Inner Workings

Inner Workings - Part 42

Rachel held up the bags of dried pineapple up to the camera.

"I love you," said Mariah on the other end of the view screen.

"I know you do." Rachel opened one of the bags and popped a section of pineapple into her mouth. Too sweet, condensed, and almost coppery, but Rachel hammed up the pleasure and smirked at the longing on Mariah's face. "The question is how much do you love me?"

Mariah frowned. "What do you want?"

"Just some info on the team Watch One sent to California."

"I thought you were given reports on the team?"

"Yeah, but there are some things that never make it to reports." Rachel flipped her tablet to show the file on Justin Cowl. "What can you tell me about Agent Cowl since he transferred?"

Mariah leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms above her heavily pregnant middle and her lips pinched in a pout. Rachel dangled the bag of dried fruit.

"I hate you," said Mariah.

"I know you do."

"And I don't know what to tell you." Mariah shrugged, her shirt tightening against her belly. "Agent Cowl does retrieval and acquisitions. And does them well from what I hear. Frankly, I spend more time in the lab then I do in Main Tech. I don't usually talk to agents unless they need to be debriefed for something I'm working on."

"Anything about Cowl's temperament? Particularly pertaining to Agent Patriarch?"

"Not much. Assertive, driven, looks at the big picture. But I think I've heard something around the water cooler about a communal dartboard with Patriarch's picture on it."

"Crap."

***

Thirty-five minutes into the muddy drive, and two close calls with the edge of the forested lined road, Will could see the edge of a clearing. Mark Bell's workshop. He stopped the car as close to the trees as he dared and got out, hiding the key under the front fender. It wouldn't do him much good if he was already being watched, but better safe than sorry. He could only hope the men keeping Louis captive didn't see him ten yards back.

He sank the lighter he used deeper in his pocket. Even now he kept a mental count of seconds. Five seconds per inch and he used all six feet of fuse.

The clouds darkened again, thunder faint but gaining volume. Will fumbled with the zipper to his jacket, catching the edge of his finger in its teeth. Will winced as he sucked on the cut. Opening up a can of kick ass. Right. All that can of Monster did was make Will jittery. Probably hadn't been more than a trace amount of green tea in that thing.

Will kept his eyes open as he approached the clearing, seeing the outline of sheds as he got closer, but not people. The grass was lush with previous rain, but his shoes sucked against the rock and wet clay under his feet. At the tree line he looked right; a smaller shed of wood slats. Ahead the road curved around to a building with a large garage door and made of cinderblocks; probably what counted for their office. The left...

"Hands where I can see them," said a wiry, scruffy man in plaid flannel holding a bat.

Will raised his hands above his head, swallowing down dread. "I'm alone and unarmed."

"You better be, man," came a voice to his right, a slimmer man that could hide behind a light post. Great, there were two of them.

Will kept still as the slimmer of the two men passed his hands along his limbs and torso, the man with the bat looking like he wanted nothing less than to swing. Will's jaw clenched as the man's hands passed over his bruised arm.