Armed and Dangerous (The IMA) (30 page)

They prefer to think of themselves as peacemakers
, Michael had said.
They protect their own
.

Maybe that was vigilantism. I didn't care. I had slipped through the cracks so many times, I liked the idea of someone waiting down below to catch me if I fell.

I glanced over at Michael. The slash on his face was healing slowly. The Sniper had gouged a slanting line down his left cheekbone, an obvious knife-wound. One that would mark him as a criminal for the rest of his life.

He stirred and I watched his fingers trace along the healing skin of his face, as though seeking out an itch that needed scratching. His arm fell back to his
side.  “What time is it?”

“
Eleven, I think.”

“
Jesus. My
head
. It's like fucking Armageddon in there.” He closed his eyes, massaging the lids. “Close the blinds. Now. Please,” he added, as an afterthought.

“
Sure.” I closed the curtains, catching a fleeting glimpse of the foggy city skyline, half-shrouded in the low-hanging clouds, before the room plunged into darkness.

He muttered something rebellious. I heard the crack of a can opening and hoped it was an energy drink and not more alcohol. “Michael?”

A loud swallow. “What?”

“
Was that man — Hawk — was he your boss at the BN?”

I heard a metallic clank as he set the can down on the nightstand. “No, thank God. No. That was Perry.”

“Like Perry the Platypus?” I wondered aloud.

“
No, like Perry the Peregrine. They're all a bunch of bird-brains, named after a bunch of fucking birds.” He picked up the can and took another swig. “Why do you ask?”

“
I was thinking about what you said about the BN in the desert. I was wondering if they were all like Hawk.”

“
No.”

I paused.

“Do you still have the number to contact him?”

Michael groaned a little. “Number for who?”

“Perry. His phone number. Do you still have it?”

He definitely sounded more awake now. “Why the fuck would you need that?”

“Because I have an idea that could get us out of this mess.” If the BN were a social party, even a militant one, I was sure that they would be interested in what I had to say. “Do you trust me?”

His skeptical silence made me shift uncomfortably. I felt like Aladdin, holding his hand out to Jasmine on the magic carpet. A ridiculous comparison under the given circumstances, and yet oddly apt.

“I shouldn't,” he said. His hand moved up to his face, testing the ragged edges of the knife-wound. “But you were right about the bomb.”

“
I guess watching TV can be helpful,” I said.

“
Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head or anything. Shit.” He reeled off the number.

His head tilted like a cat's at the beeping noises coming from the hotel phone as I dialed. “I hope you're half as confident as you're pretending to be,” he remarked, leaning back against the pillow to watch me make the call.

“Shh.”

There was a small click on the other end. Hardly noticeable at all, really, unless you knew what to look for. Just a few months before, I hadn't. But I'd heard the sound several times since then, enough times to know it was the sound of another line tapping in to record.

“Who is this?” The voice was British, suspicious, very posh-sounding. He reminded me of the Alfred character from the Batman films I'd watched with my dad as a kid.

“
I'd like to speak to Perry, please.”

“
I think you have the wrong number.”

“
I don't think so,” I said.

Michael growled and reached for the phone. I pushed him away. The man on the other line had gone silent, but he hadn't hung up yet, either. I had to fight my own battle.

“I know you're probably asking yourself how I got this number. I'm a friend of Michael Boutilier. I want to work for you.”

“
We are not hiring at present.”

I pushed on. “I think your boss will be very interested in my proposition.”

“And why might that be?”

“
Because I'm the daughter of the famous computer hacker, Rubens Parker. The man who broke into the unbreakable. He broke into the IMA's database — I want to be the one to help you do the same thing again.”

“
You have my attention.”

I gave Michael a thumbs up. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. I didn't care. I'd passed the first test, and I'd received a time and a place for my efforts.

Michael:

I thought she was being a perfect fool. Telling her this would have been even more foolish; when it came to my orders, she tended to disregard them — just for spite, I suspected at times.

Or as I phrased it: “If you're so insistent on marching in for the slaughter, then at least let me make it so you don't look like such a lost little lamb.”

I took her to one of those ridiculously overpriced boutiques. She protested. The idea of me buying clothes for her made her feel uncomfortable, I could tell. She prided herself on her independence.

“
Make her look intimidating,” I told the hovering assistant. “Find something that plays down the sweet face. I'm going to find a suit,” I said to Christina. “Stay here.”

I found what I was looking for easily. The stylish shit was always placed up near the front. Black suit, simple cut. White shirt. No tie. No cufflinks. I paid for the clothes and walked back over to the women's section.

I found the shopping assistant outside the fitting rooms. “Has she got a selection going?”

She darted a look at me, and then away. “Well.”

“No?” I turned towards the doors. “Christina — where are you? I want to see what you have on.”

“
I look ridiculous,” came her muffled response.

I headed towards that first door. The shopping assistant made as if to stop me. I threw her a look, freezing her in her tracks, and rapped on the door.

“Open up.”

The door swung open.

She was wearing a white blouse tucked into a navy skirt. A navy coat fastened just beneath her breasts, cinching in her waist, cutting an imposing figure. She needed to unfasten the collar — she looked like a librarian. A little cleavage would give her some edge; most men are frightened by a sexually confident woman. But apart from that, yes, this was the look she needed.

I snorted when I saw her sneakers, though. “You need new shoes, darlin.”

“Stilettos?” she offered.

“
Yeah. Those.” I lolled my head towards the saleswoman. “You got any in her size?”

She scampered off to get them.

“I think she's afraid of you,” said Christina.

“
You think so too, hmm?” I pulled her closer and loosened her collar. “Wear your blouse open,” I said, running my fingers down the smooth skin of her neck. “It makes you look more confident. Just make sure you don't stutter.”

Christina:

The man sitting across from us in the airport cafe matched my stereotype of the British man. He was medium height, nondescript features except for a very full white mustache. He was wearing a brown suit that looked like tweed.

So this was Perry the not-a-platypus.

A cup of black tea sat in front of him, several cubes of sugar waiting on the side. Michael sat at the table while I ordered. His posture was stiff as the two of them spoke in hushed undertones. I carried my coffee back to the table

“Well,” said Perry, straightening as I sat down. “I believe we have much to discuss.”

Michael was a pillar of intensity beside me. I glanced at him, warily, and read the warning in his face.

I swallowed. “Yes. That's right.”

“
I will be honest; we did consider simply eliminating the two of you. Michael has already proved somewhat of a disappointment.” His disapproving gaze fell on Michael, who returned it with a much more convincing glare of his own.

“
The feeling was mutual.”

“
Quite.” Perry cleared his throat. “I tell you this not as a threat, Ms. Parker, but as a token of our good faith and…honesty.”

The fact that it is a threat probably doesn't hurt, though
.

“
That said, I do implore you to be honest, Ms. Parker. There is much that we know; it is not wise to lie.”

“
You already know who I am, then.”

Rather than responding directly he said, “Our records show that your abilities with computers are only slightly above average. I'm not sure you can live up to your claims.”

“I'm still in contact with my father. I planned on asking him to teach me what he knew.”

Dad wouldn't like that but he owed me that much. I could no longer stay out of the fray, and I didn't want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. It seemed only fair to ask him for the means to defend myself against redundancy. He owed me that much.

As if following my line of thought, Perry said, “Why shouldn't we hire him, then? Skip the middleman.”

“
Because my dad is a coward.”

Michael snorted.

I gave him a dark look. It was a truth that had taken me a year to come to terms with, but there it was. I turned back to the British man.

“
Hacking is like a puzzle to him. A game. I don't think he really understands the consequences of what he does. When he realized what he'd gotten into with the IMA, he tried to run away — to hide from the situation. Instead, he ended up putting the fall on the people he loved … or claimed to, anyway.”

I hadn't planned on saying that. The truth of it stung like an open wound. I took a hasty swallow of scalding coffee, stalling for a few precious seconds.

Stick to the script.

“
The IMA destroyed any chances I had at living a normal life, forcing me to start over from scratch at nineteen. I can't go home. I can't go back to school. I've decided I'm going to stop living the way other people tell me to, and start living it the way I
ought
to — on my own terms. I want to work for you.

“
I'm a good candidate because nobody would ever suspect me. Because I'm a girl, people assume that I am weak. Because I am young, they assume that I'm foolish, as well. Because I'm Latina, they figure I must not be able to speak English well, let alone code.”

Perry leaned back in his seat. “A very moving speech.”

Was he being sarcastic, or just British? “I have knowledge of the system level, the user interface, the network, and utility. I'm comfortable with Macs and PCs. I'm also well versed in Java
and
C-plus-plus, and recently I have been reading up on D, as well.”

“
I believe you.”

I drank my coffee.

Perry sipped his tea.

Michael said, “Are you going to answer her?”

“This is unprecedented, to say the least. Many will question your motives — both of you. The very nature of your relationship is circumspect, you understand.”

“
That isn't relevant.”

“
But it is, Mr. Boutilier.” Perry set down his tea. “You have betrayed two organizations for one another. Who is to say that you will not do it again? I would be interested in knowing your long-term plans, to get a sense of where your loyalties lie.”

“
I want Adrian Callaghan dead,” said Michael. “I hate that son of a bitch, and I intend to see him in his grave. If you hire her, I'll leak you any information I'm able without also incriminating myself.”

“
Yes, we did find it odd that the information you provided us with was so…accurate. Double agents are not usually so forthcoming.”

“
Honor has a price, like anything else.” Michael laced his hands behind his head. “I have no set loyalty.”

“
I don't quite believe that, but I see your point. Alliances fall and crumble. Even the most powerful.”

Michael nodded. “Just look at those poor bastards in Rome.”

“Yes, quite.” Perry inclined his head towards me. “What about you, Ms. Parker? What are your thoughts?”

“
I used to think killing was wrong. That judgment was something one should leave entirely up to God.” I hesitated; I was on shaky ground here. “After I was kidnapped, I thought differently. I can't believe that God actually wants people like Adrian to continue to exist. It doesn't make sense. Maybe we should wait for divine judgment, ideally, but in the meantime how many more lives will be lost? How many more people will suffer? Either we're wrong, God is, or something got lost in my translation — and I'm betting on the latter.”

“
Even if it goes against the law?”