The Operator

“Not the accelerator but the Evocane,” Jack said, and Bill looked up, clearly intrigued. “I mean, it’s addictive even without the accelerator, so just get her hooked on it and she’ll come in once the cravings kick in.”

“That has merit,” Bill said, and Michael steepled his fingers, imagining how pissed Peri would be if Bill forced all Evocane’s sins on her without any of the accelerator’s lofty heights.

“She’s not as good as you think,” Michael said coldly.

Bill pulled his chair closer to the desk, peering at the screen as he carefully one-finger-typed something in. “She is twice the drafter you’ll ever be,” Bill muttered, and Jack came around the desk so he could see the data scrolling across the holoscreen from the front. “And it’s not because you don’t have talent, Michael. You could be the best if you would apply yourself. Show a little trust.”

It was like that, then, he thought, seething. Angry, he stood.

Bill looked up. “Where are you going? I want you to work with Jack this afternoon on developing those skip-hops.”

Michael forced his expression smooth. “Later. I need to soak my knee.” Striding to the door, he stiff-armed it open and paced into the hallway, headed for medical.

Fuck Bill. He’d find Peri, take the accelerator for himself, then kill her twice. With the accelerator in him, he’d finally have the pleasure of remembering both her deaths.

CHAPTER SIX

“So I says to him, I spent thirty-five bucks on it. It’s chic, not slutty!” Jack said in a high falsetto. “He’s such a low-Q.”

Peri’s attention dropped from the high ceiling to the woman Jack was commenting on, her miniskirt too high, her gum snapping, and her pink hair teased out to look like the sacrificial XX chromosome in a horror flick. Her friend was just as nonconforming, but in leather. Who knew what had brought them to the Georgia Aquarium. Not the fish, certainly.

Peri’s stomach gave a pang, and she followed the scent of fried food across the wide expanse to the second-floor cafeteria. She hadn’t eaten on the Detroit/Atlanta express, wanting to stretch Bill’s cash as far as she could. “Am I clear or not?” she asked.

Jack snorted, his light stubble and the not-really-there cup dangling between his fingers making him look casually alluring. “Babe, I only know what you know. It’s your decision.”

“Stop calling me that.” Tossing the aquarium’s information pamphlet into the recycle bin, she headed for the tunnel that led to the big tank. Twenty minutes in the great room/lobby watching the casual stance of the uniformed security and listening to Jack make up conversations for the patrons had left her reasonably sure she was unremarked upon and unnoticed.

According to the pamphlet, the big tank was the size of a football field, the viewing panes almost two feet thick to hold back the massive pressure. It was impressive, and she wondered how Silas had wrangled his way into working here. He had a unique skill set, but tending fish wasn’t among them. Maybe he’d lied on his résumé, having the smarts to back up whatever claim he’d made.

High above her at the lobby ceiling, a flight of holographic rays swam in a majestic array, garnering an awe-filled Oooo from the incoming patrons. Peri tried to blend in as she entered the tunnel leading to the large exhibit. There weren’t many single people here, and she’d come in with a school group, playing the part of a parent chaperone until passing the metal detectors.

Her empty stomach pinched as she dodged around two women with empty strollers. Schoolkids with aquarium encounter tablets darted back and forth, scanning the codes at each enclosure as if they were on an Easter egg hunt. She sent her fingertips to brush the vial and syringes still tucked behind her shirt to reassure herself they were there. The thought to take the accelerant rose like black guilt. To recall her drafts would be freeing, but remembering both timelines would lead to paranoia and then death. That a drug could prevent that sounded too good to be true.

But then again, I am already hallucinating, she thought, giving Jack a sidelong glance as he casually walked beside her and dropped his not-real cup into the trash in passing.

The tunnel to the observation theater had occasional bright spotlights and small tanks designed to soothe the claustrophobic, but it was the odd clear light that pulled her around the last curve, not the chance to see whale sharks. According to the pamphlet, “Dr. Sley” was available at noon on the weekends to answer questions. Silas knew as much about fish as she did, which was zero. It was probably the psychology degree that had gotten him the job. Being able to profile a room quickly, then having the physique to be useful in a security situation, was not to be overlooked in a room with over six million gallons of water behind the window. He was good with the public, too, she remembered, focus blurring when the sound of excited kids became louder.

She paused as she rounded the last curve, her eyes rising to the huge observation window. Children talked and shouted, their high voices soaked up by carpet and acoustic panels as they darted back and forth before the three stories of glass fronting her like a movie screen. Table-size fish swam sedately in a tank so long that it was hard to find the back, but it was the light that stunned her to stillness, and she stood, lips parted as a memory tried to surface.

Clear and sliding into the ultra blue, the light cascaded over her, the harsh yellow filtered by tons of water to let the softer shades and wavelengths express themselves. It was like nothing else, as unforgettable as it was impossible to describe, and her pulse hammered. She’d seen this before, and when a flight of rays flew before the window, she choked.