The Lethal Agent (The Extraction Files Book 2) (19 page)

Theo couldn’t help but laugh with the others. It was such a ridiculous idea. He couldn’t imagine his mother, the esteemed Cheryl Kaufman, pretending to eat another person’s arm, or playing games of any sort with him. She was too professional, even at home.

“Does that mean you’re ticklish?” Dasia asked as she reached a hand up to the side of his silk vest. Based on the way he arched away from her grasp, he definitely was.

“That’ll come in handy later,” she said with her head thrown back with laughter.

Osip froze and stared at her, wondering if she was teasing him. When the rest of them caught sight of his expression, they burst into laughter.

Dasia laughed so hard she snorted, which only set them off again. She’d clearly had too much to drink. In fact, they all had. They were far too sloppy, too easy with their laughs, too forthcoming with embarrassing stories. Theo couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard.

CPI-RQ-04

SEPTEMBER 9, 2232

Dasia didn’t bother knocking. She slid into Mable’s room and found her in the bathroom washing her face.

Mable saw her in the reflection. A sloppy, drunk smile filled her face. “I thought you were going to spend the night with Osip.”

“I was. But you’re leaving.” Dasia shrugged, too intoxicated to care what it looked like.

Mable finished drying her face and walked over. No longer did her presence fill Dasia with nerves. When Mable reached up to kiss her, a little playful one, Dasia grabbed her and kissed her back, only harder.

“Damn. I should have gotten you drunk a lot sooner.” The length of Mable’s legs were exposed in the barely-there shorts she wore to bed. Her skin was smooth as silk under Dasia’s hand.

“Osip did once,” she said with a laugh.

“And he didn’t do anything?”

“No, he’s a gentlemen, I guess.”

“Well, fortunately for you, I make no such claim.” Mable used her strong arms to toss Dasia back on the bed. After so much vodka, the room spun, and the impact shook her head. Teeth nipped at her shoulders as a hand reached under her and firmly squeezed a cheek. Mable was on her like a predator before she could make sense of it.

It felt too good to stop.

And who could tell when they would get this chance again.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“I can’t believe you’re here instead of in Osip’s room.” Mable pushed up Dasia’s shirt and made a trail of kisses along her ribs.

“Why do you want me with him so badly?”

“It’s not that.”

“Okay?”

The kisses stopped as Mable centered her face above Dasia’s, her legs straddled to either side. “You used to come here because you needed me. If you needed someone, you would have gone to Osip. Tonight, you came because you wanted me.” Mable wrapped a hand around the side of Dasia’s neck and used a thumb to trace her jawline.

Dasia covered Mable’s hand with her own. “You’re right. I want you. I never would have survived this without you.”

Mable leaned in and kissed her. “Yes, you would’ve. You’re strong. You just didn’t know it. And now you do.”

Dasia smiled. She flipped Mable on her back and pinned her hands above her head. Mable was strong, but Dasia had the better reach. With Dasia pinning her to the bed, Mable could only squirm as Dasia’s lips tasted every available inch of her.

While Dasia usually gave in to sleep after a few hours in Mable’s room, this time, she persevered. Maybe it was the alcohol that made her feel invincible. Or maybe it was the prospect of never seeing Mable again. Either way, Dasia made good use of the time they had left.

Sometime not too far from dawn, Mable pressed her cheek to Dasia’s bare chest, her breath a bit labored. Her fingertips drew small circles on Dasia’s belly, an absent motion that invigorated her still-sensitive skin. “I want to give you something.”

A rush of cool air hit her side as Mable slid off the bed and dug through a drawer. She returned and set a teacup on Dasia’s torso. It was an antique thing, cream colored with fuchsia flowers and olive-green leaves. Most of all, Dasia noticed the cracks. The ceramic was a network of lines, branching across the surface until not a single side remained unbroken.

Each crack had been filled with gold.

“Is that real?” she asked as she lifted it and turned it in her hand.

“Yeah. It’s probably worth a fortune if you melt it down. But that’s not the point.”

Dasia turned it again, wondering what she was missing.

“It’s called kintsukuroi,” Mable explained, as if Dasia was supposed to know what that meant. “It’s more beautiful because it’s broken.”

The words shot Dasia through the heart. “I can’t take this. It’s—”

“I want you to have it.” Mable reached up and kissed her.

Dasia held her tight, unwilling to let go just yet.

CPI-AO-301

SEPTEMBER 10, 2232

Mable arrived at Arrenstein’s office at 0800 as the ecomm specified, though she could think of a hundred things she’d rather do.

Sleep.

Throw up.

Die.

She held her palm to her forehead and winced at the sound of his voice. “Have fun last night?”

Mable found her way to the couch, sank into the corner seat, and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to explain it to him.

Then she heard Arrenstein laughing. “Serves you right for stealing my brandy.”

“I’m nineteen. I don’t need a lecture,” she reminded him. Mable collapsed onto the seat of the couch, using the arm as a head rest and curling into a ball in the corner.

“Make sure to stop by cleaning when you’re done here. It works wonders,” Arrenstein continued, though she didn’t bother to respond.

An indiscernible amount of time later, Theo stumbled in, looking similarly haggard.

“Ah, there you are. The onion vodka is particularly horrible in the morning,” Arrenstein said, as if finding his recruits hungover was a perfectly normal event for the morning. “Your LRF assignments have been finalized and the information sent to your tablets for later use. Your shuttle to Miami departs tomorrow at 1300, and your IPV leaves for the LRF at 1600. That doesn’t give us too much time to go over the details.”

“What details? Our aliases?” Theo asked.

“We’ve never done this before, but Nick and I agreed it was best. Kaufman, you’ll keep your identity.”

Theo rubbed his temple. “Okay?”

“There are enough Scholars in the LRF that are familiar with your family. Your look is too unique to the Lancaster Kaufmans. Even if we highly modified your appearance, lightened your skin and hair and so on, the effects will only last a few weeks, and you could be recognized. We decided it was best to modify your file to reflect a few career changes rather than create a new, possibly-detectable, alias. Now, you’re a twenty-three-year-old robotics engineer.”

Theo nodded.

“With your highly qualified background, we put you in the Robotics department. They recently lost their lead Scholar and have a position available. You should fit in there nicely.”

“And me?” Mable wondered what kind of department she might be in. It had been a long time since she considered her scientific career aspirations.

“You’ll be filling a long-vacated position in the Planetary Systems department. One of the other long term recon team members is already in that department. It should give you two the opportunity to work and communicate closely without raising suspicions.”

“Who’s the other team?” Mable tried to focus despite the pounding in her head.

“In Planetary Systems, we have Vince. His alias is Dr. Calvin Hill. In the LRF director’s office, we have Abby, or Abigail Perch. She’s the assistant director for the LRF, second only to Director Filmore. They’ve both been in their roles for over a year and have formed relationships with those around them. You’ll need to be mindful of those relationships when working with them.”

Arrenstein made it sound like they were a couple of LRF hookers, only getting information instead of money. Mable had known a few like that in the Root and some of the others, though she doubted that’s what Arrenstein meant.

Maybe she just had sex on the brain.

“And my alias?” she asked, anticipating another Camille Christophson. She hoped he picked well. It would be hard to have some prissy abomination of a name for a year.

Silas smiled, not his plastic one, but a real, genuine smile. Mable knew it would be bad.

“You’ll be Dr. Maggie Kaufman. Theo’s wife.”

Yep. She was definitely going to throw up.

CPI-RQ-06

SEPTEMBER 10, 2232

Silas knocked on Maggie’s door, uncaring as to how it looked. Now he knew he was being watched, that Nick was spying and sending the images to Masry, but he also knew Maz wouldn’t be a problem.

So Silas stood at her door and waited.

When she opened it, she stood tall with long blonde hair reaching down to her waist, waved but smooth as silk. “Looks good,” he told her, trying to sound as off-handed as possible.

“Thanks. What’s up?”

“We’ll be moving your personal effects into storage on the fourth floor. I thought I could show you around, so you would feel comfortable leaving your things here.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She shrugged.

“I’d also like to show you something, if you’re not busy.” His heart was beating so hard it threatened to break his ribs and escape his chest altogether. He was nervous—terrified in fact—but it was time.

She must have sensed his nerves. Maggie cocked her head just so and narrowed her eyes, suspecting. Nonetheless, she followed him to the elevator and waited patiently as they arrived at RS-402-AW.

“This was Alex’s unit?” she asked when she saw the placard above the door.

Silas scanned his palm print and waited for the door to click open. “Press your hand here.”

She did but asked, “Why?”

“So you can access it, even if I’m not here.”

Maggie looked up at him but didn’t manage to say anything. Instead, she turned her attention to the narrow room.

The recruit storage rooms were little more than closets, large enough to hold their personal items during their long term assignments. Between the shelves that held Alex’s memories, there was only enough space for Maggie to stand.

The bottom shelf was full of clothes, the comfortable pants and shirts he’d known Alex to wear. Above that, a variety of pieces, many of which Silas still didn’t understand. Some were easy, like the digital frame that held the image of his prized little sister. Others he couldn’t begin to guess. A piece of porous black rock, some sort of seed pod, a plastic card for a Dr. Virgil Rathbone.

On the shelf opposite the door, a ceramic sun stood on a glass pedestal. It looked handmade, probably pre-war, with streaks of scarlet and amber painted on each ray. Maggie’s hand went straight for it.

“Why did you keep this?” Her eyes were on the sun, and her voice cracked, though he couldn’t see her face from where he stood in the corridor.

“Oh, you know, didn’t seem right to just throw it all away.” Again, he tried to sound like it didn’t matter, like it wouldn’t have killed him to clean out the room. “I thought you should know it was here, in case I’m not here when you get back.” Who could tell when Nick would try to stab him in the back again, or if he’d be any more successful at it.

“Thank you,” she said as she placed the sun back on its stand.

“That’s why you wanted that tattoo, isn’t it?”

She nodded and rubbed her hands together. “It was in a book. He read it to me when I was little, and then it just sort of stuck. Good night, sleep tight, see you when the sun is bright. It was the last thing he ever said to me.” Maggie wiped at her face, but he was too close to see her tears.

He had to do it.

He had to tell her.

He couldn’t let her leave without knowing.

He should have told her from the beginning.

Silas sucked in a deep breath and said, “Look, I know I put you through a lot, and you have every reason not to trust me, but—”

“I trust you.” She looked up him with those piercing blue eyes. They were three little words, but they meant everything.

After that, it was easier to tell her. “I know it was really hard on you when Alex was gone, but it wasn’t as simple as you think. Alex had a bug.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you trying to say?”

“Alex had a Slight. We didn’t know. He just, he started forgetting things, imagining things. We’d never seen a person with a Slight who was still alive. We just didn’t know.”

“You extracted it?” Her jaw was set so tight, he was almost afraid to tell her. But it was too late, he’d already started.

“I did. I extracted it, and I smashed it under my shoe and I’m not sorry I did it. But Alex was gone, Maggie. He was alive, but he was gone. He wasn’t there anymore, he was just—he was empty.” Silas could see it as clear as the day it happened. Alex on the table in cleaning, the scan image hovering against the wall. The Slight’s black body shining red with blood at the base of his neck. He remembered everything.

“But he’s alive?” She covered her mouth and breathed hard out her nose.

“Yes, but Maggie, listen, he’s not the same. He was infected for weeks. Between the bug and the extraction, he has no memory. He doesn’t know any of us. I worked with him for a decade. He looked me straight in my face and introduced himself like I was a stranger. He’s gone.” Silas gripped her shoulders hard and tried to get her to see the sense of it.

“Where is he?” She crossed her arms and glared.

Silas sighed. This was a terrible idea. Why had he thought she would listen? When it came to Alex, Maggie was as obstinate as they come. “I applied to have him sent to an off-world colony.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You sent him off-world? After all he—”

“They were going to kill him!” Silas shouted his anger and his frustration right in her face, so loud he regretted it a second later. He sucked in a deep breath and continued, quieter this time. "Maggie, he was compromised. He’d been in CPI too long. They were going to terminate him. It was the only thing I could do.”

She glowered at him as she fought away from his grip in the small space. “So Alex isn’t dead, but they were going to kill him, so you sent him away?”

Silas sighed. “Yes,” he admitted.

Maggie chewed on her lip for a long while. “Then, I guess I should say thank you.” Then she pushed past him back into the corridor and pressed the button for the elevator, looking anything but pleased. All in all, she’d taken it better than he thought.

“There’s something else,” he called after her.

She didn’t even ask. She only tilted her head toward him impatiently, waiting, like she couldn’t stand to hear another word from him.

“I found your son. He was in a service in Phoenix—” Maggie’s mouth fell open.

Silas continued, spewing out the information he’d so long held inside. “He didn’t have any immediate offers, and he was a good candidate for an off-world colony, once they found out who he was. They approved him and sent him to the same colony as Alex. They’re together—” Silas stopped when he saw her features dissolve. Her hand pressed the elevator button repeatedly, as if it could save her from knowing. Her mouth twisted as desperate tears fell straight to the floor.

Silas scooped her in his arms a second later, refusing to let her fight this alone. Angry fists beat against his chest and shoulders, pathetically pounding out the hatred she couldn’t feel. She wanted to hate him, he knew. But he knew Maggie, he knew she wanted her son’s safety more than anything. He was the reason she did all this, the reason she ran, the reason she gave up her Scholar future. Maggie was nothing if not a good mom. Now, knowing her son was in the care of her brother, she released her pent-up worry in a crashing wave. He held her tight as her fists fell to her side, and she gave up her useless fighting.

“It’s good, isn’t it? It’s good.” He spoke to the top of her head, to the newly blonde hair that nodded against his chest.

When she pulled away, she looked downright awful. He eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks puffy and tear-streaked. “What’s he like? Does Alex know?”

Silas smiled, his real one. “No, he doesn’t know. No one does. And he’s beautiful. He has these beautiful blond curls and big fat cheeks,” he told her, describing the boy he saw grow in the periodic updates. “He’s smart, though we knew he would be. They say he’s really sweet.”

Maggie placed a palm over each of her cheeks in disbelief. She’d likely resigned herself to never knowing her son. “What’s his name?” she asked quietly.

“His name is Kellan.”