Page 78 of Agent Zero
How proud he’d been when she graduated from community college, cradling her diploma in his worn-down hands.My smart, smart girl.
It was the only time she’d seen him smile in hospice, despite the readily available morphine.He’d probably been just as scared as she was, and tried not to show it.Maybe he hadn’t been cold or uncaring at all.
Just terrified.
Finally a pause, as someone jangled little bits of metal.Soft electronic tones—a keypad, and there was thechukof a heavy lock thrown.
“Rendition?”One of the soldiers, a light tenor, very young.
“No fun with this one.”Older, with the snap of command.“Just set her down.”
“Whatisthis place?”
“Best not to ask, soldier.Come on, we have to chemwash.Could be biologicals.”
A low, collective groan.She was dropped unceremoniously into what felt like a chair, and the jolt made her teeth click painfully together.The soldiers trooped out, the door closed, and she bent forward, trying to lift her hands high enough to yank the hood free.
It took a little work, since the cuffs at her wrists were connected by a length of chain to the ones at her ankles, but she managed.Just as she did, there was a soft whoosh—another door opening.Light stung her eyes—fluorescents, buzzing and hideous.Tiled walls, a table, and two heavy metal chairs, one occupied by her own sweet self.
A man strode in—no uniform, just a dark suit and maroon tie, sharp-shining shoes and combed-over strings of hair trying to hide a glistening bald patch.
Her hair was full of static, so Holly was shaking her head and trying to blow the strands free when the man laid a by now depressingly familiar manila file folder on the long, polished table.A reek of cigarette smoke and English Leather cologne, a greasy layer of fried food.Smelled like a French dip and fries, with ketchup instead of au jus.Lots of fat, grease, and an acrid note that said he didn’t wash as thoroughly as he could.
Eww.She was hard put to restrain a shudder.
Behind him, a woman.Black turtleneck, black skirt, black blazer, a pair of sensible black flats with grippy soles.Blonde hair scraped back in a tight ponytail, her hazel eyes flat and dead, she moved very economically, gracefully efficient.
Shedidn’t smell washed-out, though—her scent was blue, like those smelly markers you got in elementary school.The blueberry ones, nothing like real blueberries at all but instantly recognizable.
Huh.The woman smelled, oddly, like Cal.
The real shock came when the man settled himself in the other chair.The woman stood by the door, arms folded.She might have been pretty except for her complete lack of expression, a doll’s set stare.The small gold hoops in her ears, the ruthlessly short but buffed nails and the hair all shoutedbusinesswoman—one who would leave a precisely calculated tip just short of insultingly small.Nothing would bewrongwith the service provided, but a slight lift of a manicured eyebrow would tell you that she had judged your effort and found it wanting.
You would have to look a little closer to catch a flash behind that flat gaze, the subtle tension that shoutedhurt.
She’s like Reese.Like me.What did they do to her?
“Ms.Candless.”The man with the fried-food aftershave had obviously decided it was time to pontificate.“You’ve had an exciting week.”
Holly’s stomach lurched.I know that voice.
The last time she’d heard it, she’d been drugged out of her mind.
* * *
It probably wasn’t the best idea to start talking, but she couldn’t help herself.“It was you.”I sound like I’ve been punched.“You told them to kill me in my own house.”
His pitted face—if he ate French dip enough to reek like he did, no wonder he had bad skin—pursed up like she’d made an embarrassing bodily noise.“The situation was...complex.”
Don’t give me that shit.“You told them to murder me.”
“Well, they died for it.Did Agent Six kill them, or did you?”
Holly opened her mouth to tell him she’d been too busy trying to stay conscious enough to breathe, but recognized the trap just in time.Agent Six.That must be Reese.She pursed her lips instead, just like his prissy little frown, and simply glared.
That made him even more sour, if that were possible.Really, he smelled awful.“You also gave our seizure team quite a bit of trouble.”
They shot Reese with something.Neither of us smelled them—they were covered in something weird.Was Reese even still alive?Even if he was, Holly was on her own.
