The Operator

“This is not my fault,” Allen said, angry.

Peri looked askance at Silas. “Notice how it’s never his fault, but he’s always front and center of it?”

“It’s not my fault!” Allen exclaimed. “The CIA has always known where you were. I’m the one who’s been keeping them off your back.” His eyes narrowed in affront. “Both of you. They know about the Evocane and accelerator,” Allen added. “They’ve been able to look the other way until Bill tried to snag you—”

“You didn’t tell me he tried to abduct you,” Silas interrupted, his gaze returning to the scrape on her jaw, and Peri shrugged. It hadn’t seemed important.

“But when Bill tried to snag you,” Allen said louder, “they had no choice but to bring you both in. Peri, they need your help,” he added, softer now. “Bill isn’t the only option here. They have the facility to re-create Evocane. Will you be reasonable and listen for once? Not all my ideas are bad.”

But reasonable wasn’t one of her favorite words, and not when she wasn’t wearing the only gun in the room. Lips pressed together, she weighed the risk of drafting and forgetting the last few minutes against her need to run and disappear. She’d worked for the government before. All it took was a well-placed dart and a handgun to her gut to get her in a cell. And once there, there she would stay, trotted out to do their bidding when they needed her if she wasn’t outright erased. “I’m retired,” she said flatly. “End of story.”

“Yes? Someone thinks they can fix that.” Harmony’s low voice held disdain. “I need an answer, Reed. Are you with us or not?”

Temptation rose at the thought of a secondary source of Evocane. But it was too easy to use her. She could trust no one, especially the government. Then Peri stared when Silas cleared his throat and dipped into his pocket. “Silas,” she seethed. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Allen is right.” Eyes averted, Silas handed the syringes and vial over to Harmony. “I need the lab, if nothing else. I won’t let them wipe you. If it’s between Bill and the CIA, I take the CIA.”

Allen was nodding, but they both seemed to have forgotten door number three existed, and her desire to run swelled. That is until Harmony dropped the drugs into a belt pack. “Thank you, Dr. Silas. Agent Reed?” Harmony prompted.

Peri looked at the hallucination of Jack, alone and unseen by all but her a short distance down the hall. He was rubbing the bridge of his narrow nose, but as if sensing her attention, he dramatically gestured for her to make a break for it. For three long heartbeats she considered it, eyeing Harmony’s hard calves. She could obviously run. Her hair was clipped too short to grab, and her body was built for endurance and speed. And there was that handgun.

“Please,” Harmony said insincerely, her dark eyes glinting.

Peri eyed the pouch where Harmony had stashed the syringes. That she might never forget again almost hurt; she wanted that freedom so badly. “You said you had a car?”

It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either, and Harmony gestured for her to go before them down the hall. Silas fell in beside her, then Allen. Harmony was last—at least until they passed two more agents who filed silently in behind them.

Not so on her own, then, Peri thought, finding a compliment in there somewhere. “Thanks a hell of a lot, Allen,” she said, giving him a dark look.

“Right. Like you had a lot of options once Bill found you,” he said.

“You’re a security threat, Reed,” Harmony said as they continued down the hall. “Once Opti ID’d you, we could no longer let you pretend you were a barista. Personally, I think this entire exercise is a mistake. If I had my way, you’d all be permanently jailed in a purple hell.”

No doubt. But that Harmony knew that a particular shade of purple stunted her ability to draft only solidified that this was the remnants of Opti remake. “I’m not a barista. I’m an entrepreneur providing a needed service.”

“You are a risk,” the woman insisted as they picked up two more suits who radioed in their position. “Able to be programmed and erased at will. Allen Swift said you might be amenable to helping us, and we will investigate that option until you prove it to be the error it is. That we have something you need is not much of a comfort to me.”

“Help with what?” Peri questioned, but she had a good idea.

“We’re having difficulty acquiring a drafter named Michael Kord,” Harmony admitted as Allen bobbed his head, clearly encouraged by Peri’s interest. “He’s aligned himself with the remaining corrupt Opti faction, and it’s proving difficult to bring him in.”

Michael again. “Sending a drafter to get a drafter isn’t a good idea.”

“It’s not my call.” Harmony’s jaw was clenched. “If it was, I’d open the door and let you walk.” Harmony pushed open a wide double door, and cool, cement-scented air blew in to shift her hair. There was a black car idling in the middle of the emptied lot. Beyond it was Atlanta, already hot in the afternoon sun. Smiling like an evil cat, Harmony gestured for Peri to do just that. “Please.”

Harmony was indicating the car, but Peri could tell she was hoping Peri would go for the street beyond so she could shoot her in the back.

“At least you’re not in a cell,” Allen muttered.