“Agent Smith—”
“Ma’am, I suggest you say nothing else until you are read your rights,” said Harrison.
“I will not—”
Taylor grabbed her upper arm and pressed his Bravo against her head. “Give me an excuse, cocktease,” he said. “Just give me one fucking reason to spray your stupid cunt brains across the wall.”
They heard the echo of shouting outside and all the eyes in the room flitted to the window. Less than a second. It took Smith and Harrison a few moments to understand what happened next. They saw it all, but their minds needed time to break the blur down into actual movements.
One moment Stealth was a prisoner at gunpoint. They looked back from the window and her free hand was up and Taylor’s rifle was aimed over her shoulder at the wall. Her fingers stabbed out and drove four strikes into the soldier’s throat one after another. On the last one her hand twisted over to grab the top of his head and yank it down as she leaped up. Her knee smashed into his face and she spun in mid-air, driving her heel into his chest.
Taylor crashed into Polk and collapsed to the floor. Everyone knew the soldier wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.
Then they realized, in that instant of seeing and understanding, Stealth had crossed the five yards separating the door from the desk.
She landed with one foot on Harrison’s rifle and pinned it to the desk. She slammed the edge of her palm into his throat. He staggered back and she grabbed Smith’s tie with her other hand. She dragged the smiling man forward.
“Stealth!” he snapped, holding up his hands. “You don’t want to hurt me, do you?”
The fist froze inches from his head. It trembled for a moment, as if she was trying to force it through the air.
“Do you?” repeated Smith. He leveled his eyes at her. He didn’t blink.
“No,” she said. She opened the fist and let her arm drop to her side. “I do not.”
Smith brought his arms down. He adjusted his tie and smiled his broad, fake smile. “Good.”
Chapter 26 - Influence Peddler
THEN
There’s no such thing as a smart criminal. It’s a complete myth. You know why? Because if there was such a thing, you’d never know about it. Criminals people hear about get caught. Every bank robbery or liquor store hold-up, those were all morons. And think about it—someone would have to be a complete idiot to put on an eye-catching costume and draw attention to himself and what he can do.
No, the smart ones would go out of their way not to be seen or heard. They’d hide in plain sight. They’d be that person barely anyone acknowledges is in the room. The real supervillains wear business suits and paisley ties with full-Windsor knots.
When we first got the news some of the superheroes were alive in Los Angeles—well, superheroes or Bruce Springsteen, take your pick—I don’t think the airman who brought the news even saw me. Freedom didn’t. He doesn’t register half the civilians he meets. He and Shelly had been talking with a few of the officers for five minutes before the colonel and I locked eyes. It always made him angry when he forgot I was there.
Especially when I made him forget.
I never got noticed, though. The middle child who didn’t need much attention. The quiet kid in class who wasn’t so quiet the teachers worried about him. Just the average guy with the average name, sitting there in plain sight.
I still don’t know if this was something I was born with or something that was done to me. I remember the first time I did it, though. Well, it might not have been the actual first time, but it was when I knew for a fact I’d made someone do something they didn’t want to do. Sophomore year of high school. I spent a week working up my nerve to ask Phoebe Bradshaw out on a date and she shot me down in front of her friends before I even got it all out. I tried to save face while they were all giggling and asked if I could get a blowjob instead. I’d heard the line in a movie and it seemed appropriate.
Three minutes later we were in an empty classroom and Phoebe was unzipping my jeans.
It has something to do with questions. It took a while, and I got slapped and punched more than a few times because of it, but I figured that out. The way your brain receives and processes a question is different from how it hears statements or instructions or music or whatever. I can’t order people to do things, but I can ask them and they give me the answer I want. And they believe that answer.