If Looks Could Kill (4 page)

“Let's see, um, only
everyone
.”

“Well, check this out, Miss Sarcasm.” Suddenly twin red lasers shot out of Theresa's lenses. In seconds they burned through the steel clasp of the padlock. It burst open and clanked to the ground.

Theresa shut down the lasers and grinned at Jo.

“Holy Superman, Batman!” Jo marveled. “You have heat vision!”

“Just a little bit,” Theresa replied, holding her thumb and index finger a smidgen apart.

“You sneak!” Jo exclaimed, whacking Theresa's arm. “How come Caylin and I didn't get glasses like those?”

Theresa shrugged. “Neither of you wear glasses. I need them to see my computer screen. Uncle Sam thought they might come in handy.”

“Oh, that's fair. You're blind, so Cay and I get the shaft. Very nice.”

“Shut your
boca,
girl. We have a warehouse to search. Or are you going to play the Spy Who Whined a Lot?” Theresa teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,”
Jo growled, and opened the warehouse door. “But next time I'm requesting forty-four-magnum Gucci pumps.”

The door creaked open, revealing a dark hallway. Jo and Theresa slipped inside and shut it behind them, plunging themselves in total darkness.

“I don't suppose you have little floodlights on your designer eyewear,” Jo teased.

“You mean you didn't bring your flashlight?” Theresa muttered. She produced her own minilight. It was about the size of a cigarette lighter but very powerful. All the Spy Girls had one.

“I travel light,” Jo replied indignantly.

“Too bad you don't travel flashlight,” Theresa joked.

“You have absolutely no sense of style, Theresa, and it shows in your insults.”

“Oh, rip my heart out, why don't you.” Theresa shone the light at the far end of the dingy corridor. There was a rotted-looking door, peeling paint and all. “Come on.”

They listened at the door but heard nothing. The hinges creaked angrily when they opened it, but no one seemed to be around to hear it. They found the main floor of the warehouse, a huge chamber half the size of a football field. It was big enough to hold an army of crates. And other
than some splintered wood, foam peanuts, and rat droppings, it was empty.

“Yuck,” Jo said, grimacing. “How about
that
smell?”

“Yep,” Theresa replied, shining her light around. “That is definitely, without a doubt, a smell.”

“And you call me a cynic,” Jo muttered. “What now, Miss Dry Humor?”

“There are four or five more floors,” Theresa suggested with a shrug.

Jo rolled her eyes. “Terrif.”

The search continued, but all they found was more of the same—except for some live rats cluttering in the corners. Which didn't make either Spy Girl very happy. They also found an office on the second floor. But other than cobwebs, a desk, and a rickety old chair, it had been picked clean.

They returned to the first floor, near a series of rusty garage doors that served as the main loading dock.

Theresa sighed. “Well, that's it.”

“What about the basement?” Jo asked, delicately risking a seat on a crate.

“I don't think there is one,” Theresa said. “There's no way down. Maybe the building's too close to the water to have a basement.”

Jo picked a piece of warehouse grit from her perfectly pressed Calvin Klein jeans. “Who knows. What's the next move?”

Theresa shrugged. “I guess we head back to the flat. Hopefully my new laptop has arrived. I can take another hack at Lucien.”

“And I can have a bath,” Jo replied, wiping her hands on her sweet Armani sleeves.

They moved toward the front door, but something she saw out of the corner of her eye stopped Theresa. Something on the floor a few yards away. She shone the light.

It was a bright piece of cloth, decorated with an intricate red-and-yellow pattern.

“Hold up, Jo.” Theresa picked it up and showed her partner. Jo reached out and held it between her forefinger and thumb, rubbing the fabric.

“It's silk,” she said. “
Nice
silk.”

“Look, it's cut into a sleeve pattern,” Theresa pointed
out. “But it hasn't been sewn yet. Maybe they were storing textiles here.”

“Yeah, and maybe it was left from the previous owner,” Jo replied. “I mean, silk in East Asia isn't all that rare, right?”

“Right,” Theresa said, dropping the sleeve. “I think I'm just clue happy. I'm starving—let's get some dinner.”

They hit the street, checking first to see if anyone was lurking. The coast seemed clear. Theresa tossed what was left of the padlock into the harbor, and they walked briskly toward the tourist district.

“I wonder how Caylin's doing,” Jo said, looking out at the water.

“Probably up to her black belt in peace and love,” Theresa replied. “Hope she doesn't go crazy. I bet—”

A loud roar cut Theresa off. The Spy Girls whirled at the sound. And froze.

Four motorcycles squealed around the corner. Each was driven by a mystery figure clad in black leather from head to toe. As Theresa and Jo watched, stunned, the motorcycles stopped in a row and sat there, revving their engines ominously.

“Friends of yours from home?” Theresa whispered.

“Not me,” Jo replied with a gulp. “Maybe we look like old girlfriends.”

“That must be it,” Theresa said, taking a tentative step back. “Who says romance is dead?”

“Romance . . . or
us
?”

The riders' leather seemed darker than Darth Vader's in the dim light. Their helmets covered their entire heads, and the visors were mirrored. But that wasn't the worst part.

Each rider carried a weapon. One had a baseball bat. Another had a pair of nunchaku—two lengths of wood attached by a thick chain. A third had a telescoping steel baton. And the last rider?

He slowly reached over his shoulder and unsheathed a razor-sharp samurai sword. He held the sword high and spun his wheels in place, kicking up a cloud of gray smoke.

“Uh, T. . . .”

“Yeah, Jo?” Theresa said, staring at the blade.

“I think we're in trouble.”

With a loud screech of rubber, all four riders roared toward the Spy Girls!

Caylin traced circles in the gravel with her toe. Jenny had been gone for a while, disappearing into the main temple. Caylin hoped that Uncle Sam had spotted her enough money to catch Luscious Lucien's eye. If not, she'd be stuck in this compound a very long time until she could get close to him.

Ha, Caylin thought. The almighty buck. You could buy your way into just about anything these days.

Off to her right small groups of “members” made their way from one building to another across the compound. Chow time? Maybe. This looked like a parade of the whole crew. They were dressed in the same simple white clothes as Jenny. And from what Caylin could see in the dim light, Jenny was right. All were about her age—yet all the faces were different. A true mix of nationalities from across the
planet. Their manner was calm and leisurely. Their laughter genuine. They didn't have a care in the world.

Interesting.

Then Caylin caught sight of three men with shaved heads walking in a different direction.

Hmmm. More interesting.

Caylin wandered off the gravel path to get a better look at the men.

They were dressed differently than the members. Black robes. Very loose fitting. They were also much older than the members, and they all seemed so intense. Priests? Caylin doubted that. Yes, priests could be very intense, but this was a different kind of intensity. These men focused on what was going on
around
them, not inside them.

She'd only seen that kind of look in one other place—on the faces of the Secret Service types that she sometimes sparred with in the Tower gym.

Security. Yeah, that made sense. There sure was an army surplus of them. And the guy at the front gate was definitely rude enough.

Caylin felt a twinge of adrenaline. With that many guards around, she'd have to watch herself. . . .

“Hey,” came a voice.

Caylin turned to see Jenny. Smiling as always.

“You weren't thinking of wandering off, were you?” she asked not so innocently.

Caylin smiled. “Not at all. I just wanted to get a better look at the sunset.”

Jenny nodded. “You'll get some positively amazing sunsets in these mountains. Enjoy them. We all do.”

Of course you do, Caylin thought. No music, no gym, no TV. What else is there?

Jenny suddenly pulled Caylin close. “I have good news,” she whispered. “Lucien has granted you an audience for a few brief moments.”

“Awesome!” Caylin piped.

Jenny laughed and guided Caylin toward the main temple. “I know how you feel. I remember my first audience with Lucien. He's so . . .
in tune,
you know? It's like he can immediately read into your soul.”

Hope not, Caylin thought, but forced herself to play up
the breathless excitement. “Oh, I can't believe I'm actually going to meet him. Do I look okay?”

That was such a Jo thing to say, Caylin thought. Ugh.

“You'll do fine,” Jenny reassured her. “Just be open and natural. Everything will take care of itself.”

“O-okay.”

When they got close to the large, ornate doors of the main temple, they swung inward like doors on an ultratacky Las Vegas supermarket. Caylin nearly burst out laughing.

But that feeling evaporated when she got a peek inside.

The ceiling had to be a hundred feet high.

Thick pillows for kneeling were lined up in a circle, surrounding a raised sofalike structure that was no doubt for Lucien. The walls were decorated in silver and gold, with an extensive collection of vases and sculpture throughout. She also noticed a pair of shaved heads hovering in the shadows. Caylin thought it odd that she was technically in a house of worship, but she saw no traditional religious trappings. She wondered exactly what Lucien and his followers worshiped.

“This is one of the main meditation chambers,” Jenny whispered. “You'll eventually think of this place as your natural center. This is where all wrongs inside you become right again.”

What
ever
, Jennifer, Caylin thought. This girl was just too placid for her. Caylin's natural center would forever be a gymnasium. But she had to play along. “It's beautiful, Jenny. I can't imagine a more perfect place.”

“I told you so. We meet here as a group once a day in the morning. That way you can face your day without any questions. You always know where you belong.”

Caylin leaned in close. “Where's Lucien?”

Jenny patted her hand. “Be patient. He'll be here soon. And then you can begin your new life.”

Caylin tried to convey a desperate smile—as if to say that this place was her last hope. But she didn't want to overdo it. Jenny seemed so insanely happy, but how much was too much with these people? And what would happen if they figured out Caylin was a fake?

Suddenly a gong sounded.

Jenny stiffened. “It's time.” She patted Caylin's hand
once again and said, “Good luck.” Then she retreated into the shadows.

Caylin whirled around. She didn't know which way to look. Then she spotted a set of double doors at the opposite end of the temple. With another deafening
gong,
the double doors slowly slid open.

She saw a silhouette, backlit by an intense floodlight. A tall, slim figure of a man. Flowing robes. Unearthly glow. An entrance fit for a king. The man stepped forward, and Caylin got her first good look at him. It was true. It was him.

Luscious Lucien West!

•  •  •

“Think it'll work if we play dead?” Theresa asked.

The motorcycles headed straight for them. The riders brandished their weapons, looking real ready to take the Spy Girls' heads off.

“That only works with grizzly bears!” Jo replied, shoving Theresa out of the way. “Look out!”

They split to each side of the alley, ducking between rusted garbage cans and mounds of junk. The cycles roared by, missing them by inches.

Jo and Theresa shared a look. This was serious.

The riders locked up their brakes fifty paces down the alley, stopping in a screech of burning rubber. They immediately turned the bikes around.

“What's the plan?” Theresa shouted to Jo.

“You're the smart one,” Jo replied. “Talk to them.”

“You're the flirt—
you
talk to them,” Theresa yelled.

The bad guys gunned the engines once again and tore toward them. The weapons whirled above their heads—waiting to come down on the Spy Girls' own.

“I think hiding in the garbage is a bad idea!” Theresa hollered.

“I think you're
riiiiiighhht! Whoa!
”

The baseball bat came within inches of Jo's skull as the bikers raced by again. They screeched to a halt like before, but this time they were much closer. The Spy Girls had seconds to act.

“That's
it
!” Jo screamed. “That came very close to the hair!”

“What are you going to do?” Theresa asked desperately, watching in obvious horror as Jo stood up, grabbed a hunk
of discarded wood, and marched defiantly to the middle of the alley. “Jo! Are you
nuts
?”

“Hey!” Jo called. “You! Yeah, you, the ugly one with the bat!” Jo brandished her own rickety club. “If you're so tough, why don't you come fight like a man!”

“Jo! He'll kill you!” Theresa pleaded.

“I'm defending myself,” Jo replied angrily. “Just like the manual says I should.”

“The manual didn't mention swords and bats!” Theresa shouted.

But it was too late. The rider with the bat came forward alone, responding to Jo's taunt. The other three stayed back, probably enjoying the show.