Jennifer Government Part 8

Hack shook his head wildly. "No, I can't do this again. Please. I can't."

John sighed. "Jesus, Hack, you are the worst G.o.dd.a.m.n a.s.sa.s.sin I ever heard of. We wanted a nice little rampage, something we could write off as an employee gone postal if the Government caught up with us. Neat and tidy. But no, you had to go and outsource." He sighed. "Good people get the job done, Hack, no matter what. Remember that. Is this your apartment?"

"Yes," Hack said. When they reached the top of the stairs, he fumbled for his keys.

John reached out and stopped him. "Knock first. We don't want John getting jumpy."

"Okay." He hoped John wasn't the sort to get jumpy. He hoped he hadn't explored the apartment.

An eye appeared at the peephole. "Hack?" It was Violet's voice. He heard her unlocking. "Hack, there's a man in here"

"Violet! It's okay, there's a guy with me, too. It's all right."

Silence.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Who's that?" John said. He tried the handle. "That's not John."

"It's my girlfriend. Violet."

"Give me the keys," John said. He wrestled with the door. Finally the door swung open. It was dark inside. "John? You there, buddy?"

"Violet?"

"You go first," John said. He pushed Hack forward.

Hack moved blindly, his hands out before him. He couldn't think why the lights would be out. And why Violet had answered the John said, "Ag!"

He turned. John was two steps behind him and Violet had a long knife to his throat. She must have hidden behind the door. "Violet! He's John Nike! Let him go!"

"Girl," John said, "you want to let go of me, right now. You really do."

"Hack," Violet said, "pack some clothes. We're leaving." She looked at him. "Do it!"

Hack jolted into motion. He went into the bedroom and started pulling open drawers. He threw clothes into a bag and showed it to her.

"What about shoes? Hack! And get my computer."

He grabbed some shoes from the bedroom closet and collected her notebook. When he emerged, she was patting down John's pockets.

"Violet," Hack said, "I really think you're making a mistake."

"Go," she said. "Outside." She pulled a pistol from John's jacket and looked at him.

"That has sentimental value," John said. Violet pushed him into the living room. He regarded them from the darkness. "Violetis that your name? This is your last chance. If you do this, you'll regret it. I guarantee it." He held out his hand. "Give me back my gun."

She slammed the door. Hack followed her down the stairs and into the car park. "What's going on? Where are we going?"

"I think I killed a man," she said.

"Oh." Hack left a respectful silence.

"Now drive drive," she said, and he got in.

17 Buy

Buy couldn't tell what color the walls were. The sounds of the crowd were dulled and thick, and he kept realizing that his head was heading for the bar just before he reached it. Buy was very drunk. He was going down in flames.

Buy hadn't been in to work for almost a week. He'd arranged the leave a month ago, knowing that the last week of the financial year would leave him drained; of course, he hadn't known just how true that would turn out to be. It was Wednesday night, and tomorrow Buy was meant to front up to Mitsui with the stain of a dead girl on his soul, and he absolutely, definitely was not ready for that.

A woman at the bar was looking at him. He squinted at her and she rose and came toward him. He tried to sit straighter on the stool.

"Hi."

"Hi," Buy said. When she didn't say anything else, he added, "Can I buy you a drink?"

"A Manhattan, please."

He ordered the drink. "I'm Buy Mitsui."

"Sandy John Hanc.o.c.k. You got life insurance?" She laughed. "I'm kidding. Are you a stockbroker?"

"Yes," Buy said. He managed to discern a black skirt and a tight green top.

"I wanted to be a stockbroker, once. But I didn't like the math. Do you have to know math?"

"Sometimes," he said, even though the answer was no, not really.

"Thanks." He realized she wasn't talking to him. The barman was looking at him expectantly. He dug out a card from his wallet and fumbled it onto the bar.

"Points card?"

"No." Buy had one, but didn't think he could find it.

"You should get one of those," Sandy said. "I got one last year, after they formed US Alliance. I got a Team Advantage card, too. You earn so much free stuff."

"I don't need free stuff."

"You must be rich. Are you?" She laughed. "I'm just kidding."

"I have an unlimited AmEx. But you have to be able to...recite the numbers...to use it." He felt his head dipping toward the bar again.

"Unlimited? Wow. So you could, like, buy a whole apartment on plastic."

Buy said nothing. He tried to drain his gla.s.s, but nothing came out. He set it down on the bar as carefully as he could. "Life insurance," he said. "It doesn't actually protect your life, does it? It just gives you money for it."

"Well, life insurance is for your dependents," Sandy said. "If you have any."

Buy realized she was waiting for an answer. "I don't."

"I find that hard to believe." He saw teeth.

"Mmm," Buy said. The bar was swaying. "Do you want to see my apartment?"

"Does it have a view?"

"Um," he said. "Yes, it"

"I'm just kidding," she said. "Let's go."

On the street, he asked, "Have you ever done something generous for no reason?"

"Sure. Everybody has."

"Once I gave a girl five thousand dollars."

"For no reason?"

"Because she wanted it."

"You know, I want five thousand dollars." Sandy laughed. Buy said nothing. "What did she do?"

"She died."

"She died died? What, because you gave her money?"

"I think so."

"You mean the one time you did something nice for no reason, the person died died?"

Buy swayed, and she caught his arm.

"Let me help you," Sandy said.

"No," he said, but she did anyway.

18 Jennifer

It was hard to believe how far Kate could strew the contents of one schoolbag. "Kate!" Jennifer yelled. "Where have you put your drink bottle?"

"It's on the TV"

"Why is it on the TV?" She didn't really want to know. She'd spent twenty minutes trying to make sandwiches with one arm in a sling and when she picked them up all the cheese fell out. It was her first day back at work and Jennifer was being thwarted by slippery condiments.

Kate entered the kitchen, carrying her schoolbag. "It makes the reception better."

"Wellgo get it, please. We're both late."

Kate left. Jennifer wrapped the sandwiches and tucked them into the schoolbag. There were some papers crammed in there, and Jennifer pulled them out. Papers usually meant things she had to sign to avoid getting scammed by a school fund-raising drive. Last year she'd ended up with a crate of Barbie dolls to sell; they were still under the house. Mattel ran good schools, but the merchandising was killing her.

The papers weren't about fund-raising. It looked like Kate's schoolwork, a paper on penguins. There were drawings and writing and printouts of pictures from the internet. It looked pretty impressive to Jennifer. "Kate?"

Kate reentered. "I've got it."

"What's this?"

"What? Oh. A project. It's due in today."

"It looks great. Really Really great." great."

"Well, I like penguins."

"Do you want a folder for it? It's going to get crushed if you take it in like this."

"Do we have folders?"

She looked at her watch. "For you, I have folders." She led Kate into the study and rooted through her desk drawer. There was a Government report on inner-city crime rates in a smart, gray folder, and she tipped it out. "How about this?"

"Yeah!"

"You know, we should put the pages behind plastic sheets," Jennifer said. "They'll look snazzy."

"Mommy, you said we were late."

"A project this nice," Jennifer said, "should be behind plastic sheets."

"Okay!" Kate said, excited. She ran to get it.

She was so late to work she missed her own Welcome Back party, which she was grateful for. Since she'd been injured her answering machine had fielded fourteen well wishes from colleagues. It wasn't totally about her, she knew: it was about Taylor, who had gone to work Friday morning and died in a shopping mall. Jennifer hadn't done anything except stay alive. But this was a big deal to agents, who had the highest death rate of any occupation except machine operators.

There was an e-mail waiting for her from Legal, about the suit from the Mercedes-Benz dealer whose car she'd fallen on. It said: