Chapter 43.
Civil.
Oliver woke up on the Chimaera with no memory of going to sleep. Waller must have gassed them. He was sitting in a high-backed rolling chair, in a plain conference room, still wearing the same clothes. His sleeves were dappled with blood, but his wrists had been carefully bandaged.
He knew he was on the ship because there was no mistaking the gentle motion of the ocean beneath him. Push and pull. Push and pull. Waves rolling on a nightmarish shoreline. Black rocks jutting up from the water or hiding just below the swell. Bodies scattered all around him. Faces that refused to be forgotten. Oliver struggled past it as the anesthesia released him.
"Welcome back, Oliver," Amanda Waller said.
She was sitting across from him, ten feet across a hardwood table. It was a less trusting position than the last time they had spoken. Oliver had armed guards on either side of him.
She must have known how much her punishment pissed him off.
He said nothing, examining his new bandages. His wrists ached, but the dullness inside told him he was medicated. Was it for pain, or compliance? He still had a sharp mind. His body lagged. It was for pain, then. Maybe he was thrashing around in his sleep, and they mistook it for agony. His nightmares must have manifested.
And just like that, as if she could read his mind, Waller said, "Bad dreams?"
Oliver looked up sharply, meeting her eyes. She had a deadly stare, but so did he. He repeated what he had said to her before. "What do you want from me?"
"I want your loyalty, Oliver, and if I can't have that, I want your obedience."
Straightforward, for once. Oliver was quiet again, reading the tension in her voice, her posture. She was angry but trying to hide it. She didn't want him to know how much his noncompliance with Richard Martin annoyed her. He was a powerful weapon that she wanted to wield. One of the things that made her weak was her inability to see people as people – complex, emotional beings. Using him as a weapon was a path that would only bring them both misery.
"Did you learn your lesson, Oliver?"
Her eyes narrowed. She was proud of herself for being so clever. Somehow she knew that Oliver was trying to shelter Sara, to keep her away from the darkness that had taken her last time. She must have been watching in the hotel room. She must have seen how it crushed him to see Sara so defeated. Her gloating fed the fire in his gut.
But he remained in control. He let a little pain escape, put on a show for her, gave her the satisfaction of winning. He ground out a simple, "Yes."
"Good." She produced a folder, sliding it across the table to him. He stopped it under his palm. "If you do what I ask you – without delay – from now on, I'll leave Sara out of it."
Oliver flipped the folder open. He already knew what would be inside, but the contents still created a painful weight on his heart. A photograph, a location. Someone she wanted to disappear.
"Your first assignment starts now. I have a helicopter waiting for you on deck."
