Page 43 of Agent Zero
Even secured to the chair with zip ties and handcuffs, it was best not to underestimate the subjects.Which was why Bronson stayed near the door, why Caldwell was right outside and teams stationed at either end of the hallway.
“Did you change your cologne?”Eight asked.
“What?I don’t wear—come on, soldier.Don’t be a smartass.Ijustgot chewed out for sticking up for you.Are you going to be reasonable or not?”Because if you don’t play ball, you’re liquidated.You bastards can’t survive a shot to the head, no sirree.
Ten minutes later, Bronson stepped out into the hall.Caldwell, sweat drying and flaking on his forehead, snapped to attention.He had blue eyes too, not so piercing as Eight’s, bloodshot and blinking now.“Sir?”
“He’ll play ball.Take a six-man team in, untie him, give him something to eat.Get him some kit.I’ll pull the target file together.”
Caldwell nodded, but didn’t move.“You think he’ll?—”
“He doesn’t have a lot of options.”Bronson massaged his temples, hard, with slick sweating fingertips.“In any case we’ve got him chipped, and we’ve got grids and cores from here to Florida.”
“Yessir.You’re doing a good job, sir.”
Likeyoucan tell.But Bronson nodded.“I’m going to go home and get some clean clothes.Call me if anything happens, and for God’s sake, don’t let Three offbase.”
“Wasn’t planning on it, sir.”The major blinked like a surprised raccoon.“Um, should we...I mean, should I feed her?”
“Feed her, water her, whatever.Just keep her on the damn base, and be careful with Eight.”Bronson glanced at the door he’d just exited, glad to be finished with at least one disagreeable task.“By the book, nice and slow, don’t cut any corners.”
“Yessir.”
By the time Bronson reached the end of the hall, his headache was thankfully starting to fade.He decided not to ask Three what she thought of Eight’s calm, steady agreement.He had a handle on this himself, and all of a sudden his entire body itched.
He couldn’t wait to get into fresh clothes.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Another evening,another cheap motel—a dispirited brick lump right at the edge of yet another city.A truck-stop diner crouched across the parking lot, the vast expanse of pavement to its rear studded with diesel pumps and dozing semis.The headlights were twinkling stars, taillights blurred rubies, or maybe Holly was just too hungry and tired to focus.
“Are we stopping for the night?”She sounded whiny, she realized, and couldn’t suppress a deep sigh either.
Reese was quiet and thoughtful, a good traveling companion, but he wouldn’t let her drive.I’m fine, he kept saying.You just rest.
“Maybe.Mostly I thought you could use something warm, and to stretch your legs a little.”He cut the engine, set the parking brake, and his gaze roved over the lot.“Not sure I like the idea of sleeping here.”
“Still not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“I don’t want you to?—”
“—know where you’re headed, right.”She’d thought about that particular objection, and had her answer ready.“But either one of us can easily go somewhere else if they end up catching the other.So give.”
“South.We’ll slip over the border at a likely place?—”
Hold on.“Without passports?”
“You’ll have one by then.”As if it were easy, a preordained conclusion.“Once over, we’ll vanish.Probably live in a city, nice and anonymous.Get to know each other, rent a little house.”
“That takes money.”That was just the first flaw in the plan that she could see.There was a whole cavalcade of others she was too tired to list.Sleeping in a car all day was oddly exhausting.
“Money’s easy.”Reese scratched at his stubble, frowning at the diner’s gold-glowing windows.Incandescents always made the light so warm.“You can learn Spanish.”
“How is moneyeasy?”
“Think about what I’m trained for, Holly.Anyway, it’ll be nice.You’ll get a tan.”
“If I don’t keel over and die first.”Her chin settled.She was sulling up, as her father would have put it.
