Page 5 of Absent Feeling

“It’sa big change,” Joseph said. “And I can only tell you to do what feels right toyou. You’ve been through the training, you know what being an agent willinvolve, so you probably know better than I ever could whether it’s going to beright for you.”

Ambernodded. He was right, of course. It was up to her to make this decision. Shecould go back to her old life, or she could jump into being an FBI agent. Itwas just that, right then, she wasn’t sure which way she wanted to go.

CHAPTER FOUR

ToColm O’Rafferty, a prison was just another kind of puzzle to solve. Everythingwas—if you looked at it closely enough.

Hecurrently sat on the prison transport, waiting for his moment. The problem atthe heart of this particular puzzle was a simple one: how to get from theinside to the outside without being caught. In some ways, the simplicity of itwas almost irritating, yet it was made more interesting by an asymmetry at theheart of it: the prison had resources, guards, and power. Colm did not.

Hisfirst thought had been to consider the possibility of a legal challenge to hisincarceration. He had quickly dismissed that as unworkable. The evidenceagainst him at his trial for the murders he’d committed so far had beencompelling. He’d been caught red-handed at the last of them, after all, in apure stroke of bad luck that had seen the witness able to get away before Colmcould kill her.

Itmightbe possible to find a way to get that witness to recant hertestimony, to cast doubt on the police officers who had brought him in, tosteadily undermine the case, but Colm suspected that even if it worked, thatwould take far more time than he had. He wanted to be out of the prisonnow.

So,Colm had started to make arrangements, charming, bribing, and threatening toget what he wanted. The other prisoners in his wing knew better than to crosshim, even some of the gang members who thought that they ran the place underthe noses of the guards.

Therewas something soothing about the steady rumble of the transport van as it madeits way along the highway. There were only a couple of other prisoners on it: aburly, shaven headed, mafia thug named Vincent and a slender man named Gunterwho looked like an accountant and who had been found guilty of a multi-million-dollarinvestment fraud. Of course, Colm knew all about them. He’d made it hisbusiness to know everything about everyone who would be on that transport.

Heknew who the guards were. He knew the route for the vehicle. He knew the likelyweather conditions, and the ways they impacted everything he had planned. Colmhad arranged to be on this transport, paying a hacker to falsify a transferorder. A transport van was easier to break out of than a full penitentiary.

Notthat there weren’t complicating factors. Colm was shackled for transportation,wearing an orange, prison jumpsuit that would instantly mark him out as afugitive if he got out of the van. There were two guard: one driving and onekeeping an eye on the inmates in the van.

Nothinginsurmountable for a man of Colm’s talents.

Colmcouldn’t see out of the van, but he didn’t need to. He could feel the changesin the road, and he was keeping careful track of the time. Just a littlelonger, and everything would begin—if it turned out the way that he’d plannedit.

If.It was a word that Colm didn’tlike in situations like this. He hated having to rely on others, hated that hewasn’t fully in control of the situation. He’d done everything he could toensure that those involved would play their parts, and he felt that heunderstood human nature well enough to be confident that they would, but therewas always that element of uncertainty there.

Thenagain, what was a game without an element of risk?

“Wouldyou like to play a game, Vincent?” Colm asked the big mafioso.

Vincentglared back at him. “Why are you talking to me, freak?”

Freak?That seemed harsh. It was thekind of thing that people had said about Colm all his life whenever they’dworked out just how much cleverer he was than them. People seemed not to likeplaying games with him. Perhaps they simply understood that they would lose.

“I’masking you if you would like to play a game, Vincent. I spy with my little eye,something beginning with B.”

“Shutup,” Vincent said. “Unless you want me to hurt you.”

Hurtingpeople was what Vincent did. He’d broken legs for one of the families foryears, even killed a couple of people, they said. Colm wondered if he was meantto find that impressive.

“Somethingbeginning with B,” Colm insisted. “Well, two things, I suppose, but that isn’treally how the game works. Come on, it’s a simple puzzle.”

“Bequiet back there!” one of the guards called out. Officer Trent. A man with twochildren and a dog named Oscar. Colm wondered if they would miss him.

“Whatabout you, Gunter? Will you guess? Something beginning with B? No? Oh well,I’ll just tell you then. The first thing is the bridge that we are currentlypassing over. The second is the bomb that’s coming towards us. Oh, there’s athird B, but that’s more of an instruction. Brace!”

Colmheld on tightly. He knew that out there somewhere was an explosive devicestrapped to a drone, heading straight for them. After all, he’d arranged itthat way, making deals with the people who wanted the other occupants of thisprison van dead in order to bring it about.

Evenset for it as he was, it was still a shock when the explosion came, rattlingthe van, the force of it seeming to rip through the front of it. The driver,Officer Marks, died instantly. Since he had no family and his only pet was agoldfish, Colm suspected that no one would miss him much.

Thevan swerved out of control, as Colm had calculated that it would. It hit theedge of the bridge, again, as he had calculated. There was a brief sense ofweightlessness and then …

Theimpact with the water was almost greater than the blast had been, making Colmsee stars for a moment or two. He recovered quickly, though, while around himthe others cried out in terror and confusion. That probably had a lot to dowith the part where the van was starting to fill up with water.

Colmpulled out lockpicks that he’d carefully secreted about his person and startedto work on the shackles holding him in place.

“Whatare you doing back there?” Officer Trent demanded.

---