The Operator
Page 84
“Shit, woman. You know how to make an entrance.” Someone smelling of pot and old cigarettes leaned close, and she struggled to focus. It was LB, and as Silas fumbled at her belt, LB stood over them, his hands on his hips. She could hear kids in the background, and the pop of a gun followed by a cheer.
“Thank God you’re here,” she slurred, slapping Silas’s hands away. “I can do it myself,” she said, but her fingers wouldn’t work. “Where’s my bag?” She blinked, relieved when Silas pushed it into her hand.
LB fidgeted at her open door, impatient. “I got my boys out here on the excuse to shoot down some payloads,” the scrawny man said. “There’s a droneway that passes over the park. It’s off our turf, but letting them take potshots at them got enough of them out here that any local cops will think twice.” His gaze went to the horizon. “There they are.”
She could hear sirens, and the sudden bang and cheer when someone took out a drone. Peri blinked fast, her grip on her bag easing as her vision settled. “I thought Roosevelt belonged to the Scraps.”
“Okay, she’s good,” Silas said from beside her, and LB grabbed her arm.
“There haven’t been any Scraps since the early two thousands,” LB said as he pulled her out. “Me and the boys are Detroit’s last gang.”
Somehow she thought that was a real shame as she found her feet, swaying until Silas came around the car and took her elbow. By the frozen pond, six people looking like Mad Max extras were taking turns shooting at drones, three Detroit muscle cars behind them looking used and aggressive. Several families with kids watched at the outskirts—not afraid. “Jack? Where’s Jack?” she said, then threw herself to the ground when a drone flying overhead exploded.
LB and Silas ducked, but it was Jack who yanked her up, frowning at LB’s boys, laughing at the drone pinwheeling dramatically to crash and skid on the ice. “That was a Fed,” Jack said as he pushed Peri to the nearby van, brown with flaking paint and rust. “Only the Feds put self-destructs on their bees. Get her out of here. I’ll draw them off.”
“Hey, wait!” Peri protested, but things were happening fast, and LB whistled three sharp notes in quick succession, turning heads.
“Back on the boats!” LB shouted, and people moved, gathering downed payloads and running for the cars.
“Jack is not running rabbit,” Peri said, frowning at the flashing lights of the incoming cops. Only now did the watching families scatter, which she thought was telling.
“Get in the car,” LB demanded, then turned to Jack. “Take the Charger. It can handle a hit. Ed will get you clear, then you run. None of my boys are taking the rap for this.”
“No,” Peri said, all but ignored. “Jack comes with me. I want him in LB jail.”
“I’ll drive the Charger,” Silas demanded, then yelped when three big men pushed him into the back of a brown ’67 Pontiac GTO. His protests became violent until LB shoved her in with him, her short-job bag landing atop them both. The seat flipped back, trapping them, and Silas glowered as LB and another man got in front. “Don’t let Jack go. It’s a mistake!” he exclaimed as the angry engine rumbled to life, the roar joined by the Dodge Charger and Oldsmobile.
“A big, beautiful mistake,” Peri whispered, numb as Jack in the Charger took off, leaving them and the Oldsmobile to go the other way. Jack was going to give the cops something to chase while they got away. And in turn, he’d be gone as well. Effin’ fantabulous.
Silas was rummaging in the satchel, his motions becoming more and more frantic. “What is your problem?” she finally asked, and he looked up, grabbing the seat as they jostled off the parking lot and onto the grass.
“I’m not used to being the smallest man in the room,” he muttered, hesitating with a Glock in his hand until seeing LB’s guy riding shotgun, using a rifle to take out the drones following them. “God bless it, I think Jack took it!”
Peri held on to the door with one hand and propped herself up with the other. “Took what?”
Silas kept looking, shoving everything from one side to the other. “The accelerator. He only touched the bag for like three seconds to hand it to me, and he took it!”
Immediately she relaxed. “No, he didn’t. It’s in my sock.” Guilt flickered through her, not for having lifted it earlier, but for the remembered flash of desire when she’d stuffed it away.
Silas’s eyes went from her foot to her face, his fear fighting with his obvious relief that she hadn’t used it. “What’s it doing there?”
“Not getting stolen by Jack,” she said, the lure to inject herself even stronger after having drafted to escape both WEFT and Detroit’s finest. Forcing a smile, she zipped the satchel closed. As long as she wasn’t accelerated, she could still walk away from this and disappear. Maybe. “LB, where did you get these righteous cars?” she asked as they bounced and lurched over the grass, clods of frozen ground spurting up behind them.
Behind the wheel, LB grinned, turning where he sat to see them. “When everyone left, the cars stayed behind. As long as there’s no computer, my guys can get them running; eBay does the rest.” His eyebrows rose in question. “Dr. Denier? You’re the reason I’m here. I want to talk to you.”
“Sure,” Silas said guardedly. His attention alternated between LB and the front window as they careened over the park lawn, headed for a distant street. “Don’t you think you should be looking where you’re driving?”
But there were no lines to stay within, much less a road, and LB laughed. “Shit, girl, you look like you haven’t slept in days. There’re easier ways to make a pickup than bringing the entire Detroit police force with you.”
Her pulse leapt. “You have the Evocane,” she said, an unreasonable need rising from everywhere, crushing the faint vertigo. “Right now? With you?” With a final bounce, they found the road. Behind them, his guys were taking potshots at the drones that had followed them. Most were going the other way. Jack had bought her a way out. What it might cost her would probably be more than she wanted to pay.
LB turned back to the front, weaving between the slower cars. “Yep.”
“Give it to me. Now,” she demanded, and LB met her eyes in the rearview mirror. With a casual slowness, he took a vial from his shirt pocket and tossed it to her.
“Thank God you’re here,” she slurred, slapping Silas’s hands away. “I can do it myself,” she said, but her fingers wouldn’t work. “Where’s my bag?” She blinked, relieved when Silas pushed it into her hand.
LB fidgeted at her open door, impatient. “I got my boys out here on the excuse to shoot down some payloads,” the scrawny man said. “There’s a droneway that passes over the park. It’s off our turf, but letting them take potshots at them got enough of them out here that any local cops will think twice.” His gaze went to the horizon. “There they are.”
She could hear sirens, and the sudden bang and cheer when someone took out a drone. Peri blinked fast, her grip on her bag easing as her vision settled. “I thought Roosevelt belonged to the Scraps.”
“Okay, she’s good,” Silas said from beside her, and LB grabbed her arm.
“There haven’t been any Scraps since the early two thousands,” LB said as he pulled her out. “Me and the boys are Detroit’s last gang.”
Somehow she thought that was a real shame as she found her feet, swaying until Silas came around the car and took her elbow. By the frozen pond, six people looking like Mad Max extras were taking turns shooting at drones, three Detroit muscle cars behind them looking used and aggressive. Several families with kids watched at the outskirts—not afraid. “Jack? Where’s Jack?” she said, then threw herself to the ground when a drone flying overhead exploded.
LB and Silas ducked, but it was Jack who yanked her up, frowning at LB’s boys, laughing at the drone pinwheeling dramatically to crash and skid on the ice. “That was a Fed,” Jack said as he pushed Peri to the nearby van, brown with flaking paint and rust. “Only the Feds put self-destructs on their bees. Get her out of here. I’ll draw them off.”
“Hey, wait!” Peri protested, but things were happening fast, and LB whistled three sharp notes in quick succession, turning heads.
“Back on the boats!” LB shouted, and people moved, gathering downed payloads and running for the cars.
“Jack is not running rabbit,” Peri said, frowning at the flashing lights of the incoming cops. Only now did the watching families scatter, which she thought was telling.
“Get in the car,” LB demanded, then turned to Jack. “Take the Charger. It can handle a hit. Ed will get you clear, then you run. None of my boys are taking the rap for this.”
“No,” Peri said, all but ignored. “Jack comes with me. I want him in LB jail.”
“I’ll drive the Charger,” Silas demanded, then yelped when three big men pushed him into the back of a brown ’67 Pontiac GTO. His protests became violent until LB shoved her in with him, her short-job bag landing atop them both. The seat flipped back, trapping them, and Silas glowered as LB and another man got in front. “Don’t let Jack go. It’s a mistake!” he exclaimed as the angry engine rumbled to life, the roar joined by the Dodge Charger and Oldsmobile.
“A big, beautiful mistake,” Peri whispered, numb as Jack in the Charger took off, leaving them and the Oldsmobile to go the other way. Jack was going to give the cops something to chase while they got away. And in turn, he’d be gone as well. Effin’ fantabulous.
Silas was rummaging in the satchel, his motions becoming more and more frantic. “What is your problem?” she finally asked, and he looked up, grabbing the seat as they jostled off the parking lot and onto the grass.
“I’m not used to being the smallest man in the room,” he muttered, hesitating with a Glock in his hand until seeing LB’s guy riding shotgun, using a rifle to take out the drones following them. “God bless it, I think Jack took it!”
Peri held on to the door with one hand and propped herself up with the other. “Took what?”
Silas kept looking, shoving everything from one side to the other. “The accelerator. He only touched the bag for like three seconds to hand it to me, and he took it!”
Immediately she relaxed. “No, he didn’t. It’s in my sock.” Guilt flickered through her, not for having lifted it earlier, but for the remembered flash of desire when she’d stuffed it away.
Silas’s eyes went from her foot to her face, his fear fighting with his obvious relief that she hadn’t used it. “What’s it doing there?”
“Not getting stolen by Jack,” she said, the lure to inject herself even stronger after having drafted to escape both WEFT and Detroit’s finest. Forcing a smile, she zipped the satchel closed. As long as she wasn’t accelerated, she could still walk away from this and disappear. Maybe. “LB, where did you get these righteous cars?” she asked as they bounced and lurched over the grass, clods of frozen ground spurting up behind them.
Behind the wheel, LB grinned, turning where he sat to see them. “When everyone left, the cars stayed behind. As long as there’s no computer, my guys can get them running; eBay does the rest.” His eyebrows rose in question. “Dr. Denier? You’re the reason I’m here. I want to talk to you.”
“Sure,” Silas said guardedly. His attention alternated between LB and the front window as they careened over the park lawn, headed for a distant street. “Don’t you think you should be looking where you’re driving?”
But there were no lines to stay within, much less a road, and LB laughed. “Shit, girl, you look like you haven’t slept in days. There’re easier ways to make a pickup than bringing the entire Detroit police force with you.”
Her pulse leapt. “You have the Evocane,” she said, an unreasonable need rising from everywhere, crushing the faint vertigo. “Right now? With you?” With a final bounce, they found the road. Behind them, his guys were taking potshots at the drones that had followed them. Most were going the other way. Jack had bought her a way out. What it might cost her would probably be more than she wanted to pay.
LB turned back to the front, weaving between the slower cars. “Yep.”
“Give it to me. Now,” she demanded, and LB met her eyes in the rearview mirror. With a casual slowness, he took a vial from his shirt pocket and tossed it to her.
