The Infected 3: Cast Iron (34 page)

Then she noticed the cameras. At least three were watching them. It wasn’t a big deal, except that she hadn’t put any make-up on, which was the rule for Team one members going out anywhere. Even on base. The only exception was going to the gym and that only because no one knew how to keep it off of the mats and work out equipment. She’d hear about it from Charlot, no doubt.

The hardest part about intelligence work was the waiting. It always had been for her at least. Conroy just sat at the table with its expensive cream colored cloth after holding her chair out for her. It was a joke of course, an old one that dated back to nearly the first time they’d met. It had never been funny really, but for some reason it always got her to smile. She’d never needed anyone to hold the door for her, or move a chair around, but he always did it anyway, smiling the whole time.

Before she could say anything the waiter came over, looking relieved for some reason.

“Hi, I’m James. I’ll be your server today. Would you like menu’s or are you ready to order?” It was clearly something he was used to saying a hundred times a day, and it showed. He sounded polite, but empty inside somehow, like the job was crushing the life out of him. That was a shame, because he looked too young to be broken that way yet. Maybe in his low twenties. About Brian’s age.

“Menu’s please.” Mike didn’t look at the younger fellow at all, his eyes staying on Marcia, a small smile on his face. “This could take a bit. She tends to be a picky eater.”

She shrugged.

“Not that much anymore. But yes, let’s see the menu? We don’t want to miss out on something because we don’t know it exists.”

He scurried off and back in less than twenty seconds, presenting both with a rather nice leather bound folder in green. A deep color that reminded her of pine trees for some reason. Looking at it more closely she decided it must actually be vinyl or something, since not only would real cow leather be too expensive, it would tick off the environmentalists. Not that vinyl or whatever it was wouldn’t pollute more to make than using a cow would, but it was a thing these days, catering to every fringe group that had the money to lobby congress.

James leaned in, his eyes going a bit wide, and he whispered, directing their attention toward the lobby through the glass front of the space they were in.

“I thought that we’d be in for trouble with all the Infected around here the last few days, but so far the television people are the worst by far. The crocodile lady that came in was sweet even and her little toad friend was cool. They sang a song for me and left a nice tip. I had some guy dressed like a chef throw eggs at me earlier, because they weren’t cooked exactly like he wanted. I mean, really… Eggs. They were still hot too. I had to refuse to bring him coffee, just because I value my skin. He yelled at me for that like I was the one with the problem, but there are limits, right?” He blushed a little looking down. He wasn’t tall, maybe five-seven or so, which made him look even younger with the bashful expression on his face.

“Sorry, not your problem, I’m just a bit shaken up by having stuff thrown at me like that. Just wave to me when you’re ready to order and I’ll be right over.” Then he left to check on another table nearby. This one held several of the television people, but they were crew, not talent. She recognized one of them from the other day. Gary, she thought his name was. A cameraman from Mark’s show. He caught her looking, so she waved to him a bit, smiling before turning back to her conversation. The only thing she knew about him was that Denis called him “Beardo” about half the time.

They made small talk and watched people, avoiding talking about work at all, except Penny, which hit only on her complete lack of real training to that point. Mike nodded along, asking good questions and generally being agreeable until the food came. Then he grinned and took a bite of pancake, mopping up some of the real syrup out of the container that had come with it.

“This is good. So, anyway…” He took another bite, a maddening habit of his, starting a sentence then taking forever to finish it. At least he didn’t talk with his mouth full though. After the swallowing he continued.

“Is having me around going to be a problem for you? I know that… we didn’t end things on perfect footing.” It was a diplomatic way of putting it and meant what it sounded like.

Could she handle having her ex around all the time? The truth was she didn’t know. It was a good idea all on its own and it wasn’t like she was sleeping her way through the ranks of the IPB or anything, so that part shouldn’t be too hard on him. If anything she’d be the one in trouble there. Older he may be and just on the fit side of average looking, but Mike Conroy was a charmer when he wanted to be. If he wasn’t dating half the single women on the base by the end of the first month it would only be because he was too busy.

That reminded her to make sure he was too busy. Smiling she shrugged and took a bite of her own food, some of those eggs that could be used as projectiles in a pinch. They seemed fine to her, but then they would, even if coated in Drain-o or floor wax. The texture seemed right. She took a few bites herself; trying to make sure she didn’t starve herself by accident or make people think she was anorexic and pointed her fork at the man across from her when she was done.

“It shouldn’t be a problem. We probably won’t get to see each other all that much. They actually manage to keep me fairly busy most days. I’m helping to train Brian for instance and have a load of admin stuff each day, meetings and all that. Think you’ll be alright with it? I mean, if anyone has a right to feel wronged about how things ended it’s you. I do want to remind you that I really couldn’t help it back then. Everything hit’s hard at first. Not that I’m claiming it’s a lot better now, but I’ve learned to cope with things a bit.” She grinned. “Sort of. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have a real relationship with anyone. I’m working on the idea of friendship though. So far so good. I haven’t accused anyone of trying to steal from me or betray me in…” Counting she shook her head and took another bite.

“What’s it been? Half an hour now?’

They both chuckled over it, because it was true. A sad and sorry fact, but a real one none the less.

Luckily, instead of having to delve into the failings of personality caused by her lifestyle and unalterable Infection, they got a distraction. It wasn’t a great thing, but it was something she’d thought might eventually happen. Peggy. She’d killed a man on national television and been put in prison for it. The only one that could hold a person as powerful as she was. The IPB lock-up. Not that it would have made a difference if they’d put her somewhere else. She’d stayed in lock up because it was her punishment and she felt legitimately guilty for what she’d done. The guards had never locked her in, not even at night.

Marcia had been there and spoken for her at the trial, since it was, at most, manslaughter. The guy had goaded her into attacking, calling her names and insulting her, right after she’d fought to save his life. Peggy had been hurt and had just barely managed to stop the Infected that had been attacking people, separated from the rest of Team two at the time, desperately trying to protect the civilians in the area, even though she was very nearly outmatched. Then, still bleeding and in pain, the jerk started calling her ugly and trying to get a reaction from her.

It worked.

That was hardly her fault though and it wasn’t exactly related to her first mode, just that particular situation. It meant they didn’t have to put her to death, which normally would have been automatic. It also would have caused Team two to mutiny, she was sure. For that matter she might have joined them. Instead the Director locked her up to placate the masses and the rest of the government. That would have been fine, except now she was on work release, of a sort. Brian had set it up.

Lauren had been her “guard” but was sent away on a mission, meaning that technically no one was watching the prisoner. The only real problem there was that the press had somehow figured all of that out and ambushed the woman in the lobby, along with Denis and Tobin. Marcia couldn’t hear them through the glass, but she could read the reporters lips enough to get the idea.

Why was a dangerous prisoner walking around without the mandatory guard? She sighed and dug out some money, waving to James the waiter.

“Hey, sorry to run like this, but it looks like there’s a problem. Could you just handle the bill for us? This should cover it. If not, um…” She dug into her purse and pulled her IPB card out. The one that was connected to her bank account.

“If not, then use this. Give yourself a twenty-five percent tip. That or ten dollars. Whichever is more.” She hopped up, handing the wad of stuff to the man and walking out quickly. She didn’t want to stiff the man on the tip, but it was breakfast. He was only getting that much because she was acting like a loon and running off.

Conroy followed her, moving up alongside her as they got to the scene, listening to what was being said the whole time.

Looking a bit panicked, Denis was trying to cover for the lack of guard by claiming that he was handling the situation personally. That didn’t fly though, because he was a celebrity now. Everyone knew he was on probation himself. It was getting pretty dire when Tobin spoke up, his voice firm and commanding, deeper than it normally was. All eyes and camera lenses went to him suddenly.

“Operative Lauren Slovich had that duty, but was called away on a real assignment, so left me in charge of the situation. Due to the high level of rehabilitation offered in the IPB program, both Peggy and Denis are considered to not be a threat to the public at all. In fact both have proved themselves to be high level assets to our program and we look forward to releasing both of them from any extra scrutiny in short order. The idea of either of them needing a guard is a mere formality, meant only to satisfy the requirements of paperwork and is not a real issue. Even that paperwork has been recently diminished to the point of almost being considered non-important.” He smiled, a thing that didn’t look like it belonged on his face at all, but would have served the Director well. It was like he was channeling the man or something.

“Any further questions on the matter should be addressed to Marcia Turner, Deputy Director of the IPB, who I believe I see right over there? I assure you that this situation is well in hand, and more, even if we didn’t have a guard at all, both of these people standing with us are trustworthy and would do anything to protect the public at large, even if they’ve made a few mistakes in the past.” He turned to the blond man who had led the attack, a guy from the conservative network and waved.

“Yes, mistakes. Made under duress. Before you attack them for what they’ve done, Mr. Jonas, perhaps you’d be best serve to question your own loyalties and behavior? Haven’t you been linked to several hate groups in the last few months? I’m rather surprised that your channel still lets you on the air. Of course, this information won’t air there, due to the bias of your Network, but I think your competitors might be more inclined to let the truth out.” Then he took Peggy by the hand and walked off with her firmly. Stalking a little.

The other camera people moved to get a reaction shot from Jonas, if that was his name and found the man looking pissed, rather than confused.

The whole thing hadn’t been like Tobin at all, and as far as she could tell, Denis hadn’t been looking at him the whole time. His powers required him to focus on the person being influenced. Didn’t they? He saw her looking at him and shook his head, which was a sad thing, then looked at Tobin. Taking Mike by the hand she pulled him along and nudged the guy with his short wooly hair into action, walking in the same direction that Tobin had gone.

“Um, that wasn’t normal. Explanation Den? Do we need to scuttle this mission and run or what?” Braid had a guy that could control people like that, from a distance. Make anyone do anything for as long as he wanted. He was called Stillness. The old codenames weren’t as easily understood as the new ones were. Not all the time. Why one of Braid’s people would have influenced Tobin into being so effective though she couldn’t see.

Looking at Mike first, as if wondering who the heck he was, Denis shook his head again slowly. He tilted his head as they walked toward the stairs, as if asking who the new guy was. It was a good thought, since they really hadn’t been introduced. She didn’t want him to go around blabbing everything all the time, so she couldn’t fault him for being careful at the moment.

“This is Mike Conroy. Colonel, U.S. Army, retired. Ran special operations with Lancaster, Reyes, Jason and I back in the day. I can’t talk about most of it, since it’s still classified. Currently he’s agreed to come in and act as a special trainer for Penny, so he’s one of us now. Most of that is also classified, though I want you and Hobbs to work with her and Brian from time to time on that. So, unless what happened to Tobin is really classified, you can talk about it.” She tried to leave off the last bit, but it would come out, eventually and hiding things from her own people, while always tempting, wasn’t going to work too well. Especially with the little stuff. Secrets eroded trust.

“Um, Mike is also my ex-husband. My fault. Or, well, I’m still blaming my first mode for that one, which I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you.” They all got that kind of thing at the IPB. Once Infected you didn’t get a lot of choice in how you felt or reacted to things. People learned to just let stuff go, after a while.

“OK.” Denis still looked glum, but kept talking.

“It’s because of my dad.” He glanced at Conroy and stopped talking for a minute.