Chapter Six
Harper
His name was Jack Harper, although there wasn't a soul who called him that now and hadn't been for decades. He'd shed his past the day he'd embraced the future. His future, and the future of humanity itself.
He sat in a comfortable leather armchair, legs crossed in his impeccably tailored suit, sipping a particularly fine old Kentucky bourbon. Smoke spiraled lazily from the cigarette in his left hand. His eyes flickered with seeming disinterest over a bank of view screens before him, but in truth those eyes recorded every detail they took in - a gift and curse from the end of his previous life.
His lieutenant - if he had such a thing - crossed the immaculately tiled floor, her high-heeled boots chiming softly against the ceramic with each step. She was a tall, elegant brunette, all long, long legs and perfect curves. Her facial features were an exceptional balance of strong and soft; straight nose and strong jaw eased by gracefully arched brows and high cheekbones, icy blue eyes counterbalanced by a generous mouth that seemed inclined to quirk upwards at the corners. People who knew nothing about Miranda Lawson assumed that he kept her around for her looks and, perhaps…other skills… closely related to those long legs and full lips.
It amused him to think, because nothing could be further from the truth. Though he'd considered seducing the lovely young Lawson, he valued the woman far more for her professionalism, her cool capability under pressure, and her icy but formidable intellect. And, if that weren't enough, her strong biotics and the ease with which she wielded both a pistol and submachine gun were an added bonus.
She halted just past him, looking out the wide picture window to the research floor below.
"The Council knows the beacon was not destroyed in the explosions," she said quietly.
"It was a long shot at best," he answered her levelly. "Saren's involvement was a boon for us in many ways, but makes very little difference in our long-term plans."
"And Kryik?" she asked.
"A…complication, to be sure," he replied, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing a thoughtful stream of smoke toward the ceiling. "But his goal is now Arterius, not the beacon."
"Are you sure of that?" Lawson turned to face him, her arms folded across her centerfold breasts.
"As sure as I can reasonably be," he said, snubbing out the cigarette and lifting the whiskey. He paused with the rim of the glass hovering a mere centimeter away from his bottom lip. "And the quarian?"
Lawson's mouth curled upward. "A stroke of luck," she said. "From what we can tell, she's on her way to Earth."
Harper's left eyebrow lifted. "Earth?"
"Yes. She escaped a trap engineered by Saren with the help of Liara T'soni."
"Ah," he said, his own mouth quirking in amusement. "The lovely and talented Dr. T'soni. I wonder where her interest in the quarian lies?"
Lawson shrugged. "It appears her interest is limited to the involvement of the Shadow Broker."
"Yes," mused Harper, withdrawing a fresh cigarette from a slender silver case and lighting it. "One wonders what the Shadow Broker did to earn the little asari's ire."
"Whatever it is, it's working in our favor," Lawson was quick to point out. Perhaps the one flaw in the general perfection that was Miranda Lawson - a decided lack of curiosity. And yet, even this was something that could be turned to an asset.
"Find her," he said. "And send me Leng."
Lawson nodded, dropping her arms and striding away in her easy, sensual strut.
Despite the show, Harper did not bother to watch her leave.
If Lawson was the most fortuitous of his finds, this was surely the second.
Kai Leng was perhaps as perfect a killer as could be engineered by science, building upon an innate ruthlessness and disregard for loss of life other than his own. Harper had picked him out of an Alliance prison, where he was serving a twenty-year sentence for manslaughter. Prior to his incarceration, Leng had graduated from the prestigious N7 program, obtaining the highest military training designation for human special forces personnel.
Now Leng entered on completely noiseless feet. It was only the faintest of reflections on the window beyond his view screens that alerted Harper to his presence. In addition to the training he'd received, Leng was also outfitted with both genetic and cybernetic enhancements, making him stronger, faster, tougher; giving him advantages in both the unarmed and melee combat that he preferred.
"I have a little errand for you, Leng," he said without preamble.
"I didn't realize I'd been demoted," Leng replied with a faint smile.
"There is a quarian," Harper went on, pausing to exhale a faint cloud of smoke, "who is in possession of some potentially damaging information on our friend Saren Arterius."
"Where is this quarian?" Leng's voice was low, quiet, but rough around the edges.
"On a transport for Earth. Operative Lawson will tell you where."
"Just a single quarian?" Leng sounded slightly disappointed.
"Yes. But there's a catch."
"Oh?" Though he wasn't watching Leng, Harper could imagine the slight tilt to the other's head.
"I want more than just the information. I want the quarian herself. Alive. Unharmed, if possible."
The reflection shifted slightly. Leng would be clasping his hands behind his back - one of the few mannerisms left over from his career as an Alliance marine.
"Of course. Should I expect interference from Arterius?"
"Yes. As well as the Shadow Broker. And, of course, any guards that might be accompanying her on the transport."
Leng gave a single dry chuckle. "Can I assume that you don't require any of them alive or uninjured?"
Harper smiled. "Deal with them as you see fit."
"Excellent," said Leng, with satisfaction.
"Go coordinate with Lawson," instructed Harper, crushing out the end of yet another cigarette.
Leng nodded to the back of his head, and turned, only the tiniest of rustles from his form-fitting armored jacket betraying the movement. Nevertheless, Harper stopped Leng just as the man was about to exit, his expression hidden behind the ever-present glass of bourbon.
"And Leng?" said Harper, with a note of idleness that almost, but not quite disguised the steel behind it, "Try to keep the collateral damage to a minimum."
Leng paused with his hand on the doorway, his expression carefully blank. "Yes. Sir."
