Dirty Deals: Olesia Anderson Thriller #1 Free Epub Edition by D. D. Marks Page B
Book: Dirty Deals: Olesia Anderson Thriller #1 Free Epub Edition by D. D. Marks
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Authors: D. D. Marks
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"You know him?"
"Yeah, we worked together back when he still did fieldwork. I didn't know he was in Maryland now."
"Time enough to catch up when you arrive." For a moment he sounded almost despondent. "Relevant data has been mailed to you. Get it done, Eight-Oh-Six."
She watched the phone for another minute, waiting for a callback, but none came. The taxi came to a stop outside Gate 3 and the driver tapped the meter. "Fifty even."
Olesia stared. "What, me?"
The driver nodded. "Fifty two, if you don't hurry it up."
She grumbled as she dug her purse - a slim, black, kevlar reinforced lozenge - out of her overnight bag. "Fucking Blackrock," she said, as the taxi peeled away, her wallet suddenly fifty two dollars lighter. "Can't even get a proper cabcharge-" She stalked through the corridors, passing through the executive scanners, where a man in dark glasses opened her case and inspected the pistol. He grunted when she flashed her ID. "You can't carry this on board, Miss. Doesn't matter what paper you wave at me."
She didn't have the strength to argue. Shame burned her cheeks as she passed through the full-body scanners. "Useless fucking bunch of wannabe-spy incompetents-"
Blackrock. The only real job she'd held down since graduation and the only job she knew how to do. A network of corporate spies for hire who alternated between ripping off data and protecting it. Escorting executives to clandestine meetings on foreign soil, or blowing rival executive's helicopters out of the sky. Prototype theft, money laundering, and the identification of corporate moles were standard jobs. Shoot-outs with private security and desert warlords were less common, but still, she erred on the side of caution and kept her pistol loaded.
She'd sometimes wondered what sort of jingle Blackrock would use, if they ever ran TV ads. IRS comes knocking, and there's things that you can't show... call Blackrock! If your Directors gone missing, and your shareholders can't know-ow-ow... Blackrock! Competitor threatening your life? Got a leak in accounting and you think that it's your wife? Call... Blackrock!
After two months without work she could have done with a shoot-out, or even a midnight rooftop infiltration, but the job was the job. At least shaking a rogue engineer for information would be simple. She made her way to the lounge, found a seat overlooking the runways, and watched the departures board tick down the minutes until take off.
It was then that Olesia noticed the kid in the white jumper slouched by the coffee stand. His hood was pulled up to hide his face, and while she couldn't see his eyes she knew from the tilt of his neck that he was staring at her.
She stared back, guessing at where his eyes were beneath the hood. The kid looked away. Olesia's fingers were suddenly itchy, and she wished she'd argued harder with the man on security. The heavy steel of a pistol would be perfect in her hands. She reached into her pocket and drew out her phone, thumbed it to camera and prepared to take a picture.
A speaker sounded overhead, and Olesia spun. "The eight-fifteen to Washington-Dulles is now boarding-"
She turned back, raising the phone up to centre the kid in the frame, but he was already gone.
Chapter 2
The suitcase with the pistol was, as usual, the last to come off the carousel at Washington Dulles International. Olesia grunted as she hauled it off the conveyor, turned to the exit, and found Jean looming before her. He was a great monolith of a man, blocking the afternoon light almost entirely with his wide shoulders and the broad bald sweep of his skull. When he smiled his teeth shone, and he picked Olesia up, suitcase and all, and squeezed her against his chest. "My Olly!"
Olesia could only splutter and gasp until he set her down. He smelled of dust and smoke and something like roast beef, as if he'd been tending a barbecue only moments before, and she had to crane her neck back to look him in the eyes. "Well, hello to you
"Yeah, we worked together back when he still did fieldwork. I didn't know he was in Maryland now."
"Time enough to catch up when you arrive." For a moment he sounded almost despondent. "Relevant data has been mailed to you. Get it done, Eight-Oh-Six."
She watched the phone for another minute, waiting for a callback, but none came. The taxi came to a stop outside Gate 3 and the driver tapped the meter. "Fifty even."
Olesia stared. "What, me?"
The driver nodded. "Fifty two, if you don't hurry it up."
She grumbled as she dug her purse - a slim, black, kevlar reinforced lozenge - out of her overnight bag. "Fucking Blackrock," she said, as the taxi peeled away, her wallet suddenly fifty two dollars lighter. "Can't even get a proper cabcharge-" She stalked through the corridors, passing through the executive scanners, where a man in dark glasses opened her case and inspected the pistol. He grunted when she flashed her ID. "You can't carry this on board, Miss. Doesn't matter what paper you wave at me."
She didn't have the strength to argue. Shame burned her cheeks as she passed through the full-body scanners. "Useless fucking bunch of wannabe-spy incompetents-"
Blackrock. The only real job she'd held down since graduation and the only job she knew how to do. A network of corporate spies for hire who alternated between ripping off data and protecting it. Escorting executives to clandestine meetings on foreign soil, or blowing rival executive's helicopters out of the sky. Prototype theft, money laundering, and the identification of corporate moles were standard jobs. Shoot-outs with private security and desert warlords were less common, but still, she erred on the side of caution and kept her pistol loaded.
She'd sometimes wondered what sort of jingle Blackrock would use, if they ever ran TV ads. IRS comes knocking, and there's things that you can't show... call Blackrock! If your Directors gone missing, and your shareholders can't know-ow-ow... Blackrock! Competitor threatening your life? Got a leak in accounting and you think that it's your wife? Call... Blackrock!
After two months without work she could have done with a shoot-out, or even a midnight rooftop infiltration, but the job was the job. At least shaking a rogue engineer for information would be simple. She made her way to the lounge, found a seat overlooking the runways, and watched the departures board tick down the minutes until take off.
It was then that Olesia noticed the kid in the white jumper slouched by the coffee stand. His hood was pulled up to hide his face, and while she couldn't see his eyes she knew from the tilt of his neck that he was staring at her.
She stared back, guessing at where his eyes were beneath the hood. The kid looked away. Olesia's fingers were suddenly itchy, and she wished she'd argued harder with the man on security. The heavy steel of a pistol would be perfect in her hands. She reached into her pocket and drew out her phone, thumbed it to camera and prepared to take a picture.
A speaker sounded overhead, and Olesia spun. "The eight-fifteen to Washington-Dulles is now boarding-"
She turned back, raising the phone up to centre the kid in the frame, but he was already gone.
Chapter 2
The suitcase with the pistol was, as usual, the last to come off the carousel at Washington Dulles International. Olesia grunted as she hauled it off the conveyor, turned to the exit, and found Jean looming before her. He was a great monolith of a man, blocking the afternoon light almost entirely with his wide shoulders and the broad bald sweep of his skull. When he smiled his teeth shone, and he picked Olesia up, suitcase and all, and squeezed her against his chest. "My Olly!"
Olesia could only splutter and gasp until he set her down. He smelled of dust and smoke and something like roast beef, as if he'd been tending a barbecue only moments before, and she had to crane her neck back to look him in the eyes. "Well, hello to you
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