*This chapter contains strong language, a bad tattoo, a long goodbye and a touch of revenge.
31. Up The Creek
Andrew
31. Up The
Creek
Andrew
I was
allowed into the infirmary because the doctor filling in for White didn’t know
any better.
He wouldn’t
leave me alone in the ward. I didn’t have the clearance for that. He stood at
the far end, over another patient, making notes on a clipboard and checking
monitors.
I stood next
to her bed and felt his thoughts like intrusive eyes. Was it the drugs? I asked
though I knew the answer. I knew she was never getting out. I knew it at that
first meeting when White was so eager to get her as a subject. If his theory
worked he got to keep her as an example, if it didn’t he got to keep her to
find out why. Even she must have known that long before she said anything.
The faint
hum of the fluorescent lights was distracting. A layer of sound over the hiss
of the respirator and the steady beep of the heart monitor. Almost like a
building exercise, I told her. I made a face, feeling foolish. I didn’t need
the doctor to tell me she couldn’t hear me. Her mind was a haze sparsely
populated with indistinct shapes, meaningless scraps of memory. No dreams, no
thoughts, just the leftovers.
The gown
they put her in was so thin I could see the tattoo under her collarbone. A
white mantis with one of the legs filled in black because she’d moved when they
were doing it. I wanted to pull the fuzzy blue blanket higher to cover it. She
wasn’t supposed to be on display. I didn’t move, I didn’t even twitch my hand.
I held the impulse in, the way I had when I noticed the useless restraints on
her wrists. Her mischief days were over.
Someone
washed your hair, I thought into the silence. Her hair was light and fluffy,
like it had dried and hadn’t been brushed yet. I pushed a strand away from her
eyes. Her skin was warm under my hand. I hadn’t expected that. She didn’t look
warm. She was so pale she was almost blue. That was the drugs. I put my whole
hand over her forehead like I would be able to read her that way. If you hadn’t
stabbed White they would have tried harder. They might have saved her in more
than this strapped down shell. If only she hadn’t stabbed White.
The rattle
of a cart on the tile floor startled me. I put my hand back in my pocket. It
felt clammy and when I rubbed my fingers together they were slick.
I turned to
look at the doctor. He was bent over a patient and loaded a large syringe of
something yellow into the IV port. He’d told me to tell him when I was done. I
looked back at Carol. I didn’t want to raise my voice but I didn’t want to
cross the room and leave her exposed on the bed with her fluffy hair and her
bad tattoo.
I cleared my
throat. He didn’t look up. If there had been a nurse on the ward I could have
waved her over. There wasn’t, but there was a curtain next to the bed. The
sound of it rattling on its track was loud but it covered her up and it got the
doctor’s attention.
What’s he
doing? “All done, Agent?” he asked, relieved when I’d stepped away from the
curtain instead of behind it. Where he wouldn’t be able to see what I was
doing.
The thought
he was barely thinking made my stomach roll and I nodded without speaking. He
wheeled past me with his little cart and I heard the curtain push back before
the ward door had closed behind me.
I wasn’t
alone in the hall so I walked purposefully away from the door. I didn’t start
out with a direction in mind. I kept my hands in my jacket pockets and nodded
greetings to whoever made eye contact. Most of them didn’t. Most of them
pretended I wasn’t there until I passed them and then they could stare at my
retreating back and wonder how I gotten my clearance back. The rumor was that I
gave her the knife she stabbed White with.
I took the
fastest route to the elevator. All I wanted was to be out of the labs.
White’s
office door was open, his secretary was fielding his calls, and she didn’t look
up from the phone as I passed. I could see the package I’d left for him on the
edge of her desk. He wouldn’t get it until he came back to work in a week.
I passed his
office without stopping. It was so cold in the elevator that the sweat was icy
on my forehead. I wiped at it with my hand. It was still slimy. I wiped my head
on my jacket sleeve and I put my hand back in my pocket. When the elevator
opened I shivered in the blast from the corridor between the doors. It seemed
colder than ever today, it cut through my jacket and made my eyes feel chilled
when I blinked. I didn’t pause over swiping my card and getting out of the
white hall. I had had enough quiet in the infirmary.
Gail looked
at me over her magazine. “You should have one of the muffins from the security
meeting this morning. There are plenty left.” He’s looking paler and skinnier
than ever.
“I’ll do that,”
I promised, turning right when I reached the end of her hall, away from muffins
and toward my office. I was still queasy from the three egg omelet and toast
Reva made me eat before I left the house. You’re lucky she didn’t try to feed
you the whole damn fridge
My office
door was open and the crosswords I’d put in quarantine sat on the edge of my
desk. Kepler had brought them the second time he questioned me. He set them on
the edge of the desk when we were done talking. I sat down in the chair in front
of my desk, where he’d sat and asked me in a hundred different ways if I’d
known she was suicidal. He’d even asked the absurd, if I knew she was
homicidal. When I told him that was already in her file he looked surprised and
left as quickly as he could. I hadn’t been the only one who had forgotten why
she’d been at the Slope in the first place. I reached out and smoothed the bent
edge on the cover of the New York Times Crossword book. It must have bent again
when they pulled it out of the bag. My finger left a smear over the glossy
surface. I felt a chill down my spine and got up to wash my hands and stopped
when I saw the clock. Less than five minutes until my meeting with Craig. I
wiped my hand on my pants and went around my desk. My revised op report was in
a folder and I had my sabbatical request in another folder. I pulled out a new
legal pad and a pen and locked the office door behind me.
I saw Kepler
on my way to Craig’s office. He gave me an encouraging nod as I passed.
I should’ve
stopped him or said hello. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have gotten my
clearance back until Brandt was back from assignment on Friday and had time to
question me.
Craig’s
secretary wasn’t at her desk. I went to the inner door and knocked.
“Come in
already.”
Craig didn’t
look up as I came in. He was pecking something out on his keyboard with one
finger and an exaggerated look of concentration.
I sat down,
settled my leave request on my lap and put the legal pad and the op report on
top of that. My hand curled around my blue pen and it took me a moment to
realize I was rubbing my slick fingertips together again. I gripped the pen
tighter and waited.
I think the
31st will do for that. Now I have to send it. He tapped a key decisively and
moved his mouse over something before he looked at me. His eyes were as flat as
his mind, giving away nothing. “What’ve you got for me?”
I stared. I
hadn’t spoken to Craig since Carol had stabbed White and pumped herself full of
Hex-47. The last thing I expected was for him to act as though it hadn’t
happened. I put my report in his outstretched hand. “Everything went smoothly.”
“Quickly you
mean.” He opened the folder and glanced at the first page. “You took him four
hours after establishing surveillance.” What was that about? He tapped the
paper with his finger, watching me.
My hand felt
wet around me pen and I fought the urge to wipe it on my pants. “He took an
early lunch and I saw a clear shot.” Does he think I’m being reckless?
Craig sat
back with an expectant look. When I didn’t say anything else he nodded and
drummed his fingers on his desk, once with each finger like a little drum roll.
“We’re going after Murphy next. He’s firmly entrenched, so I’d take my time if
I were you.” Rush in with this one and he’ll get himself torn in half by three
Irish thugs. He pulled out a folder that had been wedged under his keyboard and
slid it across the desk.
I caught it
before it went off the edge. I put it in my lap under my notepad. “When do we
need him in?” I knew there was a firm date; he was baiting me by telling me to
take my time. Maybe I’ll get time to do some descent surveillance.
Craig
shrugged; the gesture was too casual with his mind so carefully blank. “End of
the month. The lab’s going to be backlogged anyway.”
I felt my
heartbeat pick up but he didn’t continue. There was no cutting comment, nothing
about why the lab was backed up, nothing about Carol. “That’s almost three
weeks. I can be in Baltimore in two days to get set up,” I replied, choosing my
words with care.
Not so fast.
He shook his head. “Give it until Monday. I’d like to see your proposal in two
days.”
“Yes, sir.”
I felt the dig low. If you don’t think I’m ready to go back out you could just
say it.
He nodded.
“Good. Have it on my desk first thing Thursday.” He turned in his chair, eyes
back on his computer, dismissing me.
I debated
leaving but I found myself rubbing my slick fingers together again. I cleared
my throat and forced my hand to lie flat on the arm of the chair.
He took his
time turning away from the computer and when his eyes did focus on me it was
with polite surprise that made it clear I was pushing my luck.
I shifted in
my chair, unable to stifle the minor tic. I held up a folder. “I wanted to give
you this.” I held it out over the desk and set it on the blotter when he didn’t
take it.
“What is
it?” he asked without looking at the folder. His eyes bored into mine. He
already has his clearance, what else does he want?
I didn’t
shift again, or move my hands, or break eye contact. “It’s my official
sabbatical request.”
A what? “A
sabbatical,” he said with his eyebrows raised.
He thought
you were going to resign, I realized with some surprise. “I’d like to take it
this spring. The full three months.”
Three? With
everything on the schedule? A hint of relief came through the careful closure
of his mind. “I’m afraid we can’t spare you for that long. Aren’t you taking a
week in April anyway?”
Dislike and
relief was all I could read from him, but if he was relieved that I wasn’t
leaving why was he trying to talk me out of it? It would mess up his schedule.
“I can rearrange the vacation time. I’d like to take the full allotment. I’m
not going to be much good to you if I burn out,” I said, knowing what I was
entitled to. I was giving notice three months in advance, legally he couldn’t
say no.
He leaned
back in his chair and looked at me over his linked hands. This isn’t a standard
position. Does he expect a year off after ten years? “Take your full three
weeks. That’s all I can give you.”
I squared my
shoulders and said what I’d decided to say the night before when I’d spent
hours staring at the ceiling trying to will myself to sleep. “That’s not going
to be enough. This is my notice.” He’s going to make your life hell until you
do go.
“I don’t
think you understand the position we’re in here, Andy. When I say you can have
three weeks I’m being generous.” Even White’s only taking three days after
getting stabbed.
I took a
deep breath. I had expected him to bring up Carol and White but I still felt
winded by his sudden viciousness. You’ll regret it if you don’t say it. “I
think I understand pretty well. Under the Telepathic Health Act of 1986 I’m
entitled to a three month sabbatical after three years of employment. I’m going
to take it, or I’m going to resign.” My voice didn’t shake at all and I felt
stronger.
The flash of
derisive humor in his mind was disturbing. “Over a woman? The one taking up
space downstairs? You’re going to give up over that?” There’s no coming back
from resignation.
“For a lot
of reasons. I need some time off.” You bastard, I almost added aloud.
“Because
your little girlfriend tried to kill herself?”
Motherfucking
bastard- I half rose out of my chair, hands fisted.
“Sit your
ass down.” Think whatever the hell you want so long as you listen, he thought,
waving me down.
I realized
that I’d almost come across the desk at him. I sat with my fingers digging into
the upholstery.
He nodded,
satisfied. “I could have you charged with aiding and abetting since you never
told anyone she was going to do it. I didn’t. That’s about as much coddling as
you’re going to get around here. In any other department your clearance would
have been revoked pending a formal review and a suspension. But you were down
there visiting this morning. Take that and your three weeks. They’re the last favors
you’re going to get from me for a while.” Quit and you’re going to get another
kind of favor.
The shock of
what he was thinking slapped down my anger. There is no resigning. I’d always
thought of it as one of those bullshit things they say in the bureau. But there
he was, sitting across from me, watching me and considering having me shot. “If
I get caught again because I’m too burned out to do my job?” The anger was
still there though I was wary too. What had happened to Carol and White had
been his fault. His fault for authorizing her pick-up in the first place.
His face
relaxed like he’d been waiting for me to ask. “That’s not going to happen. It’s
the reason I’ve been short-listing recruits for you to train. I think with
another agent or two on pick-ups your load is going to be a lot lighter.” How
much danger of burnout is there with a pickup every month or so?
He had gone
from angry to calm so fast I felt dizzy. “Recruits? Who?” I moved to the edge
of my seat and looked at the folder he’d tapped with his fingers. He must have
already picked them.
He passed me
the folder. “This is the list. I want you to pick the two you think would be
the best fit here.” Two more paths. I think these two are going to have less
lab access.
I flinched
at the barb about the lab and kept my eyes on the folder. I skimmed the first
page. Twelve candidates. “What if none of them suit? I’m not going to know
until they’re in the field.” Does he think this is going to be easier? A
pick-up schedule and two agents to train?
“I have no
doubt you’ll get the right ones. I’m counting on one making it through the
training, so I wouldn’t worry about that. Warner’s going to set up passes for
them to come in the week after you get back from Baltimore.” Plenty of time to
look through their files.
I nodded and
closed the folder. “That should give me some time to prepare,” I agreed.
Everything he said was a new twist. Didn’t I come in to talk about the last
pick-up and taking leave?
Everyone
likes to teach. He thought he was appealing to my pride instead of capitalizing
on my surprise. “What kind of timeline do you think we’ll be looking at for
these people?”
I sat back
and frowned. “I’m not sure. I’ll need at least a week to get through the
interviews providing I don’t have to do two rounds.” Three a days and then
decide?
“That’s
fine. I’m wondering about the field time. I want them able to…”
I didn’t
make out the rest of what he said. There was a shift in the feeling of the
office. It could have been building for any length of time but it spiked with a
thought that brought it to my awareness.
Keep a lid
on that. The first person who fires is going to hear from me.
“Something
wrong, Andy?” Craig said.
I blinked at
him and realized that I’d tilted my head to concentrate on reading the hall
outside his office. There were at least six of them and they weren’t any of our
people. I was blocked almost as soon as I focused on them. They were paths,
professionals, and they were looking for me. I straightened in my seat and
shook my head. “No, sir. Just tired.”
Craig
accepted that. I looked tired, everyone said I did. Wonder if I should defer
this pickup. “I want you to set up an interview schedule before you leave for
Baltimore.”
“Yes, sir,”
I said with surprising calm. Knowing that they were coming for me was strangely
liberating. Not telling Craig that there were six armed men in the hall that
were all paths was beyond liberating. I almost smiled. I’m not armed.
The men in
the hall slowed their approach.
“You can
have the interviews done by the end of the month.” Craig wasn’t asking, he was
moving up the schedule he’d just agreed to.
“It
shouldn’t be a problem.” I settled both hands on the armrests of my chair so
they could be seen from the door.
It looked
awkward. Craig was trying to shunt me from his office and I leaned back in the
seat like I never intended to go. I wondered if he’d tell me to go or if we’d
keep playing until they broke down the door. They were good, whoever they were,
getting this far without anyone from security calling Craig’s office to warn
him. Maybe he knew. Maybe he’d called me in so he could watch them arrest me.
“Brandt
should be back by the time you start. I’m authorizing you to include him in the
evaluations,” Craig said.
I could hear
the outer door open. It occurred to me that Craig would never allow me be
arrested in this office. Not with the lab below us and the weapons closet down
the next hall.
My palms
were wet against the armrests. “Have you contacted Brandt?” I asked to fill the
thick silence from the outer room. They were arranging themselves around the
door, weapons drawn. I forced myself not to retreat completely behind my block
where I couldn’t read them.
“You’ll have
to tell him when he gets in,” Craig said with every indication that he was
above passing messages to agents.
I was too
tense waiting for them to make their move to reply and there was a long beat of
silence as Craig and I stared at each other across the desk.
When the
door flew open it was almost a relief.
“Stuart
Craig and Andrew Piken I have a warrant for your arrest,” Deputy Director Rawls
said with his gun trained on Craig and his men fanned out over the room
covering both of us.
I looked at
Rawls who was tight with excitement and fear and blocked hard against me. Then
I looked back at Craig, whose expression hovered on complete shock for one
wonderful second before he regained control.
“Under whose
authority?” he demanded and held out a hand for the warrant.
Rawls looked
surprised by the reaction. He held out the warrant, weapon trained on Craig.
“By the authority of the FBI.” Get them up and cuffed.
Craig
frowned and shook out the warrant. He spoke without looking up, “If you'd
bothered to check you'd know we’re FBI affiliated.”
I was
prodded by one of the agents and stood, hands held out at my sides. They were
brought roughly together with cold metal cuffs. Don’t make a fucking move.
“Get your
hands off my agent.” Craig stood behind his desk and ignored the four weapons
aimed at him. This is ridiculous.
Rawls
smiled, his lips thin. He gestured to the agent behind Craig. Get him cuffed
and let’s go. “You and your agent are being arrested for the Park Slope fire,
the escape of Carol Matthews and the kidnapping of three other telepaths. I’m
sure we’ll come up with more once we go through your records.”
“No charges
for holding the telepaths?” I asked, surprised.
Craig’s cool
expression faltered.
Holding
them? “Holding them? Where?” Rawls demanded. His eyes met mine and I could feel
him fighting not to flinch away.
I motioned
to the hall with my head. “Downstairs. I could show you.” There are eight down
there right now. That should be worth another few kidnapping charges.
“He doesn’t
know what he’s talking about. This is a surveillance outfit,” Craig ground out,
staring hard at me. What do you think you’re doing?
His face was
red and I met his eyes without wanting to look away. “Well sir, it looks like
I’m getting that time off.”
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