Page 54 - DeepRestFlipFinal

NICHOLAS BOOTHMAN
authorities are diverted. Misdirection. A gas leak. A
faulty wiring incident. Nothing that points to our
involvement."
"Understood, Director.”
The operatives, professionally known as "Medical
Mercenaries,” or “Pharma-Soldiers,” (and to those
who dare, “The Pharmy-Army,”) don’t wear uniforms.
Their coordinated aggression and the high-tech
weaponry scream professional—and utterly ruthless.
Unfazed by chaos they operate as a private army, their
loyalty bought and paid for by the highest bidder.
The operative moved away, issuing commands
with authority. The screens flickered, displaying new
feeds: street corners, subway entrances, bus stops. The
city was a vast, intricate web, and The Director held
all the strings.
The Subway.
Evelyn and Liam descended into the jaws of the
subway station. The crowds were thin at this hour, but
enough to offer anonymity.
Evelyn paid for two tickets, her hands shaking as
she swiped the card. Every face seemed to be
watching her. Every glance, a judgment.
They boarded a nearly empty train, sinking into
worn plastic seats. The doors hissed shut. The train
54