I placed another of the Mummy Fingers against her, this time alongside her sprained foot. I cringed as it pushed her ankle back into proper position. There was no escaping the audible pop and this time Jane screamed.
A fresh wave of chilled sweat formed on her forehead and I stroked her hair back from it.
“If it will help set things straight at work,” I said, “I canlet you kill me.”
She laughed through what remained of her pain. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“You really think you’re in that much trouble?” I asked.
“Well,” she said, “there’s only one way to find out.”
She reached for her bedside phone, but I handed her mine instead.
“It’s untraceable. Is anyone going to be there this time of night, though?”
She nodded, dialed, and held it close between the two of us to listen. I tried to ignore the fact that I was literally lying in bed with the enemy.
“Sectarian Defense League,” said the woman on the phone. The look on Jane’s face told me she didn’t recognize the voice. “How may I direct your call?”
I felt her hand twitch to hang up, but I steadied her and she stopped.
“Yes,” Jane said, attempting to change her voice as best she could, “I’d like to speak to Mr. Bane’s personal assistant, please.”
There was a pause.
“Hello?” Jane said. There was the sound of muffled conversation from the other end of the line. The woman on the other end had put her hand over the mouthpiece.
“One moment, please,” the voice said when it returned, and the phone clicked over to an orchestral version of some pop tune I vaguely recognized.
“What the hell is going on?” I whispered. Jane shrugged, but before I could ask anything further, the music went away and a male voice came on the line. “This is Mr. Bane’s assistant.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Actually, I was looking for Jane.”
Sounds familiar,she mouthed.
Silence. “She’s out of the office indefinitely right now. Can I possibly help you?”
“Do you know where she is, please? It’s urgent.”
Another pause.
Faisal?I mouthed. Jane shook her head.
“If you can just hold on the line,” the man said, “I’m sure I can put you through to someone who can be of assistance.”
I covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “He’s stalling,” I said.
Jane looked panicked. “I can try again later. Thanks!”
“Wait! Don’t hang up.” The man on the other end of the line chuckled. “Jane? Is that you? Where are you hiding, girl?”
What color that was left in Jane’s face drained away and she hitEND.
“Well?” I asked. “Jane?”
She turned to me, her face a mask of fright.
“I didn’t know who the first person was,” she said, “but the man…it took me a second to place him, but I know who he is. I even set him up with a freelancer position with the S.D.L. Did his preinterview and everything.”
She was shaking so hard I took her hands in my gloved ones.
“Jane,” I said, “calm down. Don’t worry. I can take care of you. Just tell me who he is.”
“The name he gave me back then,” she said, failing to remain calm, “was Jason Charles, but everyone knew right off it was an alias. It’s the specialty we hired him for that has me totally freaked out, Simon.”
“What does he do?” I asked
She sat up, regardless of the pain she felt. “The Sectarians do a lot of their own dirty work when it comes to the occult. There are times, however, when certain special assignments come up that even they find unsavory, such as hunting their own. They tend to outsource that kind of work, especially when it’s a corporate job. They like to use someone versed in the corporate world as well as wetwork.”
“So they’ve put a contract out on you already?” I asked. “You’ve only been off the radar for what, an hour or two?”
Jane gulped. “That’s long enough. Faisal knows I’ve failed.
“I never gave Jason Charles a second thought before now,” Jane continued. “I wasn’t on the receiving end of his business, so what did it matter to me? And recently there had been some talk about using him against the D.E.A…”
“They were going to send him after us?” All the politicking Dave Davidson had done between our groups, keeping us civil toward one another, flew out the door. “Just what the hell is this Jason Charles anyway?”
Jane’s eyes widened. “He’s a corporate headhunter. And if he’s watching my office and handling things for Faisal already, it means I’m on his shit list. So are you, since they’ll send him to finish up what I couldn’t back at your apartment. If we leave the country now, they just might leave us alone.”
Corporate headhunters. I had heard of them, but until now I had thought they were just a rumor, like government funding. You didn’t want to tangle with one of them.
“And if we don’t leave?” I asked. “What then?”
Jane looked ready to pass out again.
“Prepare to be downsized.”
20
I couldn’t leave Jane there for their corporate headhunter to find so (in four separate cabs) I took her to a hotel over on the Upper East Side and checked her in. I headed home around 5 a.m. There was still no sign of Irene and I slept for a fitful three hours before heading up to the Lovecraft Cafй. I grabbed a coffee and went back to the offices to face the Inspectre. His door was shut and the muffled sound of arguing came from behind it. I sat down and waited.
I bet myself a new armoire from the ABC store on Eighteenth that it was Director Wesker getting yelled at. It was hard to imagine anyone more deserving of getting chewed out than him.
When the door to Inspectre Quimbley’s office opened, it shook in its frame and revealed an extremely agitated-looking Thaddeus Wesker. He hadn’t changed since last night-wearing the same suit, tie, and look of disdain. His disdain doubled when he noticed me sitting there waiting, and he stormed off down the stairs. I stood when I heard an exasperated sigh from within the office and walked in to find Quimbley sitting at his desk, his head in his hands. He, too, was wearing the same clothes from last night.
“Sir…?” I shut the door behind me.
Quimbley jumped at the sound of my voice, but when he saw it was me, he relaxed. He picked up his glasses, fitted them on his face, and grabbed the folder lying before him. “Simon, please…have a seat.”
I sat in the leather chair opposite him. “Is everything okay, Inspectre? Director Wesker seemed in a far fouler mood than usual.”
The Inspectre peered over the top of his glasses at me and smiled. “You noticed that, too, eh?”
I smiled back cautiously. My limited encounters with my superior left me wary in his presence. Connor was much closer to our Other Division leader. I wasn’t sure how political I should be in responding to any questions concerning my personal feelings about Director Wesker. I didn’t want to step on any toes, so I chose to speak with caution and voice as few of my own opinions as possible.
“Wesker’s mood on his way out was kind of hard to miss, sir.”
Quimbley sat silently for a moment, possibly weighing his thoughts. “True.” Another pause. “You don’t like Director Wesker, I take it? Given last night’s events, I mean…”
“Truth be told, Inspectre, I don’t think I’m in a position to judge.”
“No?” the Inspectre said. “And why not, dear boy? You must have an opinion one way or the other. Come, come!”
I shifted in my seat uncomfortably as I thought it over. “Well…”
Quimbley dropped the folder and softened as he looked at me, his wise old eyes without any gleam of judgment.
“I’d be hesitant, too, if I were you, Simon. Here you are, so new to the D.E.A. and already dealing with such bizarre and unusual circumstances. You’re worried you might say the wrong thing or drop the wrong word in the wrong person’s ear? Perhaps you’re concerned that if you speak against another agent or director, you’ll be seen as disloyal.”