The Operator

“You don’t know me at all.”

Jack leaned across the table and grabbed her wrist. “I helped make you.”

Her lips pressed together. “If you want your hand to keep functioning in the next ten seconds, you will let go of me.” She tried to jerk away, but he tightened his grip, his eyes determined.

Peri stiffened to pop him one, but her anger vanished when a second Jack was suddenly standing at the door in a clean suit and tie, listening at the crack. “Babe, someone is coming,” the illusion said, and she froze, shocked at seeing them both together like this.

Jack, the real one, saw her sudden fear and he let go. “What?” he asked, staring at the door, obviously not seeing his twin.

“Someone is on the stairs,” she whispered. “You called Bill, you bastard!”

“I didn’t.” The real Jack rose, motions furtive as he padded silently to the door, ready to act. “You still have weapons here, right?”

Her gaze shot to the ceiling, but the faint creaking had ceased and a decisive knock at the door shocked through them, bringing Peri to her feet, pulse fast.

“Peri? Are you in there? I brought an overnight bag.”

Silas? Her mouth fell open, and she lurched forward, knee protesting. He found her?

“For God’s sake,” the hallucination complained. “Another boyfriend. Why do I bother?”

“Denier?” Equally disgusted, Jack rocked back from the door. “You must be bugged.”

“I am not bugged.” Peri walked through the fake Jack, forcing it to vanish. “If anyone is bugged, it’s you.”

“Babe, if I was bugged, it wouldn’t be Denier in the hall.”

“I said,” she said, angry as she worked the last lock, “don’t call me that!” Flustered, she opened the door.

“Silas,” she said around a whisper, relieved in more than a few different ways. He was there, looking good in his long cashmere coat, a tweed scarf about his neck and his shoes still damp from yesterday’s snow. There was a satchel with a WEFT logo in his hands. “How did you find me?”

His eyes rose from her torn and bloodied knee, his expression becoming even more stilted when his attention flicked behind her to Jack. “I’ve been here before,” he said as she took his arm and dragged him in.

Unthinking, she gave in to her impulse and hugged him, needing to go on tiptoe to do it since she didn’t have her boots on. She felt him start, but then his arms went around her, first tentative, then more sure, as if he wasn’t convinced. Cold air puffed up between them as his coat compressed, and her breath caught, but not before she smelled lab cleaner and aftershave. Her thoughts went to her diary and the scant few pages that remained. A need to read them gnawed at her, but she could guess at what remained, and she closed her eyes when a real memory hit her, of her and Silas at a lab bench, the ridiculous safety glasses that she’d decorated with pipe cleaner butterflies rakishly perched on his nose.

He cleared his throat and she let go, uncomfortable knowing Jack was watching.

“Going back to Opti, then?” Silas said, his eyes on Jack as the man took his plate to the kitchen to rinse it. “Seems I owe Harmony a chunk of change.”

“I’m not going to Opti.” Flustered, Peri put space between them.

Jack washed his plate as if nothing was wrong. “At least you’d be free with Bill,” he said, standing sideways so his back wasn’t to them. “Steiner is going to put you in a cell. That’s why you ran in the first place. Or am I wrong about that, too?”

Silas dropped the bag. It hit with a soft thud that said clothes, not weapons. “There’s always option three,” he said. “Tie up Jack in a bus station for Steiner and go ghost.”

Jack stiffened, his wet hand dripping as he turned. “Like hell you are.”

Peri raised a hand in placation, her thoughts more on the chance for a new pair of underwear than their argument. “Hey, hey, hey! Both of you. Silas?” She waited until he looked from Jack to her. “I’m not going back to Opti. I’m not going to WEFT, either. But I can’t leave Bill and Michael as a loose end.” Her shoulders slumped. “Not this time.”

“Besides, killing them would prove she’s a good little WEFT agent,” Jack said bitingly.

“Shut up!” both Peri and Silas said, and he leaned casually against the sink, ankles crossed as he dried his hands.

Head dropping, Silas hesitated. “Do you mind if I make some coffee?” he finally asked.

She nodded, glad Silas was here but not sure how she was going to handle this new wrinkle. “Go ahead. I don’t think there is any, though.” Silas went into the kitchen, and she scooped up the bag and took it to the couch to see what he’d brought. Please, may there be socks.

Silas scuffed to a halt in the kitchen, facing Jack belligerently until the smaller but far more dangerous man moved aside so Silas could open a cupboard and bring out a teakettle. Jack vacillated for a moment, then sat down at the tiny laminated table as Peri looked through the bag to find a new pair of black jeans and a forest-green V-neck cashmere sweater. Under it was a black turtleneck and yes, three pairs of socks. He broke out of WEFT to bring me a new set of clothes? “How mad is Harmony at me?” she asked. “Did Allen tell her this wasn’t my idea?”

Silas turned, a fuzzy knitted cover for the teapot in his hand. Okay, maybe I did manage to finish a project. “Steiner thinks you’re headed back for Opti with Jack. Harmony helped me get out, so it’s a fair assumption she still trusts you.” Silas pulled open a drawer and set a diffuser on the electric burner to insulate the glass kettle. “She’s not very happy, though. Steiner put her on unpaid leave.” Mood casual, he opened a cupboard and brought down two mugs. “I wouldn’t want to be her tae kwon do partner tomorrow.”