The Drafter (39 page)

“Howard?” Peri called softly, and she heard him grunt. In half a moment, he came in from the back bedroom rubbing his dreadlocks and moving slow, stiff from the floor.

“Is it time?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her pulse quickened, and she set the take-out box down to shake her hands out. “I'd rather do this at four in the morning, but midnight is close enough. As long as we stay out of the square, we'll be clear of people.”

Yawning, Taf came out from the back room, her hair mussed. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Peri did a double take, realizing only now that Taf's butterfly tattoo glowed in the dark. Taking the felt pen she'd been using to sketch the apartment, she stuck it in her boot sheath next to that awful camo knife.
Mightier than the sword
, she thought drily. “This is a quiet neighborhood where gunshots are mistaken for transformers on the telephone poles blowing. That's why I wanted to live here.”
Even before Jack
, she thought, then started when she realized Jack was eating from the box she'd set down, picking through the vegetables with chopsticks from Overdraft. The box was steaming now, and he was dressed in task black, looking good enough to pin to the floor.

Unhappy, Peri ran a hand across her jeans. The lack of her usual polish bothered her. An untidy thief was lowbrow. A well-dressed one was classy, ending up in the chief's office instead of the local lockup with hookers and sullen shoplifters.

Jack pointed his chopsticks at her. “Don't involve them. They'll get hurt.”

But what choice did she have? “Okay,” she said, hands clapping once. “Slight change of plan. Taf? Howard and I are going to go upstairs and take out the Opti observatory post.”

“We are?”

Peri nodded. “If everyone is wired, having you there to monitor and misdirect will widen my window tremendously.”

Taf reached for her rifle, her lips pressed tight. “I'm coming with you.”

Jack cleared his throat, but Peri was ahead of him; taking the rifle out of Taf's hand, she gave it to Howard. “Taf, you're a crack shot, but a better driver, and you don't put your driver in a place where she doesn't have a car.”

“But,” she started, and Peri shook her head.

“I don't want us caught because we don't have an exit plan,” Peri interrupted, and the younger woman slumped in resolve. Behind her, Howard exhaled in relief. “Once Howard is set, I'll go in. Taf, you keep watch on the stairwell. When I turn the light on in my apartment, I want you to leave. Howard, you too. Both of you take the car and
park it at the restaurant I indicated on the map. You'll be able to see my apartment from there, and it will give you a clean run to the front to pick me up when I signal by turning the light off again.”

“Our apartment,” Jack said, and her eye twitched.

Only because I invited you in, you prick
.

“I'm not doing anything,” Taf complained, and Peri stretched, enjoying the sensation of her body coming alive.

“That's why I like this plan.” Peri looked up from her lunge, hoping Taf could see her smile in the gloom. “I say we have a seventy percent chance of getting away clean. Ten if you're not behind the wheel. I'll probably be coming out hot. I need you ready.”

That made the woman smile, and Howard gave Taf a relieved kiss and a squeeze, while Jack set the take-out box aside and stood, his dark expression saying he knew her estimation was grossly overgenerous. Why was it harder to listen to her intuition when it had Jack's face?

Deciding against her coat, she tucked Allen's borrowed Glock in her waistband. Alone, she tried not to watch as Howard finally let Taf go. “See you in an hour,” he said, his voice soft, arms falling from her reluctantly, and the young woman nodded, head down.
See a woman in trouble, look no farther than the man beside her
.

Taf's unhappy smile met Peri's own, and Howard jiggled on his feet, nervous as he looked at the rifle, then gave it to Taf. God help her, she hated this. They weren't helpless, but seeing them risking their lives to bring the corrupt fraction of Opti to light was giving her a bad feeling. She was trained for this. They were not.

But she had little choice. Hoping Jack would stay behind, she headed out with Howard tight behind her. He was breathing fast, and she eyed him as she hit the button for the elevator.

“You got a plan for this, right?” Howard said as the little green arrow lit.

The doors slid aside, and Peri grimaced at Jack already in there, waiting for her. “Going up?” he said slyly, and she stepped inside, ignoring him.

“Um, Peri?” Howard said, dark eyes wide as she pushed the button for the sixth floor.

“You keep the first man I down on the floor, and I'll take what's beyond him,” she said.

“Sure.” Howard licked his lips. “But we only have one gun.”

Guns. Why was it always about guns? “You can have it,” she said, giving it to him as the doors opened and she padded out into the hall.
602 . . . 604 . . . 606
. Her gut tightened, and she motioned for him to stay back from the door. “Tell them you forgot the keys,” she whispered as she stood sideways to it and pounded aggressively on the door. “And don't touch the man I bring down. He'll probably know something hinky to turn the tables on you.”

For cripes' sake. It's like Self-Defense 101. What else haven't I told him?

Howard's eyes widened, and she motioned for him to say something. “Ah, I forgot the keys!” he blurted, then dropped back when Peri waved him off again.

“Are you shitting me?” someone inside said, and Peri found her balance. “Christ almighty, Jason, I swear you'd forget your balls if your girlfriend didn't have them already.”

The door opened. Peri stepped in front of him, hands free as she grabbed his arm and tucked into him. He knew enough martial arts to go with it, and he flipped over her, his breath whooshing out as he hit the floor in the hall. Still holding his hand, she gave a twist, and he screamed as she snapped his wrist. That would keep Howard safe—at least from one direction.

“Hands where I can see them!” she shouted, taking his pistol from his holster as she jumped over him and ran into the unfurnished living room. A second man was getting up from a folding chair, barbecue wings going everywhere as he lunged to the bank of equipment.

Peri shot the floor, hearing the slug bury itself in the cement and bits of wood splintering out. The man skidded to a stop, hands in the air. From the hall, a pained groan filtered in. “Howard! Get him in here! Kick him if he doesn't move on his own. Don't touch him!” She wasn't going to take for granted that because they'd caught them off-guard they were sloppy. Opti hadn't expected her to be here, not really. “Howard!”

“You heard the lady. Inside,” Howard said, and Peri motioned for
them to stand in the barren kitchen. The man who'd answered the door looked pale enough to pass out, and Peri relaxed a notch—until she saw the restraining equipment on the counter, ugly with its needles and drugs. Preventing a draft was easy. Holding an agent trained in the art of escape was not.

Fine
, she thought as she shoved two bottles and a handful of syringes into her pocket. If they were going to use it on her, she had no qualm about using it on them.

“Move,” she snarled as one tested the waters. “Both of you in the bathroom. Now!”

Howard looked peaked, but not as shaky as the man with the broken wrist when they shuffled into the bathroom. Sure, Howard was an agent, but if the alliance was anything like Opti, cleaners and tech guys seldom saw real action.

“Good. Lock yourselves to the piping.” Peri tossed in two pairs of cuffs from the counter.

Howard started to follow, and she pulled him back from a potential turnaround until the cuffs clinked. They'd put them on their ankles. That was fine. They'd be going to sleep shortly.

“Okay.” Peri took Howard's pistol and handed him two syringes and a bottle. “
Now
you can sedate them.”

Howard's eyes flicked to the bottle in his hand. “I'm not sure of the dosage.”

“Every field agent knows how to pick handcuffs given enough time. Our other option is to shoot them,” she said, and Howard winced, rolling the bottle to read what it was.

“I'll, ah, use the dog dosage,” he said. “You're, what, about two German shepherds?”

“Don't get between me and them,” she said as she stood in the tub with her Glock pointed to make sure they stayed polite while Howard put them under. Not a twinge of guilt assailed her. The only reason the drugs were here was to use on her.

They went down slow, the one with the broken wrist fighting it until finally his shoulders eased and his breathing grew steady. “Nicely done,” Peri said as they stood over the fallen Opti agents, Howard a
little wide-eyed, as if he still didn't believe what they'd done. “How long until they wake up?”

“Few hours?” he guessed as he followed her out and shut the door.

It would be enough. Anticipation spiked as she helped herself to another pair of cuffs.

“Here.” Howard came forward with a wire. “Take this. I'll do what I can.”

“Thanks,” she said. It was one-way, but she appreciated it nevertheless. “If things go wrong, promise me you'll get Taf and go. I mean it.” His brow pinched, and Peri frowned. “Howard, please,” she said, feeling vulnerable for some reason. “I know you think I'm in over my head, but this is what I do. This is who I am. I need your help, but not at the expense of putting you and Taf where you're going to find yourself somewhere you're not prepared to be. I like you here,” she said, gesturing at the bank of equipment and sensing he felt at home there. “I like Taf behind the wheel, even if her driving scares the crap out of me. Promise me you'll take her and leave if things go wrong. I don't want you showing up at my apartment. Okay? If it goes bad, let it go bad and get yourself out.”

The door clicked open, and she spun, relaxing when it was only Jack. “We gotta go, babe,” he said, and she put a hand on Howard's arm to convince him she wasn't jumping at shadows, even if she was. The door snicked shut, never really having moved at all.

“Please?” she asked again, and Howard nodded, clearly not happy.

“We'll do it your way,” he said wryly.

“Thanks.” Smiling, Peri felt the wire he'd given her, loosely coiled and tucked in a pocket. “They have Electronic Huts in Canada, don't they?”

Finally his grim look eased, and he waved her off. She looked back to see Howard settle himself amid the switches and monitors, Allen's old Glock within his easy reach. After checking to make sure the door would lock, she shut it gently behind her.

Jack paced beside her as she jogged to the stairway. “He looks right there.”

“He does, yes,” she said, trying not to imagine him dead as she wove
her way downstairs and out through the back entrance to settle among the recycle bins. She desperately didn't want to draft, even if it was becoming easier to work without the security of an anchor. What did anyone really need to know, anyway?

But if anything happened to Howard or Taf, she vowed she'd never forget.

W
hat if I draft? Will the patch job hold?

Quashing her angst, Peri crept to the Opti van at the curb. Howard would handle any electronic fallout, and having the way plowed for her escape would be worth it, especially if it made Taf safer. Besides, she had the power of drugs now.

The clear spark of adrenaline pushed out the lingering worry as she paused in the black shadow of the building to fill three syringes, wedging them through the fabric of her shirt like pins to keep them handy and out of the way. Grabbing a rag from the Dumpster, she jogged to the back of the running van and, after wadding the cloth into a ball, jammed it into the tailpipe, holding it there with her foot.

Jack slid to a bright-eyed stop beside her, causing her to almost shriek in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, feeling foolish talking to nothing.

He wrinkled his nose and crouched beside her. “I've got your back, Peri. I always will.”

That bothered her, but she wasn't going to argue with herself. Finally the running engine choked into silence, and she touched the syringes lined up on her sleeve like soldiers. Her tension spiked when
the passenger-side door opened. “I don't know crap about cars, Tony,” the one inside said as his companion got out, and she smiled when the hood popped up.
Perfect
. “You look.”

Peri dropped facedown on the pavement. “Office shoes,” she whispered, spotting them at the front of the van. This should be easy.

“Okay, try it now!” Tony called, and the engine whirred and chunked, and died.

Motions slow and even, Peri tried the back door, elated to find it unlocked.
Idiots
. She slipped inside, praying the man behind the wheel wouldn't notice the flush of air. On cat feet, she crept up to him, Glock in hand. The hood of the van filled the front window, and adrenaline sang as she slipped behind the driver and put the muzzle of the weapon to his neck. Messy. A gunshot to the neck was messy, and you didn't ever come back from it.

“Ahhh, shit,” the man breathed, his hands coming up from the wheel. He didn't care if she was caught or not—at least, not enough to risk his life.

Peri smiled. “Good man. Be ready for a poke. I'm going to put you down nice and easy. If you move or open your mouth, it's going to be a bullet through your neck instead. 'Kay?”

He nodded, grunting when she took one of the syringes and jammed it into his bicep.

“Chuck, try it again!” Tony called, and she reached over him to turn the key. The engine choked to life before failing. “Hell if I know,” Peri heard Tony mutter, and she lowered her pistol. Chuck was out, pulse strong and steady. Heart pounding, she tucked her weapon away, taking Chuck's hat before grabbing another syringe and boldly getting out the passenger-side door.