Locked and Loaded Read online

  “Time's short. If you can do it subtly, then go for it. But Callaghan is going to notice something's up if all of you jump ship at the same time, and I'd rather be short a few men than enlist anyone I didn't trust.”

  Cliff nodded, and maybe thinking it over had changed his mind because when we had the first group meeting to discuss the plan at length, he came alone.

  Angelica had a place in San Francisco we could use for the occasion. The city was good. Anonymous. So much went on in the big cities it was hard to monitor it all, and we kept everything strictly on the down-low.

  I folded my arms. “I know you all have people to see and places to be, so I'm going to keep this brief. We all know why we're here.

  “Adrian Callaghan has gone mad with power. And with the IMA's recent merger with the BN, and Callaghan's attempt to go global with his new media conglomerate, I think it's time to say out loud what I know every single one of you have been thinking all along.”

  I paused.

  “The man's gone too fucking far.”

  Nods.

  “If we can't kill him, then at least we can kill his company and cut off his access to all that power because right now, he's got that shit on tap. But I think we can.”

  “How?” Suraya had looked grim during that whole speech. “Have you done a headcount recently? He has tens of thousands of people working in his employ.”

  “But how many of them work with him directly? I'm sure you have contacts. People you go to when you want to get shit done, and done well. Outside help isn't out of the equation so long as you don't let on what it's for.”

  I addressed the four of them.

  “The IMA stands for Integrated Military Affairs. I've decided to call our group the AMI. I haven't worked out the acronym yet, but I like the sound of it.”

  “How about, 'Amity, Morality, and Integrity'?”

  “That sounds like the name of your Catholic school.”

  “It fits,” Angelica said. “After all, ami means friend in French. Yes. I rather like that.”

  “Friend?” I repeated, skeptically.

  I'd never known anyone I might call a friend before.

  It occurred to me then, though, that I could. And that thought—me, having fucking friends, was so ridiculous that I laughed.

  “AMI it is, then,” I said. “Who wants to start weaving the goddamn friendship bracelets?”

  The End

  (Ack!)nowledgements

  There's always so many people to thank. Writing a book is a team effort. Readers, to offer both criticism and support; friends, to pat you on the head when you are suffering from an over-abundance of writer feels; and parents, who help by accepting, however grudgingly, that you're using your psychology degree to flesh out your characters rather than to open up your own practice.

  And then, of course, there are the people who contribute to the writer's life experience: the be-all and end-all of resources. For better, or for worse.

  Many thanks to:

   My readers — old and new. They don't allow me to slack off for a moment, and I need that.

   The reviewers who have so unselfishly promoted me. Every little bit helps, and I am grateful for that.

   My friends, who listen to me whenever I feel like reading the “whine list.” (That's whine with an h, mind.)

   Louisa — for her beautiful covers, and also for the handy-dandy info she gave me about media and the information industry for this book.

   My PH whore-cruxes.

   And so many more!