came here to kill my lover, and instead killed an old friend. And another man. They say you didn’t blink.” He reached slowly toward her. She tried to dodge, but he grabbed her throat.
“Julian . . .”
“Oh, don’t worry.” The wheels on the chair were locked. He pushed slowly on her throat and she tipped back. He held her at the balance point. “You’re going to find everyone here so nice. They just want to help you.” He let go, and the wheelchair fell over with a jarring crash. She grunted.
“I’m not one of them, though.” He got down on his hands and knees, his face directly over hers. “I’m not nice, and I don’t want to help you.”
“That’s not going to work with her, Julian.”
“It’s not for her. It’s for me.” She tried to spit at him, but missed. He stood up and casually flipped the wheelchair into an upright position.
“This isn’t like you.”
“I’m not like me. Marty didn’t say anything about my losing the ability to jack!”
“You didn’t know that could happen with the memory manipulation?”
“No. Because I didn’t ask.”
Jefferson nodded. “That’s why you and I haven’t been scheduled together lately. You might have asked me about it.”
Luis came into the room and they didn’t say anything while Spencer instructed him and he rolled Gavrila out.
“I think it’s more sinister than that, more manipulative,” Julian said. “I think Marty needed somebody who’d been a mechanic, knows soldiering, but is immune to being humanized.” He gestured with a thumb at Spencer. “He knows everything now?”
“The essentials.”
“I think Marty wants me this way in case there’s a need for violence. Just like you—when you called me to come protect Blaze, you implied the same.”
“Well, it’s just that—”
“And you’re right, too! I’m so fucking mad that I could kill someone. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Julian . . .”
“Oh, you don’t use the word ‘crazy.’” He lowered his voice. “But it’s odd, isn’t it? I’ve sort of come full circle.”
“That could be temporary, too. You have every right to be angry.”
Julian sat down and clasped his hands together, as if to restrain them. “What did you learn from her? Are there other assassins in town, headed here?”
“The only other one she actually knew was Ingram. We do know the name of the man above her, though, and he must be close to the top. It’s a General Blaisdell. He’s also the one who ordered the suppression of your paper and had Blaze’s partner killed.”
“He’s in Washington?”
“The Pentagon. He’s the undersecretary of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency—DARPA.”
Julian almost laughed. “DARPA kills research all the time. I’ve never heard of them killing a researcher before.”
“He knows she came to Guadalajara, and that she was coming to a jack clinic, but that’s all.”
“How many clinics are there?”
“One hundred thirty-eight,” Spencer said. “And when Professor Harding had her work done here, the only connections to her real name are my own office records and the . . . what did you call the thing you signed?”
“Power of attorney.”
“Yes, that’s buried in a law office’s files, and even so, there shouldn’t be anything connecting it with this clinic.”
“I wouldn’t get too complacent,” Julian said. “If Blaisdell wants to, he can find us the same way she did. We left some kind of a trail. The Mexican police could probably place us in Guadalajara—maybe even right here—and they could be bribed pretty easily. Begging your pardon, Dr. Spencer.”
He shrugged. “Es verdad.”
“So we suspect anyone who comes through that door. But what about Amelia, Blaze—is she nearby?”
“Maybe a quarter of a mile,” Jefferson said. “I’ll take you there.”
“No. They might be following either of us. Let’s not double their odds. Just write down the name of the place. I’ll take two cabs.”
“Do you want to surprise her?”
“What does that mean? She’s staying with someone?”
“No, no. Yeah, but it’s Ellie Morgan. Nothing to get all bothered about.”
“Who’s bothered? It was just a question.”
“All I meant was, should I call and say you’re coming?”
“Sorry. I’m in a state. Go ahead and give her a . . . wait, no. The phone might be tapped.”
“Not possible,” Spencer said.
“Humor me?” He looked at the address Jefferson had written down. “Good. I’ll take a cab to the mercado. Lose myself in the crowd and then dive into the subway.”
“Your caution verges on paranoia,” Spencer said.
“Verges? I’m well over the edge, actually. Wouldn’t you be paranoid if one of your best friends just ripped out half your life—and some Pentagon general is sending assassins down after