Toys - James Patterson [62]
And now—what?—the Elites had used another chip to block out my memory of the recent past? I should be honored, I suppose. They’d gone to a lot of trouble—sophisticated technology, careful planning, and the deceit they were carrying on now. Lizbeth had even used sex to lull me, and with her obvious disgust for humans, she must have forced herself back into our bed. No wonder she’d seemed edgy after half a dozen orgasms.
“They’ve got another use for me,” I said. “That’s why they’re still playing me.”
“So do we, Hays.” Lucy’s gaze was apologetic but intense. “Sorry, but that’s what you get for being who you are.”
“Mr. Popularity,” I muttered. “So what do you want me to do now? How may I serve?”
“Just go along with them, Hays, like your memory’s still blanked out. We need to find out how they plan to strike. We’re pretty sure it won’t be militarily. Sir Nigel now believes that those preparations in the field are a smoke screen. The annihilation of the human race won’t involve hand-to-hand combat.”
I shook my head hard, still trying to clear it. “I was just getting used to being a double agent. Now I’m what—a triple agent?”
Then Lucy surprised me by grasping my hands in hers.
“Hays, you have to be ruthless from here on. Everything, and I mean everything, depends on making them believe you still think you’re an Elite.” Her grip tightened. “No matter what happens, keep reminding yourself: if they win, we’re all dead. You too.”
Strangely, I couldn’t find any words to speak. I was lost in the sudden awareness that I’d never looked into eyes that were so clear and sincere. So human, I suppose.
Lucy finally lowered her gaze and let go of my hands. “I’ve got to keep moving. There are police all over—looking for me. I’ll try to stay in touch. If it doesn’t work out that way, well, you turned out to be pretty great.”
With that said, she slammed the truck’s rear door shut, jumped into the driver’s seat, and then took off.
I started back toward home, still shaken by the recent burst inside my head—and much more disturbed by what I’d just learned about dear, sweet Lizbeth.
But by the time I got back to our apartment, my shock was overpowered by anger. At least I knew what side I was on now.
Hays Baker is no Elite!… Hays Baker is human!
Chapter 83
THE NEXT MORNING—a whole lot worse for the wear and tear—I walked rather purposefully into Agency Headquarters for my “welcome back” meeting with Jax Moore. My step was springy, and I greeted my old coworkers cheerfully—fighting the urge to start shooting each and every one of them on sight. These heartless bastards were part of the brain trust behind a genocide plan. And so was my wife.
“It hasn’t been the same around here without you,” Moore said, welcoming me into his office with his usual ruggedly handsome smile and a handshake firm enough to break bones. I shook off the impulse to break all the bones in his face.
“I think we can get back on track pretty quick, boss,” I said crisply, lying through my teeth.
“Coffee, Agent Baker?” asked the familiar mechanized voice of the office’s built-in catering unit.
“The usual, thanks,” I said, since I was being careful to make sure that “the usual” was exactly the impression I made.
Within seconds, a robotic arm handed me a cup of delicious espresso, strong and bitter. At least this stuff wasn’t washed out like the no-calorie food served everywhere else in New Lake City.
Moore waved me to a leather easy chair and sat behind his all-glass desk. He lit up a stogie, and I kept imagining it blowing up in his face. Seriously blowing up.
“I’ve got a top-priority assignment,” he said. “I wanted to give you a little time to rest, but it can’t wait any longer. Hays, we need you. President Jacklin has asked for you personally. Are you feeling up to a little action?”
“One hundred percent,” I said.
“Good—you’re going to love this.” He touched a control, and a