âGoddammit.â She was doing that thing the French taught her: crossing her arms in a tangled wall. The Agents bred it into their Pain Eaters to keep them off-balance and not kill anyone. Danielle used it to last through conversations she really felt should stop. It was basically the same, except she didnât have Agency conditioning, so watching her stay calm with only tips she bummed off the France branch was â pthhhhhhhthrrbrrbrr. Lookit her face. Lookit her face! It was so red â lookit how red it was! She was a ghost and she looked like her face was melting and next he thought of sauce and tomatoes he was hungry, he was hungry he could kill them, he could do it it was easy, he could reach he could eat he would eat âWhatâs the worst they can say?â
â'Help, help, weâre in exactly the danger we signed on forâ?â
âWorks for me. Settle it.â The Cubans were chattering in the front seats. Dalton stretched his arm and banged beside the jagged tear split between them. He yelled something, or else just yelled, and they quickly went Cuban-quiet. Now they were background noise. âDid she say anything good?â
âShe wants to kill us; thatâs something,â he answered. âYou didnât catch it?â
âI barely understand when you talk.â This was true. Danielle knew a whole ten phrases and all of them were how bad she was at English. She understood it well enough â save for âI like buttâ. Heâd had her repeating it perfectly to welcome guests until an aunt sheâd tried to impress told her what it was. His arm still hurt. âNo âorâ?â
Daltonâs job was obvious. He was fluent because heâd paid attention in school. It fell to him to translate what the American whined. He didnât hold it over her head, he just mentioned it when she was up an extra peg. Right: in short, the point of his involvement was making sure she never overshot into Ultra Bitch. Super Bitch was fine â she was their second-favourite â but Ultra Bitch had an ego that spread like fire and no one was so dumb as to call her out while her temper flared. She was a warrior queen, a stallion amongst ponies. This one time, when they were nine, heâd told Danielle she could fly if she ate a handful worms âcause worms became butterflies, which sat his job description as The Mighty Runner of Interference. She united the scattered branches but he helped enough survive to be united. They were welcome, by the way. He wasnât always intangible. His knee still hurt.
âI figuredâŚâ more blood more blood more blood more blood more blood âYou normally donâtâŚâ Negotiate or care. That was a gift from Charlotte: if it was meant to be, any measure that would have to be taken either already was or was the next natural step. His sisterâs demands â âwho are you, why are you hereâ â by and large fit what the other person thought reasonable to trade, or they waited five minutes and something changed and oh, suddenly the captive was willing to have it on the table. Ta-da: Charlotte! So whatever was on the other end of âorâ didnât need to be explained. It would come. And Dalton got to dodge a terrible joke. âI was gonna punch her.â Punch her. Kill her. Punch for food food was chained it was chained in front and under his nose he could smell it it was delicious he was starving he starved he starved âI donât have to punch her.â
âMight smarten her up. Iâm not dragging live weight to Union. Not if it doesnât talk.â Dead was alright. She got as much or more from pawning a corpse. Good ones kept the Cubans busy for almost a day. âI want this done before the checkpoint.â
Fine, fine. He cracked his knuckles and got his Smarten Up Fists ready.
âBoss!â Kill. ââEy, boss!â He took too long. The Cuban pulled its head inside the cabin again. ââEy! âSânot âer, itâs tâe otâer one!â And straight back: ââEeeeeeeeey, otâer brotâer! Whatchu doinâ, man â whaâs gonâ on, âowâs life? Whereâs your sister â she floatinâ âround âere?â With â just â the stupidest grin. Dalton chose not to answer. This moron didnât care. His mood instantly withered. ââAnâ âowâs our senorita â how yâdoinâ in âose chains, girl?â Its black eyes had settled on the captive as a break from squinting at the trailerâs shadows.
âWhat do you want⌠you?â
He didnât know their names. They never stopped long enough to be asked.
âMe? Whaâ â you tâink I wanâ somethinâ?â The Cuban laughed. âMan, I donâ wanna die â you think I wanna die? I donâ wanâ nothing â look at you! Youâre big anâ scary anâ you got âat â fuckinâ â like â slobber goinâ on, like ââ He wiped his chin. âYeah! No way â no way, I donâ ever interrupt someone scary like you. Tâatâs not me. Dalton. Dalton â man, I fuckinâ swear, âatâs not me.â Five seconds went by of it staring at him. The Cubanâs neck bobbed along with road. Its arms pinched over the edge of the hole like legs tucked to a small body. With dark hair, gangly wrists and a long, yellowed nail jutting from its left pinky, the shrivelled brat was a pigeon incarnate, home to roost. Dalton hated pigeons. ââS Caprice. King Caprice â you know, heâs jusâ â yapyapyapyapyap â all tâe time âf you let âim. Heâs like, âI wanâ tâis shit righâ now,â anâ Iâm all, âNo, King, yâfuckinâ crazy, King, Daltonâs in âere anâ heâll fuckinâ kill me,â anâ he goes, âIâll fuckinâ kill you,â anâ you know Caprice, Iâm like, âOkay, King, youâre in charge, donâ tell anyone I donâ earn good shitâ. Me ânâ Laro â Laroâs drivinâ so âe sent me âere â we talked anâ weâre witâ everythinâ â we love you, Dal, anâ all you Vikings â but Caprice, âeâs got a message, anâ he donâ like what âe been hearinâ outta chicka-wow-wow. Tâatâs you, girlie.
âI mean, I donâ know âow âe found out â Caprice, âeâs jusâ fuckinâ everywhere, but he knows, you know? Anâ not tâbe rude or nothinâ â âcause we love you Vikings,â the tweaker promised, possibly mercifully wrapping up. âWe love you, but King Caprice tolâ me tâsay tâat if missy âere does true on âat fuckinâ boomâf âers â like, boom, tâat fuckinâ explosion, she said â man, is she fâreal? âCause âe says if she does good on âat, he gonâ carve it out your ass, anâ if he carve it outta your ass, âe goneâ carve it outta my ass. Tâis is his truck anâ âe wanâ it back witâ its tires anâ teeth, Dal.â ⌠Was⌠Did it stop? Dalton wasnât sure. What he unpacked from the blather was â âOh yeah, anâ tâe cell team called âr⌠somethinâ. Fuckinâ Nightstalk â âat fuckinâ Brit â âey, Laro! Tell bitchy-queen tâcalm âis ass â sheâs not even in âere!â
What the â
âNightstalk called?â He reared up. âFor what?â
âIâunno.â The Cuban yawned at its perch and shrugged. ââE said somethinâ like âis guys gotta proâlem â but you know tâem Kingdom kids: âWhy you gotta touch my shit all tâe time â man, âm British, you fuckinâ Cubanos, you donâ know who yâdealinâ witâ, we know people, fuck tâis shit, manâ â anâ me â âs like, âtâey give me such crap, Dal, anâ tâe restâf us, anâ bitchy-queenâs tâe fuckinâ worst âcause âeâs no diffârenâ even after tâe boss beat âim. Man, you gotta talk tâyour sister â âcause, you know, Iâm happy tâey gotta home ânâ all, but you fuckinâ wanna talk about attitude, you talk âbout them. Itâs nuts. Itâs fucked.â
âNightstalk called with a problem,â Daltonâs plate-like teeth grinded. âWhy didnât you start with that?â
âCaprice wanted âis first.â He soaked inside his rage and all the Cuban offered was another, even less satisfying bounce of knobby shoulders. ââSides, bitchy-queen wanted Danielle. Youâre not Danielle, man. Laro, right? El no tiene cojones â not like her anyway, ah-ha-ha! No offence, Dal.â
Blood. He wanted blood. He craved blood he needed blood. The pressure in his brain was swelling. His vision blurred his breath grew hoarse his eyes sharpened on the flesh he craved. He blinked it away. It returned. He blinked it away. More red. More red. Red red red red red a stream of it of red âDanieââ
âNoope, not coming out. Wasnât worth it the first time,â she said. âWonât be worth it the second.â
âBut Iâm starving,â he whined.
âGood.â Danielleâs fingers were at her temples, massaging the indents with tight movements. âWhen you eat one of them, the otherâll shut up. Although with my luck, youâll give him more to ramble about.â
Get it together, she was telling him, get it together, pull it together, Dalton, strain. She carried the bulk of this for weeks. He could last an hour for her sake. Then she would let him switch. Later. âSettle thisâ, sheâd ordered. âSettle them.â
Daltonâs stomach groaned.
âGive me,â he snarled, âthe phone.â
âDonâ get mad at me! Iâm only tryinâ tâhelp. Iâll holâ it fâyou â âey, âey, âey, no, Iâll hold it. Caprice donâ wanâ tâis girl killinâ âis car anâ I donâ wanâ you crushinâ up my phone. âEy, speakinâf the girl though, Dalton â donâchu âave an interrogation or ââ he cracked his fangs at the pigeonâs moulting face âOkay, okay, calm down, holy fuck! Okay! Screw it, yâwanna talk tâbitchy-queen, âsâcool! ManâŚâ
âDanielle?â
Nightstalkâs voice rang clear. A sudden⌠thrill⌠whisked over him. Nightstalk. HA-HAHA. Nightstalk! Next to Scissor, Night was the best to piss off! The bastard took everything personally and already Dalton tasted impatience hovering above leashed frustration!
âNo. Me.â
âDalton?â Such displeasure! âSheâs â oh, youâre still ââ That fumble was Night âcomposing himselfâ. It wouldnât do to be âunprofessionalâ. The guy worked for a gang of mercenaries, anarchists and drug runners; provided he made it a day without shanking anyone, he held his spot at the top of the civilized pyramid. Night didnât realize nobody cared, least of all Danielle, who he badly hoped to impress. Dalton was not a close second. Like Scissor, their dislike was mutually acknowledged. âOh.â Twat. âThis is important. I need to speak with her.â
HAHAHAHAHA!
âNo.â
Instant offense. Dalton felt delightfully wicked. In his mercy, he pat the captive girl roughly on her head. She was being a good prisoner to wait like this.
âYou didnât ask her,â Nightstalk snapped. âAsk her!â
What an attitude. The Cuban bobbed in agreement, language barriers be damned.
Alright, alright. Dalton obliged.
âDanielle. Night says heâs got a problem.â
âOh boy, Iâll bet.â
HAHA!
âShe doesnât feel like chatting,â he relayed. âThatâs still a no.â
Sqqqqqqqqqqrrrrrrrrrp.
There was the glorious sound of Nightstalkâs hole puckering closed. Dalton howled in laughter. These Kingdom scraps couldnât get it. They liked their old ways of âthe queen served her peopleâ. They expected to access her as a basic right. Welcome to the Nordics, pricks. The lion pride served Danielle â and Danielle didnât wanna come out. Dalton was shocked sheâd bothered with the Cubans at all. Well, lesson learned, it appeared. He was gonna bite off the pigeonâs hand within the hour. It hung there waiting.
âFine,â Nightstalk did slllloooowwwly concede. âHow long do I wait?â
ââTil she does feel like it. Thatâs my guess.â
âDalton.â
Yes, dammit, the girl! He felt rude. He hated when people underestimated his threats; ignored completely probably wormed itself under the childâs skin.
âSorry, sis. Night, get back to Charlotte.â But he wasnât done! His jaw ached as it crashed together, trying to find something â anything â it could eat or mock. âWe ââ
âItâs Buzzy. Buzzy â and Alexander â mostly Elias â but itâs Buzzy in the thick of this,â their chivalrous fellow blurted. Oh my. That wasnât composed. It didnât sound composed in the slightest. Dalton should kill him for not being composed it would be hysterical âShe broke him. She was disconnecting Charlotte and she shut Eliasâ cell shut off. She screamed and â and Scissor panicked and attacked me thanks to her!â
Even Scissor was sick of him. If this was English, the Cubans wouldâve had a comment or sixteen.
âI hope heâs not saying thatâs the bad news.â
âCause Danielle liked most of what was in there when he told her.
âNo Elias leaves less to track,â he realized. âWe wonât need to replace the French guy!â
âAnd Buzzyâll kill herself in grief!â
Right. There was also that.
HAHAA-HA-HA!
âMy sister lent ears to your mewling, Night,â Dalton said. âShe smiles upon your tidbits.â
âSheâs not supposed to smile! She should be concerned!â On he mewled. âBuzzyâs place wasnât anywhere near me or Scissor. She shoved into our mission, seduced him, attacked me through him, and in the middle of it she breaks the thing Danielle specifically ordered not be touched!â
âI ordered no prisoners.â
âWh-what?â Dalton relayed his sisterâs sentiment twice. âOh.â Night sounded trapped. He couldnât pretend he hadnât heard. âI⌠well â Magnus was the one to physically pick them up.â HA! AH-HA! âI caught them but he couldâve⌠But Buzzy,â he Britishly sobbed. âSheâs not sad. She canât simply switch between forlorn loss and being okay in a matter of hours, but sheâs all over Scissor. I am asking, as a formal request, for Danielleâs permission to restrain her. Sheâs obviously done something â itâs not right!â
âHe makes this shit up,â Dalton swore. No branch fucking worked like this, ârequesting permissionâ like a knighted pig. He was glad the Kingdom was dead. It took effort grabbing the stick from the Germansâ ass; imagine yanking the sceptre from these cheeks. âBuzzyâs not that smart.â
âNo,â Night readily agreed, âbut she thinks she is, and she would never hurt Elias. Maybe she helped with the transfer or⌠well â we donât know whoâs in Alexander.â
âEnd it,â Danielle said. Dalton waved the phone away. The Cuban closed it mid-âIt could be Lamarre! Or Patten!â and nestled into the cabin, home for now. âHeâs got half a decent point.â Oh, it killed her to say that.
âYouâre thinking Lamarreâs in Alexander?â
That could be why â âI donât give a fuck whoâs in him, we have him in chains,â she rattled off. âWhat matters is why they bothered.â Her arms tightened across her chest and her weight shifted to a leg. âAsk her.â
âDo you want that punch?â She shrugged. âEither way.â Dalton pounded on the girlâs ribcage. The blast ran through her collarbone. He could see the skin ripple from the impact of his fist. âLetâs hope you explode as fast you complain and not as fast as you think, otherwise Iâll have Alexander stuffed inside twelve boxes and mailed to every continent before you even light your fuse.â She didnât have a bomb. Magnus checked before he put her in, and Dalton, reserving his faith for a child-breakerâs judgement calls, checked again. It was where half the girlâs bruises had come from. âSome friend to get him killed demanding if heâs been killed. Be smart. If youâre gone, how will he survive? I thought thatâs why he brought you.â Or, as Danielle most definitely heard, âIt is time now to wake and think of your duty. How he will bleed when you abandon him like a fish.â She made broken English sound fancy. âIf itâs still him. Thatâs your new question,â Dalton continued in English, babbling growls and accent and all. âYou were found by him and a transfer chair. Why did Alexander make the trip?â ... Um... Drooling. Pressure. Famine. He lagged behind. âWhyâs this the part that matters?â
âBecause itâs short.â Captives liked giving long answers, he sleepily recalled her explaining once. It gave them more time to bullshit a smart lie. âAnd after five years, he picks today to swap back into his body? No. How long has this been their plan? What prompted it?â She was much better at catching this stuff while switched-out. âAnd stop drooling.â
He got a little on the girl. Yick. He wiped it off. Or patted it in. Who could tell?
âIâll find you a rag from somewhere. Eventually. On the bright side,â he smoothly comforted, âIâm not eating you.â
âHello? Hello?!â Dammit! Damn that stupid, fucking Viking! Dalton hadnât asked Danielle. Danielle would have never hung up on him, but here he was, putting away a phone wailing piteously in its dead dial tone. He sucked down a ball of resentment, seething because of it, and then he... and...
âYouâre so right! He is like a cow.â That voice was like raking a cheese grater down his spine. âHe chews his own vomit and serves his shit in a pie. Ooh â youâre so clever!â Her blue eyes batted a hurricane in her âloverâsâ face. Scissor swooned, delighted. Then she noticed Nightstalk was watching her and snapped, âCan I help you? Heâs always staring at me â heâs such a creeper.â
He tensed his jaw. Scissor only met her four months ago and swore he was in love with every scrawny bit of her. Thatâd been day one. Day two had been a nauseating love affair, day three had been a weird break up, day four was some ridiculous Romeo and Slutiet drama, and whatever else they could think of, Nightstalk had a front seat to it. Buzzy lacked the barest shame and Scissor demanded a babysitter. Nobody wanted this job. Half didnât think anyone needed to do it. As much as he enjoyed working with the Nordics, they were buried in their faults. Subtleties were lost on them. Minor issues shored up around their feet and they took notice just when it all went to merciful hell. It was more fun for them to fix a big problem than constantly play janitor to the small stuff. Well, being a janitor was an important role somebody had to swallow. It was up to him, was it? Fine. He would sort it himself.
âNight,â Scissor called, vacationing from his girlfriendâs tongue, âwhat did Danielle say?â
He made out to reply but her mouth had the edge of always hanging open.
âDanielle doesnât talk to anyone after sheâs switched,â Buzzy drawled, lazing on her pet. âI bet Dalton hung up on him.â
Scissor used to think for himself, if anyone could believe it. Now, instead, he shrugged as if âyes, that makes senseâ and abruptly decided, âIâll ask at the checkpoint.â
âI managed it,â Nightstalk bit off. âShe told me she was looking into it.â
âAnd that sheâs buying him a pony,â the brat giggled.
âAnd that she appreciated my initiative,â he corrected. That stopped her. Buzzy gaped at him with the disgustedly bored expression she always tugged on when someone set the story straight. He hadnât, not really, since Dalton didnât pass the message along, but if Danielle spoke with him, it was roughly along the lines of what she wouldâve said. âItâs more than sheâd tell you.â
Buzzy blinked and turned her eyes away â up, like they were caught mid-roll â and twitched the corner of her lip into a scandalized sneer.
âOkay, sooooooo... Youâre the cow now, âcause thatâs bullshit. Danielleâs never appreciated â like... anyone. Ever. Sheâs not gonna start being grateful for you. She doesnât even like you.â
Scissor didnât say a word because he had his hand under her shirt. Some friend!
âShe likes me better than you,â Nightstalk reminded everyone.
âOh my God, are you serious? Whatever â I donât work for her!â Buzzy twisted her feet to rest more snugly on the back seatâs window. Besides flipping her stupid, blonde pigtails and their stupid, pink bows, it was the greatest dismissal in her arsenal. She was fully reclined and ready to doze. He hoped the seatbelt tangled around her neck. âIâm here because Cryptic asked, not because she likes me.â Her voice sparkled like a princess. He hoped the seatbelt cut her head off. âIt doesnât matter if she does anyway, âcause if she wants to stay in my branchâs good graces, she has to treat me like an angel.â
Nightstalk was sure angels werenât as big of whores.
She was the worst insult of this trip. Bad enough heâd been assigned to out-of-the-way work â technically the entire point of being here, but wrangling a stasis cell wasnât nearly the badge of honour it should have been â but to then be walked over by this Russian harpy... Sheâd even forced herself into their truck. It wasnât a âtruckâ truck, because they were riding with the convoy â at the back â rather than the big Macks, but it was still reserved for the SCR team. Nightstalk was riding as the passenger and Scissor should have the back to himself. It hadnât even been a question. Buzzy simply walked in, claiming the beige and pleather 4x4. The Cubans were meant to run those controls. It was his hard luck that the first time he wanted one to run a mouth at her, he got the truly silent driver. It wasnât fair.
Glue! Glue was friends with Magnus, and Magnus said he would end up driving Alexanderâs body!
âI have to make a second call,â he announced, accepting that they didnât care. Glue would care. She hated the whisper of Alexanderâs name. She would check on that note, if she didnât as a favour. He remembered being on good terms with her, and Nightstalk couldnât think of anything that changed. Carefully he let a cloak of shadows surround his head. He wanted to mute the sound and dampen the morning sun they were driving into. The back of his mind wondered how CryShadow was getting along with the daybreak, but it was probably under someoneâs car, either enjoying the ride or shuffling under the shade. Its scream... Nightstalk shivered. âGlue? Glue, are you free to speak?â
âDid Patten weep like a whore when Lady Pimp died?â There was a question he wasnât asked every day. âIâm busy, Night.â
âGlue. You recognized my voice.â
He liked that.
âYouâre the only prick with English as his mother tongue whoâll speak Swedish to another Anti with English as her mother tongue,â she replied, not as unkindly as it appeared. Glue was a stiff woman. Friendlier than this meant she was skinning an Agent. âI recognized the over-doing it. What do you want?â
âI need you to check Alexander for...â For... â... tampering.â And yes, heâd returned to his native speech. He didnât see why it was a problem when they all spoke it now. Heâd had to insist with Scissor and his girl, whoâd insisted the other way for the full trip to Charlton. If theyâd been overheard in the halls or garage, it was much less likely with Swedish that â but Scissor hadnât cared. âThe Russian insisted she help. After we were nearly caught waiting for her, she sent Scissor to attack me and botched Eliasâ cell somehow. Not that Iâd feel bad to see him suffer well overdue mental trauma, but for our sakes, we should be sure it is still Alexander.â
âIf itâs not?â
âAll the good graces in the world wonât stop what Iâll be sure Danielle levels at her,â Nightstalk promised.
He could hear her confliction. She must have known Danielle wasnât already backing this, or he wouldnât have been the person calling. But she hated Buzzy too, and Alexander most of all. Nightstalk swallowed in his throat.
âNight,â Glue began, âwhatâs the goal here?â
âI want to keep our new branch safe.â âNewâ wasnât the best word. The Nordics adopted them a few years ago. âAlso, Iâm sick of Buzzyâs face. Sheâs the shining example of whatâs wrong with the Union. The others caught desperation in the air and theyâre taking advantage of it â the Russians, the Cubans, not the Germans but purely because theyâre in more dire straits than we are. The Nordics are supposed to be noble. Iâm tired of Buzzy putting her feet on our window and smearing our good name with her snark. She did this on a whim!â
âAnd in return, youâll risk breaking an alliance on your own whim?â
Glue seemed halfway amused. It was hard to tell with her. Was that condescension? She didnât normally talk down.
âIf Buzzy has actively participated in whatever happened to Alexander before we found him, the alliance is broken already. Iâm simply bringing it to light.â She was quiet. The silence was as stony as she was. âIâm serious. Iâm not going to stand here and let her and the rest of them make fools of us. I didnât join for thâ â
âYouâre fucking mental.â Crap. Heâd lost her. âAre you telling me this is about honour? Did you forget how that turned out for us the last time?â
âI was there ââ
âThe Americans,â Glue snarled, laying into the word, âclipped off Kevin Waldâs head and dropped us on Arthur â who, though there should be no need to reiterate, wasnât so much a coward as he was a snivelling traitor. Thereâs been no honour left, and youâre mental â unequivocally mad â if you think youâll scrounge it out from amongst them.â He swallowed again. His mouth was strangely dry. âDanielle took in those of us with anything left to give and shared a chance to finish the war. Thatâs where your honour lies, not fighting your best mateâs girl.â
âThey arenât together,â he protested.
âNightstalk,â she gnashed, âif your only interest is in saving face from Buzzy, I canât help you. I joined to stop the Agency from murdering innocents.â
âI did, too â of course I did, but donât you think thatâs harder with people like her around?â There was frigid nothing. He closed his eyes in a merciful plea. âDoes that mean you wonât check?â
âFuck off.â âNot for youâ was the whisper underneath. âIâll have Alexander sorted when the day fucking calls for it, not to gather evidence for your one-man execution.â
Probably at the checkpoint. Yes, the checkpoint!
âBut youâll at least let me know whatâs happened,â he begged for the future.
The wailing dial tone returned. Suddenly angry, he jammed the miserable plastic in his pocket and pulled back the shadows. Buzzyâs harpy laughter instantly returned. He scowled deeply as it paraded through his ears.
âUgh, heâs back.â
âHey, Night! Any use?â
âYes,â Nightstalk said quickly. Too quickly. He smoothed his features over. âYes, it went well. I heard what I needed to hear.â
It was the truth, he admitted sullenly. He had heard. He squinted into the morning, settling into a private world of thought to sort this himself. From the giggles in the back, the muteness at his side, and the abandonment at his pocket, he saw his lonely road ahead. Somebody had to save them. Once more, Nightstalk accepted the chore thanklessly. They would appreciate it later. This time, he knew they would.
âIt should go without saying we wonât allow food on the premises, either. This is expensive equipment. We canât have schnitzels or borscht breaking it. Punishment for failing to adhere to this includes detainment, suspension, loss of pay â âcause youâll be the ones covering repairs â or termination. Depending on how we feel about what you broke, that terminationâll be less of the paper kind and more of the type with lead. Any considerations or unreported changes to the plan have to be authorized by Dr. Grace Li. But donât bother. Sheâs not authorizing anything.â
SO IT APPEARED.
NO FOOD, NO DRINKS, NO PETS, NO WOOL, NO PHONES, NO CAMERAS, NO UNREGISTERED CHEMICALS, NO MAGNETS, NO SHOES THAT SCUFFED, NO PERFUMES, NO MUSIC, NO UNMARKED BAGS, NO PURSES, NO UMBRELLAS, NO WIRES, NO LOOSE AMMUNITION, NO NAKED BLADES, NO FLARES, NO SPONGES, NO METAL GROOMING SUPPLIES, NO SCREWDRIVERS, NO RAZORS, NO CLIPPERS, NO CLIP-ON EARRINGS, NO FOLDERS LARGE ENOUGH TO CONCEAL A WEAPON IF HOLLOWED OUT, NO BOOKS OF OTHERWISE SIMILAR DIMENSIONS, NO FLASHLIGHTS, NO OUT-OF-SEASON WEAR, NO KEY CHAINS, NO REMOTE CONTROLLED DEVICES, NO TIMED DEVICES, NO DIGITAL WATCHES â SHORT OF âNO CLOTHESâ, GRACE LI HAD DENIED EVERY POSSIBLE ITEM ON PAIN OF INSTANT EXPULSION FROM HER BUILDING. IT COULDNâT HAVE BEEN A MORE HOSTILE SIGN FOR VISITORS THAN IF SHE HAD OUTRIGHT BANNED THEIR LANDING.
THE STAGE WAS SET FOR THE TIP OF THIS ICEBERG. MADELINEâS HANDS SQUEEZED THEIR OPPOSITE ARMS. THEY WOULD DESCEND SOON, WITHIN MINUTES NOW, BUT THE SOURED MILK OF APPREHENSION HAD ALREADY CURDLED IN FEAR INSIDE HER STOMACH. SHE WAS SCARED. SHE WASNâT SO YOUNG THAT SHE GAVE IT AWAY AND MARCHâS BLANK EYES GAVE HER A LOOK TO REFLECT, BUT SHE FELT THE PAIN INSIDE HER STOMACH. SHE TRUSTED EVERYONE TO DO THEIR JOB, BUT SHE DIDNâT BELIEVE SHE WAS SAFE. IT WOULD KEEP HER ALERT. LI WAS RUTHLESS AT THE FIRST TWINGE OF INSUBORDINATION, AND MADELINE DIDNâT HAVE THE WEEKS TO TRUDGE THROUGH QUESTIONING. AT LEAST PATTEN PICKED HIS BATTLES. HIS S-1 COULDNâT LET ANYTHING PASS WITHOUT A DAMN COMMENT.
MEANWHILE, THEY HAD TO SUFFER THIS INVALID. THE ONLY SECTOR MORE UP THEIR ASS WITH REGULATIONS THAN S WAS THE AGENCYâS INCONTINENT GRANDFATHER: R. SHE WAS SURE HER KITTY KNEW THE HISTORY BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS, BUT SHE WAS SATISFIED BY, âFIRST THEY WORKED TOGETHER, THEN THEY STOPPEDâ. EXCEPT THEY HADNâT REALLY WORKED TOGETHER. THE AGENCY WAS THE DARK HORSE EVEN AMONG ITS KIN, AND THE SPLIT, OUTSIDE THE A-RANKS, WAS SO LIGHTLY REGARDED THAT THREE MEMOS WENT OUT BEFORE THE PUBLIC SIDE ACKNOWLEDGED THERE WAS A NEW GROUP AT ALL. AGENTS WERE DEADLY, DANGEROUS PSEUDO-ASSASSINS TALLYING BASTARDIZED LEAPS IN HUMAN ADVANCEMENT, BUT THEIR LOW-PROFILE ATTITUDES MADE IT IMPOSSIBLE TO EARN RESPECT. THEY WERE STILL MERELY SPECIALIZED RâS TO MOST, AND SO WHEN THEY WERE ADDRESSED, OTHER SECTORS USED SMALL WORDS. WAS IT ANY WONDER WHY PATTEN WAS CHERISHED? THE AGENCY HAD A PUBLIC CHAMPION NOW, ONE TO HOLD SECRETS IN THEIR PLACE BUT MESMERIZE THE AUDIENCE WITH HOW MUCH HE COULDNâT SHARE. DESPITE HER HATRED OF THIS COMPANYâS VERY SOUL, MADELINE HAD FELT A SLIGHT CONTENTMENT THE FIRST TIME SHEâD DENIED A C-RANK BITCH ACCESS TO HER FILES. SHE HAD PRINTED THE POLITICALLY VICIOUS LETTER SHE WAS SENT. IT HUNG ON THE WALL IN CHARLTON. SHE WOULD NEVER SEE IT AGAIN.
âSTEWART,â SHE SAID FLATLY. âWE ARE HERE. DO NOT FORGET WHAT WAS TOLD TO YOU.â
AND THE DOG...
THE SICKLY THING HAD FAINTED EARLIER, BUT SHE KNEW A PRETENDER WHEN SHE SAW IT. HE WAS PLAYING DEAD. FINE. THAT WAS NOT A CONCERN. HER QUESTION WAS WHETHER HE COULD PLAY SHUT YOUR FAT MOUTH. WOULD IT DO HIM GOOD ANYWAY, ASSUMING âGOODâ WAS CATCHING HER WITHOUT EXPECTING TO LIVE? MADELINE DID NOT KNOW. MARCH WAS... OFF. THE DOG WENT IGNORED. WAS SHE ABLE TO STOP ANYONE LIKE THIS?
âUSBs¸ CDs, DVDs, whatever you save stuff on, are especially banned. You are not permitted to take anything with you. If we could, weâd wipe your memory, but we canât yet. Trust me, weâre working on it.â THE IMBECILE PAUSED WITH A SHUFFLE OVER THE MICROPHONE. SHE WORKED OUT THAT TWO ESCORTS WERE THERE TO MEET THEM. MADELINE HADNâT HEARD THE OTHER SPEAK, BUT GIVEN WHAT THE FIRST GRUNTED AFTER THESE BRIEF CONFERENCES, SHE GUESSED THE SECOND WAS THE SMART ONE. ââWorking on itâ is a figure of speech. Or maybe itâs not. You arenât authorized to ask.â
THANK GOD FOR THIS QUALITY. ELMIRA WAS MEANT TO HAVE EMPTIED ITS SECURITY AS PER THE PROTOCOL SHE SPENT YEARS WRITING IN. SHE WAS WORRIED THE REMNANTS WOULD CAUSE THEIR OWN PROBLEMS. NOT LIKELY. BUT THEN, LI WASNâT A WOMAN TO LEAVE HERSELF â HER WORK â UNCARED FOR. SOMETHING ELSE WAS THERE, BIGGER THAN THE TINNY VOICE PIPED IN THROUGH THE HELICOPTERâS SPEAKERS. SHE DIDNâT PLAN ON RUNNING INTO IT WITH THE RUSSIANS NEARBY, BUT ALL THE SAME, THE UNKNOWN SPOILED HER CALM. THAT, AND SHE JUST ADMITTED TO COUNTING ON CRYPTIC TO SPARE HER FROM LIâS RESERVES. PERHAPS SHE SHOULD HAVE STAYED... BUT THEN SHE REMEMBERED HOW NORDICS ENDED FIGHTS. IF THEY DIDNâT BURN THE BUILDING, THEY POISONED THE AIR WITH THE CHARRED FLESH OF ANY CREATURE THEY DID NOT ENTER IN WITH. SHE HELD PROPORTIONED FAITH IN DANIELLE PERSONALLY. THE NORDIC BRANCH, DANIELLEâS POWERS, HER BROTHER AND ALEXANDER, MADELINE DID NOT. AT THE MINIMUM, THE RUSSIANS WOULDNâT GET CONFUSED AND KILL HER. SHE CHOSE THE BEST PATH. IT SAVED HER FROM ARGUING ABOUT âALEXANDERâS PRESENCE AS SABOTAGEâ WITH A HULKING, SWEDISH MESS OF TRUST ISSUES. PATTENâS SPIES WERE A MINEFIELD, TOO. SOMETHING WAS MISSED. SHE WAS NOT ALLOWED TO MISS. IF ANYTHING HAPPENED, THE CRUSHING GUILT TO FOLLOW WOULD BE IRREPARABLE, AND THE GERMAN BRANCH WASNâT STUMBLING ON A THIRD CHANCE.
â... about the escort.â
âI know what Iâm doing, Horton. Learn something,â THE FIRST BARKED. âAnd as for the escort process, understand that we are your lifeline. This area is under total lockdown.â UNOFFICIALLY. SHE IGNORED IT. âAnyone we do not have attached to our waists will be shot and killed on sight. Any sudden movements or wrong turns or fingers getting itchy to touch will be repaid by the full force of our Agency wrath.â
THIS WAS AN AGENT. THAT MAN HAD IMPLIED HE WAS AN AGENT.
WELL... THEN.
THIS WAS WHY THOSE UNDER A-10 WERE A DAMN EMBARRASSMENT TO THE WHOLE ORGANIZATION: THEY WERE INDISTINGUISHABLE FROM AN R-RANK. ANY AGENT WORTH SOMETHING WOULD BE PAST THAT LINE BY NOW. CANNON FODDER, THEY WERE LABELLED. DISPOSABLE BRUTES THEY THREW AT THEIR ENEMIES UNTIL A SIDE RAN OUT. THEY WERE LOYAL TO A PAYCHECK AND POINTED A GUN THE RIGHT WAY FORWARD, BUT THEY DIDNâT MATTER. THEY MERELY PREFERRED TO THINK THEY DID. THIS PLACE WAS RUN BY LESS THAN TWENTY PERCENT OF THE HANDS THEY EMPLOYED. HER NEW ABSENCE AND MARCHâS IMPENDING DEPARTURE WAS GOING TO BE A SORE LOSS.
âWashroom breaks are scheduled and timed. Itâs your responsibility to use these facilities when theyâre offered, because we arenât stopping every hour to wait for you to freshen up. Failure to adhere to these requirements ends in swift and merciless discipline. This is all explained in those forms you had to sign to get in here. Weâre here to keep this lab safe from you. We are extremely talented at that.â
IMAGINE WHAT LOSING THEIR CAT WOULD DO.
â... the forms when... otherwise they...â
IT WAS A PIPE DREAM. DAMN JEAN FOR STARTING IT... NOW SHE COULDNâT CAST THE FANTASY FROM HER HEAD.
JEAN WAS BIASED AT ANY RATE. AS A PAIN EATER, AS A FRIEND, AS AN EMOTIONALLY BONDED SPIRIT, MADELINE MORE THAN ONCE HAD QUESTIONED WHO WAS TRULY GROOMING WHOM. OBVIOUSLY HE SWORE TO HIS STORYâS TRUTH AND KEPT TO IT, BUT IF THE MAN DIED A YEAR LATER INSTEAD OF DAYS AGO, WHAT WOULD HE HAVE DIED AS? LAMARRE SEEMED MORE OF AN AGENT THAN EVER. HIS VOICE LINGERED IN HER EAR FROM THE PHONE CALL. IF JEAN HAD BEEN RIGHT, THERE OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN LESS RESISTANCE, NOT MORE. IT WAS ALL WRONG.
âThatâs it,â THE SPEAKERS CRACKLED, FINISHING A SHORT DIATRIBE ON HAVING THE PROPER FORMS ON HAND â OR FACE DEATH. âWeâll have a car to your landing zone shortly.â LANDING ZONE? WHERE WAS THE LANDING ZONE? âYouâll be forty minutes out. Naturally, Dr. Grace Li doesnât want you arriving at the lab. Youâll have to be driven.â
MADELINE PROCESSED THIS.
FUCKING LI.
âLAND THE HELICOPTER ON HER ROOF,â SHE COMMANDED THE PILOT. âSHEâS AN S-1.â AND MADELINE HELD SOMETHING THAT TRUMPED A RAGGED PACK OF GRUNTS. âI HAVE PATTENâS GIRL.â
âYouâve never worked with goggles, have you?â As in, alongside someone using them. âItâs not the same as a masked suit,â Jason said. âThe focus is completely different.â
He couldnât snap. He wouldnât. Ten variations of âWhat a bitchâ rocked his mind the second she screamed, but he held them in since that wouldnât help. It took more effort than he thought. Her attitude was pissed him off â what was wrong with her? She was an A-5! Forget the drugs heâd given her â it was impossible to make it to his rank without an ounce of self-control, but shouting back wasnât going to bring it out in her. There was too much hostility surrounding them and he had to turn the tension down. He took a breath, let his head clear before he spoke, and then tried to do the thing heâd always sworn he was: be professional. The other suit worked for Eric. Jason liked Eric, but A-1s carried rings of doom. Heâd felt it. Whether or not sheâd only seen him, he guessed it would feel worse working for the man. He was going to be patient. But firm. None of him was happy about this, but unlike Quin, she was a direct peer. He practically owed her the benefit of doubt, so heâd started to explain himself.
âYou have it easy. Masked suits search, find and report.â Scout and Outs, they werenât cleverly called. Masks were what everyone thought of when suits earned a mention. âYouâre eyes. You go into dangerous areas, but you donât have to work at creating a story. You just tell the story you see. And put up with fabric scratching your face every day.â He hated those masks. They were like steel wool on his skin. The difference they made in fading, though... He needed the itchy boost to reach the places where he could do his job. âI have to stitch clues together and recreate scenes using whatever I can dig up. Iâm required to answer those impossible questions no one can, like if a psychic who doesnât know sheâs psychic will turn on us or the odds are that sheâll find protection from a guy who happens to be an expert in killing us.â Side note: pretty good odds, actually. âYou use fading as a weapon. I use it as a defence. You use information as trivia. I use it as life blood. You get into places I would never think of risking. I break into data no one should have access to.â
It was the line between âtheir drugsâ and âhis drugsâ. Masked suitsâ calmed them down. They had fanciful potions of blind courage and stupidity, depending on the strength. Suits with goggles got assigned cocktails of Ritalin and caffeine on steroids. They didnât just have to be awake for analysis. Their analysis was all they were allowed to think about. If goggled suits didnât overdose, they died because they starved. The Agency called this a good work ethic. It made them sitting ducks during reconnaissance, though, which was why the masks were sent in. They lived a loose hunter/gatherer set up. Jason probably couldâve been spared a lot with someone else to do the scouting for him. But then he never wouldâve been assigned to this case because his Lead wanted someone to do both alone.
âIâve had a really shitty, last few days.â It was a bit of an understatement. âIâm tangled with Alexander and the Agents who run his secret case â well, the last one, anyway. The second Agent died and his boss is blaming me for it. I had my goggles stolen and that put me with withdrawal until an hour ago. Itâs not gone because my target reset them ââ He felt the sting of anger and pushed through it. ââ but Iâve gotten a third of my old settings back in place. Iâm on a plane thatâs following a flight plan from Hell because we arenât there, and itâs all to stop my Lead from doing something she hired me to help her do. Anything I try is going to annoy Eric, and I canât afford to have that happen.â
He just realized what heâd said. Oh God. He was working against an A-1. He was gonna be sick.
âI...â Buckets of nausea poured over him. âIf you canât give me answers, letâs try cooperation. Weâll â just... give it a shot.â Or however many it took. Jason knew this girl knew more. He wasnât asking the right way, that was all. âCan we try that? Truce?â He did save her life. âThen maybe we can start again. Youâve got a lot of rumours, and thatâs perfect â I can use those. Maybe you can tell me about the other side of things. What does he do with people he doesnât like?â An A-1 was an A-1, after all. Even Eric had to have a few enemies. âI want to hear what to look out for. And I can share what I know.â He could always tell her what heâd saved her from. His goggles had to have something else about it.
But fat chance she was getting any boost. He told her what it cost. It wasnât charity.
Keeping a straight face and talking softly, his best swing at swing âpleasantly neutralâ, he finished with an open-ended, âSo?â