Blonde Ops (27 page)

Nothing in school, or what I'd done online, had been this intense. Changing a grade, putting my name first on the electronic sign-up list for concert tickets, and torrenting movies that were still in the theater were nothing compared to this. I had a new respect for Candace and the agents. It was kind of thrilling, being almost on the inside. My life didn't need any more complications and trouble, but being here in the middle of spies and plots and danger was exhilarating.

When I got within sight of the offices, a sudden anxiousness overtook me. When the shoot was wrapped up, would Parker be in any shape for Candace to hand me over to her? Not that I needed or wanted watching, but being a minor, I knew that was the way things had to be. Would I be going to New York as scheduled, or staying here? I was powerless to make a choice about what happened. All I knew was that the end of my time here also meant the end of my time with Dante and Taj.

God, I would miss Dante's golden smile. And clinging to him as we darted through the streets on the back of his Vespa. We could meet up in the states
if
he came over like he wanted to, and
if
it happened to be wherever my next school was, and
if
I wasn't kept under lock and key. Leaving would mean no more chats over shared gelato, strolling through quaint and quiet side streets, and sneaking up secret staircases.

And Taj … Without the Secret Service and Candace and the First Lady hovering in the background, we could just be us. He traveled the world: if he wanted to, we could meet up again.

And share tech secrets and tricks.

And kisses …

This had been the best week of my life—but who knew what would happen next?

Resigned to wait for my fate, I went into the office. Everything was ready for Theresa Jennings's last visit. All the porcelain coffee cups were sparkling clean and neatly lined up, and fresh pastries and fruit were laid out on pretty plates. There were full jugs of water and juice, and a professional barista in a uniform and apron manned the espresso machine. Maybe Kevin's OCD was actually coming in handy for once.

“Everything's in order! Don't even
think
about using the kitchen!” Kevin shouted when he stomped into the common area.

“Relax,” Sophie said in a soothing voice. “Everything's fine.”

He nodded and seemed to calm down. I saw her squeeze his hand before he left to check on something else. Everyone seemed to be on their best behavior today, and nobody was bickering. Ugi appeared to accept that Joe and Varon were a duo, and Joe wasn't as snippy to Ugi. Everyone seemed content.

For now.

“Bec, please get me the photos from Claudio,” Kevin said, “in case we need to take additional shots. Aldo, are you ready?” Kevin rushed off to check on the photographer.

Wait.
Kevin
. Said
please
. To
me
.

I wondered if Taj had fixed his credit dilemma.

Shaking my head in amazement, I retrieved a stack of glossy prints from the photo editor's table and flipped through them. He'd marked a number of shots that he thought might work.

Mrs. Jennings with a handful of schoolkids in uniforms.

Mrs. Jennings with a pair of laughing nuns.

A little girl tugging on Mrs. Jennings's dress. Cute.

Same little girl, eyes opened wide as the First Lady smiled at her.

Mrs. Jennings taking off her cape, part of it flipped over and draped over her arm.

A small silver glint on the exposed lining caught my eye. Using a photo magnifier, I peered closer. A sharply inhaled breath caught in my throat. That bit of metal wasn't a snap or button—it was a mini GPS. A tracking bug.

Someone had tagged the First Lady.

I looked at the photo again, noting every little detail. Everyone looked so happy. The little kids, Mrs. Jennings, the nuns. Even the policeman in the background.

The policeman.

This time I could see his very distinctive profile. And then it hit me.

It looked like the Man from the warehouse.

His longish, silvery hair was the same as the policeman at the Pantheon and the security guard at the Forte.

He'd been everywhere. What were the odds?

After glancing around to make sure no one was watching me, I made a photocopy of the Man's picture, intent on showing it to Candace first chance I got. Taking a quick peek out the windows, I scanned all around: up and down the street, even straight across, trying to peer into the windows of the buildings across the way, looking for him. He was everywhere else, why wouldn't he be here now? And what was he up to?

Could he be the one who'd sabotaged Parker's car?

No. That would mean Candace was working with a kidnapper or worse. Anyone could be duped under the right circumstances, but there were things that didn't seem to fit—so many pieces to this puzzle. I tried to clear my mind and focus on each suspect, starting with the Man.

The first time I saw him, he was with Candace at the warehouse. The second time was at the Pantheon, and the time after that at the Forte, then again at the Vatican. At the Pantheon and St. Peter's Square, the Man played a policeman.

My heart skipped a beat.

Who was the other common denominator almost
every single time
?

Me.

And with the exception of the warehouse, Taj.

If there was any connection …

I
had
to tell Candace.

First, I found Kevin. “Here are the pictures from Claudio. Some look useable,” I said, pushing them into his hands.

He rifled through them. “Hmmm. Maybe we can use one or two. Serena will have to approve which ones. But there aren't enough.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I'm going to have Angelo take as many shots as he can here in the office during the interview. We can crop some into head shots and Photoshop the backgrounds.” He handed the photos back to me. “Thanks, Bec. Put these on Serena's desk when you get a chance.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze, then marched off to talk with the photographer.

Wow. Who was this new and improved Kevin? Would it last?

I ran upstairs and dropped the photos on Serena's desk, then knocked on Candace's door.

“Come in!”

She was on the phone but waved to me to sit in a chair. It was the same one I'd sat in numerous other times to be yelled at, lectured to, or ordered about, but this time I had valuable intel.

“Okay, fine. Yes, sir.” Candace hung up and leaned back in her chair. “I'll be glad when this assignment is over, Bec.”

“Me too.”

Her phone buzzed. “Make it quick,” she said, as she looked at her phone, then me. “Mrs. Jennings will be here soon.” Sliding open the desk drawer, she pulled out her gun and holstered it.

The sight of the weapon still unnerved me. Yes, she was CIA and protecting the First Lady, so of course she'd have a gun, but it was still chilling to see it—because I knew she'd use it if she felt she had to.

“I was going through the pictures from Claudio before I gave them to Kevin and I saw—”

Her phone buzzed again and she quickly rose. “I have to meet up with Mrs. Jennings's limo. Sorry, Bec. We'll have to talk later.”

“But—”

She was out the door and gone before I could object. I couldn't just leave this. It was too important.

I bumped into Case in the hallway.

“Agent Case, I know something about—”

“Later, Miss Jackson,” he said, pushing by me to get downstairs to meet Mrs. Jennings.

Collins simply held up his hands when he passed me as I opened my mouth. “Not now.”

Really?

Frustrated, I sought out Ortiz, meeting her on the stairs. “I need to—”

“Mrs. Jennings will be here any moment.” She started to brush me off, just like everyone else, but I wasn't going to be dismissed again. Besides, she owed me.

I grabbed her arm, stopping her. “It's important! I think I know what's going on—who's after Mrs. Jennings and who put Parker in the hospital.”

That stopped her. She looked at me with agent eyes; they revealed nothing. “I have to stand watch by the front door, come with me. And keep your voice low, we don't want to get everyone all excited until we know what we're dealing with.” She checked all the front windows and peered out the door, down the street. With a look of satisfaction, Ortiz strolled over to the front desk where, amazingly, Francesca sat for once. Ortiz spoke low, and slowly—the scary voice—and punctuated every word with a finger tap on the desk.

“Do. Not. Move. From. This. Spot. We clear?”

Francesca couldn't bob her head fast enough. Maybe Ortiz should've been Francesca's watchdog instead of mine.

The agent moved off to the side of one of the large windows, her eyes continuing to scan outside. “Spill.”

“I was looking at Claudio's pictures. There was this man who was at all of the sites where Mrs. Jennings was having photo shoots, and I think that Mrs. Jennings's cape was bugged with a GPS. I have a photo—”

“What exactly did you see?”

Ugi and Joe passed by, arguing in Italian. I waited until they were gone to answer.

“A shiny, silver button. It looks like a tracking device.”

She stared at me blankly for a moment, then did a fast glance around the room. Mostly everyone was upstairs; only Ortiz, Francesca, and I were in the front part of the building. She pulled me closer.

“
We
put it there, in case of something like what happened at St. Peter's Square. Whenever anyone in the First Family travels, we do that in case our barrier is breached and they're taken hostage. Unfortunately, there was a malfunction and I had to yell.”

“Oh.” Of course they would track her, especially in a large crowd, it made sense. That still didn't explain my silver-haired policeman. “But what about the guy? He—”

She made as if to put a finger to my lips. “There are more agents around than the obvious ones.”

Right. Like Parker and Candace.

“
Don't
say anything. Mrs. Jennings hates being tagged, so we have to be subtle about it. And Candace will get angry if she even thinks that a layer of cover has been compromised.”

Her fingers on my arm were almost painful. After the Vatican incident, the last thing Ortiz must have wanted was more alone time with Candace.

“Okay, Ortiz, loosen up.” I pried her fingers off. She held her hands up and backed up a step.

“Sorry. This has been the worst assignment for bad luck.”

I wouldn't argue that.

“Don't worry, Bec,” Ortiz said, her voice calmer, “it's not a perfect system, but we have a lot of fail-safes.”

I should have felt better, but I didn't. Their backup security measures hadn't worked in the square—that had been luck. But I took a little comfort that here in the office, and with the agents around, the First Lady would be safe.

“I should go help upstairs.” Ortiz waved me away and returned to her vigil.

I helped Kevin and Sophie prep Mrs. Jennings's last wardrobe change, that simple sheath dress in effervescent green, paired with the oversized gold disc earrings and a gleaming pair of nude patent leather Louboutin pumps, the red sole shiny, new, and unworn.

I pushed the rolling rack with the dress and accessories into the models' changing room, which had been thoroughly cleaned just for Mrs. Jennings. Finished, I backed out, closed and locked the door.

Moments later, the other agents came in, surrounding Candace and the First Lady. The dressing room was inspected again before Mrs. Jennings and Candace went in. We stood by, waiting for them to come out, when I heard Nelson order Dante to wait by the door.

Earlier someone mentioned that today was payday; the checks were messengered over by the bank. Would there be one for me? I could use the cash.

I went down to the reception desk. There he was, holding a large envelope.

“Hello, Bec.”

“You're early,” I said as Francesca signed for it.

He peered past me at the agents milling about in the common area.

His eyebrows shot up. “She's still here?”

I drew in a slow deep breath, trying not to draw attention to us. Thank God she was leaving right after the interview. I was beyond ready for this all to be over with. Tomorrow I was declaring a free day and demanding to see Parker.

“Just wrapping everything up.” I put my hand on his arm. “I'm sorry, but you can't be here now.”

He leaned over to whisper in my ear, his lips brushing the lobe. It sent tingles down my spine. Only Dante—and Taj—could do that to me.

“Can I take a peek?”

Before I could refuse, his face suddenly hardened. He wasn't looking at me, but at someone behind me.

“I thought only authorized people were allowed in here today,” said Taj.

He said it loudly enough for Case and Nelson to turn around—and come over to where we were all clustered together.

Through clenched teeth, Dante said, “See you later, Bec. After
everyone's
gone. Maybe we can go to a club tonight. By
invitation only
. My cousin Antonietta is the hostess.”

“Maybe another time. I don't know how long this is going to take.”

“
Ciao
, Bec.” His voice was tight, but thankfully he didn't make a scene and left the office. Taj flashed his signature smirk. So much for easing international relations between those two.

I went upstairs just in time to see Mrs. Jennings come out of the dressing room looking more astounding than she had in the past three days.

“The best yet,” said Lidia, a proud and beaming smile creasing her face.

Mrs. Jennings laughed softly, then made her way into the studio. I followed along with everyone else. Even though so much preparation had been done, it seemed like there was no end of things to do. Ugi and Joe fawned over Mrs. Jennings while Angelo adjusted his camera and grumbled at Aldo for the thousandth time for being lazy. I thought that Serena would be happy now that she was finally allowed to be in on things, but she only slunk around the studio frowning and demanding changes.