Page 12 of Whisper

“Talking makes noise. Noise attracts attention.”

“From who? We’re in a sealed tunnel behind a locked grate thirty feet from the entrance. You said they won’t search down here.”

Valid point. Annoying, but valid.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Start with who you really are. I don’t even know your name. Are you military? Ex-military? Private contractor? How long have you been doing this? Why this job? Why protection work?”

Jesus Christ. The woman can’t stop asking questions even when her life depends on silence.

“Cooper McKenzie.” The name feels formal in the confined space. “Former Delta Force. Six years. Cerberus Security. Four years. Protection because it pays. This job because Mason assigned it.”

“That’s your autobiography? Twenty one words?”

“Covers the basics.”

“It covers nothing! What’s your specialty? Weapons? Demolitions? Communications? Where have you operated? What made you leave Delta? Who’s Mason? What kind of?—”

“Stop.”

She blinks at the command. “Stop, what?”

“Talking.”

“But—”

“Phoenix teams are still in the building. Sound carries through pipes. You want to broadcast our position?”

Not entirely true. The mechanical systems create enough white noise to mask normal conversation. But if she keeps talking, I might do something stupid. Like notice how her lips move when she forms words. Or how she gestures with her hands even in the confined space. Or how her breath catches when she gets excited about a topic.

All dangerous observations.

She falls silent, but I can practically hear her brain working. Cataloging information. Forming new questions. Planning her next verbal assault.

She makes a small sound that might be indignation or amusement. But she stops talking. For about thirty seconds.

“How long have we been down here?”

I check my watch. “Forty-three minutes.”

“So five hours and seventeen minutes to go.”

“If you’re going to count down everyminute?—”

“I’m not. I’m just—processing. This is how I handle stress. I talk. I analyze. I question. It’s who I am.”

“It’s going to get you killed.”

She pulls back slightly to look at me. In the dim light, her eyes are more gray than green. “You really think they’ll find us down here?”

“If you keep talking? Yes.”

“You’re just saying that to shut me up.”

“Is it working?”

“No.”