Time Was by Steve Perry Page B

little friends tearing you down bit by bit at the molecular levels as we speak. The fact that you haven’t yet ridded your system of the vast quantities of Cutty from last night is a definite plus.”
    Tyler swallowed, wiped his soaked brow, then raised his head, trying to meet her gaze. “How . . . how long do I have until . . . until . . .”
    â€œUntil you do the James Jump? About three hours. We’ve developed three different strains of nanites, you see. James’s were the least destructive. The ones in your system are the second strain, much nastier, and on a timer. Unless, of course, we choose to override their programming and press a certain button. But . . .” She purposely didn’t finish.
    Tyler jumped up from his chair and started toward her.
    One of Simmons’s massive hands gripped his shoulder like a vice and forced him back down into his seat.
    â€œBut what? ” shouted Tyler.
    Annabelle put out her other hand.
    Simmons handed her the small black case.
    â€œBut,” said Annabelle, “there is a way around any further unpleasantness. All you have to do is tell me which member of the board has been planting spies like you in my company.”
    She opened the case, then held it out so Tyler could see the contents.
    A hypodermic syringe, shiny and clean, nestled like a sleeping baby in a red velvet cradle.
    â€œCare to guess what this is, bright boy?”
    â€œÂ . . . please . . .”
    He was nearly in tears.
    Sweat had ruined his shirt.
    His meticulously coiffed dark hair hung down in his face like vines.
    Annabelle felt elated.
    She had broken him.
    â€œThis syringe contains, naturally, the closest thing to an antidote that the lab boys have managed to create. While it won’t destroy the nanites in your system, it will erase their programming and prevent them from manufacturing any more of themselves. They’ll be harmless enough, though they’ll remain in your system forever.
    â€œBut at least you’ll be safe, Tye. All you have to do”—she removed the syringe, held it in the light where it glistened—“is give me the name of the board member who put you up to this. That’s all. One name, and your life is yours once again.”
    â€œThey’ll . . . they’ll have me killed,” he whined.
    â€œNo, they won’t. If anyone is going to have that pleasure, it will be me.” She pushed the plunger slightly, watching as the tip of needle spewed forth a tiny amount of liquid. “Your call, Tye.”
    He stared at her face.
    Then the needle.
    Then the photo of St. Joan.
    â€œWould you—I’m sorry, Tye, I’ve been rude: Would you like another look at what’s left of Mr. James?”
    â€œNO!” he screamed, then began to weep. “All right. All right.”
    He gave her the name she wanted.
    Annabelle gave Simmons the syringe.
    Simmons gave Tyler the shot.
    Everybody was happy.
    â€œOne last thing, Tye,” said Annabelle, leaning down and placing one of her hands against Tyler’s cheek. “I wouldn’t tell anyone about this if I were you.” Suddenly, her hand became a clamp that snapped up and closed on his face, squeezing with such power it was easy to believe the bones in his skull were going to implode from the pressure. “I am everywhere, Tye, hear me? There is nowhere in this world you can go, no hole deep enough, no cave dark enough, where I don’t have an operative. That’s not a threat, bright boy, just a simple statement of fact.
    â€œ This is the threat: Mention this to anyone, tell anyone, even allude to it, and I promise you that you will never feel safe in your world again. I’m afraid I pulled a little Agatha Christie on you. The nanites in your system have had their programming erased, but that in no way means they have been rendered useless.” She snatched up the