Inner Workings

Inner Workings - Part 44

Mark paced in front of his desk. "You made them drink bleach?"

"Just a little." Sandra sat on a properly wiped down chair in the main room of the warehouse that served as Mark's office. "Not enough to kill, just hurt."

She kept one hand on the gun case in front of her and the other on the umbrella handle. A comfort to grip something and know it wouldn't hurt her. For the first time in a long time, she felt at ease. Triumphant over the roads and filth of California. Life was better.

Mark shook his head, sweating. "I'm going to check on Harry and Becket. I got Kane and Abe keeping an eye on the workshop."

"I'll be here," said Sandra.

Mark trudged to the back rooms and Sandra caressed the gun box. So close. So very close. She couldn't wait much longer. She just needed confirmation from her two men and then she could call him. Tell him how well she did, earn his praise. Then maybe he would talk to her again.

Lightning flashed through the window and she sighed, glad to be out of the rain. Rain cleansed the earth, but it also created mud, of which she had had enough of for the rest of her life.

The phone on Mark's desk rang, the ID the same number on the phone she had given her men. She took another wipe from her pocket and picked up the receiver.

"Yes?"

"We're still driving, but we looked up the town directory. Got an address for Devi's son. We'll be there in thirty minutes."

Sandra beamed. It was enough. "Good."

After hanging up and wiping down the receiver for good measure, Sandra took out a plastic bag from her coat. It contained a burner phone separated from its battery so no matter where she took it, no one could track her. The special one she saved for this occasion. She typed in the number she had repeated to herself as she dozed off to bed, her mantra, her connection to the man that banished the filth of the world.

Yanif Retten's number.

***

Will's toe scrapped within an arm's length of Louis. Louis nodded at his partner's progress, urging him forward despite the damage being done to Will's hands. A slim tendril of blood sneaked down into Will's sleeve and the Fanboy whimpered.

Will's own fault for getting beat up, thought Louis. He can cry about it later.

Meanwhile, Louis managed to get his feet under him and stand up, pushing against the pole and wrenching his left hand. If he reached out a leg he could drag Will closer.

"C'mon, one more swing, Fanboy," said Louis.

"That's what you said last time," muttered Will with a snarl as his toes tapped closer.

"If you'd put a little more strength in it then maybe it would have been!"

***

Cetz rolled his eyes as he listened in on Will and Louis while he tracked Watch One's team on his screen, the dots on the map moving faster than he expected. Not hijack a helicopter fast, but it would do.

An emergency beep from Grant's office interrupted him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Got a cell phone being used by someone at that place in Everett you wanted me to keep an eye on," said Grant. "Clouds are being a bitch, but the signal's still going through."

"Can you tap the signal?"

"Way ahead of you," said Grant. "I'll give you a direct feed to your head set and I record it here."