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He grunts, steers around a corner. “Don’t lack for confidence, do you?”
Since there’s no other clear way out, we break from the relative safety of the side street onto the main drag. We instantly take fire. Bulletsdinginto the steel hull.
He jams the gas.
I turn in my seat, pinning my spine to the dash, and my feet to the back of the seat. “Steady!” I shout, seeing an opportunity.
I shoot as a man runs from cover toward the second car, which stops to collect him.
Boom,boom,boom.
“Got one.”
“As fast as we’re going? More likely, he tripped.”
He should have more trust in my abilities. I slide a bit as he dodges a chunk of concrete and then swings right as the second car catches us. The truck rocks. We’re nearly upended.
The moment we’re steady, I hook my arm around the headrest, hang out the window, and pull out a grenade.
“Justice, don’t!”
Ignoring him, I lean far out, pluck the pin between my teeth, then toss it, wild-thing style.
Ba-boom!
The truck jerks forward. I crash back against my seat, watch as Sandesh glances through his rearview and spots the car, lit by orange flames.
Stunned, he looks over at me. “You hit them.”
Shrugging, I lean back. “They weren’t that far away.”
23
JUSTICE
Hair still damp from my much-needed shower, cross-legged on the edge of the lumpy bed, dressed in panties and a t-shirt, I hold my recently acquired burner cell to my ear.
This Israeli hotel room is claustrophobic, heavy with the smell of overly used bleach. Not even enough room to pace, but better than dead.
And a lot better than where I slept last night. Thanks goes to Victor, Sandesh’s partner, who, apparently, has more contacts than the CIA. He was able to get us over King Hussein Bridge, into the West Bank, and to this hotel. Though his contact refused to give us his name, he provided us with food, water, a bit of cash, and clothes.
Not that I’m about to tell Momma that. Bad enough that the sound of Sandesh in the pipe-rattling shower nearly drowns out her voice.
“Justice, I need to know what you’ve told this young man.”
A lump rises into my throat. I don’t lie to Momma. Well, not about important stuff. Here it goes. “He knows nothing about The Guild.” I swallow what feels like betrayal. Technically, he doesn’t know about The Guildspecifically.
Momma makes a sterntsking sound. “M-erasure is painless. Harmless. And in his case, we only need to alter his memory very slightly. Not removing actual events but shifting just those moments of heavy suspicion and distrust, where he suspected you and our operation. When he thinks of it, he will dismiss his suspicions and be reassured it was the price of doing business in the area. Nothing more.”
Harmless? Really? Mommawouldsee it that way. But just because you employ and train some of the greatest scientists in the world, women who could not only implant memories but also erase them, didn’t mean you should use that power. Not on Sandesh anyway.
“Leave this to me. I’ve got him.”
Momma makes another soft sound, letting me know she’s not onboard with that plan.
Shit. I’ll deal with that threat once I get home. “Did you take care of security at the school?”
“Of course. I increased it, but you need not worry. We already have the best security of any school in the world.”
