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"He attacked everything in life with a mix of extraordinary genius and naive incompetence, and it was often difficult to tell which was which."
- Douglas Adams
There are seventy sunny days a year in Seattle, on average. Most of them occur during July and August. It doesn’t seem like such a big deal if you're used to it. If you’re from London then it’s actually ten days more than you’re used to. And if you’ve spent several years of your life being tortured underground after being orphaned in the UK, any day with friends in Seattle is the definition of heaven, no matter how cloudy.
The sun does help, though.
FOUND A MAN. WILL BRING HIM BY SOON.
Todd stretched diagonally across the velvet blue sofa with one leg draped over the back, one leg over the armrest, one arm resting on the floor, and the other arm holding his phone over his head as he read a text from Dirk. Precious, glorious sunlight soaked into his skin for the first time in months. He yawned, sleepy with boredom. They hadn’t seen a case in almost as long as they hadn’t seen the sun.
“Dirk says he found someone,” Todd announced to Farah (and presumably somewhere in the office, Mona).
Farah glanced away from her computer screen only long enough to make eye contact, then went back to her accounting. “New case?”
“I guess. Let’s hope it’s a real missing person this time and not someone he thinks might go missing someday.” He paused to shoot off a reply.
k, cool. C U when U get here
“He’s lucky the last one didn’t press charges,” Farah said. “I never thought I’d have to tell anyone that you can’t scoop up a woman in her twenties off the street without explanation and take her to a warehouse ‘for safekeeping.’”
Todd chuckled. “Yeah, well. Luckily everyone who meets Dirk knows something’s off about him. I ever tell you I thought he was an alien at first?”
“Many times.” Farah pointed to the screen, her Serious Face in play. “I need to finish this, especially if Dirk’s bringing in a new case. Who knows when we’ll have a free moment again.”
TODD. HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT ABBREVIATIONS ARE LAZY AND DIFFICULT TO READ.
Todd fell asleep before he could come up with a reply snarky enough to send. UR difficult n lazy was all the further he got before an afternoon nap claimed him.
It was nearly dark when Dirk vibrated into the office. Early summer twilight dappled in through the wall of windows that faced the street. Farah had stuck around after her paperwork was finished and was using the time to clean and re-re-re-organize her gun safe. By Todd’s reckoning she did it at least once a week. Daily, if she had something on her mind.
Todd swam up to consciousness through the miles of cottony insulation that settle over the mind when one sleeps in the sun. It took several long seconds to recall where he was and why there was a hyperactive Englishman grinning down at him.
“Todd,” Dirk said. His eyes were bright. His whole body shimmered with excitement. “Farah. I want you to meet Michael.”
Through one bleary eye Todd could make out a shy, slight man with dark curly hair. Something about his face struck Todd as dishonest, though he couldn’t quite put a finger on what about him, precisely, was rat-like.
Michael waved from waist height. He had a whinging, meeting-the-parents-for-the-first-time look about him. Not at all scared or confused, like Dirk’s usual abductees.
“Hi,” Farah offered, into which single syllable she crammed a dozen questions. Her face remained carefully blank.
“Hey man, welcome. So, what’s your story?” Todd asked.
Dirk jumped in, which didn’t seem necessary since Michael looked unlikely to answer. “He’s my new assistant,” he said, throwing the emphasis oddly. He grinned too widely.
Farah glanced at the filing cabinet where she kept their financials. “Okay,” she said. There was a lot of meaning in that word, too.
“I met him at Blackwing,” Dirk said after two beats.
“Oh! Wow, okay,” Farah said. Some of her stiff formalness dissipated. She leaned against the gun cabinet, hands across her chest, feet crossed at the ankle.
Todd swiveled himself around to a seated position, brain finally catching up to the situation. “Oh wow,” he echoed. “So you’re another one of the Projects? Like Dirk and Mona?”
Todd scooted over to make room for the new guy to sit. No wonder he looked so wan and slithery, there was no telling what he’d been through. Dirk was one of the more normal Holistics that Todd had met, though in all fairness he hadn’t gotten to know Francis terribly well before they left Wendimoor. Each of them was different, certainly, yet they all shared a brokenness that no doubt had something to do with growing up in an "enhanced interrogation" lab without any education, support, or love. Every time Todd thought about it his heart ached for all of them. Even Bart.
Maybe Bart most of all, come to think of it.
Still, whatever Michael’s power was, it didn’t seem to fill him with the same breezy confidence that the other Holistics had. For all they'd suffered, all of the Blackwing subjects Todd had met had a certain self-possession. Perhaps being a leaf in the stream of creation freed them from such silly things as worrying. But hey, any friend of Dirk’s. Todd smiled at Michael despite his misgivings.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Dirk replied, his own smile staying plastered on. “He was one of my keepers. This is Lieutenant Michael Assistent. He helped Friedkin run the experiments.”
That Dirk had pronounced “lieutenant” with an ‘f’ in the middle was only the third weirdest thing about what he’d said. Todd’s eyebrows were unable to decide whether to clench together in anger or shoot up in surprise, leaving him with a goggled, constipated expression.
Farah drew her gun and pointed it at Assistent’s heart.