"I don't know," Sang said. "I keep asking myself that question, over and over again."
Neil grinned a wicked grin again. "Because they're not sure they're gonna win this one. See, if they killed you and Van, the operation would still keep going. The Iron Dragons are still in motion and we've spread a lot of false intel about there being several different branches – across the country, running the game, too. So, Draco's starting to get worried and, instead of killing the leaders, they're just trying to weaken them. They traumatize you and it slows you down."
"That explains why they bumped the tournament," Sang said. "Yeah, they've got to be nervous."
"So, here's the thing: if they are so nervous, they'll take anything that they can get. They're all in at this point, so if they don't use any advantage they can get their hands on, they're in trouble."
"I'm following," Sang said.
"My plan's a simple one. We draw the leak out by staging a conflict between you and the CIA. Make it look like you're in trouble. The mole won't be able to resist making you an offer."
Sang shrugged. "If there is a mole, you mean."
"I'm dead certain there is," Neil said. "It could be any one of us. Frederick, O'Hara, Van, any of those operators."
"You think O'Hara could be the mole?" Sang asked. "Isn't she your best friend?"
"I love O'Hara like she's my own sister," Neil said, "but I pistol whipped my real sister last Thanksgiving. I don't trust anyone."
"I don't even want to begin to ask what circumstances would warrant you pistol whipping your sister," Sang said as she put a hand on her face. "Sure, whatever your plan is, let's try it out. Maybe it'll work."
"Great, we'll get into a fight in the cafeteria in an hour; that's when the staff is eating," Neil said as he stood to his feet and wobbled a little. "Urgh," he grunted as he put a hand on the bandage on his stomach.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay doing this?" Sang asked. "I mean, health-wise?"
"Oh, the doctor told me that if I move around too much I might die," Neil said, "but what the hell do doctors know?"
"I would scold you," Sang said, "but the world is kind of in peril here, so I guess it makes sense to go forward."
As Neil staggered to his wheelchair, refusing help from Sang, she couldn't help but remember the last thing he had said to her before he'd lapsed into unconsciousness from his gunshot wound.
"Neil?" she asked as he sat in his chair.
"What?" he barked, clearly annoyed by the pain and the question, both. He gritted his teeth hard and Sang could see that he was in agony.
"You warned me about Van a while back. You told me that, if he did snap, he'd betray us. Do you think he could? Do you think he could throw away everything he's worked so hard for?"
"That's the thing," Neil said as he turned his wheelchair around to leave her room. "He worked hard for his video game all of his life. These last three months have been only a sliver of his life. Would you trade everything away for just three measly months? He likes to play the hero, but when it comes down to it, I don’t think he has the guts to see his home burn down."
"You think it doesn't take guts to betray his friends?"
"Ha, you'd be surprised how easy cowardice is," Neil said as he shook his head. "You know him better than me, but that can be a double-edged sword. See, when you get close to someone, you kind of become blind to their flaws. The more you like them, the easier it is for you to miss something completely. You don't see the signs until it's too late."
"What would you know about friendship, Neil?" Sang asked. "You're an abrasive jackass who routinely shoves guns into the mouths of people who irritate you."
"My wife killed herself," Neil quietly whispered. "Ten years ago. I thought everything was going great, and then one day, she blew her brains out."
"What?" Sang gasped. "Are… are you... serious?"
Neil shrugged. "When you get too close, you don't see the signs. But when you look back, you see it clear as day. Sang, don't think for a second that Van won't sell us out. If we're lucky, he won't. If you can prevent it, do everything you can to convince him the real world is worth living in. If you can't stop him politely, though… well, you know what to do."
"Why not pull him off of the project then?" Sang asked. "If you're so convinced he'll betray us?"
"You ever hear of Cassandra?" Neil asked as he wheeled off. "Cafeteria in one hour!"
Sang shook her head as she watched the madman put on a trucker hat and sunglasses. After her last conversation with Van, it was clear to her that he would do what was necessary, regardless of the cost. Still, there was something about Neil's words that put doubt in her heart. The question was, was the doubt a bad thing?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sang rubbed her eye as she sat in her bedroom. It was swelling up significantly and she could barely see out of it. Her brief stint as a theatrical actor hadn't gone as she had imagined it in her head. She had arrived to the cafeteria during what had looked to be some kind of staff morale party. This made sense, as the operators were often working 14 hour shifts that were seemingly endless, and weren't allowed to leave the compound for security reasons.
Neil had been waiting for her and had begun to yell at her fiercely, telling her that she wasn't allowed to bail on the mission. Sang had quickly picked up on the plan and begun to tell him that she was sick and tired of the risk and the danger, and that she couldn't sleep at night and things were getting too intense for her. It hadn't her best work as an actor, but she'd thought she sold the idea to the others around her.
At the pinnacle of her argument, though, Neil punched her right in the eye and knocked her to the ground. He then jammed his gun in her mouth and told her that, if she bailed now, she'd be dead and in a desert before sunrise. That had definitely not been what she'd expected, and she certainly hadn't consented to that part of the operation. Afterwards, she was cuffed and dragged to her bedroom, even as Neil apologized profusely while coughing up blood.
Of course, the injury was a small price to pay for the plan of luring out some kind of a spy, if a spy even existed, but still, it would have be nice if Neil had held back a little. That man was incapable of restraint, she thought to herself again.
Tired of thinking about the scene, she eyed the clock, seeing that it was almost midnight. She hoped someone would show up soon.
As Sang sat and contemplated what she'd say to this mole, there was a knock on the door, followed by O'Hara gingerly opening the door.
"Hey," O'Hara said. "I heard Neil gave you what for."
"Yeah," Sang said, feeling her heart go into her throat.
"Well, I heard you were trying to bail, so you deserved it," O'Hara said as she shook her head. "This isn't some day job, Sang. We're on a mission and I don't care how stressed you are; you knew what this was when you committed to sticking around. If you try to escape this, I will track you down and you'll have more to worry about than a black eye. I'm talking, you won't ever be able to walk again."
"Yeah, of course," Sang said, breathing a sigh of relief. In a weird way, the savageness of the woman's words was comforting. It would have been a major shock to discover that O'Hara was some kind of a foreign operator.
"Good, so you should get some sleep," O'Hara replied as she slammed the door shut.
Sang sat in silence and wondered if maybe she should just go to sleep. Would anyone really come to meet with her? It was doubtful. She laid on her back and closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she tried to ignore the throbbing in her eye.
As she rested, though, there was a slight clank in the air vent above her. She opened one eye to see a woman's face looking at her through the grate. Sang recognized her as one of the operatives.
"Pssst," the operator whispered. "Sang?"
"What the hell are you doing in there?" Sang asked.