Dead to Me

19

Although it was late, it was still New York and I found a cab fairly quickly. The cab driver didn’t even blink while I arranged the battered and bloody Jane in the back of his cab. I got in beside her as she rattled off her Chelsea address and then she closed her eyes. I let her rest, riding in sleepy silence until we reached her apartment building. Because Jane had left a small pool of blood on the seat, I tipped the cabbie generously. I made sure the coast was clear of anyone looking particularly evil outside her building, then carried Jane across her lobby, into her elevator, and up to her apartment. I pushed aside the pile of clothes on her bed to lay her down properly. Finally she looked moderately comfortable, despite how banged up she was.

As I arranged her pillows behind her, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled.

“How you holding up?” I asked.

She reached out to me and squeezed my hand in reassurance. Her speech was slurred, but she said, “Right now, I’m just concentrating on the intense amount of pain I’m in. More importantly, I was wondering if you thought I was a decent kisser.”

I pulled my hand away from hers. I should never have kissed her. She was the enemy.

“I don’t get it on with evil,” I said. “Remember?”

I decided to change the subject from snogging to something more constructive.

“Look,” I said, softening. “I know I’m on the wrong side of your evil fence, Jane, but do you want to tell me how you got all battered like this?”

Thanks to Wesker and the Inspectre, I knew what had happened, but I wanted to see what she could recall or, more to the point, what she would truthfully tell me and how much I could trust her.

Jane smiled back at me and said, “When I was a kid, I used to love that stomach-dropping sensation you get from rides at an amusement park, you know? After that fall? Not so much. I should be dead.”

Her damaged upper arm was matted with blood and bits of garbage from the alley. I tore the remaining bits of sleeve free from it. “What do you remember about the fall?”

She winced as I lifted her arm to clear away the cloth. “I remember skidding down the brick face and getting that scrape you’re working on. I lost all sense of direction, but I made out the fire escape whirling by and reached for it. It caught me in the stomach and drove the wind right out of me. Then I was falling again and landed in your trash. Comfy trash, by the way. Smell pretty, don’t I?”

I brushed her hair out of her face.

“I’ve smelled worse,” I said.

“I knew whoever cut the line would come looking for me,” she said, “but I couldn’t even move. Then my instincts kicked in.”

I opened the Other Division emergency kit. There were dozens of items in it, none of them familiar, but thankfully each of them was labeled meticulously and included full instructions. There were several rolls of what I thought were gauze, but looking closer, they appeared more like human fingers wrapped in funereal bandages.

Mummy Fingers, the label read. In case of emergency, place against damaged surface and let them go to work. Warning: Do not use over nose and mouth. Consult an Arcana Specialist if misapplied.

I placed one against Jane’s arm and it started to writhe like a snake as the bandage uncoiled and rolled securely around her arm. Jane kept talking, seemingly unaware of what was happening to her arm, but I was seriously creeped out.

“Lights came on all along the alley,” she said, “and I could make out the sounds of commotion up above. I couldn’t call Mr. Bane for help. My cell phone had been crushed completely.”

I pulled off one of her boots, but when I tried the other, it was swollen tight around her sprained ankle. I moved as gently as I could, but she yelped in pain when I finally forced it free. She started to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I tried to be as gentle as I could.”

She shook her head and laughed through her tears. “It’s not that. I was thinking about that rumor about my predecessor at the League, the one they fed to a man-eating filing cabinet for screwing up? The thought that I might be next in line doesn’t really improve my morale. Look at me. I’m battered, bruised, I smell, and my mission is totally a failure in almost every possible respect.”

I placed another of the Mummy Fingers against her, this time alongside her sprained foot. I cringed as it pushed her ankle back into proper position. There was no escaping the audible pop and this time Jane screamed.

A fresh wave of chilled sweat formed on her forehead and I stroked her hair back from it.

“If it will help set things straight at work,” I said, “I can let you kill me.”

She laughed through what remained of her pain. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You really think you’re in that much trouble?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, “there’s only one way to find out.”

She reached for her bedside phone, but I handed her mine instead.

“It’s untraceable. Is anyone going to be there this time of night, though?”

She nodded, dialed, and held it close between the two of us to listen. I tried to ignore the fact that I was literally lying in bed with the enemy.

“Sectarian Defense League,” said the woman on the phone. The look on Jane’s face told me she didn’t recognize the voice. “How may I direct your call?”

I felt her hand twitch to hang up, but I steadied her and she stopped.

“Yes,” Jane said, attempting to change her voice as best she could, “I’d like to speak to Mr. Bane’s personal assistant, please.”

There was a pause.

“Hello?” Jane said. There was the sound of muffled conversation from the other end of the line. The woman on the other end had put her hand over the mouthpiece.

“One moment, please,” the voice said when it returned, and the phone clicked over to an orchestral version of some pop tune I vaguely recognized.

“What the hell is going on?” I whispered. Jane shrugged, but before I could ask anything further, the music went away and a male voice came on the line. “This is Mr. Bane’s assistant.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Actually, I was looking for Jane.”

Sounds familiar, she mouthed.

Silence. “She’s out of the office indefinitely right now. Can I possibly help you?”

“Do you know where she is, please? It’s urgent.”

Another pause.

Faisal? I mouthed. Jane shook her head.

“If you can just hold on the line,” the man said, “I’m sure I can put you through to someone who can be of assistance.”

I covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “He’s stalling,” I said.

Jane looked panicked. “I can try again later. Thanks!”

“Wait! Don’t hang up.” The man on the other end of the line chuckled. “Jane? Is that you? Where are you hiding, girl?”

What color that was left in Jane’s face drained away and she hit END.

“Well?” I asked. “Jane?”

She turned to me, her face a mask of fright.

“I didn’t know who the first person was,” she said, “but the man…it took me a second to place him, but I know who he is. I even set him up with a freelancer position with the S.D.L. Did his preinterview and everything.”

She was shaking so hard I took her hands in my gloved ones.

“Jane,” I said, “calm down. Don’t worry. I can take care of you. Just tell me who he is.”

“The name he gave me back then,” she said, failing to remain calm, “was Jason Charles, but everyone knew right off it was an alias. It’s the specialty we hired him for that has me totally freaked out, Simon.”

“What does he do?” I asked

She sat up, regardless of the pain she felt. “The Sectarians do a lot of their own dirty work when it comes to the occult. There are times, however, when certain special assignments come up that even they find unsavory, such as hunting their own. They tend to outsource that kind of work, especially when it’s a corporate job. They like to use someone versed in the corporate world as well as wetwork.”

“So they’ve put a contract out on you already?” I asked. “You’ve only been off the radar for what, an hour or two?”

Jane gulped. “That’s long enough. Faisal knows I’ve failed.

“I never gave Jason Charles a second thought before now,” Jane continued. “I wasn’t on the receiving end of his business, so what did it matter to me? And recently there had been some talk about using him against the D.E.A….”

“They were going to send him after us?” All the politicking Dave Davidson had done between our groups, keeping us civil toward one another, flew out the door. “Just what the hell is this Jason Charles anyway?”

Jane’s eyes widened. “He’s a corporate headhunter. And if he’s watching my office and handling things for Faisal already, it means I’m on his shit list. So are you, since they’ll send him to finish up what I couldn’t back at your apartment. If we leave the country now, they just might leave us alone.”

Corporate headhunters. I had heard of them, but until now I had thought they were just a rumor, like government funding. You didn’t want to tangle with one of them.

“And if we don’t leave?” I asked. “What then?”

Jane looked ready to pass out again.

“Prepare to be downsized.”