Killfile by Christopher Farnsworth Page A

Halliburton execs in the Green Zone. Professional killers, wearing company polo shirts.
    They regard me with a little wariness. I don’t cast the same shadow as the rest of the people here. But they don’t have my gift. They don’t see me as anything more than an anomaly. If they did, they wouldn’t let me get this close to their boss.
    I figure this must be the latest thing in personal protection, and another way for Preston to show off: if Sloan hires ex-military like Keith and David, Preston hires former Navy SEALs.
    Fortunately for them, I’ve got no intention of hurting him yet. Like I told Kelsey, this meeting is all recon, a chance to get a look at the opposition and evaluate. Nothing serious is going to happen here.
    So I smile and shake his hand like a normal person and let my talent pick his brain.
    He’s not as smart as Sloan, but still much higher up the IQ scale than I can climb. I catch a couple of coding problems he’s fussing over in the back of his head, and it’s like an alien language.
    But he’s easier to read than Sloan. He has none of Sloan’s calm or patience. Preston is all jagged edges and wandering attention. Hismind is like a strobe, illuminating one thing for an instant, then flickering to the next.
    For the first time, I start to think what Sloan asked might actually be possible. I never doubted I’d be able to get the algorithm back, at least in software form. But wiping out a memory is, as I said, something I’ve done only once, and not exactly with surgical precision.
    Looking into Preston’s head, however, gives me some hope. He’s got almost no inner resources, aside from his intellect. He’s obsessive, which is not the same as disciplined, and he’s easily distracted. Given a little time, I can probably grab whatever I need from him.
    â€œSo you two know each other?” I say, nodding at Kelsey.
    He grins hugely. “Oh yeah. We overlapped when I was at Sloan, didn’t we?” He puts more saliva than I thought possible into the word “overlap.”
    Kelsey’s smile turns into a mask. “We didn’t work together,” she tells me. “Eli left the company a couple of months after I started.”
    Preston’s barely paying attention to me, spending most of his mental energy picturing Kelsey naked. But it’s pretty clear they didn’t sleep together, no matter how much Preston wishes it were true. I remind myself that it shouldn’t matter to me.
    â€œI was hoping we could talk about you doing some work for Mr. Sloan again,” I say. “He’s been watching your progress, and he thinks you might be able to help him. He’d like to hire OmniVore to root out a few old, buried secrets.”
    I get a small charge of triumph from Preston, but no guilt or anxiety.
    â€œWell, we’re pretty busy. I don’t know if we have the room to take on any new clients right now.” He turns to Kelsey. “This is all hush-hush, but you know we’re prepping for our IPO. It’s not too late for you to come over, get in on the ground floor.”
    â€œI like my job, Eli,” Kelsey says.
    â€œWorking for the old man? Come on. That place is a retirement home.”
    â€œI don’t think Mr. Sloan will let you steal her,” I say.
    â€œShe’s about the only valuable thing Sloan has,” Preston says, then remembers I’m supposed to work for Sloan too. “No offense.”
    â€œNo fear,” I say. “But given how much you took away from your time with him, I think you’d want to hear his offer now. He helped make you what you are today, after all.”
    There’s a prickle of self-righteousness at that. Preston’s ego throws up automatic defenses to any suggestion that his success isn’t his alone. But again, there’s no guilt. I’m tossing plenty of key words that should trigger some kind of