Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(55)

When Brenner was done with his workout, which he was programmed never to miss, he showered, ate a huge high-protein meal, and went to his job in a local big box appliance store, humping stoves and refrigerators. Working super hard. Lacking the slightest idea of the specialized knowledge and training hidden inside his highly compartmentalized brain.

In his research, Mark had noticed that Brenner had bucked his programming in the past two years, to the extent of getting romantically involved with a woman in the town where he lived. He’d even had a child with her. The woman had since died, but the liaison should never have happened. Probably a programming design issue.

He was ten yards away when Mark stepped out of the trees. “Brenner Jameson?”

The young man turned to look at him as he ran. “Yes?”

Mark pushed the button on the small freq wand he had taken from Kitteridge’s safe, activating the silent shriek, a coded pulsation of an ultrasound frequency, designed to tear down firewalls inside Brenner’s barricaded brain.

The younger man stopped, staggering. His momentum drove him to his knees in the mud with a grunt. His energy sig exploded in a chaotic burst of wheeling color as energy was released, suppressed memories liberated. What an incredible sensation it must be for him. And painful, perhaps. Always entertaining to watch.

“Your real work just began,” Mark told him. “I’m your controller now, Brenner. You have to do anything I tell you.”

Brenner stared up at him, his hand at his throat. Struggling to speak.

“I heard you got involved with a local girl,” Mark said. “Started a family.”

Brenner staggered to his feet, swaying. “Callie,” he said thickly.

Callie. That had been the name of the child. He wondered if he should eliminate her, just to simplify things. Might attract too much attention, though.

“That’s all finished for you now,” Mark said. “You’ll never see Callie again. Forget her and everyone else. Starting right now. Never think about her again.”

Brenner’s eyes narrowed. “Callie,” he blurted out, more fiercely this time.

“Forget her,” Mark snarled. “You’re mine, now.”

Brenner just stared at him. His breath was sharp and panting, his face shiny with sweat. His hands kept clenching into fists. He looked like he wanted to kill Mark.

Mark was pissed. The guy didn’t even look happy to be activated. He should be thrilled, to finally be able to use the power inside him. It was a gift that Mark had given him. He should be f*cking grateful.

Brenner’s brow furrowed. He was trying to resist the programming.

Eight more iterations of brain stim research after Mark’s time at Midlands, and subjects were still rebellious? Was that the best the researchers could do?

It took ruthlessness to get results. He had no problems being ruthless. He adjusted the wand, pointed it at Brenner’s head and activated a suitable punishment.

The effect was instant. Brenner screamed, arching back and writhing in the mud. Mark watched the spectacle for a few minutes with enjoyment.

“Get up,” he ordered Brenner. “Come back to the truck with me.”

Brenner obeyed, haltingly. He was a sorry sight, all soaked in mud.

At the truck, Mark dug his keys out of his jacket pocket, and flung them at Brenner, who caught them one-handed. “You drive,” he directed.

Brenner climbed into the driver’s seat without a word.

Mark used his time to access all the road maps of the state stored in his database. Seeking the perfect out-of-the-way place. Brenner’s punishment had restored his good mood.

He was jonesing to play with his new toy.





Chapter 16


The door clicked shut. Caro leaned her forehead against it and sobbed.

The only way to get him out the door was to be an icy-hearted bitch. She’d had her fun and now she was done. Goodbye and f*ck you, too.

It killed her to play that role. She was starving for more of him. Pushing him away made her so f*cking angry, she wanted to scream and break things.

Such a goddamn stupid waste.

Don’t be needy. You don’t have the luxury. Grow . . . the f*ck . . . up.

She forced herself to think about what happened to Tim. He’d been a tough guy by anyone’s standards: martial arts, military training, concealed weapons permit. He’d tried so hard to help her.

Mark and his thugs had tortured him to death.

She got into the tiny shower. The trickle of tepid water soon turned ice cold, but she barely noticed. She dressed mechanically. Packed fast, to be ready to blast out of there the second she got back. Ditched anything that would not fit in her roller bag.

Travel light. Leave no trace. Those were the rules of her current life. She’d broken one of them bigtime. Now she had to pay for it in blood.

A city bus got her downtown and to the coffee shop half hour earlier than the appointment. Not too smart, wandering around in the open, but she was too exhausted and pissed off to care. She didn’t even bother with the disguise. Just shoved stuff into her coat pocket. Walked around with rain misting her bare face, her real hair. Fuck it all.

Nine o’clock came and went. No Bea. The crowd in the café changed. Someone switched the music from the cheerful Vivaldi to a melancholy adagio for strings. Violins sobbed in agonizing pathos. She hated it.