nothing to do, no way of contributing or helping.
Well, screw Harley and the BIT and MI6 and the FB sodding I. He wasn’t going to sit around on his arse, not when there was a man out there who needed to pay for what had happened to Stephen. This was his chance, and he wasn’t about to let it slip away.
He quickly packed again, and as he wound up all the chargers and leads, he noticed that Kate’s BlackBerry charger was among them. Shit. He remembered packing it, and he had forgotten all about it when they separated at the airfield. He hoped they would have a spare charger at the lab so he could contact her.
Dragging his duffelbag behind him, he slipped out of the door and walked down towards the freeway, heart pounding with the anger that propelled him onwards. He didn’t know how he was going to get there, or how long it would take, but Mangold’s trail would start in Sagebrush.
Paul was going to track him down, whatever it took.
13
Midday, on the San Bernardino Freeway. The sky was a sheer, metallic blue, the sun burning through the ozone, baking the earth, the air outside the vehicle lethally hot. Two women sat inside the car, protected from the scorching sun by the air-con that ruffled the golden hair of the woman in the passenger seat. She sat upright, sunglasses on, her beautiful face serene, while the driver thumped the radio with the palm of her hand.
‘Goddamn piece of junk.’ The driver stabbed buttons on the radio, eliciting one hiss of static after another, before punching it again, using the same move she would use to break a man’s nose. She switched it off, silence filling the car. She was solid and muscled, with a neck that bordered on bullish and a high colour in her wide cheeks, cropped curly dark hair and biceps like a Marine.
Without moving her head, Angelica said, ‘Keep calm, Sister.’
Heather made a low sound under her breath, putting both hands on the wheel and concentrating on the road. She was rarely calm. Sometimes, in the moments after orgasm, or after she’d killed someone, when their blood was still fresh on her hands, a stillness would come over her, like light filling her body, taking away the pain. But it never lasted long. She ran on rage. It was the fuel that powered her.
The traffic was crawling in and out of the city, stretching across every lane. Horns sounded out like seabirds calling to one another.
‘Don’t see why I can’t get a decent car like Cindy’s, instead of this heap of shit,’ Heather complained. Angelica ignored her. She had heard it all before.
Eventually, when she realised Angelica wasn’t going to say anything to mollify her, Heather said, in a quieter voice, ‘I’m sorry.’
The corners of Angelica’s mouth lifted a millimetre. ‘No need to apologise, Sister.’ She reached across and stroked Heather’s hair with a crooked index finger. ‘We all feel anger. We just have to point it in the right direction.’
Heather pressed her head against Angelica’s finger, but it was withdrawn quickly, and she snatched a glance at the woman beside her, looking for the same sign she’d been seeking for years. But Angelica had slipped back into neutral, and was gazing straight ahead at the backs of other cars.
They drove in silence for a while. Heather gestured at the line of cars crawling out of the city, the faces of their occupants etched with stress visible even from the other side of the freeway. ‘Wonder how many of them are already infected?’ she asked.
Angelica merely smiled enigmatically. ‘They have no idea what’s coming, do they? They’re worried now – but imagine the chaos in a month’s time …’
Heather paused. ‘Dadi …
we’re
ready, you and I – we’ve been ready for years … but the other Sisters – are they?’
Heather liked to do this; to elevate herself to the unofficial position of Angelica’s second-in-command by slyly casting doubt on the commitment of the others. Angelica knew it, but indulged it
Well, screw Harley and the BIT and MI6 and the FB sodding I. He wasn’t going to sit around on his arse, not when there was a man out there who needed to pay for what had happened to Stephen. This was his chance, and he wasn’t about to let it slip away.
He quickly packed again, and as he wound up all the chargers and leads, he noticed that Kate’s BlackBerry charger was among them. Shit. He remembered packing it, and he had forgotten all about it when they separated at the airfield. He hoped they would have a spare charger at the lab so he could contact her.
Dragging his duffelbag behind him, he slipped out of the door and walked down towards the freeway, heart pounding with the anger that propelled him onwards. He didn’t know how he was going to get there, or how long it would take, but Mangold’s trail would start in Sagebrush.
Paul was going to track him down, whatever it took.
13
Midday, on the San Bernardino Freeway. The sky was a sheer, metallic blue, the sun burning through the ozone, baking the earth, the air outside the vehicle lethally hot. Two women sat inside the car, protected from the scorching sun by the air-con that ruffled the golden hair of the woman in the passenger seat. She sat upright, sunglasses on, her beautiful face serene, while the driver thumped the radio with the palm of her hand.
‘Goddamn piece of junk.’ The driver stabbed buttons on the radio, eliciting one hiss of static after another, before punching it again, using the same move she would use to break a man’s nose. She switched it off, silence filling the car. She was solid and muscled, with a neck that bordered on bullish and a high colour in her wide cheeks, cropped curly dark hair and biceps like a Marine.
Without moving her head, Angelica said, ‘Keep calm, Sister.’
Heather made a low sound under her breath, putting both hands on the wheel and concentrating on the road. She was rarely calm. Sometimes, in the moments after orgasm, or after she’d killed someone, when their blood was still fresh on her hands, a stillness would come over her, like light filling her body, taking away the pain. But it never lasted long. She ran on rage. It was the fuel that powered her.
The traffic was crawling in and out of the city, stretching across every lane. Horns sounded out like seabirds calling to one another.
‘Don’t see why I can’t get a decent car like Cindy’s, instead of this heap of shit,’ Heather complained. Angelica ignored her. She had heard it all before.
Eventually, when she realised Angelica wasn’t going to say anything to mollify her, Heather said, in a quieter voice, ‘I’m sorry.’
The corners of Angelica’s mouth lifted a millimetre. ‘No need to apologise, Sister.’ She reached across and stroked Heather’s hair with a crooked index finger. ‘We all feel anger. We just have to point it in the right direction.’
Heather pressed her head against Angelica’s finger, but it was withdrawn quickly, and she snatched a glance at the woman beside her, looking for the same sign she’d been seeking for years. But Angelica had slipped back into neutral, and was gazing straight ahead at the backs of other cars.
They drove in silence for a while. Heather gestured at the line of cars crawling out of the city, the faces of their occupants etched with stress visible even from the other side of the freeway. ‘Wonder how many of them are already infected?’ she asked.
Angelica merely smiled enigmatically. ‘They have no idea what’s coming, do they? They’re worried now – but imagine the chaos in a month’s time …’
Heather paused. ‘Dadi …
we’re
ready, you and I – we’ve been ready for years … but the other Sisters – are they?’
Heather liked to do this; to elevate herself to the unofficial position of Angelica’s second-in-command by slyly casting doubt on the commitment of the others. Angelica knew it, but indulged it
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