A Method Truly Sublime (The Commander) by Farmer Randall

Author:Farmer, Randall [Farmer, Randall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-11-22T00:00:00+00:00

Henry Zielinski: March 23, 1968

Zielinski startled at the knock at the door. “Maid service.” Since his room had fresh towels and a turned down bed, this had to be Keaton.

He unbolted the chain and let in the Arm. She wore a hotel maid’s outfit, disguised as a dumpy old immigrant woman with a noticeable Slavic accent. Keaton zipped in and turned the television on, high. Keaton went so far as to drag a legitimate maid’s cart outside the door, bringing a smile to his face. She dumped towels and sheets on the bed, and shut the door behind her.

Zielinski winced. “No bugs,” Zielinski said. “Just checked a half hour ago.”

“Never too cautious,” Keaton said, and started stripping. Zielinski smelled juice and in a moment, saw blood. Keaton had four visible gunshot wounds, and he suspected more. “I failed to get in. The place is fucking impossible.”

He spread the towels on the bed and got out his kit. “Ma’am. Do you want me to sew you up?”

“Huh.” Keaton lay down on the towels. “They know I’m here, and Carol’s going to break soon, so it won’t be safe for you here much longer either.”

He nodded and started the surgery. “Crap, Stacy. This one bounced through your intestines.”

“You think I don’t know that? This sort of shit is why us Arms learn to tolerate pain, remember?”

He blinked. He had half-expected Keaton to get in his face and threaten him. “You just got juice, didn’t you?”

“All my secrets are out,” she said, her voice a perfect mimic of Carol’s. He knew Keaton’s moods; with her high on juice, he would need to stay perfectly professional if he wanted to avoid a trip into Keaton’s bed, where she would half kill him with overly aggressive sex. “There’s at least two hundred Feds guarding the outside of the place, some from agencies I’ve never seen before. Some bright boy even strung a loose net of concertina wire twenty-five feet in the air right across the most obvious place for someone with post-human skills to pole vault the outer fence. I’m fucking running out of tricks to try, Hank.” On the other hand, Keaton didn’t seem lusty right now, probably because of her wounds.

“There’s the one I mentioned in the last set of documents I left for you,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’m not going to mess with your abdomen. Anything I do down there would likely cost you more time than using your juice for the healing.”

“I concur,” Keaton said. “You’re talking about recruiting Focus Rizzari and her household army?”

“Uh huh.”

“Recruiting anyone for a suicide mission sounds expensive.”

“Why suicide mission?”

“Because neither of us can get into the actual Detention Center building, dammit. Who knows what sorts of goddamned traps will be waiting for me if I somehow manage to get in to that juice-fouled place?”

He taped a gauze bandage over the last of Keaton’s wounds. “I thought the information I gave you would be enough.” He had managed to squeeze information on the building’s interior from five different CDC people and from Paul Gauthier.

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