you. This facility might be the best place for you.”
“Maybe,” Zora shrugged. “Or maybe I don't care anymore.”
“You don't care if you die?”
She frowned, thinking about that. Did she care if she died? She wasn't particularly keen on the idea admittedly, but with life being nothing but a long string of kidnaps and incarceration she wasn't sure her existence had much of a point either. With that simple question, Tex had unwittingly triggered the final flow of verbal madness. She was tired of lying, tired of her secrets being unknown. She was tired of caring what happened next. “Since my little trip to Bulgaria I don't really worry about that sort of thing anymore,” she said in carefree tones.
His ears almost pricked visibly. “Bulgaria?”
“Yes, terrorists with a nuke, nasty business, sure you know all about it,” she said. “Code was a bitch to break, took me all of a minute.”
“You?” He smirked in disbelief. “Pull the other one, Miss Matthews.”
She ignored him as she kept talking. “Old hardware though, eccentric security system. They'd be better off with modern sensors, not some cockamamie algorithm and current-free zone. Must be a bitch if someone forgets to take off their calculator wristwatch. It's almost like it's difficult to get good equipment in darkest Bulgaria. All that communist fallout and whatnot,” she said, taking another nibble of the toast.
“Why are you telling me this now?” He didn't sound quite as suspicious or surprised as she would have liked.
“Because,” she smiled sweetly “I don't care anymore. Congratulations, you win. Sorry it's not the prize you thought you were getting. No super secret agents here, just some lady with a bit of a talent for numbers.”
“And an almost total lack of social inhibition and nerves of steel,” Tex said, sounding quite complimentary. He was smiling broadly. “I knew there was something about you.”
“Yes, sure you did,” Zora said. “Here,” she reached for a napkin, picked up a pencil on the table and scribbled a few lines of numbers in it. “Run these through your system.”
He picked the napkin up and frowned at it. “What are they?”
“Could be proof, could be my way of giving you a nasty virus,” she grinned. “Your people can figure out which one it is, I don't much care what you do with it.”
Her generosity was rewarded with what she could only describe as a dark look. “I can only think that you need your handler,” Tex said. “There is no way any operative capable of doing the work you've done can behave the way you do.”
“You mean Savage? If I see him again, I'll kick his ass myself,” she said, a dark cloud passing over her usually light features. “He's dead to me.”
“Is he now?” A knowing, thoroughly patronizing look was on Tex's face.
“He is,” she declared vehemently.
“I don't think he'll be pleased to hear that.”
“I don't think he'll give a flying fuck.”
The next voice came from behind her in a low authoritarian drawl. “On the contrary, Matthews.”
She stood up so fast her chair fell over and whirled around to face the doorway. It was filled with 6'3 of the most powerful man she'd ever laid eyes on. Her face went sheet white as her eyes ran over familiar features. It was him, the same strong nose, the same scar, the same super scale build and most of all, the same dark eyes that held her in thrall like a charmer holds a snake.
She'd imagined their meeting many times before, what it would be like to rush into his arms and be held. Her dreams had been filled with how she would kiss him and hug him and never let him go. She would tell him how much she cared and beg him to never leave her side again, and he would promise to always be there for her and keep her safe.
What actually happened was quite different. She did not rush into his embrace, she folded her arms over her chest and glowered fiercely at him. Likewise, the first words out of her mouth were not
“Maybe,” Zora shrugged. “Or maybe I don't care anymore.”
“You don't care if you die?”
She frowned, thinking about that. Did she care if she died? She wasn't particularly keen on the idea admittedly, but with life being nothing but a long string of kidnaps and incarceration she wasn't sure her existence had much of a point either. With that simple question, Tex had unwittingly triggered the final flow of verbal madness. She was tired of lying, tired of her secrets being unknown. She was tired of caring what happened next. “Since my little trip to Bulgaria I don't really worry about that sort of thing anymore,” she said in carefree tones.
His ears almost pricked visibly. “Bulgaria?”
“Yes, terrorists with a nuke, nasty business, sure you know all about it,” she said. “Code was a bitch to break, took me all of a minute.”
“You?” He smirked in disbelief. “Pull the other one, Miss Matthews.”
She ignored him as she kept talking. “Old hardware though, eccentric security system. They'd be better off with modern sensors, not some cockamamie algorithm and current-free zone. Must be a bitch if someone forgets to take off their calculator wristwatch. It's almost like it's difficult to get good equipment in darkest Bulgaria. All that communist fallout and whatnot,” she said, taking another nibble of the toast.
“Why are you telling me this now?” He didn't sound quite as suspicious or surprised as she would have liked.
“Because,” she smiled sweetly “I don't care anymore. Congratulations, you win. Sorry it's not the prize you thought you were getting. No super secret agents here, just some lady with a bit of a talent for numbers.”
“And an almost total lack of social inhibition and nerves of steel,” Tex said, sounding quite complimentary. He was smiling broadly. “I knew there was something about you.”
“Yes, sure you did,” Zora said. “Here,” she reached for a napkin, picked up a pencil on the table and scribbled a few lines of numbers in it. “Run these through your system.”
He picked the napkin up and frowned at it. “What are they?”
“Could be proof, could be my way of giving you a nasty virus,” she grinned. “Your people can figure out which one it is, I don't much care what you do with it.”
Her generosity was rewarded with what she could only describe as a dark look. “I can only think that you need your handler,” Tex said. “There is no way any operative capable of doing the work you've done can behave the way you do.”
“You mean Savage? If I see him again, I'll kick his ass myself,” she said, a dark cloud passing over her usually light features. “He's dead to me.”
“Is he now?” A knowing, thoroughly patronizing look was on Tex's face.
“He is,” she declared vehemently.
“I don't think he'll be pleased to hear that.”
“I don't think he'll give a flying fuck.”
The next voice came from behind her in a low authoritarian drawl. “On the contrary, Matthews.”
She stood up so fast her chair fell over and whirled around to face the doorway. It was filled with 6'3 of the most powerful man she'd ever laid eyes on. Her face went sheet white as her eyes ran over familiar features. It was him, the same strong nose, the same scar, the same super scale build and most of all, the same dark eyes that held her in thrall like a charmer holds a snake.
She'd imagined their meeting many times before, what it would be like to rush into his arms and be held. Her dreams had been filled with how she would kiss him and hug him and never let him go. She would tell him how much she cared and beg him to never leave her side again, and he would promise to always be there for her and keep her safe.
What actually happened was quite different. She did not rush into his embrace, she folded her arms over her chest and glowered fiercely at him. Likewise, the first words out of her mouth were not
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