Heart of an Assassin (Circle of Spies) (10 page)

I froze as Robert walked toward me with a smug grin, each step filled with purpose. Three older gentlemen with arrogance in their stride, all carrying their brandies, passed in front of him. I took the opportunity to dash behind the nearest art sculpture, realized that was a terrible idea, and then dove behind the hedge decorating the side of the house. I crouched, the fringes of my dress skimming the neatly trimmed lawn. I wanted to stay right there and wished this whole thing away.

Robert spun slowly in a circle, his eagle eyes searching every face on the dance floor. He craned his neck and I prayed the guy would pull a muscle. His false sense of power rolled off him in waves. As guests passed him they tried to sneak in a word or two with him but he brushed them off. At one point, his gaze rested on the hedge and I immediately came up with some excuses as to why I was crouched there. I dropped an earring. I had a panic/anxiety disorder. I thought he was the biggest creep and was avoiding him. Okay that one probably wouldn't go over too well but I was beginning to appreciate the truth since it was something I barely experienced.

Luck intervened and a slutty blonde sidled up to him, her chest pushed out and brushing his suit coat. His gaze naturally travelled downward and then she grabbed his arm and led him to the dance floor. Thankfully, the creep couldn't say no to beauty. As soon as he turned his back, I dashed into the front entrance.

Inside, while my eyes adjusted to the dark, I rubbed my arms. I could do this. Get in and get out. No problem. Voices of waiters neared and I snuck into a hallway and pressed up against the wall. As soon as they passed I followed Malcolm’s instructions: straight through the first room, down the stair, first hallway on the right, second door on the left.

The door opened easily and I slipped inside. The large office was nothing like Bartholomew's and at first I couldn't move. Pottery was smashed on the floor, their shards in scattered piles. Intricately designed wrought iron lamps lay across one another like a pile of Pick Up Sticks. The entire room seemed a mishmash of different cultures from the thick Persian rug to the pottery to the odds and ends stacked on shelves. Had someone searched the room before me? My heart plummeted as I realized the evidence I needed to photograph might have been stolen.

The whole creep vibe pulsed in the room and freaked me out. I went straight to the desk, which had papers piled up just waiting for me. I fumbled inside my dress for the mini camera and started taking random pictures of the papers on the desk. One after another. This took several minutes and then I went to the first filing cabinet. I searched for Gerald and pulled out his file. I snapped more pictures, but I had a feeling this was the same background information we already had on Constance.

But I noticed a map, hand drawn blueprints of some kind of building but there were huge chunks missing. The ends were torn as if he studied this a lot. My fingers tingled just touching the worn paper. With a delicate touch, I folded it and stuck it inside the secret compartment of the purse Janelle had loaned me, then I stuffed the file back in the cabinet.

I moved onto the wooden crate against the wall that should’ve been in a warehouse and not a plush office. With my fingertips under the lid, I pulled it up. Dusty scrolls and parchments were stacked to the brim.

“Find anything interesting?”

I dropped the lid with a slam and whipped around to find Robert leaning against the doorway, with a predatory grin.

“I, um, was looking for the bathroom,” I blurted out. Crap.

“Bathroom, really.” He massaged the sides of his chin. “I find that rather odd.”

I took a few steps toward the doorway, but he moved to block my exit.
 

“Why would a pretty little thing like yourself in need of a tinkle look for a bathroom on the basement floor. Why not on the first floor? Why not ask one of the waiters?”

“They were occupied, and you know, I had to go.” I crossed my legs for effect.

“Hmm.” He rested his hand on a lamp and then two seconds later sent it crashing to the floor, the bulb shattering and tiny pieces of glass scattering. “I don’t like it when people lie to me.”

Needle pricks of panic started in my toes and spread up my legs until they attacked my chest. I could barely breathe. I realized that the damage in the room was the result of his uncontrollable rage. He made up the distance between us in three giant strides. Within seconds, the sudden rage passed and lust took its place. His eyes moved from my face and then lower, desire flashing as he wiggled his fingers in anticipation.

It was all I could do not to spit in his face. I leaned one arm against the wall and struck a casual pose like a proper spy in a moment of danger, but then he let the backs of his fingers trail down the side of my arm.

“You might need to be punished for trespassing.”

All my training seeped out of my mind and lay in a puddle on the floor. The tips, the advice, the knowledge abandoned me.

“People always misunderstand me.” Again, the rage flickered in the pulsing of his jaw. He grabbed a ceramic mug from the desk and smashed it against the wall. Then his twitching muscles calmed and he said casually, “They say I have a temper.”

I winced.

“But really, I don't. It's quite simple. If people respect me, I respect them.” His hand moved up and into my hair and he pulled me toward him. His whiskey breath blasted my face, the sour smell making my insides curl. “Why, why, why, do people think they can cross me?”

“Because they’re stupid?” I closed my eyes, to prevent a tear from leaking out the side.

He yanked my head back. Pain rippled across my scalp and I hung in midair. He controlled my body like my hair strands were strings and I was the puppet. He yanked me back up and brought his mouth to my ear. “Smart girl.”
 

He threw me to the ground and I gasped as the wind got knocked out of me. I scrambled away from him on all fours.

“Come now. No need to be so scared.” He jumped with ease and sat on his desk. “It's really rather simple. You tell me why you're here and then I'll see if I can help you. If I can't, I'll let you go.”

“What?”

“You heard me and I'm a man of my word.” He snorted. “Unlike some I know.”

I struggled for words. I couldn't tell him about the pictures but I could feed him half-truths. “The family I'm living with, they sent me.” Doubt flickered on his face so I smiled like I was telling the truth when in fact I had no idea why they’d sent me into this man’s house or why they wanted pictures of his private papers.

“Ah, yes. I know exactly the family you’re referring to. That doesn't surprise me at all, the bumbling amateurs. But that’s not your fault and I consider myself a fair man.” He tapped his chin. “Now why would they send an amateur like you to spy on me when they are more than capable of taking care of the job? And what could they possibly need that I haven’t already told them? Hmm. How fun!” He clapped in excitement. “I do like a good puzzle.” He was back at my side before I could move. He traced his hand down my jaw and lingered right below my mouth. “And you my dear are an interesting one.”

“They want to know about Constance,” I blurted out, anxious to get as far away from this man as possible. No wonder Will’s family wanted to spy on this guy: they didn’t trust him. I wouldn’t either and I didn’t need assassin instincts to figure that out.

Robert didn't have a quick reply at the ready. The name Constance seemed to affect him. His face paled but slowly turned various shades of red from the neck up. He fiddled with a pencil and snapped it in half.

“That traitor!” His words shot out, laced with venom and hatred. He paced the room, mumbling to himself.

I inched toward the door, ready to run and never look back. Malcolm was telling the truth: Robert was mad at Constance and hired assassins to do away with him. I hid my gasp.

He flipped and marched toward me. “I already told them everything about that traitor!” His fingers wrapped around my bare arms and he shook me. “Why are you really here?” He let go and beat his chest with his fist. “To kill me?”

“No, absolutely not. I, I don't know anything.”

“Ha! Liar!” He patted my head and seemed to calm down with every stroke of my hair. “That's okay, I'll tell you even if they won’t. Constance is a thief!” He pointed a finger in the air and his face reddened again. “We were partners! Then he bowed out, after stealing the map and handing me a fake. You hear me? He took my money and never followed through! Cutting me out of everything. My hopes. My dreams. That kind of betrayal only deserves one kind of punishment.”

He didn't have to tell me. “Death?”

Robert’s anger disappeared again, and he did another one eighty, transforming back into the smiling host. “Too bad you got caught with your fingers in the cookie jar. You’ve told me the truth, what you know of it. I can see you're just a pawn.” He struck a finger in the air. “But,” his voice got louder, “even pawns must pay their dues.”

Robert came at me with his hands aimed at my boobs.

His hands briefly skimmed my chest and light twinkled in his eyes, then the lunatic grasped my hand and dragged me to the middle of the office floor. I struggled, but his iron grip made it impossible to escape.

“We never did get our dance. That naughty boy kept you all to himself.”

My cheeks flamed.

“You are quite transparent. One dance with me, and you’ll forget all about him. The ladies simply can’t resist me.”

He clapped and music flicked on to some sort of waltz. He put one arm behind my back and held the other one up in the air. “May I have this dance?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Ooh, I like a girl with some spice. You could say no…”

His words trailed off but I didn’t care for the underlying suggestion of what would happen if I did say no, so I played along. He wasn’t nearly as good as Malcolm and I felt stiff and awkward.

“Relax,” he whispered in my ear as his hand rubbed my lower back and slid down to my butt.

I wanted to puke and kick some major bad guy ass. But I had to be smart. I’d seen enough movies to know to play along until the right time, after he’d fallen under my seductive spell and relaxed.

He twirled me under his arm and then resumed the position. “I’m willing to forgive and forget, but your boss needs to realize he can’t mess with me.”

Robert continued to talk but it was mostly egotistical babble. I flashed back to all the training in the past few weeks, the impromptu running and fights and missions through Athens. This was what I’d prepared for, a moment like this, filled with danger, a bad guy, and me. My patience with waiting for the right moment wore thin. I wasn’t doing anything but letting this guy control the situation. Major spy fail moment. I jerked out of my thoughts when he pushed me away. In a blur I saw his hand pull back but I didn’t understand what was happening until I felt the sting of his hand on my face. Tears sprang to my eyes.

He yanked me close again. “When I talk people listen and you are no exception. Understand?”

I nodded, numb with the shock and pain of his action. He resumed the dancing position and forced me across the floor. I stumbled and found it hard to keep up the pretense. I was done being the stooge, the ‘fraidy cat. I’d subjected myself to Will and his family and the dangers that came with that so I’d be able to defend myself. I certainly didn’t risk it all for nothing, for this.

I kicked him in the shins and then ducked. “Sorry. Guess I’m a bit clueless.”

Robert grabbed his leg. His eyes flashed. “That wasn’t very nice.” He reached out to grab a fistful of hair but I swerved.

Malcolm’s words came back to me. Use what you have. You might not always have a gun or knife on you. And wasn't that the truth? I peeled my feet off the floor and took a step toward the back wall. I just happened to pick up a letter opener on the way. Robert growled and moved toward me slowly. I held up my fists, the sharp end of the file pointing out.

“Don’t think I won’t take you out,” I threatened.

He laughed. “Oh, my dear. You are such a treat, a breath of fresh air. No wonder those silly assassins keep you around. What fun.” In response to my brandishing a file, he undid the belt from around his waist and snapped it in the air.

Prickles popped. My heart pumped blood so hard and fast it sounded like a base drum. I dropped the letter opener and dove for his legs, hoping to knock him over. He fell but then I took a foot in the side of the head. With my ears ringing and blurred vision I attacked again with my fists, ready to pound his face, but I missed. He moved with the poise of a ninja and it became clear that this psycho had many more weeks, probably years, of training than me.

I grabbed a pottery shard and threw it at his head. It spun and wobbled through the air and even though he saw it coming he didn’t dodge it fast enough. My lucky day. The edge scraped his cheek and created a three-inch gash. Blood flowed instantly and dripped down his face. A few spots landed on his fancy clothes. He lifted his fingers up and pulled them away. His eyes widened and his face slowly turned color, matching the dark red that stained his cheek.

“This new suit just arrived from Paris.” His words spit out from between his clenched teeth. “The games are over, honey. You want to dance with the big boys?”

“Bring it on!” I yelled, though I couldn’t hide the tremor in my voice.
 

He charged at me though without the belt. Instead he used his body force and rammed me into the wall. Breath shot out from my chest and I crumpled to the floor, sucking in air. He kicked me in the stomach and as soon as I stumbled to my feet, he punched my back and pushed me into the desk. The side of my face hit a vase and cracked the glass in two.

He laughed.

I slumped across the desk. My cheek rested on the cool metal. Pain shot through my body and I could barely move. I groaned, making sure he could hear, hoping to lure him closer. His mocking chuckles pushed me to slide my hand across the desk and grasp a paperweight.

“Oh, dear. I hope your family of assassins don’t mind that I play with the new intern.” He traced a finger down my back and handled my butt. Again.

Too far, man. Way too far.

He pressed his hips up against my backside and stretched his body over mine. He nibbled my ear. “I think some punishment is in order.”
 

My fingers dug into the paperweight and as soon as creepo gave me wriggle room, I flipped and brought the weight against his head. He slumped over onto me and we crashed to the floor. My chest heaved and I gasped for breath under his weight. I couldn't talk. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. But I was alive.

Someone knocked on the door and yelled, “Savvy!”

I groaned, but Malcolm couldn’t hear me. I think it was Malcolm. It sounded like Malcolm.

“The door is locked. Open it up!”

“Okay.” My voice quivered. I put my hands against Robert’s meaty body and pushed with all my strength. Finally with one last grunt and hard shove, he rolled off. I crawled across the floor and reached up and unlocked the door. Malcolm opened it just as I fell forward.

Mission accomplished. And I was alive.

His strong arms around me had never felt so good. My head fell against his shirt, and his smell, his warmth embraced me. He pulled away. His eyes filled with love and concern, he touched the cut on my cheek. “What did that asshole do?”

“I’ll tell you later.” I grabbed his hand, ready to collapse.

He kissed my forehead and then we ran. The halls flashed by. Smells of freshly baked bread assaulted me. The kitchen. Cooks gasped. Malcolm spoke in Greek and soothed their concerns. Then fresh air brushed my skin, creating goose bumps.

I passed out from exhaustion right near the car. He lay me down in the backseat. Smoothing my hair against my face. Whispering in my ear. Kissing my cheek. Making promises.

But promises didn't mean anything to me. Not anymore.