Page 143 of Pulse Zero
“Unlikely.” He takes a seat in one of the less comfortable chairs on the other side of his desk, crossing his legs and pinning me with his calculating gaze. “Perhaps I should kill you simply for being in my chair.”
“We both know you’re not going to kill me, Malcolm.”
The words settle between us, heavy but not hostile. Just true.
He leans back, studying me because we both know this isn’t a matter of cutting the head off the snake, not for either of us.
As for Malcolm, he controls a large network of Ascended, most of whom are genuinely loyal to him,gratefulfor what he’s given them. New life, resources, purpose. They would retaliate if I killed him right here right now, and shit would get ugly.
For me, it’s a little different.
“You’re sitting in my office,” he says, his voice calm. “In my chair. Surrounded by people who could end you before you take your next breath.”
“And yet, I’m still here.”
If he kills me, he loses something he can’t easily replace. The resistance wouldn’t die with me, and it would no longer be led by a variable he understands. We worked together for years, and we both know how the other operates. If I’m gone, the resistance becomes harder to track, to contain, to anticipate. They become unpredictable, and that’s the kind of chaos Malcolm can’t stand.
“You’ve built something inconvenient. That doesn’t make you untouchable.”
“No,” I agree. “It makes me useful.”
“What makes you so sure?”
I tilt my head. “Because you like me.”
That gets a reaction, and he laughs. It actually sounds genuine.
“You’ve always overestimated your appeal, Mr. Morgan.”
“Have I?” I lean forward, resting my arms on top of his desk. “You respect me.”
Similar concepts, different meanings entirely. Malcolm would seem to agree because his laughter fades, something like recognition or acceptance taking its place.
Another thing we both know to be true.
Malcolm respects what I am, what I’ve done, what I’m capable of. He respects the results, even if he’d kill me the second I lost my worth to him.
“You were my most successful asset,” he admits. “My best soldier. The first one I really got right. It would certainly be wasteful to discard that lightly.”
I sit back again, satisfied. “Glad we understand each other.”
His gaze lingers on me silently for a moment longer, then I see the moment some of the tension eases from his shoulders. He shifts in his seat and settles into the conversation.
“You didn’t come here to test boundaries. So why are you here?”
“I need something.”
“Youneed something fromme? After you dragged Cason into all of this?”
My teeth clench, but I school my expression. “You did that when you hired me to kidnap him and then again when you aimed his weapon at us. He was always going to get dragged into this. It was only a matter of time.”
“Fair,” he says with a smug grin. “What exactly is it you need?”
“Information,” I tell him. “There’s been an erratic pattern we’ve detected among possible Ascended. I figure if anyone’s got a handle on that kind of thing, it’s you.”
It’s actually not a lie. Sebastian has been tracking Ascended for us in a similar manner that the Institute tracks them—scraping hospital records, emergency response logs, anything that flags a flatline followed by a resuscitation. It’s messy and far from flawless, but it’s been enough to stay ahead of Malcolm more than once.
At least, until recently. There have been more cases, many of them closer together. It seems less random, as if there’s someone rogue out there trying to create their own Ascended. If Malcolm and I are on the same page about anything, it’s knowing there’s a danger to that. I may not want to own them, but I would stop them in the same way Malcolm would.
