Sloane (4 page)

“What is?” said Griffin. He hurried over.

I looked up at Silas. “She got a call from someone at
Costello Labs.”

Silas gave me a blank look.

“You don’t remember Costello Labs?” I said.

“Should I?” said Silas.

“I went undercover at the place,” I said. “I posed as
an intern to gather information for French.”

He looked confused. “Where the hell was I when this
was going on?”

“I don’t know.” I thought about it. I remembered that
Silas had been busy. “Maybe it was during the time you were… you
know, with Sylvia and stuff.”

Silas visibly stiffened. He didn’t like being
reminded of the fact that he’d been basically hired out as a
prostitute during his time at Op Wraith.

“Anyway, you weren’t around, and French wanted me to
be useful, so she sent me there.”

“For French?” said Griffin. “Why? What was it about
that place? What did she want you to do?”

I took a deep breath, sifting through my
memories.

CHAPTER THREE

four years ago…

Jolene French’s office at Op Wraith was tastefully
decorated. She managed to make the place look soft and welcoming,
yet professional. There were lilies in a vase on a glass table
between a couch and an easy chair. French was a psychologist, and
she liked to make us feel as if we were going in for a regular
counselor’s session when she spoke to us.

Truthfully, all of us assassins knew that she was
only trying to steal our secrets to use them against us whatever
way she knew how. We tried to protect ourselves against French as
best we could. But she was hard to resist. She could seem kind and
good. It was easy to want to confide in her.

She looked up from her desk as I entered the room,
smiling widely as if I was her long lost relative or something. She
seemed so happy that I was there.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” She got up from her desk in one fluid
movement. She wore a dark blue pants suit with a white blouse
beneath. Her makeup was flawless, and she looked too perfect to be
real. She crossed in front of the desk to warmly shake my hand. “So
happy you could make it, Sloane.”

I hadn’t really had a choice, but hearing her say
that made me feel good regardless. I smoothed the front of my gray
jumpsuit. We were required to wear them all the time in
headquarters. The only time we got actual clothes was when we went
on missions. Wearing the jumpsuit always made me feel like a
prisoner, but that might have been the point. After all, if it
hadn’t been for Op Wraith, Silas and I would have been in jail for
what we’d done. The thing was, being in French’s presence always
made me want to look my best, and the jumpsuit made it hard.

She gestured to the couch. “Why don’t you have a
seat?”

I nodded and did as she said.

She settled down opposite me on her easy chair. “How
are you?”

“Fine,” I said automatically.

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?” she said
gently.

I nodded, trying to look as sure of myself as I
could. This was what she did. She poked and prodded. She wanted to
know the things that made you uncomfortable or unhappy. The more
she knew, the better she could use them to manipulate you.

“You know, Sloane, if there’s anything you want to
tell me, I’m always here. I want to help you.”

“No,” I said. “There’s nothing.”

“Do you miss your brother?”

Silas had been gone on missions a lot lately.
Sometimes he was gone overnight. He wouldn’t talk about them, but
then he never talked much about that kind of stuff. It was a little
worrisome, however, because Silas and I were usually a team. They
didn’t send us out individually. If they had a target for us to
take out, they sent both of us. I wasn’t sure why he was working
without me, but he promised me that what he was doing wasn’t
dangerous. “I see him often enough.”

She regarded me for several minutes, and I felt like
she was reading all my secret feelings from my expression, even
though I was working hard to keep my face blank. Eventually, she
nodded. “All right, then. Even so, with Silas busy, you haven’t had
anything of your own to do.”

“I’ve been training,” I said. “I’ve been working on
my hand-to-hand stuff.”

“I see,” she said. “Well, I have something else to
occupy you, but I don’t think it will involve any hand-to-hand
combat.”

I sat up a little straighter. She was sending me on a
mission on my own? I was flooded with dread and terror. This was no
good. I didn’t go on missions alone. When Silas found out, he was
going to flip his lid. Besides, what if I froze up? I always needed
Silas there. I couldn’t do it alone. But if Op Wraith found that
out… found out I was useless, well they might have me killed. They
didn’t keep anyone alive who wasn’t useful.

But then I felt something else.

Excitement. I realized that I liked the idea of being
trusted to do something on my own, to prove myself, to not need
Silas.

And that disgusted me. Even if I completed a mission
on my own, I couldn’t allow myself to feel… proud of killing
people. I was being forced to do this against my will. It wasn’t
something that I enjoyed.

I was appalled at the thought that I might someday
grow to enjoy it. I gulped.

French had been watching me closely.

Shit. Had she seen my emotions flit across my face? I
hadn’t said anything, but French had taken pains to know me—and all
of the assassins—very well. She might have been able to guess what
I was thinking.

“You’re pleased,” said French.

“I’m… I’ll do what I have to do.”

French smiled again, but this was a different kind of
smile. It was full of satisfaction, and it made her face twist in a
way that disturbed me.

I blinked.

And her face was back to normal. Soft and welcoming.
“Don’t worry, Sloane, I don’t want you to hurt anyone. This is a
different kind of mission.”

“Different kind?” But killing people was what Op
Wraith did. We were assassins for hire. Op Wraith had created us
for pure profit.

She nodded. “Yes, this is more of a… fact-finding
mission.”

I didn’t understand.

“You got good grades in science in high school.” She
was stating this as truth. She had access to all my old school
records. “You won a chemistry award.”

I nodded slowly. What did this have to do with my
mission?

“You’ll be posing as an intern at Costello Labs.
They’re a leading manufacturer of medicine. That’s not what I want
information about, though. They have experimental products in place
as well. Products that might rival some of the things that
Dewhurst-McFarland has manufactured.”

Dewhurst-McFarland was an arms corporation, but
they’d worked on prototypes of various biotech weapons. For
instance, they’d designed the serum that had made all of us
indestructible supersoldiers.

“You can do that, can’t you, Sloane?” said French.
“Get information about their secret labs? You’re such an unassuming
little thing. Practically invisible. Once you’re inside, you’ll be
able to find out exactly what they’re up to.”

* * *

“Wait, I do remember this,” said Silas. “You were out
of Op Wraith for like six weeks at that place. It made me crazy,
because I couldn’t do anything about it. I was terrified that
French was going to force you to do the same kind of work I was
doing. She pretty much told me not to interfere, or she’d start
sending you off to sleep with guys for money.”

I felt cold all over. I was glad that Silas had
protected me from that. I didn’t know what it would have done to
me. But I hated the fact that Silas had been through so much to
protect me. Sometimes, it felt like everything that Silas had gone
through had created a debt that I could never repay. More than
once, he’d done things—horrible things—to keep me alive, to keep me
safe. And with all of that piled up in our life, everything always
felt unequal between us.

I wanted to do something for him. Something big. I
wanted to take the big fall. I wanted to balance things out a
little bit.

“Well, what did you find out?” said Griffin. “What
were they doing in this lab?”

“I don’t know exactly,” I said. “I stole some
formulas and got them to French. I think that they formed the basis
of some of the other formulas she created. The injections that
erased memory and other things like that. I torched the lab after I
did it, and they thought it was an accident. All their research was
down the drain, but French had it. Basically, she used me to knock
them off at the knees and make Op Wraith even more powerful.”

Griffin made a face. “That sounds like French, all
right.”

“Well, it’s been years since that happened,” said
Silas. “You think that they’ve gotten back to where they were? That
they’re making injections like that again?”

“Maybe,” I said. “They had human test subjects. I saw
them. It was awful.”

“So, they were just like Op Wraith then. Another
ethically bankrupt group of people messing with people to make
money,” said Griffin.

“Isn’t that what all corporations are?” I said.

We were quiet.

Griffin started to pace again. “Okay, okay. But it
still doesn’t make sense. Why would they call Leigh?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You think they’re the ones who snatched her?” said
Silas. “The ones who snatched Knox?”

“We can’t know that. Leigh and Knox have no
connection to this lab.” I chewed on my lip. “Unless… unless you
count French.”

“No.” Griffin turned on his heel and glared at me.
“Jolene French is dead. She was blown to bits. She never had time
to get out of that building.”

Silas’ jaw twitched. He’d never liked the fact that
Griffin had untied French. “We should have made sure.”

“She’s dead.” Griffin looked back and forth between
the two of us, daring us to challenge him.

“Well, whatever the case,” I said, “we have to follow
up with this lead. Costello Labs called Leigh. Dr. James Armstrong
from Costello Labs, to be precise. He’s a medical doctor, but he
works in research, not with patients. I remember him from when I
was posing as an intern. He definitely had ties to secret
experiments.”

“We have to talk to this guy,” said Silas.

“I think so,” I said.

“Well, where the hell is this place?”

“It’s in town,” I said.

“In Boston?” said Griffin.

I nodded.

“Then they’re the ones who took her,” said Griffin.
“We have to go and get her back.”

“We need to be careful,” I said. “We can’t tip our
hand. If they do have her, we still don’t know why. We need more
information.”

Silas folded his arms over his chest. “It seems
pretty cut and dry to me, Sloane. I say that Griffin and I go in
there and convince this James Armstrong guy to give Leigh
back.”

“I should go in,” I said. “They know me. They think
I’m an intern. They never figured out that I worked for French.
After the lab explosion, all the interns got let go. I have a way
in.”

Silas shook his head. “No way, Sloane. This might get
hairy. I think it would be better if you hung back.”

“You always make me hang back,” I said.

“You’ll cover us,” he said. “You’re the best shot
long range. It only makes sense.”

I sighed. “Should we be firing guns already?”

“I want her back,” said Griffin. “God knows what’s
happening to her. I want her back now.”

Silas gave me a grim look. “We’ll do whatever we have
to.”

“But Silas—”

“Sloane, if things get really tense, you know that
you sometimes freeze.” His voice was quiet.

Damn it. I looked away.

“I need you on the periphery,” he said.

All right. Fine. I’d hang back. The boys could go in
up close and personal, and I’d hide out and cover them from a
distance.

* * *

The rooftop was bathed in afternoon sunlight, but I
was shivering all the way up here. It was colder in May in Boston
than it was in West Virginia, and I hadn’t come prepared. It didn’t
help to be twenty stories up either. It was even colder up
here.

The roof where I was set up looked directly on the
Costello Labs building.

I peered through the telescopic sight of my rifle,
spotting Griffin and Silas as they entered the building
downstairs.

They looked so tiny and far away, even through the
magnified glass.

I trained my crosshairs on a security guard who was
right at the door. He didn’t seem to be paying Griffin and Silas
any attention. Both of them were dressed in suits and looked like
businessmen going to a meeting. They walked through the lobby
without stopping to speak to anyone. They looked like two guys who
knew where they were going, who belonged.

That simple trick was the most obvious skill an
assassin needed, and the hardest skill to master. If you could pull
it off though—if you could truly appear to be someone who knew what
you were doing, who belonged—then getting through sticky situations
was that much easier.

Most people noticed suspicious things. And a
confident person didn’t look suspicious. Confident people were
convincing. If you projected assurance, people were assured. The
trick was to do it well. I had to admit that it wasn’t my strong
suit, probably because I wasn’t actually confident most of the
time. I generally felt a little off kilter, as if I didn’t really
belong anywhere.

I compensated for this by doing my best to look
pissed off or frustrated. Frustrated people didn’t reassure other
people, but most people stayed clear of angry strangers. No one
liked being yelled at. Anyway, I rarely had to go out into the
field, since Silas always made me hang back.

And here, with my gun, I had to admit that I really
did feel confident. The weapon felt like it belonged in my hands.
It was an extension of my body, an instrument of my will. I stroked
the barrel.