Collision: Book Four in the Secret World Chronicle - eARC Page 29
“If,” Red shot back from his seat. “Go on, the two of you. Just make sure that you don’t wear him out too much, Blue. It’s a workday tomorrow.”
“Every day is a work day,” Bella corrected. Mel resisted the urge to smile when the young co-leader of ECHO laced her fingers with Bull’s on their way out. The two made a perfectly matched couple, and the Djinni chuckled wryly as Bella led Bulwark through the door.
Mel followed them, turning the lock once the door shut. The Djinni regarded her with an odd expression that she chose to answer with a wink and smile. “Well, just you and me, cher. Considering that I hate to drink alone, mind keeping a girl company for a while longer?”
He didn’t answer her immediately, but he didn’t give any indication he wanted to leave. Mel took it as a sign that he would stay for one more drink, and she grabbed two glasses and the Laphroaig that he and John enjoyed with their occasional off-key serenades. She poured his glass before pouring her own. “So,” she drawled. “How long has it been?”
Red stared at her. “How long has what been?”
“Since you’ve had a thing for her. Parker, I mean.” Mel tilted her head at the front door. “Clearly, she’s with the walking wall now, but either there’s something there, or you wanted there to be something there. Not that I blame you. She’s cute,” she added with a half-smile.
He studied the bottom of his glass before answering. “Long enough. Long enough to know.”
“Know what?”
He paused, and downed the rest of his drink. “She is not for me.”
Mel’s mouth twisted in a half-smile. “Well, I guess your princess is in another castle, then.” She paused, a long pause. “Never mind. Granted, that might be the scotch talking, but I’d have to actually start drinking.” She put back half her glass and winced. “There. Now it’s the scotch talking. So, why not Parker?”
“I’m not drunk enough for that conversation,” Red muttered.
“Amazingly enough, we are surrounded by alcohol, and you’ve got one of the finest bartenders from New Orleans at your disposal this evening.” Mel slipped around the side of the bar and leaned against the barstool, one of her knees purposely touching his. “I can help you get drunk enough for that conversation, or for anything else that might require some liquid courage.” She punctuated that promise by tossing back the rest of her scotch.
He stared at her, his eyes losing focus. “Yeah… now I’m thinking I’m too drunk for this conversation.”
“Well, I’m not drunk at all,” she said, promptly pouring herself a generous shot. “Law of averages say that we’re only half-drunk.”
“So, together we’re not altogether drunk? Demi-drunk?” Red played with the words. “Semi-inebriated. Inter-inebriated. Half sheets to the wind. Partially pissed? Half-plastered?”
“I like that, half-plastered. Reminds me of the back wall,” Mel answered.
Red’s eyes began to wander, his gaze lingering on the worn ECHO symbol stretched across her chest, then at the wall, and back again. “You don’t want to know what flashed through my mind just now.”
“I got it,” she said, snapping her fingers. “You an’ me, we’re not quite under the table.”
“Not helping,” he groaned, dropping his face into the palm of one hand.
“So, if not under the table, then maybe on the table?”
Both hands covered his face. “Still not helping. Really not helping.”
Mel sighed and hopped up to sit on the bar. She pushed herself over until she sat with one leg on either side of him, the bottle in one hand. Mel reached forward and lifted his chin until his eyes met hers. “How ’bout now,” she drawled. “This help?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “You’re a real Samaritan.” He raised his glass. “Give me another, and ask me again.”
* * *
In his time, the Djinni had slipped past high security measures of all flavors, shapes and sizes. On top of the usual tricks of the trade, he had an epidermal layer that he could expand to an odd spongiform texture to deaden his footsteps, and senses that allowed for a complete awareness of his surroundings. Taken together, he easily crossed the distance from the bed to Mel’s window without a sound, handily avoiding creaks in the hardwood, dodging bits of clothing, shoes and armaments that had been hastily scattered about the night before. Pausing only to grab his scarf, he was ready to make his escape.
He hadn’t counted on the alarm clock. Mel had yet to miss a morning at the parkour course, and the flat buzzing noise elicited a muffled “dammit” and a hand coming from out from under the covers to fumble for the snooze button. Red paused, his hands gently supporting the window he had halfway opened, one foot already climbing out onto the fire escape. He froze, but then relaxed as Mel’s hand dove back under the sheets. In a moment, she appeared to be snoring.
Red watched her for a moment, and gave up. He climbed back in, crossed his arms and leaned back against the window.
“You’re awake,” he said, simply.
The rumpled mess of sheets moved and Mel lifted her head from the pillow. She stretched both hands above her head before rolling to her back and propping herself up on her elbows. A lazy yet satisfied half-smile accompanied her words. “Guess you found me out. What gave it away?”
“Your breathing wasn’t quite right,” he offered. “A bit exaggerated. Your acting needs a bit of work if you’re going to fool me.”
Mel chuckled, a throaty noise that he had heard multiple times the night before. “Well, the way you slid out of bed, it was artful. Didn’t move the mattress or anything. I figured it would be poor taste to interrupt your getaway.” She sat up a little more, the thin bedsheet tucked under both arms as if she meant to remind Red what he was escaping. “Not your first, I’m guessing.”
“Don’t mean to offend you, darlin’,” Red apologized with a grandiose bow. “I’ve always found it easier on both parties to steal away in these situations. Keeps the awkward to a minimum.”
“Oh, so this is you just being a gentleman for my sake,” she drawled. “Chivalry in personal defenestration, right?”
He shrugged. “Call it a quirk. I’m the guy who likes to control when and how he leaves a building through a window.”
“I’m guessing it helps when the window’s open beforehand?”
“Like you said, not my first time. A few of the noisier goodbyes had memorable finales.” He paused as she waited expectantly. “Yes,” he confirmed. “I was thrown through closed windows.”
Mel swung her legs around to the side of the bed and stood, pulling the top sheet with her in a makeshift robe. “My personal favorite was a drainpipe shimmy. Three stories to a muddy front lawn. All the dirt made up for the wet t-shirt.” She winked at him. “You ever do a closed door?”
“Been slammed up against a few, I suppose,” he murmured. His brow furrowed as he came to a startling conclusion. “It seems I’ve been with some really strong women.”
“Apparently,” she agreed. “Your retreat technique isn’t bad, but I was in Special Ops, remember? Don’t need to see or hear you moving to know it’s happening.” Mel took a few steps away from the bed, the sheet trailing behind her. “Think about it, though. Wherever you sleep,” she said, air quotes and a wicked smile framing the word ‘sleep,’ “the set-up stays the same. There’s no real variation. There’s something like a bed, something like clothes, and they ain’t on either person in any presentable fashion. And,” she finished with a Djinni-like flourish, “there’s always one way out. It’s that old saying, right?” Mel said with a wry smirk. “No matter where you go—”
“You’re always alone,” Red finished.
He knew the real saying, of course. Very zen, very poignant, but he wasn’t feeling it. It wasn’t the same, he wasn’t the same, and perhaps he was finally ready to acknowledge that some things just wouldn’t be enough for him anymore. Moments before, caught in the act, he had fallen back to another line of defense. Mere words, said with a bow and
with a nice flourish of charm and grace, could be a formidable weapon. He had many in his arsenal. But at their core, they were lies. Artful bits of deception with a lot of show and flash that did their job covering up a painful reality. And he was tired of lying. It just wasn’t enough anymore. And so he had blurted a few words of truth, surprising himself with how deep the words cut through their little dance. And it had been a dance. Mel had been a willing partner, but the words had struck her as well, and in the shocked stillness he found himself lost in her face, her startled expression a mirror to his own.
She knows, he thought. Well sure. Not her first dance either.
She looked away first. Gone were the flirtatious, knowing smiles, and when she moved away her steps were leaden, lifeless.
“I’ll make coffee to go,” she said quietly. “We’ve got a run start time in thirty minutes.” She swapped the sheet for a robe and made a beeline for the bedroom door.
Red caught up to her, taking her hand firmly in his. She froze, not turning, her hand cold and lifeless in his. He tried to speak, but what was there to say? They stood there, still, neither quite sure what to do next. A moment of truth, naked honesty, and Red had effectively stripped away years of practiced subterfuge. For her, it might have been a first. For him, it had definitely been an age since the last. Since Victoria.
Finally, he felt her grasp his hand warmly as she brought it up to her shoulder. She took a few tentative steps and led him to the kitchen.
“No one has to be alone,” she said, twining her fingers with his.
* * *
Bella always felt less alone when Mel was at the desk tucked into one corner of the far-too-spacious ECHO CEO office. Ever since shortly after Ramona Ferrari’s “death,” Mel had been occupying that seat, and the job of Bella’s “assistant.”
The conversation that led to the position had been interesting to say the least.
* * *
“Well, you’re cleared for work, according to Doctor Melbourne, Panacea and Gilead,” Bella said, looking across her desk at Mel.
“Work,” Mel repeated with a sigh. “I dunno what more there is to work with. After all that you did before—”
“Let’s leave aside the little problem that you don’t have your illusion powers for now,” Bella said. “I’m not convinced they won’t come back. They did for Fata Morgana. It took years, but they did. I’m more than willing to keep you in ECHO till they do.”
Mel gave Bella a watery smile. “You sure? I mean, I’ve got plenty of training beyond those powers, but I don’t know if I can trust myself out there. If you think there’s something worth saving, well…” She trailed off and shook her head. “No wonder you two are fit for each other. I’ll owe you both for my second chances.”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘out there.’ There’s plenty that Support Ops do. Some more cross-training and you could jump in as a detective. Trust, me it is a lot harder to cross-train someone who’s had investigative training to learn the paramilitary and shooty side than it is the other way around. Or there’s juggling paperwork if you think you could stand that.” Bella cued up the openings in ECHO Support Ops, got only half the ones she knew were there and sighed heavily. “Goddamnit. I miss Ramona. I feel like I’m operating with half a brain and only one hand.”
“Bella, if having me file and sort and shuffle will bring you any bit of relief, then I’ll do it. What part of ‘I owe you three times over’ don’t you get? Want me to say it en francais to make it easier to understand?” The blonde gave her a lopsided smile, the one side of her head still buzzed shorter than the other after the attack at the MARTA station. “I ain’t got a problem doing paperwork, and one of the secrets of running a bar off Bourbon Street is being able to make a cup of coffee that’ll stand up and salute on its own. You want a secretary, you got one. I’m happy that you’re still willing to keep me.”
Bella stared at her for a long moment. “Sweetie,” she said, slowly. “I don’t need a secretary. Secretaries are easy to get. I have three. What I need is an assistant, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think you’ve got the chops for it.” She began ticking things off on her fingers. “I need someone who can be the other set of eyes at my back when Bull can’t—and can shoot to kill, and will. I need someone who can talk to people and get them to open up where they won’t open up to me. I need someone better with the computers than I am when Vix can’t do that—and you can learn that from Vix. I need someone who won’t think because I ask them to run an errand that I’m exploiting them or something—because if I do that, the errand isn’t ‘just’ an errand, it’ll be something I need someone I can trust to do. There’s a million little things that come up all the time, and I can only handle half a million. I need someone I can trust to handle the other half.” She let out her breath in a long exhalation. “It’s gonna involve a lot of learning shit. And tedium. And often as not, being charming to snakes and bastards. But if you’re willing—”
“If you’ll let me give it a go, I’ll do my best. Learning doesn’t scare me, as long as you don’t mind questions now and then. The rest of it sounds just fine. Heck, a bit of learning and some familiar tasks might be what it takes to reset what got broken.” Mel offered Bella a reassuring smile, her voice gentled and honeyed. “Just tell me where to begin, and we’ll get a start on making this place a little more manageable.”
Bella grinned with happiness and relief. A few clicks of the mouse and some typing and the deed was done. “Congratulations, Mel. You are now my assistant. Skirts optional. Oh, and the first secret you get entrusted with is this. Ramona isn’t dead. Pull the chair closer and I’ll tell you the whole story.”
* * *
“Oh, crap,” Bella said, her voice betraying dismay.
Mel swiveled in her chair, one hand on the most recent set of file folders procured from the ECHO vaults. The pair had worked together long enough that Mel reacted to the smallest changes in Bella’s voice; each “oh crap” or “freakin’ hell” could mean a dozen different things, but she had begun to predict them with surprising accuracy. “What’s missing,” she asked calmly. “What do you want me to get?”
“I intended to get Vix lunch. I promised I would about an hour ago, because if she doesn’t get someone to bring her something she just microwaves something full of additives and crap calories or drinks a meal in a can. I wanted to bring her up to speed on the vault stuff Verd left there while we ate. But I have a meeting with Bull about Scope in five minutes and…” She threw her hands up in the air. “That’s his only window and it’ll probably take two hours.”
“So let it take the two hours. I can come back to the files here if you think Vix would be all right with me bringing her some lunch. Herb’s a cutie with his little cups at the bar, but he probably wouldn’t handle more than that.”
Bella pursed her lips. “Well it’s more like, ‘Vix can’t apport more than that without using up all the calories in the meal.’ Not quite as taxing and a little more complicated, but that’s the ‘too-long, didn’t-read’ version.”
“Huh. Guess I get a magic lesson today,” Mel grinned. “But really, I’m here for the errands. Tell me what you want, what she wants, and what Bull wants. I’ll call in the order, pick up, and deliver all around. That way, everybody gets a real lunch. Does she like that bento place as much as you do?”
“Sec,” Bella said. “Overwatch: Ping Vix.” There was a pause. “Yeah, rerun the last three minutes of office chat.” Another pause. “Great, it’s a deal.” She turned her attention back to Mel. “Bento boxes all around. Salmon for me, chicken for Bull, salmon and tuna for Vix, whatever you want, charge it on the ECHO account, and Vix’s password will be ‘Klaatu barada nicto.’ You say that in response to ‘One small step for a man.’ Oh and make sure you have your Mark One headset on.”
“Two if by sea, one if by land, ECHO plastic, and it’s North in response to Armstrong.” Mel popped open the desk drawer to retrieve her headset. “Anything else, boss?”
“Well…you’re going to be next door to the Chinese joint. If they don’t have a line, could you pop in and get a double order of veggie egg fu yong for her too? She didn’t ask for it, but if it’s in the fridge, she’ll eat it instead of freezer-burned Minute Meals.” Bella beamed at her. This was as good as having Ramona back.
“Can do. You want me to pick up their hot and sour for us? You said the next stack of folders was going to take us past dinner, and you’ve got to eat as much as the next person.” Mel stood and winked at her. “Nevermind, I’ll grab it just in case. It can reheat for tomorrow’s lunch, right?”
“Mel, you’re a lifesaver. Make it so.” Bella glanced at the time on her computer. “Gotta dash, it’ll take me every bit of what I’ve got left to get to Bull’s office. You know how he is about being on time.”
Mel mock-groaned. “Do I ever. Go, cher. Meet you there.”
* * *
Vickie studied the camera image for a good long time. Then she clicked over to the Overwatch scan…just to be sure. Only then did she finger the intercom button. “So, you look kind of burdened down there, Mel. Kind of a heavy load for just a couple of bento boxes. More than one small step for a man.”
“Confucius say, ‘Klaatu barada nicto.’ But Bella said that I needed to bring over some of the veggie egg fu yong so you wouldn’t be scrounging from your freezer between now and tomorrow.” Mel cracked a smile for the camera. “We’re gonna have hot and sour tonight for dinner. It’ll be a soup party.”
“First time I’ve heard of soup as a party,” Vickie replied, as she threw the locks and let Mel in. Then she took a long, deep, appreciative breath. “Damn, I love egg fu…beats the hell out of Salisbury steak.”
“Anything beats Salisbury steak.” Mel stepped into the apartment and set the parcels on the nearest flat surface, which happened to be a table in the tiny foyer. “You sure that’s enough? You want anything else?”
“I only ever think about food when it’s in front of me,” Vickie confessed, locking the door again. “Fridge is in and to the left in the kitchen. I’ll set the bentos up in the living room and you can brief me. I’m dying to know what else Verd left in the vault.” She picked up the white bag from the Japanese bento box place and darted ahead of Mel, leaving Mel to get the heavier brown bag from the Chinese joint. As she set up the living room table with chopsticks, drinks and the bento boxes, she watched Mel stow the white styrofoam containers of Chinese takeout in the fridge. “You want chair or couch?” she called over the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.