His lips quivered like he might scream at me but he didn't. He reached forward, dragging me to him and planting a hard kiss on my lips. We remained there, frozen and not enjoying the kiss, for a moment before he shoved me back and walked from the room. “Stay here. When I have Rachel I will call.”
He walked away, obviously angry, and all I could think about was that I was going to have to avoid dying by Servario so Coop wouldn't know I had disobeyed his orders.
Midwestern, oh my!
“Evie!” Jack whispered harshly into my ear, waking me up from a dead sleep. I hadn’t meant to nap, but I was fully into it. “You awake?”
I moaned and rubbed my eyes. “No. Leave me alone.”
“Saudi Arabia just got bombed, apparently by Yemen, but they say they never did it. And Yemen is known for being fairly upfront about their bombings. They like it when people know it was them. The weird part is the bombs took out major hospitals.”
I opened my eyes and darted them to his face. “Shit.”
“Right!” He nodded. “This might become a thing. They attacked in Riyadh and only hit hospitals. And the Yemeni are flipping out, making public statements claiming it was not them.”
“The Organization is going to strike. They are preparing. Holy shit, you were right. I mean Saudi Arabia is a hot target but you nailed that. We have to go. I have flights booked for me and Luce for tonight.”
Jack’s lips curled. “You are going to disobey Coop?”
“Yeah. He’s being insane. He thinks I want to see Servario, which I don't. And he seems to be forgetting Servario is on the bad guys’ team and he’s going to be trying to kill us.” I rubbed my eyes again. “Did you try telling him this information?”
“Yup and he’s still not listening. I think the whole sister thing is stressing him out. Rachel is super weird.”
My gaze narrowed. “She’s a spook, for sure.”
He pulled back. “I said the same thing. I met her a couple of years ago and totally thought she was one of us.”
Somehow our discussion about this was familiar to me, but I couldn't place it.
We didn't focus on anything but getting out of Canada and getting to England. Flying the way normal people do isn’t glamorous and it takes forever. One side of Canada to the next is a whole day affair.
We landed in Halifax, the eastern coast of Canada, and caught our direct flight to London, taking the red eye.
“I can’t believe Coop is being such a douche,” Luce whispered as we buckled in and prepared for takeoff. Jack leaned across her. “He’s stressed out. He’s reckless and his weird sister is missing.”
“She’s shifty.”
“She is.” I nodded at Luce, surprised everyone else saw what Coop had missed; his sister
was
shifty. “So what’s the plan?”
Jack winced. “We didn't even really have time to come up with one. We have a safe house no one uses that is essentially forgotten about in London, over in the Portobello Market area. I can guarantee it’s still being watched, at least by video. I brought some of those devices S gave us that are the limited-range EMP that only target transmitting devices and recordings. I will work on the house so we can at least get supplies while you girls ride the train to Oxford and find the girl.”
Luce shrugged. “How hard can it be?”
“Hard. If the Organization is seeking her, they may already have her under surveillance. She is running some testing tomorrow on inmates and they plan on taking her and her research then.”
Jack’s look turned grave. “And S isn’t on our side this time. He won’t blow his cover to protect any of us.”
“Nope.” My insides tightened as I gave that a bit of thought and added, “We won’t have Coop either.”
Our three faces all looked the same.
Heathrow Airport as a spy was one thing—as a peasant from Canada who had to clear customs was a whole other story. We waited like cattle in the lineup as it progressed slowly, moving us along. We entered customs separately and pretended not to know one another.
Luce cleared first, taking her bags and leaving the airport. I knew she would wait around the train station for me to catch up, while Jack would head for the safe house so he could make it secure.
The humidity of the airport was intense, but I imagined outside would be worse.
A man in front of me turned, giving me a grin. “First time?” He was American.
“Yes,” I answered before I thought. It wasn't my first time, but I was surprised at how much the airport had changed since I had been here many years before. “You?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I live here now. It’s home.”
“Lucky you.” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but it was nearing midnight, and I had been flying commercially for nearly twenty hours.
“It’s pretty fantastic. I have a company house in Grosvenor Square and it overlooks the Marble Arch. Lovely neighborhood. Even Hyde Park isn’t seedy for a city park.”
It was too much information and too much naming of places. Was he a spook? Was he trying to tell me something? I smiled wide. “I have always wanted to see Grosvenor Square.”
He reached in and slipped a business card from his trousers. “My name is Orson, if you feel like stopping in for a drink.”
I took the card and shook his hand, confident he was someone trying to follow me or tell me something. “Janice.” I used the asset’s real name to see if he even flinched at it, but he was cool as a cucumber. His honey-brown eyes didn't even twitch when he said her name. “Janice? Such an unusual name. You never hear it.”
“No. Never. It’s plain and has never really been popular.”
“I had an aunt Janice when I was a boy. I love the name.” He was my age—ish and handsome with dark hair and eyes but a very golden coloring to his skin, and a very Midwestern sort of look. He even had a dimple in his right cheek to go with the rest of his cute appearance.
“You must get that a lot with Orson though?”
“I do.” He laughed. “I get Orson Welles or Indiana. But it was actually my grandfather’s name. My mother loved her father.”
We both dragged our carry-on bags up as the line got closer to the front.
“My name is after a famous scientist my mom adored. Some Janice lady who invented things.”
He wrinkled his nose. “A female scientist and inventor? How forward for the time.”
I nearly shoved him but realized he was teasing when his eyes sparkled. There was a wholesome charm going on with him. He winked. “Got you.”
“You did.” I bit my lip, realizing what I was doing and stopped myself before I let it get too far. I was flirting—with the enemy. He was
obviously
a spy. So obvious it hurt. Regular men didn't flirt with me. They didn't even see me.
When it was my turn I held up his card and smiled. “See ya around then.”
“I really hope so, Janice.” He smiled wide and took the wicket to the right as I took the one to the left. I cleared far faster than he did, dragging my bags to the exit so I could get ripped off by a taxi driver.
The humidity outside was much worse but the driver, a Middle Eastern fellow named Amar, was chatty and incredibly well versed in Briticisms. He raced through the parking garage of the airport and zipped along the highway, avoiding all the traffic as he made his way downtown to Paddington Station.
“You here for work?” he asked and I immediately noted the little bit of accent he was picking up from living in England. He would be full British in no time.
“Yes. Are you from here?” I didn't want to discuss my work or my name.
“No.” He shook his head. “Bath.”
“I really want to see Bath.”
“You should go. It’s beautiful. I live in an area just outside the city, a town called Corston. It’s small but very lovely all the same.”
I wanted to smile at the way Englishmen said lovely, but I nodded instead. “I will have to take a day and see it.”
When he dropped me at the station he offered his card. “When you are ready to go back, call me and I will personally come and get you.”
“Thank you, Amar.”
He waved and climbed back in the cab. It wasn't a black cab, but he was a great driver.
When I got to the train station my eyes were burning and my feet ached, but I bought a ticket and sauntered down to my platform, desperate to shut my eyes. In the corner I caught a glimpse of Luce. She was smoking and leaned against a pillar, looking like a badass.
I boarded the train and headed for first class, excited about the large leather seats and being alone.
The last train, just after midnight, arrived in Oxford at one thirty in the morning. In British Columbia it was five thirty at night, which meant I had been awake for thirty-two hours. My fluttering eyes and nodding head made it feel like much more than thirty-two hours.
The worst part was that sleep was so far away. When Janice woke, it would be to my face and not her alarm clock at all. And then we would be on the run. Maybe I could sleep tomorrow.
I sent a message to my mom using the Kik app.
Canada got their Oxford knot.
I turned the phone off and got up as the train slowed. The lone man in the first class compartment with me looked bleary eyed as well as he blinked the sleep from his eyes and walked to the door.
Luce glanced at me with hostility through the glass door separating the classes.
When the train stopped I hopped off and dragged my bag to the taxi stand. Oxford had changed a lot—well, the train station had, since the last time I had been there. Everything in London was getting bigger than before and far more multicultural than I recalled it being.
The taxi driver took me to the hotel I had reserved online. In Oxford most of the hotels were older and resembled what Canadians called a bed and breakfast or an inn. They weren’t particularly fancy but they were pricey.
But at least Oxford wasn't huge so the cab ride was quick. When he parked I dragged my small carry-on out of the car and up the steps to the tiny hostel-styled inn. An elderly lady met me at the door, clearly already in her pajamas.
“Good evening, ma’am. Ya must be Miss McAdams?” Her accent was adorable.
“I am, thank you.”
“Did ya have a lovely trip in?”
“Yes.” I handed her my credit card and signed on the page, keeping my head low. “I did. It was a nice flight. Humid here though, eh?” I added the “eh” for flair.
“Oh, you Canadians and your eh.” She chuckled and handed me a wide room key. “Just down the hall, third door on the right. Hope ya have a pleasant sleep.” She waved me off.
“Thank you, you as well. Night.” I smiled and headed for the room, desperate to actually sleep but that wasn't in the cards. No. The cards were all bad.
I closed the door to the room and walked in the dark to the small table I could hardly make out in the moonlight. I placed my bag down on the table and opened it, lifting out the black pants and shirt and my runners. I changed silently.
When I was done I pulled the shaving cream out and opened the bottom, sliding out the earpiece and eye cam. I clicked the earpiece on as I pushed it into my ear. “Testing,” I whispered once.
“Got you,” Jack muttered back.
Neither of us spoke as I slid the eye cam in, blinking until he whispered again, “And got your camera. You and L are both ready on my end. Start when you can. She’s still awake, a night owl apparently. I have full sat uplink here.”
“Great.” I tied my hair back, dragged the packets out from inside the shaving cream container, and placed them in my pockets. We didn't have weapons; we had to be them. That wasn't great for me. In fact, none of our plan was great for me.
It wasn't even a plan—it was a whim.
Looking myself over once in the mirror by the dim moonlight, I sighed and nodded so Jack could see me. I grabbed the balaclava and wore it like a Canadian toque.
“For the record, if we all die, this was a shit plan but I love you both. J, you know to call my kids and my mom if this goes tits up, which it will.”
“Roger that.”
I cleared my throat and tried on my new accent, “See you both on the flip side.” My Aussie accent needed work, but it was going to have to do.
Without focusing any longer, I turned and opened the window, climbing out onto the railing and sliding down onto the back deck. It wasn't much more graceful than jumping into the tree from my burning house, but I was ever so slightly more in control.
My muscles were back. It had been a hard few months but strong Evie was back, and she was ready to kick some ass and take some numbers.
Say it with an Australian accent
I ran through the dark, dank alleyway of the old cobblestone streets. My mind could have been focused on the fact that I was walking where too many great people to count had once walked, as Oxford was a historic city, but for a refreshing change I was focused on the mission.
“Next right, jump up onto the roof and pause,” Jack spoke into my ear, giving nothing more than the skimpiest of details.
Turning, I hurried along the alley and jumped a fence and ran for the small roof of the shed. I leapt up onto it and paused on top.
“There’s a man there. Can you see him? The camera across the road caught him a moment ago.”
I narrowed my gaze, scanning the area while trying not to be noticed. Smoke from a cigar rose into the air from a corner near a gate. “Yup.” I didn't wait for him to tell me what the plan was; I knew it. I crept on my hands and feet like an animal to the far side of the shed and along the stone wall, something I was finding to be commonplace in Oxford. They were like brick hedges, only older than Methuselah’s goat.
Where he was standing the air reeked of sweet smoke, like a beacon. I dropped down onto the street next to him, startling him. He turned, but I rammed my hand into his throat, crushing his windpipe. He gasped but I pulled his face down into mine, twisting his neck until the crunch stopped us both. I hugged him hard, letting him fall down into the corner. Sliding my hands up and down his body, I stopped when I found the piece. I dragged it from his back and slid it into mine before turning back, jumping and pulling myself back up to the place I was before.
“Go to the left along the brick wall and wait. Her building is the next one, but I am getting a few heat signatures with movement. Either lots of night owls or people we don't want there.”
Pausing, I waited for him to tell me what was next.
The alley where I hid was dark, and the streets around me were only slightly lit from the old light posts up the lonely cobblestone roads.
The quiet moments spent hiding in the dark were the ones where I doubted myself in all of this. At some point the struggle with being a mom and an agent was going to have to end, but the guilt I felt made it seem like it might last forever.
I imagined it would never end because deep down, in the places I didn't want to look at, I loved my job. I loved the exhilaration and the fear. I loved the steep learning curve and the danger. And none of that was acceptable as a mom.
“Go now,” Jack whispered to me.
I didn't even need to snap out of my internal debate and shame fest. I just crept forward instinctively, dropping down behind her residence and using the shadows to get down the stairs to the door at the back where the steam came from. It was the laundry for the building, in the gross basement.
Inside the small dank quarters the light flickered and the air blanketed me. Listening for even a heartbeat, I tiptoed forward. My heart began to race but not in the way it should. Instead, I reveled in the fact I was about to do something insane.
Old Evie was back and I realized how badly I had missed her as I took the stairs softly. Nothing moved but even if it did, I was ready—ish.
“Heat signature one floor up.”
Nodding, I pulled the gun, not that I intended to shoot anyone. There was no room for noise or mistakes on this one.
I made it past the door he was behind, hearing him shift so softly I barely caught it. Climbing the next set of stairs I paused, smelling something familiar in the air.
My insides tightened when I realized how late we really were and there was more than just a chance Servario was already here.
Swallowing hard, I ignored the scent and climbed the old stairs to the third floor. The flickering lights and dank smell that had been strongest in the laundry room still lingered in the air, making me wonder how people lived in places such as these. I would have to bleach every corridor and corner, just to sleep overnight with my kids.
“Third door on the right. Don't knock—someone is down the hall.” His whispers made the hallway seem smaller and my heart beat faster.
I swallowed as quietly as I could, almost painfully so, and continued down to the third door, pausing to give Jack another second to check heat traces in the apartment.
“Go!”
I lifted my middle finger and flashed it in front of the camera. I wanted to tell him that he hadn’t been ambushed several times like I had. I was sketchy for a reason. A very good one. I stuffed my gun back in my pants and prepared myself for every outcome.
Lifting my hand to the knob, I took a deep breath and cracked it, surprised a skittish scientist would leave her front door unlocked.
The moment I got inside I knew why.
I stepped in and closed the door before she even lifted her gaze from the basket of laundry she was about to take out the unlocked door. I pulled the paper from my pocket, the one we had agreed on. I hadn’t really agreed, but I had been outvoted on it. Her eyes drew up at the same moment her mouth opened to scream. I opened the paper, revealing the stupid sentence Jack had written.
Come with me if you want to live.
She paused, tilting her head, maybe wondering if this was a prank. It gave me the second to whisper, “There are men coming here now to kill you and steal your research. I am here to save you from them.”
Her back window opened and Luce climbed in. She offered her hand to the girl. “Grab whatever you don't want burned and come with us.”
The girl, Janice, opened her mouth to scream, I could tell by the way she inhaled quickly. Luce saw it too, shooting her with a tranquilizer in the neck before she even finished the breath.
“Well, that didn't work.” Luce sighed.
“I totally thought she would have respected the
Terminator
quote,” Jack muttered. I didn't need to tell him I told him so; the scientist passing out before our eyes was the proof of the mistake we had made. Notes and scribbling I didn't understand lined the wall of the small room. It was like entering a cell where a schizophrenic was kept. I didn't understand the notes or the system she had. I was never going to be that smart. She was a special breed of genius.
The kitchen was messy and the dim light inside didn't feel adequate enough. She liked creative chaos—that much was evident. Or she was just a slob.
Luce walked to her, dragging Janice’s pants off as I pulled off her shirt. I yanked off my clothing and hurried into hers.
“You take the laundry downstairs like she was just about to do, and I will take her out the front. With you moving, they won’t be watching the front of the road as keenly.”
I glanced around nervously. “Did you kill the tech in the room before I entered?”
“Yeah, I did it while you were still on the street below. Didn't want you to lose your equipment’s sending and receiving. The whole apartment and probably the ones next door are dead for recording or any incoming or outgoing transmissions of any kind. That's going to bring them down on us when they realize their cameras aren’t working.”
I pulled my hair out of the tight bun and let it slip around my shoulders, confirming our hair was actually a pretty good match.
“Told you she looks like you a little. I mean, even with her being a lot younger.”
“It’s only a few years, Jack.”
“It’s probably ‘cause she’s Australian. They get a lot more sunshine than we do. She’s got more wrinkles than she should have.”
“You’re a dead man,” I snarled as I lifted her glasses off her face and pulled them on.
“Boy. I’m a boy, compared to you.” He chuckled. “Just live through this and then you can come and get me.” He was taunting me on purpose.
Luce lifted the girl into her arms with a grunt. “She’s more like one forty, not one fifteen,” she grumbled.
“Hey, all I had was her Plenty of Fish profile. And at least she’s closer to your weight now, Evie.”
“I’ll kill him for you.” Luce grunted again and walked to the window, tying herself and Janice into the harness. She glanced back at me as she stepped up to the ledge. “Don't forget to be Aussie and not Bostonian.” She winked and stepped out, leaving me there alone. It was a full inhale and exhale before I kicked into gear, hiding my clothes and gun, washing all the makeup from my face and glancing at a photo on her fridge to make sure I did my makeup the way she did. Using her makeup made me gag a little, but I suffered through.
With my hair in a messy ponytail and my shoulders slumping like I lived my life in a computer chair, I pushed the glasses up and wrinkled my nose a bit. I grabbed the packets from my pockets and slapped them on the wall in her apartment, right below the smoke detector. I pressed the button in the middle of them, hearing it click.
“Charged.”
I took two deep breaths before I dared to lift the laundry basket and saunter out the door. I didn't worry about her research or the key to her apartment. I knew I wouldn't last the stairs to the basement before they had me.
When I got to the stairs, I sneezed loudly, wiping my nose on my sleeve and sniffling. I wanted them to see me.
I coughed a few times and shuffled my feet on the stairs.
“You all right, Janice?” a girl on the stairs asked with a very Cockney accent.
“Yeah, mate. Just got me a bit of a sniffle from the smell in the hall. You just getting in?” My Aussie accent was dreadful, but the sniffle might have explained that away.
“Yeah. Closed down the pub. See ya then. Have a good night.” The dark-haired girl I hadn’t even seen on the stairs waved and walked off. I waved awkwardly, carrying the basket.
Just as I had predicted, in the second floor stairwell a familiar scent caught my nose again. It was much stronger this time. The smell of cologne and deodorant and man sweat. But only a certain man could make sweat that delectable.
My heart started back to the racing it had been doing before I even entered Janice’s apartment.
I took the stairs slowly, not darting my eyes about. I pretended to be deep in thought, but it was deep in listening actually. Someone moved behind me, but I didn't look back. Janice wouldn't have looked back. She would have continued on and not even heard them. She was obviously a deep thinker. I had walked right into her apartment with her not even noticing.
When I got to the first floor I turned to go toward the basement laundry, but a dark figure stopped me in the hall. I tried to walk around him, not lifting my head, but he didn't move.
“Excuse me,” I gave my best attempt at Australian. It was decent.
“Can you help me?” he asked, and immediately I knew it wasn't Servario. The scent of him in the hallway had weakened and this voice wasn't his.
I lifted my gaze, wrinkling my nose. “Whatcha need?”
He was about my age and very underworld looking, especially when he grinned and lifted his finger at me. “You.”
I gulped. “What?”
“I need you to come with me.” His accent was real. There was just no way a person from the town of Blackpool could be imitated with that level of skill.
Turning around to maybe flee or contemplate my options, I jumped, seeing there behind me was another man in black. He smiled, but it was much more of a grin and obviously ominous.
“I don't have any money on me. I left it upstairs. I can get it.”
The men laughed, exactly the same at the exact same time.
The one behind me lunged at me, forcing me to turn around and stagger as the other guy grabbed me. His hand came up over my lips as the basket dropped from my grip, spilling clothes onto the floor. I made a feeble attempt at fighting them as they gripped my arms and dragged me to the laundry.
I would have feared a terrible fate if I hadn’t known who they were. They weren’t going to rape me, not here anyway.
One of the inept morons hit me in the back of the head, hoping to knock me out. It didn't work, but I fell like I was lifeless instead of screaming like I wanted to.
They caught me as I fell and scooped me up.
The smoke alarm started as the packets on the wall ignited. They would smoke for two minutes before a full-scale explosion destroyed Janice’s apartment, just in case.
“The smoke detectors? We better hurry.”
They hurried me outside and placed me into the backseat of a dark car.
“She’s older than I thought she’d be,” Jackass Number One commented as he closed the door.
“She’s Australian. There’s lots of sun there,” Jackass Number Two pointed out as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
It was a real kick in the crotch.