The Drafter (26 page)

“You can go to hell and die,” she said. “In that order.” The need to move was almost an ache, but the phone was too small to reliably hold between her ear and shoulder, leaving her one hand to drive. She couldn't effectively drive stick with one hand in stop-and-go city traffic.

“That's what I told Bill you'd say,” he said, not at all regretful. “Think about it, Peri. If you run, every cop from here to both borders will be looking for you. You're not that good on your own. The same patterns that keep you sane will be what we'll find you with. It's not your fault. We made you that way. Sooner or later, you'll slip up and be brought down, tried, and put away as the corrupt Opti agent who killed her own anchor to hide her guilt.”

“You can't expose Opti,” she said, and he laughed. “The public would demand an end to all of us if they knew what we can do.”

“Which is why your special abilities won't be hinted at. You are hereby a homegrown assassin, Peri, a member of a government-funded special forces group belonging to a military project that has been alive since the forties, because we say so. We've got the paperwork to prove it. Ninety-five percent of it is true. It's not as if we haven't had to start from scratch before.”

I am no one's scapegoat
. Frustrated, she pulled her knitted cap off and tossed it aside.

“Opti will survive, but one way you'll be in jail for the rest of your
life, and the other will have you with me, oblivious and happy, doing what you like to do. What you're good at.”

“I need some time to decide.”

“You don't have any!” Allen shouted. “I need an answer. Before my pain meds kick in!”

Stymied, she didn't say anything. She wasn't going back to be a dog doing tricks for them, wiped to ignorance every time she figured it out.
How long? How many times?

Allen's voice was satisfied as he said, “I'll take that as a no. See you soon, Peri.”

The phone connection broke, and she turned it off. The car was still sitting in the middle of the dorm parking lot. Leaning to the floor, she pushed through the mess until she found a pen and a yellow receipt from a tire place. She jotted down Silas's cell number, then shoved the yellow paper in her pocket. She'd ditch the phone when she got on the expressway.

I don't remember ever driving my Mantis
, she thought suddenly and in regret, grimacing at the AM/FM radio and the filthy clutter strewn over the age-torn vinyl seats. According to the literature, she could start her Mantis from a hundred feet away using the fob or her phone. It would cut out if anyone not registered sat in the driver's seat. It came with a lifetime SiriusXM radio subscription. It could do zero to sixty in three point two seconds. The warming engine went
barrummm!
when she started it, to make her insides feel good—and she was driving this piece of crap?

Sighing, she put it into drive. Okay, she had a car, but getting to Detroit and that button didn't seem important anymore. Heart pounding, she headed for the exit. A few miles ought to put her under a different tower, give her some margin of security. She couldn't allow herself to believe Allen. Her gut said that Silas was too smart to believe him, too.

“Sooner or later I'm going to slip up, huh?” Peri muttered as she swung onto the road, deciding it was better to be angry than afraid. She wouldn't get caught. She was a professional, damn it. She might not remember everything, but she had skills.

But her greatest asset was also her greatest liability, and she wouldn't have an anchor to bring her memory back the next time she drafted. She needed Silas.

“Vets,” she said, deciding to stop and eat while she did her research. “I need to find a vet who specializes in squirrels.” Hands shaking, she hit the gas, wanting to see what the big, overindulgent, American-made engine could do.

“A
squirrel,” Peri said, pitching her voice high and doing a good impression of being panicked as she held the shoebox she'd found in a Dumpster and tilted it to make the rocks it held scrabble like claws. “I accidentally hit her. I couldn't leave her there, and your ad says you handle exotic animals.”

The twentysomething woman behind the counter dubiously eyed the box, then Peri's worn but professional attire behind that nasty blue coat and ugly blue-and-white-striped hat. “Yes, ma'am, but domestic animals, like lizards and birds. We've never seen a squirrel.”

Peri leaned on the counter, not really having to fake her distress. “You have to help me. Her leg looks broken. Maybe she has babies! She let me pick her up okay. She's really tame.” Peri shifted the rocks. In the back, dogs barked, and she stifled a shiver.
Why don't I like dogs?

The woman stood, uncertain. “I'll see if I can find him,” she said, going to the back.

Exhaling, Peri retreated into the reception area, smiling wanly at the second receptionist who was separating the “bring your pet in for a visit” cards the printer was spewing out. The diploma on the wall said Howard Lamms—which would be better than Squirrel, but not much.
God save me from amateurs
, she thought, her tension returning threefold.

Earlier, she'd grabbed a quick and lonely meal at a sandwich shop, where she'd borrowed an actual phone book—she hadn't seen one since she was a little girl—to scope out the vets in a fifteen-mile radius. From there she'd prioritized them by how many doctors each had on staff under the assumption that if “Squirrel” was stealing meds, he wouldn't want a partner around to have to explain things to.

Peri was currently standing with her box of rocks in the third office she'd tried. She didn't have a lot of hope, but there were six more addresses on her list with multiple doctors if this last one didn't pan out. She felt naked for having wiped off the anti-facial-recognition smut, but using it outside of large public places garnered more unwanted notice than not. It didn't help that it'd gotten dark, but what bothered her most was that Allen was filling Silas with lies that were easier to believe than her truth.

A door slammed, and adrenaline surged as she heard a familiar voice shout, “Susie, will you take Buddy for his walk? The auto walker has gone fritzy again. I can't keep the stupid thing . . .” Howard's voice trailed off as he came around the archway, looking professional in a white lab coat, dreadlocks pulled back. “Flying . . .” He set a leash-draped drone on the counter and stared at her.

“Please. I need your help,” Peri said. “Something awful happened.”

“She has a squirrel, Doctor,” the receptionist with him said, and the silence stretched as disbelief, curiosity, and finally mistrust came over him.

“I'll take a look,” he finally said, and relief filled her. “Exam room three. We can skip weighing her in. Has she
bitten
anyone? We might have to
put her down
to check for rabies.”

“No, she's really very sweet-tempered.” Peri lurched into motion, the rocks sliding as she passed the front desk and entered a short hallway. “Just in a bad place and misunderstood.”

Howard held a door open for her. “Trying to help a wild animal rarely works out. The safest thing would be to turn her over to the proper authorities.”

“They'd kill her,” Peri said, meeting his eyes as she passed by him. “And she doesn't mean any harm.”

“Wild animals seldom do,” he said sourly.

The door shut, and Peri carelessly set the box of rocks on the exam table.

“Are you crazy?” Howard almost hissed, snatching up a wand and coming at her.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, then lowered her voice as he ran it over her. “You already took the chip out. I'm clean.”

“You could have been rechipped and forgotten it.”

“I haven't drafted,” she said as he set the wand down, beads in his hair clinking.

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure,” she said, and his eyebrows rose as he saw her doubt. “Wait,” she said as he pointed at the door for her to leave. “Opti has Silas. They caught him.” Howard's mouth dropped, and she looked away, ashamed. “I ditched him to go back to Detroit, but Allen called me as I was hot-wiring a car, and now . . .”
What am I doing?
He'd never believe her.

“You stole a car?” he said as if that was the only thing that registered.

“You're worried about a stupid car?” she said, then frowned at the shadow of feet passing at the thick crack under the door. “Allen admitted that Opti is rife with corruption,” she whispered. “Him. Bill.”
Jack?
“Allen told Silas that I set him up to be captured—that I'm in on it. They're going to
let
him escape, knowing he'll use the lies Allen is filling him with to try to shut Opti down and make me the fall guy. But Opti won't go down; it's too big. They're going to frame me for everything to give the corruption in Opti the chance to bury itself deeper. Howard, you've got to help me.”

“How do you know my name?” the man asked, his dark eyes suddenly threatening.

“It's on your vet certificate in the office,” she said, and Howard dropped back, grimacing.

“Allen admitted Bill is corrupt?”

She nodded, breathless, and then they both turned at the knock on the door. Not wanting anyone to come in, Peri ran a hand along the
counter, knocking things over and making noise. “She got away! Oh God. I'm so sorry!” she shouted.

Howard stared, then added, “Give us a few minutes, Anne. I'll call you if I need help.”

They waited until Anne's footsteps shushed away, her loud conversation with the other girl up front both complaining and excited. “You're not afraid anymore,” Howard said as he gathered a handful of cotton-tipped swabs she'd spilled.

“I don't have a tracking chip in me anymore. It's amazing how that can boost a person's confidence.” Peri frowned. “Please. I have to get Silas back before they fill his head with lies.”

Eyes averted, Howard tapped the swabs on the counter and returned them to the container, brow furrowed as he pushed the jar to the wall. He looked different in his white lab coat, but his hands were the same. He wasn't a large man, but he had a big presence. “I don't know what you think I can do,” he finally said.

“You don't care that he's being held?” Peri said, aghast. “Lied to? Manipulated?”

“Of course I do, but he knew the risk. We all want to see Opti shut down. But I don't care if you fall with it. And neither does Silas.”

Peri sucked her teeth. Lame, it was lame and cowardly. “Listen to me, little man,” she said, and Howard started in affront. “Who do you think keeps terrorists out of U.S. airspace, gets the guns to oil-friendly rebels, and cleans the crap off your favorite politician? Too many people want Opti, depend on it to keep downtown America buying technology they don't need, and that the alliance is trying to shut it down is starting to piss me off! They will shred the files, fire the secretary, and open it back up again calling it something else with the public thinking we are the Green Berets or SEAL Team Six B or some other special ops group. But I'll be
damned
if I let Bill be in charge of it. I'm
not
corrupt, and the Opti I worked for isn't either.”

“Yeah?” Howard had his arms over his chest, clearly not liking the
little man
comment.

“I don't need to explain myself to you,” she said.
Coming here was a mistake
. “Are you going to help me rescue Silas or not?”

He leaned back against the counter, thinking. “What do you want?”

It wasn't an agreement, just a question. “Funding.” He snorted, and she warmed. “Equipment to free Silas, and a ride to Detroit for the talisman I made of the night where this all started. Silas can help me re-create the memory tied to it, and with that, the truth comes out.”

“Your talismans,” he said flatly, beads clinking as he shook his head. “They're nothing but paperweights with your past anchor dead.”

Peri's chest clenched, but she used the grief, mutating it to anger. “Silas defragmented one of my memories. One he'd never seen. If he did that once, he can do it again. The talisman will help.” Howard's lips parted in disbelief, and she made a fist in frustration. “Are you going to help me or not?”

There was a knock on the door, and Peri held his eyes. “Doctor?” the vet tech called, and Howard grimaced.

“Don't open the door!” he said sourly. “I've got her cornered.” He leaned over the table, his brow furrowed. “Anchors can't defragment memories they haven't witnessed.”

“Opti does it all the time with new drafters. It isn't impossible, just really hard and time-consuming.” But it hadn't been either of those things when Silas had done it. “Something happened in the Global Genetics office. Going there and looking at the chalk outline won't help. I need Silas and my talisman. I need to remember.”

Clearly unhappy, Howard took his out-of-date smartphone from a pocket and checked the screen. “I never agreed with Silas's plan to use you to gain information.”

“Thank you.”

The phone went dark and he stuffed it away. “That wasn't a compliment. I thought it was a stupid idea that would hurt him more. I only supported it because he needed to face his grief, not hide from it.” Seeming to have decided something, Howard pushed the jar of swabs from the counter. Peri jumped, startled even though she'd been expecting the harsh noise. “Anne is such a snoop,” he muttered.

Frustrated, Peri splayed her hands on the exam table. “I need a vehicle that won't be called in as stolen, a few thousand dollars. Maybe a good throwing knife.”

“A few thousand dollars?” Howard echoed, his eyes wide.

“And a toothbrush. I'd kill for a toothbrush.”