by Janie Crouch
Mr. Smith continued, “I realize you’ve worked with DS-13 for a long time, Cam, without meeting me. I hope you understand the necessary security precautions.” Smith glanced at Thompson again.
“Oh, sure, Mr. Smith. Everybody has to be careful in this day and age.” Cameron nodded enthusiastically, trying to be friendly.
“Yes, well, I have enemies on multiple sides,” Smith continued in his squeaky, accented voice. “I try to always take time to thoroughly check out anyone who works for me. But I must admit you have arranged a lot of good deals for me in the past year.”
Cam smiled. “Lucrative for us both.”
“Glad to hear it.” Another glance at Thompson.
Whatever silent communication was occurring between Smith and Thompson was causing alarms in Cameron’s head. It was as if Smith kept asking Thompson for permission to talk, or checking to make sure what he said was okay. Which made absolutely no sense whatsoever.
Unless…
All of a sudden everything clicked in place for Cameron. Before he could help himself he straightened in his chair and looked over at Thompson. Really looked. And found the man studying him in much the same way.
Mr. Smith seemed oblivious to it all and kept talking. “We really appreciate the work you’ve done for us. And I thought it was time to bring you up here to meet me and a few more of my associates—”
“It’s okay, Jacob, you can stop. I think Mr. Cameron has figured out our little ruse.”
Cameron heard a slight indrawn breath from Sophia. Evidently she had noticed something, too.
“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” the other, squeaky-voiced Mr. Smith said. “I was thrown off a little bit by the woman being here.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jacob,” Thompson told the other man, who was getting up from the desk chair and giving his seat to Thompson. “The lovely Ms. Reardon could distract any man.”
Thompson sat and turned to Cameron and Sophia. “You’ll have to excuse all the subterfuge. I have found over the years that when meeting someone new, sometimes a stand-in is my best option. Jacob here has been with me for a long time. The idea came to me because both of our last names happen to be Smith. So when Jacob introduces himself as ‘Mr. Smith,’ that is actually the truth.”
Cameron had to admit, it was a pretty great plan. And using someone like Jacob—lumpy, not very personable nor clever—probably gave Smith a distinct edge when dealing with others. Most people would do as Cameron had initially done: write off Smith as not much of a threat. Because Jacob Smith wasn’t much of a threat.
But Thompson Smith definitely was. This was the man Cameron had been waiting to meet; Cameron could feel it in his bones. Thompson Smith was the one who had killed his partner; the man Cameron had sworn he would bring to justice.
“And then, when I’m here with certain unknown guests, I like to pretend I’m some sort of butler. It allows me to better observe those around me. You’d be amazed what people will say and do when they think they’re just around hired help.” Thompson Smith shook his head with a tsk. Jacob—the other Mr. Smith—went to stand closer to the window, obviously no longer part of the conversation.
“I must admit, you figured it out quicker than most,” Smith told Cameron.
“Uh, yeah. Well, that guy—” Cameron gestured toward Jacob “—is obviously related to Fin. But Fin never mentioned that his uncle was the head of DS-13. I’ve known Fin for a long time now and I don’t think that’s something he’d keep to himself for too long.” Cameron pulled his cover identity around him like a blanket. It was time to be Cam Cameron now—kind of bright and organized, but not too much of either. The last thing Cameron wanted to do was put Smith on the defensive. This whole thing was already precariously balanced.
Smith seemed to buy it. “Yes, Fin has always loved to run his mouth.” He then turned to study Sophia. “You, Ms. Reardon, have caused somewhat of a brouhaha around here.”
Cameron forced himself not to tense up. It became more difficult as the seconds ticked by and Sophia didn’t respond. Cameron shifted in his chair as casually as he could manage so he could glance over at Sophia. She was staring down silently at her hands folded in her lap.
Cameron didn’t know how to help her. Was she overwhelmed and couldn’t figure out how to respond? Afraid of messing up? Cameron was well aware that Sophia was not a trained agent. But if she was totally frozen and out of commission, things were about to spin out of control fast.
Cameron cleared his throat and gave a little laugh. “Sophia here is a little tired….”
Cameron didn’t get out the rest of his sentence as Sophia looked up from her hands and at Mr. Smith. “Yeah, I tend to cause a little bit of a brouhaha no matter where I go.”
Mr. Smith chuckled slightly and Cameron barely succeeded in keeping his jaw from dropping.
“I imagine you do, Ms. Reardon. We weren’t expecting your presence here or in the warehouse yesterday,” Smith told her.
“I gathered that from the multiple times your men threatened to kill me.” Sophia looked Smith right in the eye as she said it.
Smith reached down to his desk and held up a file. “We did a little checking on you, of course. As I said, vetting everyone I come in contact with is standard procedure.”
Sophia nodded. “Find anything interesting?”
Cameron had to give it to Sophia, she was handling herself like a pro. No nervous giveaways. Maybe it was possible they would make it out of this room alive.
“Nothing in particular. Except perhaps for the fact that you work for the FBI.”
Damn.
Cameron flew out of his chair as if he had received an electric shock. “What? She’s FBI? I swear I didn’t know, Mr. Smith. She just said she knew something about this Ghost Shell thing and that you would want to hear it.”
“It’s all right, Cam. Ms. Reardon works for the FBI, but as a graphic artist, not an agent.”
“Oh.” Cameron sat back down slowly, feigning shock. “That’s okay?”
“As soon as Fin reported that you had brought Sophia here back to the house in DC, I had her thoroughly checked out. Actually, having a record that so clearly linked her to the FBI helped ease my concerns a bit. Nobody trying to work undercover would be so easily linked to the FBI.”
Smith turned and looked at Sophia. “And so you are still alive, my beautiful Sophia. And now there’s no need to keep your FBI connection a secret.”
Cameron didn’t like how Smith was looking at her at all, but knew he couldn’t do anything about it. Saying anything would just draw undue, and definitely unwanted, attention.
“Yeah, well, your henchmen didn’t really seem like the type to take anyone associated with the Bureau to meet you,” Sophia said.
Smith nodded. “Yes, and I must admit, if Fin had been able to get in touch with me yesterday, I would’ve denied him permission to bring you here. And what a shame that would’ve been. So, although I had to have some harsh words with Fin about security, I’m glad we had a little lapse today so I could meet you.”
Sophia shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“But, on to business.” Smith leaned back in his chair. “Fin and Cam tell me you have particular knowledge about the Ghost Shell technology.”
Here came the real test. Cameron’s breath stuck in his throat.
“That’s right.” Sophia nodded. “And for the right price I’m willing to give that information to you.”
Smith folded his hands on his desk. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you know, so I can determine what that information is worth.”
Sophia mimicked Smith’s relaxed pose, but with her hands in her lap. “I don’t think so. I’m sure as soon as I do that my life won’t be worth much. I’m not as stupid as some of the morons you surround yourself with around here.” Sophia made a vagu
e gesture toward Cameron.
Cameron sat up straighter in his chair. There wasn’t much he could do to help her, but this was one thing: insulted lover. “Hey, I’m not a moron.”
Smith chuckled and gave Cameron his attention. “Well, you certainly can pick them, Cam.”
Cameron decided defensiveness was his best play. “I was just looking for a good time. Then I found out she knew some stuff about that Ghost Shell thing and told Fin she should tell you about it. That’s it. I’m not, like, vouching for her or anything.”
“Look, Cam was just the most attractive foot in the door for me. One of your other hired thugs was my next option, but not as appealing—no offense.”
Smith didn’t move from his casual position. “Is that so? I understand there was quite a bit of carrying on in Cam’s room at the house last night, including screaming.”
Sophia shrugged delicately. “What can I say? I like it rough. Cam does, too.”
“That worked out well for both of you, then.” Smith laughed crassly.
Cameron chuckled, too, although he felt a little sick when he thought about the circumstances that had led to Sophia’s screams back at the house. He glanced at her again. Her jaw had definitely tightened, but she gave nothing else away.
“Tell me, Sophia,” Smith said after a few moments, “as delightful as you are, what is keeping me from just forcing the answer from you? I’m sure my men could find a way to be rougher than even you like.”
Sophia sat up straighter in her chair, as did Cameron. The threat of torture wasn’t to be taken lightly.
Out of the blue, Smith slammed his fist down on the desk, causing both Sophia and Cameron to startle. “You will tell me right now what you know.” He never raised his voice, but his lower tone was all the more frightening.
Cameron prayed Sophia wouldn’t panic. They were in too deep now.
“Ghost Shell has a fail-safe,” Sophia said, barely above a whisper. “A code that has to be entered to make it work outside of its design parameters.”
Smith nodded, but his eyes were icy. “Go on.”
“You probably know Ghost Shell was designed by a government contractor. To keep it from being used against the US government, a fail-safe code was created. If someone tries to use Ghost Shell without the code, it won’t work.”
Cameron was impressed. That sounded realistic even to his ears, and he knew the truth. Too bad whoever had created Ghost Shell hadn’t thought of something similar.
“There’s only one chance to enter the code. You have to do it at a certain time, in a certain order and even in a certain tempo. Anything is off in the pattern and you’ve basically got a useless piece of junk on your hands.”
Cameron almost missed Smith’s glance over at the wall to his left. A small tell, but definitely a tell. Ghost Shell was probably in a safe there. And Smith was believing Sophia’s story.
Smith glared at Sophia. “You’re playing a very dangerous game here, Ms. Reardon.”
“I’m not playing any games. I just want to get paid. Two million dollars. I know how much Ghost Shell is worth, and the amount I want from you is a fraction of that.”
Smith’s lips flattened and his nostrils flared the slightest bit. Cameron knew they were walking an even more precarious edge than he had thought.
Sophia glanced at her watch. “It’s too late to enter the code today. The deadline has passed. That much I’ll tell you in good faith.”
Smith nodded and Sophia continued, “Tomorrow night I will enter the code for you. I’ll get half the money before, and half afterward. Everyone can walk away happy from this, Mr. Smith.”
Smith seemed to relax, and Cameron imagined it was because the amount Sophia was asking really was minute compared to Ghost Shell’s black market value. But his eyes remained cold. “All right, Ms. Reardon, we have a deal. Tonight you and Cam will join me and my guests for the soiree, and tomorrow we shall deal with the business end of things.”
Cameron nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Just remember—” Smith leaned forward on his desk, menace clear on his face “—if you are lying to me, Sophia, about any part of this, you will beg for death before you finally die. That much I’ll tell you in good faith.”
Cameron watched as the color seeped from Sophia’s face. She flinched when Smith repeated her words back at her.
Before their eyes, Smith’s menace vanished and he was back to being the handsome host. He stood and Cameron and Sophia took their cue from him, and they all began walking toward the office door.
“Sophia, I assume the clothes I had brought in for you are acceptable?” Smith asked as if he hadn’t threatened to torture and kill her just moments before.
Sophia nodded a little jerkily. “Yes, thank you.” The words came out as a whisper.
“I hope you enjoy the gown I had picked out for you for this evening’s festivities. It will suit your coloring and figure well, I believe,” Smith said, reaching out to touch her on her elbow. Sophia seemed frozen.
Cameron was close enough to Sophia to see her pale and feel the fine tremor run through her body. He knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it together much longer. He put himself between her and Smith.
“Yeah, thanks,” Cam told Smith, struggling with all his might to grin. “She would’ve looked funny at the party running around in my shirt and pants.” Cam ushered Sophia out the door. He turned back to Smith. “It was really great to finally meet you, Mr. Smith. And I hope you’ll remember that I got Sophia here and helped save the day with Ghost Shell.”
Smith nodded. “I won’t forget your association with Sophia. It won’t bode well for you, either, if she’s lying.”
“Oh, she’s not, I’m sure,” Cameron said, trying to put him at ease. “We’ll see you tonight at the party.”
Smith nodded and turned back into the office. Cameron took Sophia’s arm and headed down the hall, grateful nobody was accompanying them. Sophia’s breath was becoming more labored.
“Hang in there, baby,” Cam whispered. “Just till we get back to the room.”
They made it across the house to their room, with Cameron supporting most of Sophia’s slight weight by the end. Cameron had barely closed the door before Sophia beelined to the bathroom and threw up everything she had eaten.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sophia felt relatively confident that she would never live through this day. Cameron kept praising her quietly, telling her what a remarkable job she had done with Smith, but Sophia just felt exhausted. They still couldn’t talk freely because of the bug that Thompson—or Mr. Smith or whatever you wanted to call him—had placed in their room. That man gave her the freak-outs.
After she had completely lost the contents of her stomach, Cameron had helped Sophia from the bathroom, onto the bed. He was sitting beside her, stroking her hair back from her face, as he had been for the past twenty minutes.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about what Mr. Smith said,” Cameron told her in a voice loud enough for the surveillance to clearly hear him. “You’ll just give him the information tomorrow, he’ll pay you and it will be all over.”
“Yeah…” The word came out all croaky so Sophia started again. “Yeah, I just don’t like people threatening to kill me.”
A knock on the door brought them both to attention. Sophia stayed where she was as Cameron went to open the door. It was Fin carrying two separate hanging bags of clothes. He was also sporting a nasty bruise on his jaw.
“These are from Mr. Smith,” Fin said gruffly, thrusting the bags into Cameron’s arms.
“Which one? Your uncle or the real Mr. Smith?” Cameron scoffed. “What happened to your face, Fin?”
“Your girlfriend is what happened to my face. Mr. Smith didn’t like it that I allowed Sophia to arrive with us without contacting him first,
even though she has something he wants,” Fin spat. A vein pulsed in his neck as he turned to glare at Sophia on the bed. “You should’ve told me you were FBI.”
Sophia recoiled from the venom in Fin’s eyes. “I’m not really FBI. I just happen to work at the FBI building. Plus, I’m sure you would’ve just killed me if I had mentioned it.”
Fin didn’t respond to that, just turned and marched out the door. Cameron unzipped and held up the contents of the bags. One contained dress pants and a light gray shirt for Cameron. The other contained a black gown that looked quite lovely and demure in the front. But then Sophia turned it around on the hanger and saw that it was backless almost down to the waist.
Sophia cringed. It was beautiful, but definitely not something she would’ve ever picked out or worn. “Looks like we have our costumes for tonight.”
Cameron nodded. “You okay?”
“I don’t like having to wear what he picks out for me. But I guess it’s better than a shirt and jeans.” Sophia turned and went into the bathroom to build her resolve. If this dress was her only option then she’d make the best of it.
A couple hours later they were on their way to the main part of the house. Sophia was glad to be out of the room—having to monitor every word that came out of their mouths was stressful. She was constantly worried she was going to let something slip.
The dress was on, fitting her perfectly. Her hair was up in a sophisticated twist. She’d made full use of the makeup that had arrived with the dress. Sophia knew she looked good.
But she hated every bit of it.
Even seeing Cameron’s expression when she had walked out of the bathroom—and Sophia had to admit that watching his jaw almost drop to the ground had been pretty thrilling—she still wished she wasn’t wearing this dress.
Or that she was wearing it under very different circumstances.
She and Cameron made their way to the main section of the house, where people were already milling around and talking. The sun had set, taking with it the gorgeous views outside, but the party room itself was beautiful enough.