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Heather snorted. “If it will get me out of here quicker, then why not?”
I gave Asher a look. He turned and crouched at the equipment case, unclipping the two latches and opening it. He began fiddling with the contents.
“Just to confirm,” I said, “you consent to a lie-detection technique.”
“I haven’t consented to any of this bullshit,” she replied. “But sure. I’ll consent to whatever the fuck gets me out of this room faster.”
“She’s got an attitude,” Brady said, smiling. “She’s perfect.”
“We’ll see,” I muttered.
“Perfect for what?” she asked. Her big eyes swung from Brady to me. “What am I perfect for?”
“We’ll get to that later.” I nodded to Asher, who wiped her upper arm with an alcohol swab. Heather looked confused for a moment, and then Asher injected her with a needle and depressed the plunger.
“The fuck is this?” she demanded.
“You consented to lie-detection techniques,” I said.
“I expected a big machine thingamajig! The kind with sensors and shit, and that big earthquake-detecting needle that wobbles back and forth. This is… ohh.” Her eyes began to relax.
Asher retracted the needle and asked, “You don’t have a barbiturate allergy, do you?”
She gawked up at him. “Why are you asking me thatafteryou gave me the shot!”
He smiled and pressed a cotton ball to her arm. “Just making a small joke. We have your medical history, of course.”
“How do you have… Oh. That’s a weird feeling.”
I knew what Heather was going through at that moment because I’d gone through it during SEAL training. Right now, all the stress was melting away from her body. Her consciousness was detaching from her body. It was like everything was happening to another person in another warehouse. Thisnewperson, the relaxed one, was as comfortable as a kitten snuggled up in a blanket.
“How long?” I asked Asher.
My blond colleague looked at his watch. “She weighs sixty-two kilograms, so I gave her a dose of one-eighty milligrams. It crosses the blood-brain barrier fairly quickly, so—”
“I didn’t ask for a book report,” I replied. “I asked how long.”
He pursed his lips and said, “A minute or two.”
“Hey,” Heather said. “It’s rude to ask a lady her weight.”
“I didn’t ask your weight,” Asher pointed out. “I stated it.”
“Still rude. Cuntbucket.” She giggled, and then began babbling to me. “I called youcuntbucketearlier. I meant it, too. I don’t think I mean it now. You seem nice. Can I issue a cuntbucket-retraction?”
“Retraction accepted,” I said. “I think she’s ready, Asher.”
“It appears so.”
I stepped toward her. “Can you confirm your name for us?”
“Heather Hart,” she said without hesitation. “That’s my name now. Last night my name was Amirah Pratt. That was fun. Until we got caught. That was less fun.”
“Who do you work for?”
She tilted her head to look up at me. “Uh oh. Serious time. I know it’s serious because you’re wearing yourserious face.” She scrunched up her own face like she was trying to focus.
“Heather,” I repeated calmly, “who do you work for?”
