Untouched The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,89

actions?”

I was still locked on Old Man Winter’s ice blue eyes. “Which ones?”

Ariadne coughed. “Taking two untrained metas and yourself into combat with not one, but two, extremely deadly foes, stealing a Directorate car, assaulting our guards, interfering in our efforts to contain the situation—”

“Your containment strategy sucked,” I said, still not breaking my gaze away. Ariadne’s jaw dropped and she took a step back. Old Man Winter didn’t look away from my gaze. “It would have resulted in about a million deaths; the crosswinds on top of the tower made a clean shot against Gavrikov near impossible without a stable platform to shoot from. Hell, I’m amazed Parks even hit him.”

“And your plan was better?” she said with an air of snottiness. “Byerly almost got burned to death, Forrest was cornered—”

“But I saved her,” I said.

“—Zack jumped from a helicopter, injuring himself, and Clary ended up going through the roof—”

“That was his own fault, you can’t blame me for Clary being stupid.”

“And then there’s you.” She came around and sat on the edge of the desk, just to the side of my staring contest with Old Man Winter. “You disobeyed our explicit commands and substituted your own judgment for ours.”

“You’re right,” I said, firm. “Based on my experience with Gavrikov, I handled the situation as I thought best. None of the rest of you knew him personally or knew what to expect from him. Don’t put me in a position where I have to watch countless people die. Let me take the responsibility a thousand times before you hand it off to someone else who will screw it up. I won’t stand by and take dumb orders. I did what I thought—what I knew was right. And if you expect anything less from me as an agent or a retriever or a whatever you wanted me to do, you need to find someone else for the job.”

There was a freezing effect in the room, as though all particle motion had halted, and Ariadne spoke first. “I’m sorry, what?”

I still didn’t look away from Old Man Winter. “The job offer you extended. If it’s off the table in the wake of this incident, I understand. But I figured you ought to know that if it was still open, that I’m not some brainless shell that you get to use just for my powers.”

Ariadne shifted from where she was sitting on the desk. “I...don’t think we would ever expect anything less than your full opinion at any time. And...” She looked to Old Man Winter, who finally broke his gaze away from me to look to her. I mentally declared victory and pumped my fist. They pretended not to notice. She turned back after a look was shared between them. “The offer is still on the table.”

“Then you have a trainee,” I said. “And I have a signing bonus, I believe.” I looked at her. “Do I get paid with checks or cash? Because I don’t have a bank account. Yet.”

“I’ll...have someone cut you a check,” she said, standing. “I’m sure we can find someone to take you into town to make banking arrangements.”

“I’d like to go to the mall.” I stood. “I need some clothes.” I pulled on the shoulder of the black turtleneck, the thousandth I’d worn since arriving at the Directorate. “Nothing personal, but I’m kind of sick of wearing black all the time. Who does that?”

She nodded. “Anything else?”

I thought for a moment and remembered something. “One last thing. Henderschott, before he died—”

“Ah, yes.” Ariadne opened the file. “Rather spectacular, that. A 57-storey plunge to the street?” She looked away from the photograph I could see in the folder. “Not a pleasant way to go, especially when strapped into a tin can as he was.”

“He said something before he died, about his employer.” The silence in the room became oppressive in an instant. Old Man Winter seemed to perk up and Ariadne had a wide-eyed look on her face. “He said they’d keep coming after me. I asked him who, and he gave me their name—Omega.” I looked at the two of them as they exchanged a look. “That mean anything to you?”

“No,” Ariadne said after appearing to consider it for a moment. “So we have a name for this new threat—”

Old Man Winter cut her off. “No. Not a new threat at all. Not Omega.” His blue eyes glowed, shining in the dimness of the tinted office. “An old one, rather. A very, very old one.”