presentation was particularly
intriguing. He was cute and his accent was to-die-for; nevertheless, in the
middle of the night, she turned down an opportunity to try out slide
fifty-seven in the bathroom. “I'm flattered, but I need to be focused when we
land. However pleasant, that would be a distraction.” Instead, she read the UN
Bill of Human Rights and Plato’s Republic , taking copious notes.
In the morning, as Gerard picked up
his carry-on to leave the plane, he handed her a card with only a phone number.
“You are more adept than we suspected. I am authorized to offer you one million
dollars a year to work for a winning team.”
Suddenly, she felt vulnerable. He
had her boxed in, with no opportunity for a solid kick. Bodyguards from the London office wouldn’t be meeting her till she got through the baggage claim. “I think you
might have me confused with someone else.”
“Fortune will fall sooner than you
think. A smart woman like you knows where the future will be.” He dropped a
tiny pellet on the arm of her seat.
“Poison?” she asked. Fortunately,
she was still sitting, because the brush with death was making her dizzy.
“I would sooner deface the Mona
Lisa , but next time, it won’t be me. Decide soon, chérie .”
She slipped the pellet into her purse
before it rolled to the floor and some poor janitor got exposed. Heart racing,
she staggered off the plane and went to the phones. Hand shaking, she dialed
the number for Benny’s cell. “Buddy?”
He sounded genuinely glad to hear
from her. “Hey, Dirt Bag’s team has a new lead. A Falun Gong cell that claims
they have a combination of proteins and vitamins from common plants and herbs
that provides all the nutrition a human body needs. He sent out friendly scouts
to see if the brew has any Golden assistance. He’s taking you seriously!” After
a pause, hearing nothing but a choked sob, Benny snapped to alert. “What’s
wrong?”
“Fossil contact. Join or die. Expect
another attempt on DB soon.”
She heard his warm voice say, “Understood.
Anything else I should know?”
“I need a bloody drink. Double the
guard on Oobie, one guard in his room and one outside at all times.”
“We can scrub this mission
immediately. Catch the next flight home. I’ll send two men along.”
“No. Now it’s more important than
ever.”
He paused and his tone grew softer.
“I wish I were there to give you a hug when you need it.”
The heartfelt sentiment meant more
to her than slide fifty-seven ever could have. Jez reminded him, “The rules say
we can’t risk more than one of us in the field at a time. You need to stay
safe.”
Hanging up, she composed herself
for a long minute before going out to meet her team. Belatedly, she regretted
risking the butterfly on this trip. If she had fallen asleep on the long
flight, the enemy agent could have stolen it. She couldn’t afford to screw up
again.
****
Since she had arrived at 7:00 a.m.,
Jez had the driver take her to the hotel first. She had to shower, eat, and
psych herself up for the meeting. She chose the charcoal-grey, skirted suit
with a burgundy, silk, sleeveless chemise—competent yet feminine. Her shoes
were black and low-heeled. She put in eye drops to dampen the effects of
fatigue and fear.
Back in the car by 8:30 a.m., she
arrived at the target’s office early. An exceedingly hairy man with a Liverpool accent briefed her in the back seat. He had coarse hair everywhere. Even his
elbows were wooly. “Wolfman Jacques,” the man told her.
“ Hypertrichosis ?” she asked. He nodded. “ Dirt Bag can be an ass with his code
names.”
“I think it’s revenge for his own,
ma’am. They’re more tolerant here. I was Werewolf of London when stationed
there and Hairy Potter before that. This is still better than working in a
carnival.”
When she closed her eyes to
concentrate, his voice reminded her of the Beatles. “The subject is Thomas
Pierson, a Belgian national,
intriguing. He was cute and his accent was to-die-for; nevertheless, in the
middle of the night, she turned down an opportunity to try out slide
fifty-seven in the bathroom. “I'm flattered, but I need to be focused when we
land. However pleasant, that would be a distraction.” Instead, she read the UN
Bill of Human Rights and Plato’s Republic , taking copious notes.
In the morning, as Gerard picked up
his carry-on to leave the plane, he handed her a card with only a phone number.
“You are more adept than we suspected. I am authorized to offer you one million
dollars a year to work for a winning team.”
Suddenly, she felt vulnerable. He
had her boxed in, with no opportunity for a solid kick. Bodyguards from the London office wouldn’t be meeting her till she got through the baggage claim. “I think you
might have me confused with someone else.”
“Fortune will fall sooner than you
think. A smart woman like you knows where the future will be.” He dropped a
tiny pellet on the arm of her seat.
“Poison?” she asked. Fortunately,
she was still sitting, because the brush with death was making her dizzy.
“I would sooner deface the Mona
Lisa , but next time, it won’t be me. Decide soon, chérie .”
She slipped the pellet into her purse
before it rolled to the floor and some poor janitor got exposed. Heart racing,
she staggered off the plane and went to the phones. Hand shaking, she dialed
the number for Benny’s cell. “Buddy?”
He sounded genuinely glad to hear
from her. “Hey, Dirt Bag’s team has a new lead. A Falun Gong cell that claims
they have a combination of proteins and vitamins from common plants and herbs
that provides all the nutrition a human body needs. He sent out friendly scouts
to see if the brew has any Golden assistance. He’s taking you seriously!” After
a pause, hearing nothing but a choked sob, Benny snapped to alert. “What’s
wrong?”
“Fossil contact. Join or die. Expect
another attempt on DB soon.”
She heard his warm voice say, “Understood.
Anything else I should know?”
“I need a bloody drink. Double the
guard on Oobie, one guard in his room and one outside at all times.”
“We can scrub this mission
immediately. Catch the next flight home. I’ll send two men along.”
“No. Now it’s more important than
ever.”
He paused and his tone grew softer.
“I wish I were there to give you a hug when you need it.”
The heartfelt sentiment meant more
to her than slide fifty-seven ever could have. Jez reminded him, “The rules say
we can’t risk more than one of us in the field at a time. You need to stay
safe.”
Hanging up, she composed herself
for a long minute before going out to meet her team. Belatedly, she regretted
risking the butterfly on this trip. If she had fallen asleep on the long
flight, the enemy agent could have stolen it. She couldn’t afford to screw up
again.
****
Since she had arrived at 7:00 a.m.,
Jez had the driver take her to the hotel first. She had to shower, eat, and
psych herself up for the meeting. She chose the charcoal-grey, skirted suit
with a burgundy, silk, sleeveless chemise—competent yet feminine. Her shoes
were black and low-heeled. She put in eye drops to dampen the effects of
fatigue and fear.
Back in the car by 8:30 a.m., she
arrived at the target’s office early. An exceedingly hairy man with a Liverpool accent briefed her in the back seat. He had coarse hair everywhere. Even his
elbows were wooly. “Wolfman Jacques,” the man told her.
“ Hypertrichosis ?” she asked. He nodded. “ Dirt Bag can be an ass with his code
names.”
“I think it’s revenge for his own,
ma’am. They’re more tolerant here. I was Werewolf of London when stationed
there and Hairy Potter before that. This is still better than working in a
carnival.”
When she closed her eyes to
concentrate, his voice reminded her of the Beatles. “The subject is Thomas
Pierson, a Belgian national,
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