The Blonde

2:05 a.m.

Sheraton, Room 702

Kelly started crying again, and all Jack could do was reach over and hold her, and hope she didn’t reward the gesture with another shot to his ribs. She rested her head on his chest. Jack rubbed her back with his free hand while trying to shift his position a little. His left arm was beginning to get that pins and needles feeling.

“I’ve killed many men.”

Jack wondered what you were supposed to say to something like that. Ah, c’mon, buck up. How many is “many”? Couldn’t be that bad, now could it?

“So I’m not the first person you’ve poisoned with luminous toxin.”

“No, Jack. That’s not what I’m talking about. You still don’t believe me.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

She grasped both of his forearms and squeezed.

“Listen to me. I am infected with an experimental tracking device. If I am alone for more than ten seconds, I will die. This was no accident. This was done to me. By my boss. The Operator. Our lab wasn’t raided. It wasn’t sabotage. He did this to me.”

“I thought you said—”

“The past thirteen days,” she said, ignoring him, “I’ve been traveling all over the world, first in Ireland, then here. Kissing strange men, sometimes fucking them. Anything it takes to avoid being alone. But I’m also sending a message to the Operator. I want him to know that I’m still alive, and that I’m going to do everything in my power to bring him down, even if I have to leave a trail of bodies behind me. Because eventually, someone will listen. Someone will come for me. Someone important. Someone who knows the Operator, and who will know how to destroy him. I thought you would help. But you won’t be able to. You’ll be joining the dead, all because you kissed me. No, not because of that. Because you kissed me and you didn’t believe me. Do you believe me now, Jack?”

Later, Jack would look back on this moment and realize that this was the moment his nightmare truly started. Not the moment he was infected.

The moment he started to believe.