Brilliance

There was a lurch like an elevator starting, and then the train began to move.

Most of the plan he’d been reasonably sure of. His old agency hadn’t yet taken into account the fact that he knew their techniques. They were using the same playbook. So it had been easy to create a situation where the flashbangs would buy him time, where he could use standard protocol to his advantage, where he could lure every available agent to one spot and then double back from it. But he’d never ridden atop a moving train before.

After everything else he’d done in the last few minutes, it turned out to be almost easy. According to his d-pad, on a long straightaway the trains could hit fifty-five miles an hour. He didn’t know if they’d be able to hold on under those circumstances, clinging to the slick metal by lousy handholds. Fortunately, they were in the Loop, where trains made a circle before running back the way they’d come. The greatest risk came as they rounded a corner and the train rocked sideways, but he’d anticipated it and braced for the motion. The wind was exhilarating, and the expressions he saw on the faces of people in the buildings made getting shot at worthwhile. They rode through two stops, and he was almost sad when the third came up.

Goddamn, but I’m good. He stood, started for the edge of the train. The doors had opened, and riders were pouring in and out. He’d wait till they were mostly gone and then jump off just before—

She came from behind, her knee knocking out his as her hands took his shoulders. He was going down, no arguing with physics, but why had he turned his back on her in the first place? They hit the roof of the train, bounced. He slipped her hold, twisted, raised one arm to strike.

The Girl Who Walks Through Walls pointed, alarm in her eyes. Cooper narrowed his, risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Passengers leaving the train, men and women, tourists and businesspeople, a flight attendant, a couple of students…and two men in suits.

Roger Dickinson said, “Damn it. I was sure he’d double back.”

“You want to check the train again, sir?” Bobby Quinn had a dryly insubordinate tone, but it was the “sir” that caught Cooper’s attention. Peters must have promoted the man, probably given him Cooper’s old position. That was bad news. Whatever else he might be, Roger Dickinson was very good at his job.

“No, I don’t want to check the train again, Bobby. You know what I want? To know you’re on the right side.”

“I told you, I don’t believe Coop’s a terrorist.”

“Yeah? Even though he blew up the Exchange?”

“He didn’t blow up—”

“Right. He just went there seconds before it blew up, then vanished and started robbing DAR labs. And that woman he was holding hands with, she’s the one who killed Bryan Vasquez. So tell me again. How is Cooper one of the good guys here?”

“I don’t know.” Quinn’s voice was dogged. “But I still don’t believe he’s with Smith.”

“Get it through your head, Bobby. Your girlfriend, he’s a—”

“Doors are closing. Please hold on.” There was a loud bing-bong, and then the train started moving. Cooper barely had time to grab the lip of the car. A strange and awful heaviness tightened his stomach. He’d been cocky there, had almost stepped right in front of his old colleagues. He’d seen how fast Dickinson was. And Cooper was unarmed. If I’d jumped down, he’d have killed me.

When he turned to look at her, The Girl Who Walks Through Walls met his gaze briefly. Then she looked away.





You say you are the master race, I say you are our disgrace, You say it’s not your fault, I say destroy all trace.

Put out the lights,

Put out the lights,

Wash the streets with blood, And put out the lights.

You say you are the future, I say I wouldn’t be so sure, You say live and let live, I say scrub our world pure.

Put out the lights,

Put out the lights,

Marcus Sakey's books