the surrounding trees, her knee throbbing as she fired into the air to keep everyone where they were. She was free and moving. For the moment. Not a sound came from Jack’s van as she passed it, and she wondered whether she wished he was dead.
“Someone get her! Beam!” Steiner bellowed from inside the van, and Peri dodged behind the trees lining the road, headed for the nearest industrial building and the cars in the lot, praying the men in the guardhouse were not good shots. It was a good half mile. Not fast enough, she mused. A gun fired, muffled from the van, and she hesitated. Allen.
But then she heard him screaming obscenities, and relief spurred her on. “Go! Run!” Allen shouted as he stumbled out of the van and was downed by the first guard to reach him. Steiner lurched into the van’s door, his face ugly in anger.
“Shoot her! Bring her down!”
Peri zigzagged into the thicker cover of the trees, hearing branches break from bullets.
“Peri!” a familiar voice called, and she stumbled, her heart seeming to stop as she turned, arm shaking as she pointed her Glock.
It was Jack.
He was free, a rifle beside him as he knelt behind a tree and used a paper clip to unlock his cuffs. She froze, the sound of men organizing behind her meaning nothing. And then he tossed his hair out of his eyes, smiling up at her as his cuffs came free and he stood, rifle in hand.
Emotion plinked through her, anger at his betrayal, anger that she’d loved him, anger that not all of those feelings were dead. That he was not a hallucination left her unexpectedly scrambling. He was real, from his torn and dirt-smeared suit to his too-thick stubble, and she was suddenly scared. I don’t love him. You can’t love someone you don’t trust.
“I wouldn’t have shot you in the back if you hadn’t turned it on me,” she whispered, her arm holding the Glock falling, and his smile became quirky as he ran his eyes up and down her in assessment.
“Isn’t that the truth. Are you hit? Can you run?” he asked, his attention lingering on her knee, now sporting a bright red as something bled out. Even so, she nodded, almost in shock as his fingers circled her wrist and he pulled her into motion, headed for the nearest manufacturing building. Behind them, the sound of men grew loud. “Thanks for the draft. It was exactly what I needed, when I needed it. Damn! I miss working with you. Right like clockwork, almost as if we’d planned it.”
This is so bad for my asthma, she thought. “I didn’t draft to help you,” she said, but her gaze went to the two vans as more gunshots rang out. Allen was fighting, buying her time.
“That’s what you say, but you did what you did.” Jack tugged her into a run, aiming for thicker trees. “I can help. I know things. Where you stash your car, the safe house that you made and probably don’t remember.”
“You stay away from my Mantis,” she said, making it a threat. The beautiful thing could change color by altering the current running through the solar-panel paint that charged the batteries that ran it. They were illegal outside of Detroit because of the color-changing ability, but most cops didn’t know that.
But Jack only laughed, his pace slowing as they found deeper cover. “You might not need me, Peri, but I have things you do need.”
“No!” She jerked her wrist from his grip and halted. “I’m not going back to Bill. Not with you, not ever.”
“Good God, woman, I’m trying to get you out of here,” he said, but she wasn’t buying it. She could feel time beginning to mesh, the first tendrils of thought and action starting to echo within each other in her mind like two radios a millisecond apart.
“Stay out of my head,” she threatened, bringing her Glock up to bear on him, and he dropped back, hands up. “I mean it!” she screamed, frantic that she was going to lose everything—again. “I should just shoot you right now! You stay out of my head!”
“I’m not going to wipe you!” Jack exclaimed, his expression more angry than scared. “God, woman. I’m not here for Bill. I’m here for me.”
Her arm holding the Glock shook, and then time meshed, mended itself with the quiet hush of feathers falling.
Peri looked up, panic icing through her as the faint light from the distant gate flashed an old-blood red and then cleared. She was on the right side of the gate, her back against an old street tree. It was dark, cold, and she was pointing the guard’s Glock at Jack.
“I didn’t touch your mind,” Jack said impatiently, and she knew he was real, not her imagination. “I’m here for you, not Bill.” His eyes pleaded as he held out a hand. “You drafted to get us free of WEFT. I can explain, but I’d rather get out of here first.”
She lowered the Glock. “I didn’t draft to save your ass,” she said, and he grinned.
“Look out!” the driver shouted, and Peri fell as the van swerved to avoid crashing into the vehicle ahead of them. Pain lanced through her knee as she hit the floor, and she ignored it. Her grip tightened on the Glock, refusing to let go even as the van lurched to a stop. Eyes wide, she watched out the front window as Jack’s van careened into one of the trees strategically placed to line the drive to the gate. Muted gunfire sounded from inside it, and their driver reached for his sidearm.
“Firefight!” the driver said, reaching for the door even as he turned to look behind him for permission to leave, his eyes widening as he saw the guard out cold and Steiner down under Allen. He scrambled to bring his weapon to bear, then froze as his buddy in the front seat already had, Peri’s Glock pointed at his head.
“Not happening,” Peri said, still on the floor, and she shot them both in the arm.
The twin pops and kicks jolted her. Adrenaline was a sweet drug, and she rolled, knee throbbing, to the sliding side door. As the men in the front howled, she opened the door and slid to the ground. Guards were coming out of the nearby gatehouse, and they all had weapons.
“Peri!”
She turned at Allen’s demanding call, and he threw a phone at her. She caught it, feeling the warmth of the guard he’d taken it from.
“Call me,” he mouthed, pantomiming a phone with his thumb and pinky, and then he went down under the two guards she’d shot in the arm. “Go!”
Grimacing, she ran for the surrounding trees, her knee throbbing as she fired into the air to keep everyone where they were. She was free and moving. For the moment. Not a sound came from Jack’s van as she passed it, and she wondered whether she wished he was dead.
“Someone get her! Beam!” Steiner bellowed from inside the van, and Peri dodged behind the trees lining the road, headed for the nearest industrial building and the cars in the lot, praying the men in the guardhouse were not good shots. It was a good half mile. Not fast enough, she mused. A gun fired, muffled from the van, and she hesitated. Allen.
But then she heard him screaming obscenities, and relief spurred her on. “Go! Run!” Allen shouted as he stumbled out of the van and was downed by the first guard to reach him. Steiner lurched into the van’s door, his face ugly in anger.
“Shoot her! Bring her down!”
Peri zigzagged into the thicker cover of the trees, hearing branches break from bullets.
“Peri!” a familiar voice called, and she stumbled, her heart seeming to stop as she turned, arm shaking as she pointed her Glock.
It was Jack.
He was free, a rifle beside him as he knelt behind a tree and used a paper clip to unlock his cuffs. She froze, the sound of men organizing behind her meaning nothing. And then he tossed his hair out of his eyes, smiling up at her as his cuffs came free and he stood, rifle in hand.
Emotion plinked through her, anger at his betrayal, anger that she’d loved him, anger that not all of those feelings were dead. That he was not a hallucination left her unexpectedly scrambling. He was real, from his torn and dirt-smeared suit to his too-thick stubble, and she was suddenly scared. I don’t love him. You can’t love someone you don’t trust.
“I wouldn’t have shot you in the back if you hadn’t turned it on me,” she whispered, her arm holding the Glock falling, and his smile became quirky as he ran his eyes up and down her in assessment.
“Isn’t that the truth. Are you hit? Can you run?” he asked, his attention lingering on her knee, now sporting a bright red as something bled out. Even so, she nodded, almost in shock as his fingers circled her wrist and he pulled her into motion, headed for the nearest manufacturing building. Behind them, the sound of men grew loud. “Thanks for the draft. It was exactly what I needed, when I needed it. Damn! I miss working with you. Right like clockwork, almost as if we’d planned it.”
This is so bad for my asthma, she thought. “I didn’t draft to help you,” she said, but her gaze went to the two vans as more gunshots rang out. Allen was fighting, buying her time.
“That’s what you say, but you did what you did.” Jack tugged her into a run, aiming for thicker trees. “I can help. I know things. Where you stash your car, the safe house that you made and probably don’t remember.”
“You stay away from my Mantis,” she said, making it a threat. The beautiful thing could change color by altering the current running through the solar-panel paint that charged the batteries that ran it. They were illegal outside of Detroit because of the color-changing ability, but most cops didn’t know that.
But Jack only laughed, his pace slowing as they found deeper cover. “You might not need me, Peri, but I have things you do need.”
“No!” She jerked her wrist from his grip and halted. “I’m not going back to Bill. Not with you, not ever.”
“Good God, woman, I’m trying to get you out of here,” he said, but she wasn’t buying it. She could feel time beginning to mesh, the first tendrils of thought and action starting to echo within each other in her mind like two radios a millisecond apart.
“Stay out of my head,” she threatened, bringing her Glock up to bear on him, and he dropped back, hands up. “I mean it!” she screamed, frantic that she was going to lose everything—again. “I should just shoot you right now! You stay out of my head!”
“I’m not going to wipe you!” Jack exclaimed, his expression more angry than scared. “God, woman. I’m not here for Bill. I’m here for me.”
Her arm holding the Glock shook, and then time meshed, mended itself with the quiet hush of feathers falling.
Peri looked up, panic icing through her as the faint light from the distant gate flashed an old-blood red and then cleared. She was on the right side of the gate, her back against an old street tree. It was dark, cold, and she was pointing the guard’s Glock at Jack.
“I didn’t touch your mind,” Jack said impatiently, and she knew he was real, not her imagination. “I’m here for you, not Bill.” His eyes pleaded as he held out a hand. “You drafted to get us free of WEFT. I can explain, but I’d rather get out of here first.”
She lowered the Glock. “I didn’t draft to save your ass,” she said, and he grinned.
