Sometimes, I wondered if it had anything to do with the girl in my dreams. Or the angel.
After washing up, I returned to my room, settled on my bed, and grabbed the iPad.
I booted it, waiting for the scramble of pixels to resolve into the login. My fingers hovered over the keys. I realized, with a kind of sick clarity, that they were shaking. Not a lot, but more than my baseline.
I locked my arms across my chest and stared at the wall for a full minute, trying to throttle the loop of earlier events in my head.
I let the feeling ride out. When I was sure I could speak, I tapped my earpiece and said,
"Viper. Come in."
Viper responded right away.
"Yo, boss. You made it home in one piece?"
"Always," I replied, but my voice came out tight, clipped at the ends more than usual.
Viper picked up on it right away. "You sound like you spent the night inside a garbage disposal."
"I need you to check something out for me," I went on, ignoring his joke.
There was a brief lag as Viper typed something. "Hit me."
"Someone could be following the client."
A snort from the other end, then more typing. "Hold up—why would anyone be tracking the client?"
"Maybe one of the targets caught up," I supplied the worst-case scenario, which had never happened before. At least, not on my watch.
"Your job's pretty much done. Target one is cooked, target two is going down for forgery in a couple of days. The only target still in play is the last asshole, but he's as radioactive as Chernobyl's breakfast nook. Even if theystill talk, which I don't see based on my digging into their channels, there's no pattern just yet."
"That's why I'm asking you to look into it," I said, jaw tight as piano wire. "I don't want any surprises while I'm working the next two targets."
I heard him exhale, a note of surprise or…interest. "You want me to run a flag on client's cell too while I'm looking for the unwanted chaperone? See if someone bugged it?"
"Both. She's spooked. Someone could be getting close. Might be a contingency from one of the targets. But like you said, there's no pattern. Still, better be safe than sorry. Ping me directly when you find out."
The background sound changed—keys staccato, a can of something hissing open. "You got it, boss. Listen, are you sure you're not just…projecting?"
"Projecting what?" I asked flatly.
He backed off immediately. "All right." Professional mode. "I'll let you know."
There was a silence. Not technical. Intentional.
Then Viper added, quieter, "You ever think about just calling it? Letting the target fall where he falls, not chasing down every loose end like it owes you money?"
"No," I said. "That's not the job."
"Didn't think so."
He disconnected. I waited a few minutes, flexed my hands. The skin at the base of my knuckles was raw from gripping the bars, the veins raised and trembling.
I sat like this for a long time, unmoving.
Then, with nothing else to do, I stripped to my shorts and lay back on the bed, letting the dark roll over me.
I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but I wasn't able to sleep at all.
