Page 15 of Agent Zero
A fingertip touched the screen, right at the bridge of his nose.A shadow of crookedness—perhaps an old break.No doubt he received sympathy from the woman he had hidden away.What was her name?
Tracy Moritz.There were already contingencies in place.Civilian entanglements were heavily frowned upon.
Her throat was oddly constricted; Three’s hand dropped back to her side.The screen blanked into power-saving mode.
How long had she been standing here?She shook her head, and a thought occurred to her.
Three.That’s not a real name.
Curiosity, then.Perhaps, since she was a mystery even to herself, she couldchoosea name?
“Trinity.”There.That would do.Her lips shaped the word, and her headache eased all at once.
The strangeness in her throat did not, but she set it aside to concentrate on work.
ELEVEN
“I’m getting tooold for this crap.”Holly leaned back, stretching.At least she’d been able to get some dry toast down this morning.Her weight was holding steady, too.
Maybe she wasn’t going to be called to the big rodeo in the sky just yet.
“I hear that.”Barb cracked her gum, grabbed another saltshaker.Thin fall sunlight streamed through the window, liquid gold showing every crack and chip in the tables.The street steamed, and everyone was either irritated by the sudden glare or doped up on bright yellow light.Sunshine drove everyone crazy.“Any word on Angie?”
“Ginny’s going by today to check on her.”
Barb snorted.“Well, that’s no help.”
“She’s just young.”And stupid.We were all that way once.Growing out of foolishness was painful; sometimes it took a hard jolt to kick-start the process.Sometimes it took a double punch, one-two, like coming home from a doctor’s office and hearing your husband sayI want a divorceas though he was telling you what was for dinner.
“So are you.”Barb filled the shaker, screwed the cap back on with a savage twist and cracked it down like a shot glass.
“Ha.I feel pretty damn creaky.”Holly’s hands moved on their own, wrapping silverware.Fork, knife, spoon, crease the napkin, the gummed band nice and tight.
“You’re just a baby.What about Mystery Man?”With a bright avid smile, Barb picked up another saltshaker.Her fingers lingered.
“Haven’t seen him.”Not since Friday, at least.Stop asking.
“Shame.I could use one of those tips.”
“We all could.”Fork, knife, spoon.A roll, a tap, the gummed band.
“What did you say his name was?”
Reese.“Can’t remember.”
Barb’s expression suggested she might not believe that assertion.“You think he’ll be back?”
“Probably not.”Hope not.Did she?
That was the trouble.Life was uncertainty.She should have gone back to the doctor once or twice at least, to get some sort of ideaexactlyhow long she had, but what was the point?
Better just to vanish.
“Shame.”Barb shook her head, pursed her lips.
“If he does,youcan pour him coffee and make awkward conversation.”Another band, smoothed down just like a pillowcase.Right after the divorce she’d done housekeeping in the Five Seasons downtown; it was a relief not to think.To move so steadily you didn’t have to brood about anything.All during her father’s final illness she’d perfected that skill to a fine art.
By now she was probably at Olympic level in that sport.One day at a time, and all that.She’d read a “Surviving Cancer” book from the library once, and it was full of similar little gems.Dad had refused to even glance at any of the literature they gave him.He’d retreated into himself like a snail into a shell, and the military hadn’t done a damn thing to help.All those years he gave to his country, and they threw him out like trash.
