Steal the Lightning: A Field Ops Novel (Field Ops #3)(33)

“What makes you think,” I said, “I want to lose my job?”

And he smiled, as if it was all very obvious, and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

“Makes the world go round,” he said.

I pulled a face, as if I’d never needed money in my life.

He didn’t look convinced.

“You’re a smart guy, Chris. Let me lay it on the line for you. We have interests in the energy business. We looked into tidal power, wind power, atom power, all that shit. What you’ve got is the up-and-comer. We want a piece, that’s all. We want what your boss wants, what the Registry wants. We have a right to it, OK? It’s ours. One way—or another.”

He grinned, to sugarcoat the threat.

I said, “What makes you think that you can handle it?”

“Very simple.” He leaned back, stretched luxuriously, put his hands behind his head. “Because we have a god already, Chris. What we want now is another one.”





Chapter 29

Full Battery




“Asshole.” Angel stared after the vanished limo. She stood there on the grass verge, hands up, fists clenched. “This guy pays money to go shoot some helpless fucking animal? Can you believe that? I mean, hunting, all right. Real hunting. That, I understand. But what kind of dick—?”

“I’m more concerned about the other bit, to tell the truth,” I said.

“What bit?”

“The bit about them having a god,” I said.

“It’s bullshit.”

But Silverman looked up from his camera. “Not so sure,” he said. “They’re definitely interested.”

Angel sniffed.

He said, “The exhibition—‘We Got the Power’—they did some of the sponsorship. Not directly, but one of their companies.”

“Tax write-off,” said Angel. “Proves nothing.”

“Well, sure,” said Silverman. “But—” and he stopped himself, shook his head.

I said, “What?”

He fidgeted. Then, “He knew that I was filming him. Today, I mean. Just now.”

“And . . . ?”

“He didn’t care. Just came right out, said what he was going to say. Some of which, I don’t know, but some of which I’d guess was probably illegal. He wasn’t bothered. You saw that, right? He didn’t give a damn.

“So maybe we should think that over for a while. Considering what we’re getting into . . .”



Considering what we’re getting into.

I left Silverman and Angel at the motel. I got into the car and drove a few miles till I found a back road, with no neighbors to complain. Then I stopped, checked out the generator, topped it up and set it going.

I wanted a full battery. Whatever we did, and however we did it, I wanted the best chance we could get. And I was curious. Maybe it wasn’t such a long shot, after all.

If I’d been on my own, then I’d have done it, no question.

The generator chugged and rumbled. I used blankets to pad it, then I walked away some sixty feet. It was still loud. The tent meeting might drown it out, if we went early. But then, if we went early, we’d be seen.

And late at night, with the generator, we’d be heard.

It was a puzzle, all right.

Either way, we’d take about an hour setting up. And that had to be undercover, in the dark.

No early start.

The battery might work. It looked as though we’d have to try. But I was hoping, too, there’d be a get-out, some nice, easy stopper on the whole deal: people near, watchmen, guards, police—it didn’t matter who. If we couldn’t lay the cables then we couldn’t catch the god, and that was that. Angel wouldn’t blame me for denying her the chance. And after that, we’d get the next job, and move on.

The trouble was, I sympathized. I knew where she was coming from. Back during my own training, I’d wanted to try anything, whatever came along. Fredericks had a nice little routine with that. “You want this job?” he’d say. I’d tell him, “Yes!” He’d nod. “You want the next one, too? And the next?” “You bet!” I was young, and I was keen. “Do this one,” he’d say, “chances are, you won’t be here to do the next. Or anything else.” He’d taught me discretion. He’d taught me to protect myself, even when the company said otherwise. He’d shown me how to have a family and a relatively normal life while still working Field Ops, though those were lessons I had yet to profit by.

So I started thinking about Angel, and how I ought to take her out and make a night of it, once we hit a fair-sized town. A fancy restaurant, some good wine . . . Act like we were on holiday. Maybe that would compensate for calling off the mission, which I was still convinced we’d have to do.

The battery was full. I did some calculations—at least, my phone did them. If everything was as it seemed to be, and the god was no more powerful than my readings showed, then we could do it. We’d have to move fast, and there wouldn’t be much margin, but when it came to plans, Angel got top marks for this one.

I only wish she’d had it in her theory paper, not real life.

An ambulance wailed by along the highway, and I watched it go. Sometimes I dreamed of doing a more useful job—nurse, firefighter, or paramedic. Too late now, probably. Strange, the way you went into a walk of life, thinking you’d try it for a few years. And then the years became a lifetime . . .