“Your friend not here yet?” Reaper asked.
“Twenty minutes,” Jack said, glancing at his watch. “I thought we'd agreed—”
“I arrive and depart to my own schedule,” Reaper said. He seemed to be avoiding looking at Jack. Maybe that was a good sign—that he felt uncomfortable looking at the son he was doing his best to shun—or perhaps it was simply that he could never care again.
Jack could have pushed another memory onto him. There were a thousand good times he had grasped hold of since Doomsday, but now they all felt very personal to him. The more memories he pushed onto Reaper, the more sullied they became.
Besides, that was cheating. His father still possessed his own mind, and it would surely be best and more honest if he decided for himself.
They spent a strange twenty minutes waiting for Breezer and his people to arrive. Sparky and Jenna stood close together, whispering, immersed in their own private world. Jack righted the table and sat down again, trying to act calm and slow his galloping heart. Reaper strolled. He never passed out of sight, but neither did he stop close to them for long.
Jack watched, and several times he almost stood and went to talk to him. But there was little left to say. Reaper had come, and from that Jack took as much comfort as he could. Surely, at least a small part of what Reaper was doing was in an effort to rescue his wife and daughter? Jack could only hope.
Breezer appeared right on time. Four people came with him, and though Jack had seen them all in the office block, he did not know their names. Two men and two women, none of them hiding their nervousness. They only had eyes for Reaper.
“Thank you,” Jack said, standing to welcome Breezer. He extended his hand, and Breezer looked surprised. He took Jack's hand and shook.
“I wasn't expecting to see him,” he said, inclining his head towards where Reaper was standing in front of an old clothing shop. The window was shattered, naked mannequins splayed across the floor and pavement like moss-covered corpses.
“It bugs him that he's never been able to find Camp H,” Jack said.
“It would. He's Superior.” Breezer seemed nervous, but also retained some of the qualities that seemed to have made him de facto leader of this small group of Irregulars. He exuded strength and confidence, and Jack knew he would be calm under pressure. “So now what?”
“Nine of us here together, at least,” Jack said. “You think…?”
“I'm pretty sure she'll see nine, especially out in the open,” Breezer said.
“Hope so.”
“Your plan depends on that?”
“Yeah.”
Breezer nodded, smiled. “Sounds pretty uncertain to me.”
“Yeah,” Jack said again, and he smiled back. “That's me all over.”
Breezer's smile seemed heartfelt and honest, and Jack began to hope he had made a friend. But he knows about Nomad's touch, he thought. He sees my strengths, knows some of them…how can I take anything for granted?
He turned away, troubled, and walked towards Reaper.
“Soon,” he said as he approached the thing his father had become.
“I hope so,” Reaper said.
“Mum always used to like this chain,” Jack said, pointing at the shop's name.
Reaper only stared at him, giving nothing away. Then he said, “So, I should go to meet your Irregular friends, don't you think?”
“Just don't kill them all,” Jack said coldly.
“What makes you think I would?” Reaper asked.
“You're so good at it.”
They didn't have to wait very long.