Yours, Mine, and Ours (21 page)

“Dan! You wound me,” I protested, hoping he wouldn’t insist on checking my loads and ammo pouch. “I would never think it after you made your displeasure known.”

Emma Jan was smiling. “Do I want to know, honey?”

“No, Agent Thyme. You do not.” I was pleased to be called “honey,” so long as she understood I would not be easier on her. It was pleasant to have a new friend. If that is what she was. Perhaps she had called me honey to put me off my guard …

While I pondered (weak and weary! Shout-out to Edgar Allan Poe; ugh, I said “shout-out”…), Dan followed us as we walked the length of the range, staying well outside the red lines. He was wringing his pale, pudgy hands so tightly I wondered if he might accidentally hurt himself. And while he followed us he rattled off all the silly rules he made up after I had begun making use of his gun range.

“No challenging people you don’t like to duels. No putting Pinkman’s picture downrange and shooting at it. No egging on other agents to shoot at it. No shotguns—”

“Not even twenty gauge?”

“No shotguns!”

“Hmph.”

“No armor-piercing rounds, no APLP ammo.”

“APLPs,” Emma Jan moaned orgasmically. I laughed, I couldn’t help it.

“I would
never.
” The second one, that is. Armor-Piercing Limited-Penetration rounds were still wildly illegal, and for good reason. I had been able to get a look at a classified report on the ammo, which had been used three times in the field and caused fatalities all three times. The fact that Agent Thyme knew what they were raised her stock even more. Once I had broken her to my will we could be great friends …

But back to the APLPs, and how they were a deep dark secret. Nothing unusual in itself, except the three people involved in APLP fatalities had been shot in the left buttock, the right wrist, and the left thigh.

The man shot in the buttock died instantly, as the bullet shredded everything from his ass to his stomach. The man shot in the right wrist died of shock after seeing his wrist not only disappear but shatter all the way up his forearm. And the man shot in the left thigh also died of shock, as the bullet ripped away nearly all the muscle and shattered the bone.

Our man in the field had noted in his report that it was as if the ammunition had an explosive charge at the tip. Except, of course, it did not. The ammo was so controversial it was verboten pending further tests. The military was currently in the middle of the arduous testing process.

“No eating sushi when you’re on the line. In fact, no
chopsticks
on the line; don’t think I forgot what happened last time. And no goddamned machine pistols.”

“Now you’re just trying to hurt me,” I chided.

“Are we clear, Shiro?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“And you.” Emma Jan snapped to attention. “Don’t listen to this one. She’s pure evil. Follow the range rules and I won’t have you killed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You say that to all the girls.” I was dreamily imagining what it would be like to have access to that sort of ammunition. If there was a God, he would help our military complete the testing as soon as possible. Hmm, but how could I use it while making sure Adrienne never ever got her hands on it?

Sigh. A problem for another day.

“Shiro, you’re here.” Dan pointed to lane two. “Thyme, is it? Thyme, you’re here.” He pointed to lane one. It was no coincidence that we were at the other end from where others were practicing. “What’d you bring?”

We unzipped our small duffels and showed him. Emma Jan had brought a Browning 9×19mm Hi-Power and several magazines. She was clearly familiar with it; she took it out of her duffel the way someone would root around in their purse for a piece of gum.

“Huh. Hi-Power.” Dan’s watery gaze sharpened. “Interesting choice.”

“Our Hostage Rescue Team uses it. My last girlfriend got me turned on to these after she’d tried it for a while. I never looked back. D’you want to squeeze off a few?” She extended the unloaded gun to me, butt first with the safety on. She knew her range etiquette. Good. Dan would not have to get the Taser.

I shook my head. “No, thank you. The trigger pull is too stiff for me.”

“So get rid of the magazine safety, and get aftermarket trigger springs, the kind with reduced tension.”

“What about the bite?”

“What
about
the
bite
?” If she were a rooster, Agent Thyme would be strutting back and forth beside the line, daring me to attack. “That’s really the problem for you?”

I narrowed my eyes at her, not entirely unhappy—I liked my quarrels out in the open.
So, this is how it’s going to be, hmm, New Girl? Fine. We’ll—

“Shiro, I had no idea you were such a crybaby.” Dan was one of the few people on the planet who could get away with saying such a thing to my face. He was nervous and fussy, but I deeply respected his talent and his knowledge. It startled me out of my eyeball-to-eyeball challenge with Thyme. “Waaaaah!” He added to the mockery by rubbing his eyes with his big gnarled fists.

Waaaaah? Really?

I sighed. “Not wanting the web between my thumb and forefinger to get shredded by that damned hammer spur makes me a crybaby? Then crybaby I shall be.”

“It’s nice to have something to look forward to,” Agent Thyme said brightly. “I still think if you gave the Hi-Power a chance you might like it.”

“Never. When it comes to firearms, I am obsessively monogamous.”

“Not just obsessive?” she teased. My. I
really
liked this woman.

“I prefer this.” I pulled my Desert Eagle so she and Dan could take a look.

“Okay, I get it. Because of the gas-operation you can use more powerful cartridges. It’s clunky, though.” She was looking at it with the critical care of someone who knew her life might depend on her weapons knowledge. “It’s better for target practice or silhouette shooting than fieldwork.”

I shrugged. I liked what I liked. It was not always logical. If Cadence had been driving, she’d have come up with something pithy like, “Sez you.” And Adrienne would have just shot her in the ankle and left.

“All right, I guess that’ll do,” Dan wheezed. Not for the first time I considered lecturing him on his nutritional habits. “I’m gonna leave you ladies to it. Agent Thyme, standard gun-range rules apply: ear plugs and safety glasses at all times you’re on the line. Check out the sheet on maximum caliber size and
don’t deviate
. And Shiro, I swear to God … you put
one
toe out of line, I’ll bounce you for a month.”

“I hear and obey, O my Dan.”

“It was nice to meet you, Dan, and thank you for the tour. D’you want to hear my top three unusual deaths?”

“Why?” Dan asked, puzzled yet keeping a wary eye on me. “Why would I ever want to know that?”

“Goddammit,” she sighed, then slapped in the clip and popped a round into the pipe. “Shiro, have I told you lately how much I loved talking to you about unusual deaths?”

I laughed.

“Now,” she said, sighting down the barrel. “Get ready to be made my bitch.”

“Those,” I warned, “are fighting words. If there will be any bitch making, it shall be I, making
you my
—”

“Shut up and shoot.”

So we did.

chapter fifty-one

We had practiced
for half an hour when Emma Jan signaled she wanted to talk by popping her clip and pulling the round out of the pipe. Since we were the only two on the line, it was safe to take my earplugs out.

My Desert Eagle clicked empty on my last shot, so I followed her lead. I inhaled again. I truly loved the smell of this wonderful underground room. Better than roses. Better than chocolate.

“You are terrifying,” was how she started the conversation. “And you held out on me.”

“I doubt it.”

“You’re hitting the ten every time!”

“I practice a lot.”

“For how many years—fifty? Gulp.”

“Did you just say ‘gulp’ out loud to denote—”

“Shiro, no bullshit. You’re the best I’ve ever seen. It’s incredible.”

“You’re very kind, Agent Thyme.” Her praise warmed me, and the warmth surprised me. I was not prone to worrying about what others thought, so did not seek their praise.

“However, I’m pretty awesome my own self.”

“I noticed.” Damn it.

“I could put a few more in the ten if we went head-to-head again. Shiro, I gotta thank you.”

“What? Why? What is the matter?”

“Whoa, calm down. I meant it in a nice way. Which I can see is confusing you. Listen, I held back this last half hour. I just wanted to get warm, get to know a new range. You brought everything, and I didn’t. You were in it to win it—God, I hate that phrase—and I wasn’t. So thanks.”

“For…” Making you my bitch, as I had predicted I would? Well. I could be magnanimous in victory. “For assisting you to … to be better?”

“I should have brought everything.” She wasn’t smiling. Her dark, beautiful eyes were fixed on mine with no warmth of any kind. What was she seeing, while she said these things to me? “I didn’t. You did, and I know better. Next time, I’ll remember. I’m grateful, Shiro, for any lesson I don’t have to relearn from the inside of a body bag.”

I was startled, then pleased. It was a mind-set I could relate to. A mind-set I could have related to when I was five. “You are very kind, Agent Thyme, and do not need my assistance to save your own life.”

“Shiro, how many times, hmm? How many? Call me Emma Jan, for Christ’s sake.”

“This is the first time you have asked me to call you Emma Jan.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve thought it a whole buncha times. Maybe I’m thinking of Cadence.”

“Oh, yes, a natural mistake because we look so much alike.” Cadence was a big blonde. I was a small Asian American. And Adrienne had deep red hair and a ghastly pale face. “Though I can tell you, Dan prefers Cadence to me on this range.” I shrugged. “It’s understandable. Everybody likes her.”

“Dan seemed a little freaked out by you.”

“He can be touchy. You know what’s odd?”

“You’re asking
me
?” She had begun packing up her duffel, and I followed suit.

“People have told me Dan is laid back and friendly. I never seem to catch that side of him.”

“Says the girl who was loading hollow points into her clips.”

“Shush.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything, did I?”

“No.” I almost giggled. We were complicit … we were like friends! Friends who shot and shot and then tried, more, to outshoot each other.

I thought about it. “I cannot picture Dan as laid back. I try and try, and fail.”

“Nobody’s perfect. Uh, listen, Shiro, can I ask you something?”

“You may ask.” I did not promise to answer, but hopefully would be able to.

Here it came: What is it like sharing a body with two other people; how old were you when that happened; why do you think you are the way you are; isn’t having wacky adventures just all kinds of fun? Tell me secrets I have no use for.

Yes, indeed. For those of us with MPD, the fun never stops.

She took a breath, then plunged in with, “What is the deal with Michaela?”

“What?” I was so surprised, I had trouble believing I had heard her correctly.

“The knives, the chopping, the other office. What the
hell
?”

“Oh. Ah. Well, that … I can see how someone new would find it confusing…”

“No, Shiro. I find Sudoku confusing. Figuring out Michaela is all the way around the bend from confusing. It’s more like she’s baffling and I’m confounded.”

“Fair enough. I will tell you, but please keep it to yourself.” I was not certain why I was going to tell her. Perhaps I thought she had enough of a burden with reflective surfaces without being mystified and even frightened by her new boss. Perhaps … I liked her.

Scratch perhaps. I
did
like her.

“Michaela has … phallic issues.”

Emma Jan snorted. “No shit. Can you get to the part I haven’t figured out for myself? For instance, if she spends most of her workday slicing and dicing, when does she find time to do boss stuff?”

“That is a mystery I cannot help you with.” The truth. None of us had any idea how she pulled that off. And she adored that we all wondered but could never find out. “But I can give you some background.”

“Excellent. My luck to land a crazy boss again.”

I laughed. “Did you think the FBI would appoint a supervisor who could not relate to her staff?”

“Ah. Good point.”

While I packed my duffel, I told her what she thought she wanted to know.

chapter fifty-two

Michaela was the
product of a rape, in itself not necessarily a ticket to the fun house. But she was raised by her rapist, a man who did not discontinue his distasteful habit of forcing women once he was responsible for raising a child on his own.