Briggs frowned, still smiling. “Ms. Lara, you have my word.”
That was it. Before he could stop himself, Jess opened his mouth.
“We all know what that’s worth, don’t we?” Jess sneered. “Come off it, we know what you’re trying to cover up, so stop already with your fuckin’ song and dance!”
Silence, and everyone was looking at him, and Jess was too pissed to care, the man was a goddamn liar, if he was going to bribe them, at least let him be up front about it, about something. Jess didn’t give a shit if Briggs killed him, there was a redness in front of his eyes that pounded at him, heat and fury, making him clench his fists and step toward the lying murderer—
—and the resignation and sorrow on Lara’s face stopped him. It wasn’t just his life. Jess closed his eyes for a second, forcing the red haze away, forcing some measure of control back.
Fix it, gotta fix it—
“Jess—” Lara said, but Briggs cut her off, fixing his now not-so-warm gaze on Jess’s. The guards didn’t move away from the back wall, but they unfolded their arms, watching closely.
“And just what am I trying to ‘cover up’?” Briggs asked.
Jess took a deep breath, exhaled it sharply. He hadn’t screwed it for them, not yet, he could still salvage Lara’s plan.
If I’m careful, very fucking careful.
“What the Company did to those people,” he said, working his anger, watching Briggs’s eyes for any hint that the suit wasn’t buying it. Briggs didn’t twitch one way or the other, play it through—
“You want the log, you’re going to have to give us a little more than new contract negotiations,” he snapped. “Lara and Ellis and I want to be the hell away
from you before we give it up—and we’re looking for bigger money than a goddamn H/K bonus.”
There was another silence, long enough for Jess to realize that the impassive Briggs knew he was faking. It was over, he’d just committed suicide and dragged Lara and the kid along for the ride. His temper, his goddamn temper, Lara, Ellis, I’m so sorry—
Briggs grinned—then laughed, shaking his head. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped half an octave, becoming as cold and hard as only a heartless suit’s could be. No more apologies, no more playing.
“All right, you’ve got us,” he said. “Let’s talk numbers.”
Jess wanted to be relieved, but could still feel the rage swirling in his gut like some boiling river. And every second they were with Briggs, it was going to get harder and harder to control.
Lara felt her insides melt. Briggs had bought it, Jess had pulled it off, but it had been close. She’d known Jess long enough to know that he’d been doing some serious dancing to cover for a slip, and she wasn’t going to risk letting it happen again.
As if I could stop it . . . She had to try. Ellis was getting worse; he’d been dreamily silent most of the afternoon and was now watching all of them as though he were some distant observer. They had to get him to a doc, and fuck the Company anyway. They could file charges when and if they made it home.
She cleared her throat, drawing the exec’s attention back to her. “We can worry about that after you get us the hell off of this rock,” she said coolly, continuing Jess’s ploy. “Don’t worry, we won’t ask for more than we think it’s worth. Now, why don’t you see what you can do about a ship?”
Briggs laughed again, all pretense of sympathy and sincerity gone, and Lara felt her own anger rise up. She’d never loved the Company, but hadn’t hated them, either, not until Pop had admitted his orders
from Grigson. This man was laughing over the graves of hundreds.
She shot a warning glance at Jess, hoping to God that he didn’t lose it again.
Briggs finally chuckled to a stop. “Of course, of course. I can’t tell you how—surprised I am, I suppose you could say. I had no idea that the three of you would turn out to be … Company loyal.”
Jess smiled, but his eyes were dangerously bright. “Are you kidding? A break like this doesn’t come by every day, not for people like us.”
Jess, don’t, don’t fuck around—
Briggs nodded. “Once in a lifetime. We’ve experimented before, but this was the first full-scale operation.”
“Really?” Jess asked. “I would have thought—”
“Jess, I want to get out of here, get a bath,” Lara interrupted, praying that she sounded casually disinterested in their conversation, praying that he’d shut the hell up. “And Ellis needs to get some rest, remember?”
“I’m okay,” Ellis said, looking at Briggs as if seeing him for the first time. “What were some of the experiments?”
Fuck.
Briggs lowered his voice conversationally, leaning toward them with a smug half smile. Now that he wasn’t pretending to be their favorite uncle, he’d relaxed considerably.
“I’m really not at liberty to discuss these things,” he said, with the tone of a man who wanted very much to discuss them. To tell them how extremely clever he was. “I mean, you understand how important it is for the Company to maintain its edge over the competition, and what the XT means to our military applications programs … so let’s just say that nobody would want to buy what we’re selling if they didn’t have the proper documentation. DS 949 was specific to how fast an infestation spreads through an isolated
community, but we’ve also done extensive work in other arenas. I’m sure you can deduce the rest.”
Oh, God. Oh my God.
“It wasn’t an accident,” Jess said dully, and Lara didn’t know how to stop him, didn’t know if she could, her mind reeling. She felt sick, and shocked beyond simple repair.
On purpose, they did it on purpose, and tent us in to gather the results . . .
Briggs’s eyes narrowed at Jess’s tone, but he didn’t seem to understand, not yet. “Of course it wasn’t an accident. Believe me, it wasn’t a decision that was made lightly, either. We had several billion dollars invested in that installation. And we did not tell Commander Izzard to kill you people, I hope you understand that …”
He trailed off, looking between the three of them, the realization dawning in his eyes.
“You don’t have it, do you?” He asked.
Amazingly, it was Ellis who had the presence of mind to answer him. “Oh, we have it. And if anything happens to us—”
“You fucking bastard!”
Jess leapt for Briggs, his eyes wild, spittle flying from his lips. He grabbed the surprised exec’s shoulders, still screaming, shaking him.
“They fucking DIED, they died, do you fucking understand—”
“Keene, Nirasawa!”
Jess was hauled off of the sputtering Briggs by the guards, his furious shouts cut short by a sharp, violent jab to the gut from the blond man. The Japanese grunt put one hand on Lara’s shoulder, one on Ellis’s, and squeezed hard enough that tears sprang to Lara’s eyes. Behind them, Vincent let out a surprised squeak.
Gasping and doubled over, Jess vomited bile on the shuttle floor. Briggs stepped back, a sneer of distaste on his thin lips, straightening his suit with quick, angry fingers.
“Keene, again,” Briggs said.
With a small, mean smile, the blond held on to Jess’s collar, half-supporting him, Jess still trying to get his air back. Keene punched him once in the face, a hard blow to the jaw that rocked Jess’s head back. Blood flew from his gasping lips.
“I will have that access code, make no mistake,” Briggs spat, staring straight into Lara’s wet gaze. “The only question is, how long will your friends have to suffer before you give it to me?”
17
Irwin was as drop-dead as Windy remembered, bright, casually sexy, and possessing a mouth that she probably shouldn’t kiss her mother with; he liked that in a woman, femme types could be such a drag, and though they’d only flirted around back in training, he was hopeful for what the evening might bring.
They sat in control, sharing a flask of inexpensive blended synth and catching up. The door to the main observation deck was standing open, the soft night sounds of the jungle floating in on a balmy breeze, and they were alone, except for Evans. Technically, Windy was still on duty until midnight, but there weren’t going to be any calls coming in; the most excitement they’d had in months was already parked outside, and Evans was catching a nap in the corner, drooling on his own arm. If Windy got tipped and anything important happened, he’d just wake him up; Evans owed him, anyway.
“. . . so I’m screaming emergency, the intake spike is hitching and my VTOL is out, right?” Irwin