The Drafter (32 page)

“I am not ashamed of who I am!” Taf shouted, face red. “Peri? We gotta go!”

Before she really gets pissed
, Peri thought, shoving Silas to the door.

“You involved Taffy?” Silas grimaced over his shoulder at her. “She's just a girl!”

“The woman's name is Taf, and she's rescuing us,” Peri said. “And shooting at people. At the same time.” He stared at her, and she gestured to the stairs. “Who do you think planned my escape? Listen to the woman with the rifle and move your ass!”

Silas fell into motion. Allen stared at them as they limped down the stairs. Howard gestured for them to hurry, half hidden by a pallet of freight. This was so messed up. How many people did it take to rescue one man?

“Howard?” Silas exclaimed in shock. “What are you doing here?”

Peri sighed, wondering the same thing. Her feet hit the concrete in a last lurch, the jarring sensation traveling all the way up to her skull. Hunched, she waved Taf to join them. Taf jogged forward, yelling at her mother to stay where she was, but Fran was still in shock, torn between
yelling at her daughter and seeing if Allen was okay. Ashen, Allen held his bloody foot, silent as he watched them flee.

“You okay?” Taf said, eyes bright as she held Allen's Glock out to her. “Silas?”

“He can move.” Frustrated, Peri took the handgun and pushed Taf toward the back door. Howard had tucked his shoulder under Silas's arm, and Taf walked backward to make sure her mom didn't follow.

“Don't believe her, Silas,” Allen shouted, his voice holding equal amounts of anger and pain. “You'll never know the truth! She doesn't even know it herself. I read her diary. I know how easy it's become for her to kill.”

Peri's face went cold, her pace faltering.
He saw my diary?

“We will find you!” Allen called out, still on the floor, a small puddle of blood around his foot. “We know everything you'll do, Peri. We trained you!”

This was going to give her nightmares. Taf walked backward beside Peri, the young woman's long coat furling like the heroine's in a sci-fi flick, her rifle pointed at the floor, but neither Allen nor her mom was moving.

“You trust her?” Peri heard Silas ask Howard, and her jaw clenched.

“I don't know,” Howard said. “But coming back for you was her idea.”

“Taf, you are cut off! You hear me?” Fran exclaimed.

“Yeah, I know,” Taf said, a hint of the depth of her bitterness showing.

“Taf!” Fran shouted as they got to the back door and light spilled in.

Peri stood a shaky watch with Taf as Howard got Silas to the truck. Silas wasn't moving well, his wide shoulders hunched in pain, and Peri was worried.

“You first,” Taf said, motioning for Peri to go. Silas was already in the truck, pained and crunched into the door. Behind her, the security door slammed. Taf stomped past her, the young woman's head down and the rifle held in a white-knuckled grip. A frustrated female cry echoed in the hangar.

And even though she couldn't stand the woman, Peri knew exactly how Fran felt.

T
he small room was warm from body heat, and the reek of Howard's solder overpowered the scent of the hot chocolate Silas had brought back for her from the nearby coffeehouse—along with something for everyone—when he'd gone in search of an honest-to-God paper newspaper. Nose wrinkled, Peri sipped at the cooling drink, levering herself out of the faded chair to nuke it in the microwave. Silas looked up from where he was kneeling over the coffee table with Howard. Styrofoam and plastic bags littered the floor, and Silas gave her a quick smile before Howard recaptured his attention with a request to hold something.

The large man was clearly glad she'd relaxed enough to finally eat. She hadn't let them stop except for gas and snacks on the drive back to Detroit, eager to get to a safe house—one that wasn't tied to Opti
or
the alliance.

Peri set the hot chocolate in the microwave, started it up, and waited beside the small efficiency sink while it spun. The bachelor apartment was a welcome spot of security. Even Opti didn't know she had it, Peri having bought the entire building on her eighteenth birthday during the great exodus for five hundred bucks and a promise to renovate. Which she had. It was in someone else's name and attached to an offshore bank account that paid expenses accrued. The rent from the comic book shop downstairs kept everything even with inflation. It
had been almost five years since the last visit—that she remembered—but Joe downstairs had been glad to see her, selling her a couple of rare Superwoman comics she'd been looking for to round out her collection. She was a good landlord, easy on the rent, and quick to upgrade the technology that let Joe stay competitive.

It was supposed to have been an investment, but she'd bought it because it was set right downtown in a neighborhood that had never undergone the modernization the rest of the city enjoyed. That, and she liked comics. Here, Detroit showed her past with stone and steel, bad parking, authentic ethnic restaurants, beggar musicians on corners, and shopfronts pushed right up to the street. It was noisy and cramped, and Peri felt good that she'd helped save it, even if it was only a few blocks long and there were more electric Sity bikes than cars now.

There was only one window that overlooked a parking lot and the adjacent street. The old rug did little to cover the scratched floorboards, and the muted voices filtering up from below were comforting in their predominantly male tenor. The furnishings were worn and mismatched, and Peri smiled as she remembered buying them at a secondhand shop simply because it would irritate her mother. Smile widening, Peri looked at her bright red fingernails as she dried her hands. She'd done a lot back then simply because her mother wouldn't like it. Still did, apparently.

The microwave dinged, and Peri took the hot chocolate to the window to watch the dark street for Taf, currently out getting Howard a circuit. Silas had agreed to help Peri get her talisman and bring back what had happened at Global Genetics, but there was a reluctance in him, a big “however” that kept tweaking her confidence—and it was beginning to get on her nerves.

It might be that Opti car at her apartment in Lloyd Park. Breaking in, immobilizing, and leaving before Opti could react might be an issue, but the five thousand under the silverware caddy meant she had more resources and didn't have to rely on Silas anymore.
Maybe that's what is bothering him
, she thought, sipping her drink as Silas jumped, jerking his finger away from Howard's motherboard and scowling.

“Taf is back,” she said, and Howard looked up, brightening.

“Good. I could use her little fingers,” he said, but Peri didn't think
it was just her hands he was glad to see. Thinking their past must be thicker than she'd first thought, Peri shifted the blind to keep the young woman in sight. Even lit by streetlight and the oncoming cars, she was the picture of privilege, a blond goddess with that swagger of hers and a little bag dangling from her hand. She fit right in with the other Motown shoppers. Letting the blind fall, Peri listened to the guys downstairs flirt with her, and then the creaking of her steps on the stairs. There was no way up them except noisy.

Bright-eyed and cheerful, Taf strode in, looking sharp in her “rescue attire.” Peri rubbed ruefully at her new jeans. They'd gone shopping this morning, but remembering what Allen had said about the ease of finding her, she'd left everything she liked on the rack. The faded fabric and sweater felt untidy, but since “not her” had been her goal, it would do.

“I think I got what you wanted, Howie,” Taf said as she shoved Silas farther down the table and upended the bag. “Smartphone-to-glass compatible chips. Gawwd, these things are expensive. They were going to charge me full price until I poured on the southern charm. That and I paid cash. This town
loves
its cash.”

Yes, it does
, Peri thought, hot mug in hand as she sat at the kitchen table before the half-knitted scarf she'd found tucked among the throw cushions.

“That's it. Thanks,” Howard said as he ripped the plastic off, and pleased, Taf took her coat off and slipped in where Silas had been. Seeing her ponytail inches from his dreadlocks made Peri smile. They were so unlike, but they complemented each other perfectly.

Shoulders bunching, Silas stood, looking massive next to Taf's petite bounciness. Clearly the odd man out, he went to the dusty shelves to eye the titles of the books and movies.

“Howard and I will swing by your apartment tonight to see if Opti is still there,” Silas said as he pushed the button on the SS
Enterprise
model to make Spock tell him to live long and prosper.

Peri's brow furrowed. She didn't like him touching her stuff. “Don't bother. They aren't going anywhere,” she said as she set her knitting down and joined Silas. “Getting in might be an issue.”

Howard hissed in pain, shaking his hand as the smell of solder rose
again, and Taf laughed. “Taf and I can help,” he said, glaring at her mirth. “Distract them. Draw them off.”

“And have you end up in an Opti cell?” Peri protested. “No. We'll find another way.”

Taf snorted as she used a pencil to hold something for Howard to solder. “We won't get caught. I know someone in Detroit with a sweet bike. Totally uncatchable.”

Howard looked up, blinking. “I've never driven a bike before.”

“And that's not going to change,” Taf said. “You sit behind me, dreadlock man. Real men don't mind their women driving.”

Silas frowned. “No,” Peri said, agreeing with him. “No one is going to be a distraction. Opti kills people,” she added.
Opti kills people. I kill people
.

“What the blazes are we here for, then?” Taf complained.

“Extraction.” Peri plucked the picture of twelve ten-year-olds in tutus out of Silas's hand before he picked her out of the group, setting it next to the autographed picture of Putin riding a Photoshopped bear where it belonged. “Three g's, and an r: Get in, get the info, get out, relocate.” They weren't her words, but
Jack's
. She didn't remember—she just knew.

“Extraction?” Taf sighed. “I can do more than drive. I can shoot, too. All us debutantes learn how to shoot before we get our first push-up bras.”

“Extraction is where someone who almost minored in evasive driving belongs,” Howard said, his head low over his work, and Silas snorted.

“You've got the entire Buffy series on disk?” he said, and Peri flushed, embarrassed to admit she didn't remember watching them. The feeling that she loved the people on the covers was undeniable, though.

“Oh, cool. Let's watch a few tonight,” Taf said, looking at the dusty Blu-ray player under the obsolete gen-one glass monitor beside the TV. “It works, doesn't it?”

“Sure, right after we sneak into Peri's apartment, outwit the government-funded bad guys, and save the world,” Silas grumped as he fiddled with the biker's cap on her Goth American Girl doll. “Maybe we can stop to pick up popcorn on the way.”

“You don't have to be so snide about it,” Peri muttered, suddenly not liking that she'd brought them here. Her comic book apartment had been a refuge from her mother's demands since she was eighteen, filled with the things she loved and wanted never to forget. It had always felt like a tree clubhouse to her, and Silas was poking about like it was a junk shop.

“Sorry,” he said, expression blank as he turned to go into the open kitchen.

Brow furrowed, she straightened the commemorative coffee table book of Princess Diana's royal wedding. The sucking sound of the freezer opening turned her around, and her lips parted when he took out a box of Thin Mints.

“God bless it, will you get out of my stuff!” she exclaimed, and Silas spun, eyes wide.

Taf made a long “Oooo, you're in trouble . . . ,” laughing when Howard shushed her.

“You've got like six boxes in there,” Silas said indignantly, and Howard gave Taf a nudge to be quiet when she opened her mouth again.

“Fine, go ahead.” Peri stomped back to the kitchen table. “But put them on a plate so we can all eat them.”

“Sure, Peri,” he said reasonably, but she was still peeved. Her unfinished scarf was stretched out over the table, and she studied the irregular bands of red, orange, and gold, trying to figure out what she'd been trying to do so she could finish it off. Knitting was supposed to be relaxing, but not with Silas bumping about in her kitchen.

“Ah, why do you have comic books in your wine fridge?” he asked.

Jaw tight, she ignored him. “Be careful with those,” she said when he reached for a blue glass plate, and his motions became exaggerated as he shook the frozen Girl Scout cookies onto it and set it down precisely between them. “They're antique,” she added, not knowing for sure.

“You know what? I need another circuit to finish this,” Howard said suddenly as he stood and stretched. “You want to come with me before they close, Taf?”

“What, now?” Taf appreciatively eyed Howard's stretched body. “This is just getting good. What are we making, anyway?”

“Bug detector,” he said as he collapsed in on himself. “A-a-a-and . . . it works,” he added as he picked it up and waved it over Taf and a light on it glowed.

“I am not bugged,” the woman said indignantly, but Silas, who had sat down across from Peri at the kitchen table with his paper newspaper, had taken an interest, too.

“She's clean,” Howard said as Taf smacked his thigh and eased up to sit on the couch. “It lights up at any outgoing ping, like from a cell phone.”

“I know I'm clean. Gawwd!” Taf drawled as Howard beamed over three squares of plastic he had been working on.