The Blonde

I’m still alive.

Jack looked at his watch.

It’s past 7:30 and I’m still alive.

Luminous toxin my ass.

She lied.

About everything?

7:34  a.m. and 10  seconds

Vanessa tried to find the syringe again so she could plunge it in deeper this time. Rip it across his belly. Drive it right back into his fookin’ spine.

But he moved away too quickly. He said, “You have a loose mouth, don’t you, Vanessa?”

The Operator put his palm to her right cheek. Then he pushed her head back into her pillow, pinning her there. Didn’t take much strength at all. He probably could have held her in place with one finger.

“Fun’s over.”

He pulled the security cord behind her bed.

7:34  a.m. and 30  seconds

Kowalski was being dragged across the floor. He could hear his rusty leg brace scraping along the linoleum. The pink-and-purple sutures on his face were popping open. This monster was coming undone. He’d taken too hard a fall this morning. Left him weakened, vulnerable. The bigger monster was in charge. Why had he thought a simple slap could subdue him?

A security alarm was in full roar. Lights flashed in the hall.

The bigger monster was lifting him up now.

The bigger monster was smashing a fist into his face.

The bigger monster vanished when everything went black.

7:34  a.m. and 55  seconds

You.” The man with the thinning hair pointed to the hallway. “Out.”

He followed Jack, who stumbled out into the hallway, and nearly tripped over Kowalski’s bleeding and semiunconscious body. It was bedlam in the hall. Nurses backing away. Worried stares from people in wheelchairs. Two security officers jogging toward them.

The guy who’d decked Kowalski pulled a badge from inside his jacket, barked something about “Defense Department,” and told one of the guards to stand in front of the door. “Do not allow anyone in this room for the next hour. No one. Matter of national security.” He was going to call in backup, he said. No one gets in the room, understood?”

The guards nodded. Oh, they understood. No one.

Then the guy walked down the hallway, rounded a corner.

Uh-uh, Jack thought. That bastard wasn’t walking out of here. Not after what he’d been through all night.

Jack needed some fucking answers.

7:36  a.m.

Down the corridor, the Operator snatched a hospital gown from a pile stacked on a metal table. Pressed the down button on the elevator. Held the gown to his lower belly. She’d really nailed him. He could feel the blood trickling down his crotch, pooling in the bottom of his boxer briefs.

But no matter. All he needed was a few stitches.

And by now, Proximity would have done its job, and Vanessa would be dead. He wished he could have watched it happen.

Filmed it, even.

“Wait!” someone called.

The Operator turned. It was the guy from the room, the one who’d come in with the hardman.

“Who are you?” the guy demanded. “And how do you know Kelly White?”

At first, back in the room, the Operator had pegged this guy as a nonentity. He’d presented no threat; he’d made no move whatsoever. His friend had been the one to worry about—though not really, as it turned out. Someone had already put that bastard through a meat grinder. Knocking him down turned out to be surprisingly easy.

This one, though. Who was he?

Then again, who the fuck cared? He had a gash to stitch, places to go, a weapon to sell….

“Piss off,” the Operator said.

“No,” the man said, “I’m not going to piss off. You know all about the things in Kelly’s blood, don’t you? The Mary Kates?”

Oh, that name.

The Operator sighed, then heaved his knee up into the man’s testicles.

He shouldn’t have to be doing this, you know.

He should be out bringing nations to their knees. Not this nobody.

7:37  a.m.

Inside her room, Vanessa wondered about two things. First: Why am I still alive? And second: What the fook is in this gym bag?

Then her door crashed open.