leash, because they went walking away at a fast clip, and the paralyzing red drumbeat of craft malice seemed to be withdrawing with them. I stood up and brushed the bits of asphalt from my knees. “A flashback. I think this restaurant caused it.”
“Then you are threatening me,” she said, but she relaxed the arm in her purse. “This place belongs to my family.”
“Oh. Really sorry.” I breathed through my mouth to avoid the restaurant’s exotic odors. The Gideons’ sedan was pulling out of the lot. “I should go.” I walked toward the T-Bird.
The woman trailed me. “You’re a soldier. You were in Iran?”
“No. Long story.”
“Where, then?” she asked. “Iraq? Why Farsi? Who were those people running after you?”
Then both the Left Hand and the curse exploded in my head, for once in total agreement, screaming at me. Kill her now. “I need to go.” I stumbled and fell again into blackness.
CHAPTER
FIVE
“Sir, we had him. Why did you stop me?” Leaving Bumppo and Carson behind in the sedan, the woman they called Sakakawea was speaking on her headset with her commander. On the opposite side of Prospect Street from Brown’s Carrie Tower, she paced back and forth on the sidewalk like a freshly caged predator, neon green eyes still hunting for prey.
Sakakawea had seen power radiating from where Morton had knelt, driving back Chimera’s force. But she had felt no limitation on taking a clean shot—or two, if one counted the mundane witness. H-ring would have rubber-stamped it as killing a rogue with collateral damage.
“Chimera said this wasn’t the time for us to act,” replied her commander. He masked his emotions, but she could hear his frustration.
“A half hour before, Chimera said this was the damned time. What’s the holdup?” Chimera had been predicting for months that the last of her kin might kill her and her commander, and destroy Chimera as well. The good news was that the old Endicott would slay the younger, which wouldn’t be a problem no matter how interpreted.
“You know his deceptions better than anyone.”
“Yes, love,” she said, dropping their formality. Thank the dark gods that, unlike her commander, she did not have to see Chimera on a daily basis anymore. Her commander had taken the body of Chimera’s technician in the Pentagon’s secret H-ring. She would have killed Chimera long ago if that hadn’t been exactly what he had wanted.
Her commander ignored her endearment. “Morton will report this up to Hutchinson. She’s the only one he trusts. We need to remove her.”
“When?” asked Sakakawea, not hiding her eagerness.
“Soon. Chimera suggests immediately bringing our force to bear on the House, followed by a coordinated attack.”
Sakakawea demurred. “He’s a Morton. He’ll have a foreboding of his death.”
“Good. He’ll just appear more insane.”
“Are we strong enough?” she asked, but only for her commander’s benefit.
“Yes,” he said.
As she ended the call, Sakakawea found herself standing near the simple stone and plaque of the H. P. Lovecraft memorial. She chuckled to herself, and loped back to the car.
* * *
A warm hand touched my forehead. I opened my eyes, and saw the perfect face of the Persian American woman peering back at me. Did I mention she was beautiful? For the first time since my last mission, the voices in my mind were completely quiet, though I was extremely focused.
She stepped away from me. In her other hand, she held a dripping gray cloth, which must have been meant for my brow. I felt the weight of my gun in my jacket. Good, she hadn’t taken it.
I assessed my position. I was seated in the detritus-filled part of a restaurant kitchen that no customer should witness. In the kitchen proper, a Persian-looking man with a wrinkled face and dark hair chopped vegetables with a large knife and almost preternatural speed. His sins were many and familiar. A woman of similar age (his wife?)
“Then you are threatening me,” she said, but she relaxed the arm in her purse. “This place belongs to my family.”
“Oh. Really sorry.” I breathed through my mouth to avoid the restaurant’s exotic odors. The Gideons’ sedan was pulling out of the lot. “I should go.” I walked toward the T-Bird.
The woman trailed me. “You’re a soldier. You were in Iran?”
“No. Long story.”
“Where, then?” she asked. “Iraq? Why Farsi? Who were those people running after you?”
Then both the Left Hand and the curse exploded in my head, for once in total agreement, screaming at me. Kill her now. “I need to go.” I stumbled and fell again into blackness.
CHAPTER
FIVE
“Sir, we had him. Why did you stop me?” Leaving Bumppo and Carson behind in the sedan, the woman they called Sakakawea was speaking on her headset with her commander. On the opposite side of Prospect Street from Brown’s Carrie Tower, she paced back and forth on the sidewalk like a freshly caged predator, neon green eyes still hunting for prey.
Sakakawea had seen power radiating from where Morton had knelt, driving back Chimera’s force. But she had felt no limitation on taking a clean shot—or two, if one counted the mundane witness. H-ring would have rubber-stamped it as killing a rogue with collateral damage.
“Chimera said this wasn’t the time for us to act,” replied her commander. He masked his emotions, but she could hear his frustration.
“A half hour before, Chimera said this was the damned time. What’s the holdup?” Chimera had been predicting for months that the last of her kin might kill her and her commander, and destroy Chimera as well. The good news was that the old Endicott would slay the younger, which wouldn’t be a problem no matter how interpreted.
“You know his deceptions better than anyone.”
“Yes, love,” she said, dropping their formality. Thank the dark gods that, unlike her commander, she did not have to see Chimera on a daily basis anymore. Her commander had taken the body of Chimera’s technician in the Pentagon’s secret H-ring. She would have killed Chimera long ago if that hadn’t been exactly what he had wanted.
Her commander ignored her endearment. “Morton will report this up to Hutchinson. She’s the only one he trusts. We need to remove her.”
“When?” asked Sakakawea, not hiding her eagerness.
“Soon. Chimera suggests immediately bringing our force to bear on the House, followed by a coordinated attack.”
Sakakawea demurred. “He’s a Morton. He’ll have a foreboding of his death.”
“Good. He’ll just appear more insane.”
“Are we strong enough?” she asked, but only for her commander’s benefit.
“Yes,” he said.
As she ended the call, Sakakawea found herself standing near the simple stone and plaque of the H. P. Lovecraft memorial. She chuckled to herself, and loped back to the car.
* * *
A warm hand touched my forehead. I opened my eyes, and saw the perfect face of the Persian American woman peering back at me. Did I mention she was beautiful? For the first time since my last mission, the voices in my mind were completely quiet, though I was extremely focused.
She stepped away from me. In her other hand, she held a dripping gray cloth, which must have been meant for my brow. I felt the weight of my gun in my jacket. Good, she hadn’t taken it.
I assessed my position. I was seated in the detritus-filled part of a restaurant kitchen that no customer should witness. In the kitchen proper, a Persian-looking man with a wrinkled face and dark hair chopped vegetables with a large knife and almost preternatural speed. His sins were many and familiar. A woman of similar age (his wife?)
Similar Books
