The Lives of Tao by Wesley Chu Page B

figure by now and they were exchanging words. Ray was too far away to make out what they were saying. Then suddenly, Chako reached into his pocket and fell. Ray heard the distinct sound of a silenced pistol go off in the otherwise quiet garage. Ray took careful aim and squeezed the trigger, hitting the vessel.
    The parka-clad figure collapsed out of view behind another parked car. Ray stayed low and moved to the next aisle, and found Chako lying face down on the floor. Lying next to him was a gray parka. Immediately, Ray ducked behind cover and scanned the area. This vessel was supposed to be new! The Prophus must have gotten to him. He moved behind the vessel’s car and looked for any signs of movement.
    After several minutes, Ray decided to get out of the open and retreated back to his car. Whoever was here was very quiet; obviously a trained agent. He’d have to drive the car up to Chako, get the body in, and get out of here. Otherwise, he was a sitting duck.
    Ray got to the driver’s side, opened the door, and slid in. Just as he sat down, a figure appeared from the back seat and slugged him in the side of the face. Ray fell out of the car and onto the floor. Immediately, he got up and reached for his gun. The figure knocked it out of his hand and gave him a sharp blow to the neck. Ray gasped for air as he slammed into the concrete wall.
    The dark figure approached. He was short and slim, and wore a hood shadowing his face.
    Ray blindly lashed out, swinging with his fists. The first blow caught his assailant in the forehead. He heard a woman’s voice as she grunted and blocked the second and third punch. Then she came forward with her right elbow and smashed his nose, breaking it. Blood flowed down his face as he fell back against the wall again. This definitely was not the new vessel. Ray swung a desperate right hook. She danced out of the way and connected with a kick to Ray’s midsection, followed by a leg sweep that sent him crashing to the floor.
    The figure got on top of him and jammed a gun into his cheek. He could smell the aroma of mint gum as she spoke. “Weeks of surveillance, two agents sitting in a car, Homeland Security access. This is above and beyond your usual hunt orders. Why do the Genjix care so much about this host?” Ray tried to roll over and push her off, but she just pistol-whipped him twice on the face, the second swing cracking his cheek bone. “Unless you guys found a discount broker, Homeland network access can’t be cheap,” she said. “Answer me, Genjix.”
    “Go to hell, bitch,” Ray snarled, his vision obscured by the blood pouring from his broken nose.
    “You first.” She pistol-whipped him again. “This is for going against your own species.” The Prophus agent pulled the earpiece out of his ear and spoke in it. “You have two dead bodies and two hours before rush hour begins. Clean up your trash.” That was the last thing Ray heard before she pulled the trigger.
     
    Sonya drove up to the apartment building and parked on a side street. She took off the bloodstained outfit and changed into her workout clothes. It was some time until dawn and the streets were still quiet.
    She checked the mirror and wiped the blood off her face. There was a cut above her eyebrow where the Genjix agent’s ring had cut her. She frowned and shook her head in disgust; always the face. Getting caught like that by such an amateur was sloppy work. She went into her first aid kit and applied some hydrogen peroxide on it. Her hands trembled as she dabbed her cut.
    Though she’d been with the Prophus for four years, she was still new enough to fieldwork to get the shakes. The old-timers said that’d go away with time. Sonya clenched her fists and took a deep breath. When she felt calmer, she finished up her patch job. She probably wouldn’t need stitches. She checked her handiwork in the mirror, grabbed her laptop, and typed up a few notes.
    Relay the Homeland expenditures. The Genjix are