“I’m so surprised,” Fran mused, clearly not, and Silas grinned insincerely at her.
“My way, or no way,” Silas said. “You said it yourself.”
“I most certainly did not.”
Silas closed his eyes. “I distinctly remember you saying I was the only one smart enough to see the extent of the damage and fluid enough to adapt a program to fix it.” Eyes opening, he sat up. “I’m adapting and fixing. Get them out of my way.”
“Mrs. Jacquard,” Matt said, clearly upset. “I’ve got six other agents more than able.”
“Oh yes. Put them on notice,” Fran said, her perfume finally overpowering the BO as she got angry. “But Dr. Denier goes in first. His charms are not ones that you can put on paper.”
Matt hesitated. “Wait,” he said, looking at Silas in a new way. “Doctor Denier?” Silas slumped again. “Denier, who invented slick-suits? Who pioneered memory cushions and talismans? How anchors rebuild memories?”
Silas exhaled, wanting to get out of the van. “It’s not that hard when you are one.”
“Shit, man!” Matt lurched close, flushed. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to make up for it,” he muttered. “Fran.” He sat up, uncomfortable as Matt began to all but giggle, lurching about and … tidying? “This isn’t going to work.”
“Why not?” She shifted out of Matt’s way as he threw out a bag of chips. “Matt is extremely proficient on paper.”
“This wouldn’t work even if I were a real agent,” Silas protested.
“And you aren’t!” Matt chimed in enthusiastically. “Damn. Dr. Denier in my van.”
Silas scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t walk in there, take out Jack, subdue her, and expect to get any information. She is a soldier, Fran. She kills people.”
Fran looked at her diamond-encrusted watch and frowned. “She only kills those who kill her first. And you’ll have help. An old friend of yours.”
Friend? Silas stood, hands clenched as he made an educated guess as to who that was. “I can’t do this your way.”
Lips pressed, Fran clicked her way to him, being careful not to touch anything. “You will,” she said, eye to eye with him in her high heels. “All you have to do is find out if she has the info or not. Matt’s people will bring Jack and her down. You don’t even have to be there for the actual … reacquirement.”
“In which case she will be so adrenaline-soaked that retrieving anything will be impossible,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “You don’t understand. This isn’t something you can go into with both barrels blazing. It has to be subtle.”
Again she looked at her watch. “So we hit her with 741 MHz. Or Amneoset. Or any other of the wonderful drugs you helped pioneer to stop her from drafting.”
Frustrated, he forced his hands to unclench. “It’s not the drafting I’m worried about. If there’s too much going on in her head, if she’s not relaxed and comfortable, there’s no way to retrieve hidden memories. None. I can’t do it your way and expect any results.”
Fran stared at him, the hunched figure of Matt behind her. “Make it work,” she said. Turning, she looked Matt up and down, gaze lingering on the burrito stain on his middle. “Get him suited up. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Bloody fantastic,” she muttered, looking at her watch once more. “Now I’m late for the symphony. Matt, keep me posted.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Matt called as the van shifted with her leaving and the door snapped shut.
Silas fell back into his chair, hand scrubbing at the faint bristle on his cheeks. This was going to kill her. Drive her mad. There were too many variables to plan this. It had to be done subtly, by feel, by one person, not a team that tripped her into fight or flight. She was going to fight him all the way regardless, but he’d rather have the battle in her mind than a physical one. He’d lose the latter, but in the former he had a chance. A good chance.
“You want her or not? This is all we have,” Matt said, and he looked up, startled at the man’s empty expression.
“No. It isn’t,” Silas said, coming to a decision. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Sorry about wha—hey!” Matt exclaimed, backpedaling.
But it was too late, and Silas’s chair fell over, clattering into the back of the van as he sprang at Matt, fisted hand swinging forward with the force of a train.