The Operator

Head down, she returned to her bag. It smelled like jet, and her nose wrinkled as she sorted through it to make sure her diary was still in there. An urgent need to read it came and went—that she might find a reason why her life was in the crapper if she did. Three pairs of socks and underwear. Another top. Money, she thought as she felt the bag’s strap for the bump of folded bills tucked into the concealed pouch. “What . . .” she whispered when her fingers found a flat rise where it shouldn’t be. “You little snake,” she added, face warming when a closer inspection found the audio bug wedged into the pull tab of the zipper. They’d bugged her?

“Almost a disappointment if they hadn’t,” Jack said as Peri used her nail to pop it free. The tiny device skittered across the floor, and she stomped on it, hopefully blowing out the ears of anyone listening. The bag hadn’t been anywhere near her when Bill had called, but concerned there might be a second bug somewhere in the bag, she dug deeper. Toothbrush, hairbrush. Tiny mirror for surveillance. Everything looked clean.

Zipping the satchel shut, she dropped it on the exam table. “This sucks,” she whispered. Jack had vanished, meaning her intuition was as unsettled as she was. That Harmony had fought a losing battle for her held more meaning than it should, that she had sought Peri out to escape with meant more. But the need to get to Detroit was so strong she could hardly bear it. Bag hoisted, she pushed the curtain aside. She had few assets, but she could pick up more on the way.

The tech barely acknowledged her as she came out, and she gave him a bland “thanks” and went into the hall. Head down over her phone, she reserved a flight as she wove her way upstairs, copying Silas on the receipt so he’d know where she was. Once in Detroit, she’d call him about her needing what he had left of the Evocane. He couldn’t have used it all in reverse-engineering it—could he?

Slowly the tiled nothing and long fluorescent lights gave way to fake wood doors and glass walls. The lettering on the hall signs was the same font that Opti used, and she followed the exit signs up the wide stairs, familiar with the layout. It was almost four in the morning, and she saw no one. She began to wonder whether they were really that stupid to leave their front door open.

Another stairway, this time carpeted, and she rose up, adrenaline making her steps fast. A quiet lobby lay beyond, and past that, St. Louis’s night-abandoned towers and streets. Forty feet was all that separated them, then five. Jiggling her duffel, she fumbled for her building card and ran it, jerking to a halt when a pleasant ding chimed instead of the glass doors opening. This is so bad for my asthma.

“I’m sorry,” the holographic image said as it wavered into existence above the sign-in, sign-out podium. “Your card has been temporarily disabled. Please see the receptionist.”

“Well, at least they got their zipper up,” Peri muttered, turning at the sound of someone clearing her throat.

“Hey, hi,” Harmony said tiredly as she pushed herself away from the wall between the elevators, two coffees in her hand as she slowly approached. “Can we talk? It’s decaf.”

Peri glanced at the locked door, then the receptionist coming out from a back room, wiping his mouth on a napkin and tucking his white collared shirt into his slacks. “You don’t happen to have a card that works, do you?” Peri asked, shifting her duffel to her other hand to gauge its weight. Not enough to knock Harmony down, but it’d give her an instant of distraction.

“Yes. Don’t try for it, okay? I’m tired and Steiner already chapped my ass once today.”

If that coffee hits me, I’m going to be ticked, Peri thought as Harmony halted right before her. The man at the lobby desk was now on the phone, probably calling for backup.

“I know I said we’d retrieve him, but will you listen to the options?” Dark eyes earnest, Harmony held out a coffee.

All the better to drug you with, my dear. Peri took it so as to lessen the chance of having it thrown at her. The impulse to lie was strong, but seeing Harmony, weight on one foot to ease her leg, hair dusty and still holding insulation fluff, she couldn’t do it. “I’m done here,” Peri said as surprise flickered across Harmony’s face. “Michael knows he’s a target. It’s over.”

“There’s a bug in your bandage,” the woman mouthed, and disgusted, Peri sighed. At least it wasn’t in her phone. She’d grown fond of her latest and was tired of ditching them. Why did she warn me our conversation is being monitored?

The elevator dinged, and Harmony waved off the three suits-and-guns who got out. Peri evaluated their grace as they took up a distant position between her and the night, her eyes lingering on the glass doors and her freedom beyond. Opti glass tended to be bullet resistant—which could be made to work for her if handled correctly.

“Let me leave,” Peri said as Harmony almost collapsed into one of the postmodern chairs set companionably around a low table. “I like you, and I don’t want to mess up your hair. That must take hours.”

Harmony gestured for her to join her. “It does, but I don’t have to do it every day. We need your help. You need ours. Allen isn’t lost, he’s just misplaced for a day or two.”

“A day or two. Do you have any idea how long a day or two is?” Peri dropped her duffel on the table but refused to sit even as fatigue pulled at her. “Steiner has nothing I want,” she lied. “I’m leaving. It’s over. End of story, put it on the shelf.”