She’s so well known, her files are probably a closetful, still not updated into the mainframe. This is the recent information on disk and that’s what counts. We want to see whom she’d hung out with recently, why she’s here in D.C., and whether we can connect her recent activities to her current contract. Two years is plenty long to try to see what she’s up to, Steve.” Cam finished his soda and burped loudly again. He noisily crunched the aluminum can, then took aim at the wastepaper basket on the other side of the room. “Don’t forget, she’s an assassin, a contract agent. Damn, missed by inches. That means what she’s asked to do is very current, very up-to-date. No one contracts to kill two years ahead of time, man. Yo, Arms, can you pick that can up for me?”
Steve glanced in the direction of Arms, who gave a crude answer to Cam’s request before complying. The two men exchanged basketball banter while he thought about what Marlena was up to. Cam’s analysis made sense, of course. This wasn’t some war in the jungles against some drug lord that could take months and months and not see any resolution. A contract was something that had a time frame.
Steve looked down at the picture of Marlena dancing with some handsome tall Asian punk, taken at that fancy wedding of some prince last year. She looked glamorous, in a glittery slinky gown, not a hair out of place. Her companion was looking at her like she was some goddess, his attention totally focused on her. Her eyes held the familiar sensual heat, but they were looking at the camera, not her companion, as if she wanted to make sure the world saw her.
Something clicked in his mind. A woman who liked to act in a certain manner when the camera was around. A woman projecting a certain image.
When there was no camera around, Marlena was totally different with him. During the shopping spree, she had a certain sparkle and fun that were missing in these pictures and in those videos the others saw. But why did she show it to him?
“Tough, isn’t it?” Cam interrupted his reverie.
“What?”
“To reconcile that creature with cold-blooded murder. There’s something totally different about her when you look at her picture, like she has more than she’s willing to show.” Cam shrugged, then his gaze on Steve sharpened. “But then aren’t all crooks like that? Something to hide. She’ll probably slit your throat if you aren’t careful, Stash baby. Don’t trust her, no matter what you do. Get naked with her if you want to, but don’t give her a chance to take you down, man. She’s got you all cross-eyed with lust.”
“I can handle it.” Steve mustn’t have sounded convincing enough because Cam gave a snort of disbelief. He stressed again, “I can handle it. I just need to find out what this other thing is, then we at least have a clue what we’re after.”
“What other thing?”
“The recent recorded conversation. We’re tagging him as the seller.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s he selling? Marlena’s supposed to play courier between him and the buyer, and then what? What has that got to do with a contract? We thought the seller hired the middleman to get her the apartment, but this call seems to point to another direction. The buyer, perhaps?”
“Don’t forget the threatening calls, too. Or that first night, when you were followed.”
“Yes, what is this thing they’re all after, that they think she has gotten from the seller?”
“Our intel interception had only mentioned a contract out, and that Marlena Maxwell was going to D.C. That’s usually code for her taking on a job.” Cam’s voice turned thoughtful, as if he was getting intrigued, too. He scratched the back of his neck, pushing his long hair out of the way. “You’re right. Knowing what the article is could be the key.”
“Can you get the files from before two years? Or some of them.”
“Sure. What are you looking for?”
“Don’t know yet. Just gut
Steve glanced in the direction of Arms, who gave a crude answer to Cam’s request before complying. The two men exchanged basketball banter while he thought about what Marlena was up to. Cam’s analysis made sense, of course. This wasn’t some war in the jungles against some drug lord that could take months and months and not see any resolution. A contract was something that had a time frame.
Steve looked down at the picture of Marlena dancing with some handsome tall Asian punk, taken at that fancy wedding of some prince last year. She looked glamorous, in a glittery slinky gown, not a hair out of place. Her companion was looking at her like she was some goddess, his attention totally focused on her. Her eyes held the familiar sensual heat, but they were looking at the camera, not her companion, as if she wanted to make sure the world saw her.
Something clicked in his mind. A woman who liked to act in a certain manner when the camera was around. A woman projecting a certain image.
When there was no camera around, Marlena was totally different with him. During the shopping spree, she had a certain sparkle and fun that were missing in these pictures and in those videos the others saw. But why did she show it to him?
“Tough, isn’t it?” Cam interrupted his reverie.
“What?”
“To reconcile that creature with cold-blooded murder. There’s something totally different about her when you look at her picture, like she has more than she’s willing to show.” Cam shrugged, then his gaze on Steve sharpened. “But then aren’t all crooks like that? Something to hide. She’ll probably slit your throat if you aren’t careful, Stash baby. Don’t trust her, no matter what you do. Get naked with her if you want to, but don’t give her a chance to take you down, man. She’s got you all cross-eyed with lust.”
“I can handle it.” Steve mustn’t have sounded convincing enough because Cam gave a snort of disbelief. He stressed again, “I can handle it. I just need to find out what this other thing is, then we at least have a clue what we’re after.”
“What other thing?”
“The recent recorded conversation. We’re tagging him as the seller.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s he selling? Marlena’s supposed to play courier between him and the buyer, and then what? What has that got to do with a contract? We thought the seller hired the middleman to get her the apartment, but this call seems to point to another direction. The buyer, perhaps?”
“Don’t forget the threatening calls, too. Or that first night, when you were followed.”
“Yes, what is this thing they’re all after, that they think she has gotten from the seller?”
“Our intel interception had only mentioned a contract out, and that Marlena Maxwell was going to D.C. That’s usually code for her taking on a job.” Cam’s voice turned thoughtful, as if he was getting intrigued, too. He scratched the back of his neck, pushing his long hair out of the way. “You’re right. Knowing what the article is could be the key.”
“Can you get the files from before two years? Or some of them.”
“Sure. What are you looking for?”
“Don’t know yet. Just gut
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