The Operator

“No problem. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” She hit the end icon. Allen was watching her sourly.

“He’s going to be trouble,” he said, perking up when Harmony’s duffel hit the table with a familiar, comforting set of sliding clinks and thuds.

“He’s just a guy watching my cat.” Peri leaned forward when Harmony opened it up to show several Kevlar vests, handguns, and three dart rifles. “Which one is mine?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Harmony stood over them, brow furrowed. “The vest isn’t optional.”

She hadn’t worn a vest since graduating Opti’s boot camp, and she wasn’t starting now. It would take a head shot to stop her from drafting, and a vest wouldn’t prevent that. But Allen reached for one, eyes widening in pleasure. “Yes, ma’am!” he said as he picked out a handgun first, checking the clip. “These don’t shoot darts. Can we kill him?”

“Not even if he kills you first. The Glocks are for emergency only.” Expression closed, she sat. “Peri, is a ring chip okay? I can put it on a wristband instead if you want. It should be close enough.”

Peri looked up from checking the dart rifle’s chamber to find it empty. The heavy slickness of the instrument was soothing, though. “Chip?”

“The firing chip,” Harmony said, then hesitated, her eyes brightening. “You don’t have these? Or did you just forget.”

“No,” Allen mused. “This is new. A firing chip?”

Smug, Harmony reached for a Glock. Using a tiny tool from a small kit, she opened the hilt. “It’s German. We’ve had it for a while. The chip has to be within two inches of the butt or the weapon won’t fire. We’re the first large-scale trial for the company who makes them. You haven’t heard of this?”

It was obvious by her self-satisfied smile that she knew they hadn’t. “Not that it was available in the States.” Setting the rifle aside, Peri took the ring Harmony was extending. It was thick, like a class ring, and she put it on her index finger, where it almost fit. It was a great idea. If she lost the weapon or it was taken from her, it couldn’t be used on her or sold.

“Ha.” Allen took off his watch and handed it to Harmony to be fitted. “I never thought I’d see you with finger bling, Peri.”

“Me either,” she said sourly. Harmony was clearly in a better mood, and Peri’s suspicions deepened. “I’m assuming there’s a tracking chip in it, too?” she asked, and Harmony brightened.

“Obviously.”

Peri’s hand clenched into a fist and she eyed the ring with WEFT imprinted on it along with a serial number. “Well, at least it’s not in my ass.”

Allen’s laugh choked off at the sudden turbulence. Harmony froze, her detailed work to get the chip onto Allen’s watch interrupted. “We’re landing,” she said, checking her phone before shoving the empty satchel under a seat. “We move right to the warehouse. Steiner says Bill has pushed Michael’s timetable up.”

The jet was jostling in the unsettled air to make Allen grip his armrest. “Now?” he blurted, suddenly pale. “I thought we weren’t going to be on-site until two in the morning.”

“In and out.” Harmony checked her hopper before sliding the weapon away. “Bill changed his plans. We adapted. The locals won’t even know we were ever there.”

This was getting better and better. Peri eyed Allen for his opinion, but he was too preoccupied by the jostling. “Why did Bill change his plans?” she asked, and when Harmony shrugged, Peri’s unease strengthened. “We need to take a step back and find out.”

“There’s neither the need nor the time.” It was quick, and Harmony looked ticked. “We go now. I’m sorry we can’t check in and get a nice meal and a swim first.”

Peri’s lips parted. “Meal and a swim?”

Harmony eyed her past Allen clenching the armrests. “You want to stay in the jet?”

“You want to get shot?” Peri snapped.

“One more word and you don’t leave the airfield,” Harmony said, interrupting her.

“This is a mistake.” Peri pushed back into the seat as the jet kissed the tarmac and Allen sighed in relief. If Michael’s jealousy didn’t kill her, then Harmony’s pride would. And needing to draft to come back from that would really piss her off.

CHAPTER NINE

“How many people are out here?” Peri slung her dart rifle, cold fingers brushing her Glock to reassure herself she had it. January in St. Louis wasn’t warm. At night in an open field dotted with industrial buildings, it was positively frigid. Her frown deepened at the government van parked in the shadows behind the warehouselike building. It was disguised as a local furniture mover, the panels caked with too much dirt to not be suspect. Should have used salt and grime, not mud.

“Eight.” Kevlar vest showing, Harmony handed her a radio and earpiece. She was little more than a voice in the freezing blackness. “We’re on channel B.”

“Eight?” The cold from the cinder-block wall Peri was pressed against was seeping into her. “Why are eight people out here?”

“Because that’s my team.” A glow blossomed as Harmony fiddled with her phone, clearly the medium the radios were working through. Shadow heavy on her face, Harmony glanced at the radio still in Peri’s hand. “You know how the radio works, right?”