The Operator

But she had forgotten, and feeling ill at opportunities lost from silence, she closed her journal, unable to read more. Why hadn’t she made a memory knot of that? She had written about it so clearly she could almost see it. But the answer was obvious, sitting across from her and flipping through his magazine with little clicks from the tablet. Allen had burned that year from her mind. He would have taken extra care with that memory.

Cold, Peri carefully hid her diary under her clothes and zipped the satchel up. She couldn’t find it in herself to be mad at him. She’d wanted it, fought for it, and a frown furrowed her brow. She was still wearing it when she looked up to find Harmony standing right before her.

“My, aren’t we happy,” Harmony said, her face expressionless as she dropped two of the three CIA tablets on the table. “I’ve got your intel ready.”

Allen shut his magazine down and reached for his packet. “Finally.”

Exhaling slow and long, Harmony took the chair farthest from Peri. She’d changed into a blah navy pantsuit, her shoulder holster empty for the moment. Though it was off-the-rack and lacking the style of Peri’s outfit, she nevertheless looked professional. “Top pages are building schematics,” Harmony said, eyes on Allen as he eagerly flipped through them. “Everblue is in an industrial park between the airport and the city. Lots of room. Slow response time. Security is high, but it was put in after the fact and there are major holes.”

“Which we can use to our advantage as much as Michael,” Allen said, studying the last page where the electronic fence was detailed out.

Peri pulled her tablet closer, flipping past the grainy, probably drone-obtained cover photo of a standard warehouse/manufacturing facility to find the rough building blueprint and see where the exits were. Not liking them, she put her lower lip between her teeth and studied the air ducts and considerable upper crawl space. Though Everblue’s facility looked like a one-story, it was really three apart from the big hangar where the heavy machinery was. “Generators?” she asked, not bothering to decipher the diagrams Allen would be more familiar with.

“No,” Harmony said. “City hookup. Intel says no need to cut it.”

Depending on people she’d never met before felt wrong in about three different ways. “Live guard?” she asked.

“Nothing we can’t work around.” Harmony reached for a piece of cheese as if it was guilt itself. “There’s a three-hour window between on-site presence. I told you, we have this.”

Peri was starting to feel like the punch line to a joke, coming in at the last minute. Allen was taking it even worse, a born plotter, and she could see him chafing, torn between trying to replan everything and dealing with the stress of being a team player and trusting someone else. She, though, didn’t have a problem making waves. “Are you sure?” she asked.

Harmony’s chewing slowed. It was the only indication of her mood. “Yes.”

Emboldened, Allen leaned forward. “What if Michael cuts the power? Shouldn’t we—”

“My team is already there,” Harmony interrupted. “You, Swift, are to stick with Peri in case she drafts. That’s it.”

“I can do something other than catch Peri when she falls,” he muttered, eyes returning to his tablet.

“Not today, Swift,” Harmony said, her fake mood of nonchalance wearing thin.

Peri leaned in, the flats of her arms aggressively on the table. “What does your team have in case you’re wrong and we’re interrupted by a stray guard or employee coming back for his or her phone?”

“I’m not wrong,” the woman insisted indignantly.

Allen tossed his tablet to the table. “What am I here for? What is she here for?” he added, pointing to Peri. “You’re the team leader, right? Use your tools. Don’t lock them up in your tool chest because they might get scratched.”

Harmony’s jaw clenched, then relaxed. “Okay,” she said, voice even. “Allen, if there are any unexpected guards, they’re your responsibility as long as it doesn’t interfere with you anchoring Peri.”

“Check.”

Allen takes care of any unexpected guards? What kind of a plan is that? That closed-in feeling was growing. Peri took enough crackers and cheese to make three mini sandwiches, knowing that for whatever reason, Harmony felt as if she couldn’t. “What is Michael’s target, anyway?” she asked, crumbs falling onto Harmony’s intel.

“Ah . . . some kind of carbon filter,” Harmony said, her attention on the crumbs.

Carbon filter? “And you think this is a legit task, not a trap?”

Allen slumped deeper into his chair. “And it was going so well, too.”

“Not that it matters,” Harmony said tightly, “but he’s stealing proprietary information concerning a new process to modify existing autonomous carbon scrubbers used to collect airborne carbon into a usable form, in essence making fuel from the air. It lowers CO2 levels and supplies a clean fuel to pay for itself. If Bill can secure it, the oil and gas companies will pay through the nose to keep it out of production.” Clearly irate, Harmony turned back to her notes. “It’s not a trap. It’s a game changer.”

That it is, Peri mused as she thought through the ramifications. “You’re right,” she said, and Allen looked up, shocked. Peri frowned at him. “What?” she said sharply, brushing the crumbs to the floor. “She is.”