ask the director questions about your family, you don’t ask me questions about mine.”
Dr. Thomas cleared his throat, rose, and beckoned to me. “May I have a word before you leave?”
I followed him out to the hall, where a nervous teen girl waited with a leather messenger bag, a golden field operative star, and a freshly minted badge with my name on it.
Dr. Thomas smiled at her. “Grace, this is our newest intern, Kelly. Kelly, meet Grace Roberts. Senior field analyst. Ms. Roberts is going out on assignment to determine the location of and recover an artifact.” He took the bag from her and handed it to me.
My stomach dropped to my ankles when he emphasized “field.” Then clean through the floor as the girl looked at me with a gaze of awe. She mumbled to me, clearly at a loss for words, and then darted away, as if I might bite her.
“What was that about?” My sense of awe around Dr. Thomas faded with each moment.
“Just giving my intern someone to look up to. I used to go on assignment, and kept that packed. A toothbrush, deodorant, and a spare shirt. All the essentials. I really envy you.”
I slung the bag over my shoulder. “Why? I’m going to New Mexico.”
“I love my lab work, but I used to collect samples firsthand.” He raised his chin and pointed to a swarm of liver spots on one side, which obscured a wide scar. “A co-org almost tore my throat out.” A distant smile spread across his face. “It was amazing.”
I liked my throat untorn. “We’re going to New Mexico. Not Egypt.”
He bobbed his head in agreement. “I know, I know. But an old man can dream. Go on, Ms. Roberts. Keep your eyes open and your mind sharp. As they say in the field, don’t get dead.”
At the entrance to the BSI building, a Bureau driver waited, jingling keys as he leaned up against a black sedan. “Mr. Carson.” He nodded to Brynner. “Who’s the looker?”
I cut off Brynner before he could answer. “Grace Roberts. Senior field analyst. When I want your opinion on how I look, I’ll let you know.”
“Whoa.” The driver’s face flushed red, and he held up his hands. “You should learn to take a compliment. I haven’t seen you around, and now you’re with him—”
“She’s not with me, and I think the phrase you were looking for was ‘I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.’ Can we get going, Lou?” Brynner dropped his duffel bag in the trunk, and then opened the door for me.
How he could be so polite and yet so irritating, I couldn’t begin to say. We were rolling through the tall buildings of downtown Seattle, climbing hilly streets on our way to the freeway, when the scanner blipped to life.
A woman’s voice rang out over the radio, “All field teams, we have co-org activity on Pier 77.”
“On the water. Again.” Brynner’s voice came out a whisper. Then he spoke louder. “Take me there.”
Without warning, our driver did an illegal U-turn. “Field Team B responding,” he said into the radio mic.
Co-orgs? With me in the car? That was not what I signed up for. I tapped the driver on the shoulder. “We have a flight to catch.”
He slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt beside a gaggle of tourists. He looked at me, his gaze darting to the BSI badge on my lapel. His eyes narrowed, and he looked to Brynner. “You two a field team or not?”
“I’m a field team all by myself. Get me there as fast as possible.” Brynner looked out the window, avoiding my gaze.
Wrong way down one-way streets, squeezing between parked delivery trucks, our driver broke every traffic law in existence as he forced his way through Seattle morning traffic. Even the flashing purple lights on our roof didn’t make the morning crush disappear.
When we reached the waterfront, the police made room, letting us past a line of patrol cars and through a mob of bystanders without the good sense to stay away.
Lou popped the trunk and retrieved Brynner’s bag while an officer approached on my side. Brynner exited, and I watched through the back window as he circled the car to show his BSI badge.
“According to witnesses, there’s either one or a dozen meat-skins in that restaurant.” The officer pointed to a building jutting out over the water on pilings.
That just seemed wrong. Co-orgs avoided water, due to the interference it caused with host control. That a Re-Animus