Looking through her drawers and closet revealed much of the same—sex toys, kinky outfits, several fur suits, devices he thought were for torture, and finally, some regular attire. A number of tight black skirts hung beside button-up blouses, and an assortment of high heels lined the floor. Her underwear varied from normal everyday wear to red crotchless panties. She didn’t have any bras, but given the point-eight Gs of the space station, she probably didn’t need them.
While discovering her kinky side was surprising, it wasn’t remarkable. Most operatives who took a desk or teaching job after years in high-risk situations developed at least one form of extreme outlet. For many, it was drinking, drugs, or extreme sports. For others, like Levitsky, it was sex.
Judging by the strait-laced appearance of the living room, Alfonso guessed she wanted to keep that particular aspect of her life private. The dildos in the bathroom were sloppy, though. Even if they were placed there recently or she wasn’t expecting any guests, the bathroom should always fit with one’s cover.
The front door opened with its usual whoosh and heels clicked along the hard floors. Levitsky had returned home.
Alfonso froze in the bedroom. If she so much as laid eyes on him, he’d be through. Hell, she might even kill him. The academy would cancel his placement and likely launch an investigation into him personally. He’d be incarcerated, questioned, and possibly tortured.
In short, he needed to get the fuck out of there.
There was no way to slip past her unseen and as little chance she wouldn’t come into her room. With no other choice, he quickly slipped into the closet and closed the door, allowing himself a thin crack to peer through. He heard something tossed on the couch in the living room, and then the increasing volume of footsteps as the professor walked into the bedroom.
Alfonso forced himself to breathe slow, normal breaths. Often, the difference between being caught or escaping came down to remaining calm. He was trained for this. It was no big deal
He peered through the miniscule gap as Levitsky kicked her heels off and slipped out of her clothes. If she walked to the closet, he’d be fucked. He’d have to incapacitate her before she caught a glimpse of him. Knowing her reputation, that wouldn’t be easy.
Thankfully, the woman strode out of the room.
Thank the stars.
A couple of seconds later, Alfonso heard the sounds of water running. He exited the closet and tip-toed out of the bedroom. He could see Levitsky climbing into the shower as he passed the bathroom door.
He thanked whatever gods were watching over him as he hurried to the optic monitor. His cracking stick was still at work.
Sorry, Jayne. I tried.
Alfonso removed the device from the monitor and crept across the room until he couldn’t be seen from the shower. That was when he noticed what Levitsky had tossed onto the couch. Her phone was ripe for the taking.
The professor began to hum to herself as she washed.
Fuck it.
Alfonso snatched the phone and snapped it out of sleep mode. A pattern lock screen greeted his gaze and he smiled. This would be much easier to hack than a solid password. He slapped the cracker stick onto the phone and locked his gaze on the bathroom door. So long as Levitsky took a normal-length shower, he should be fine.
Seconds crawled by. Finally, the cracker stopped cycling and the phone allowed access. He copied the entire contents of the device to his.
The ring of metal scraping metal filled the room. Levitsky had finished her shower.
The exit was too far to make it there unseen. Alfonso dropped to the ground and hid behind the couch.
Levitsky wandered out, bare and dripping. She scanned the room suspiciously. She was a well-seasoned spy, even if she had been relegated to teaching. Those habits didn’t die easily. Everything seemed normal.
Her eyes alighted on her phone that now rested on the coffee table.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Theron 6th Sector Precinct
The bomb was larger than Jayne had expected. The materials stored in the janitor’s closet had been cleared out, leaving enough room for a person to navigate around the object. She raised her eyebrows as she looked at the keg-like device. “Burning stars. It’s big.” All the bombs she’d been trained to disarm had been far smaller, usually the size of a briefcase.
“Working out a theory?” Blue Eyes loosened his collar.
Officer Ellewood sat nearby, frozen in uncertainty. She’d cut away the armor casing on the top half of the bomb, but the wiring and inner workings left her with no clear choice. Anything she did could set it off. Finally, she spoke. “There’s a lot of fail-safes in place to ensure we don’t disarm it without setting it off. But that’s merely what we think. You’re the expert. What’s your opinion?”
Right. She was the expert. It would’ve been a lot easier to play the part had Alfonso sent her the intel she needed. It wasn’t like him to fail her like this. Could he have gotten caught?
“Of course. No bomber with a working knowledge of selvanium wouldn’t have added at least a few fail-safes. But by the looks of things, I’d say amateurs put this thing together. That would explain the size and the amount of time it took before the signal could be sent to detonate. They probably had to lug these things into position themselves. See that gob there?” Jayne pointed to a nub of metal where a wire attached to a microchip. “That’s a sloppy soldering job. Whoever did this lacked skill but was likely following a set of instructions. It looks like a poorly made replica of a Torsa dirty bomb.”
Which was true. The layout of the explosives, the wiring, and the armor casing all matched a Torsa bomb kit she’d looked at briefly while at the academy. There was a chance she could disarm it instead of triggering it, but she was only shown the bomb at the academy as part of a series of examples for identification. They never actually learned to disarm this specific type.
“A Torsa bomb?” Ellewood balked. She shifted to look at Jayne through the thick polymer plate on her helmet. “I thought we rooted them out a long time ago. There haven’t been any riots, or attacks or… Fuck. If this is Torsa, the shitstorm is only beginning.”
“It could be theirs,” Jayne allowed. “Or it could be someone who got their hands on a Torsa bomb manual. The legacy of violence. There’s no way to tell at this point.”
Blue Eyes bobbed his head. This girl knew her stuff. “Ellewood, get your cumbersome armored ass out of here. Time to let the lady get to work.”
The other woman pushed to her feet, leaving her kit on the ground. “Hey, give me a normal bomb and I’ll have it deactivated before you could eat a sandwich.” She chuckled. “And you know you like my ass.”
Blue Eyes smirked. “Yeah, yeah. Everyone likes your ass. Get out of that suit and hit the showers. You smell bad enough on a normal day. After a full twenty-fours in that suit, the smell could kill more people than the bomb.”
Jayne felt an irrational stab of jealousy at their interaction. She suppressed it just as quickly. This was no time to be selfish. Lives were on the line, and hers first.
“My tools are all there.” Ellewood gestured toward a portable bench. A series of cutters, lasers, welding utensils, and other gear was scattered on its shelving units and the floor next to the device. “Kick this bomb’s ass.”
As the technician left the small janitor’s closet, Jayne’s phone vibrated. She pulled it out, thanking the stars that she knew for a fact this bomb couldn’t be triggered by a cellphone signal.
There was a message from Alfonso.
I hope this isn’t too late.
If you’ve died because it took me too long to get this to you
I’m going to live a sad lonely life where I get a bunch of cats
And name each of them after you.
A file had been included with the message. TorsabombA.17_Disarming.
Jayne opened it and almost breathed a sigh of relief.
It was a clear step-by-step guide to disarmin
g devices that were made following a certain manual, bombs literally like the one in front of her. She could do this. All she had to do was not fuck up.
She beamed at Blue Eyes. “You ready for this to become a piece of scrap?”
He grinned. His gaze darted to the digital timer ticking down. “Well, I’d say now is good. Or anytime within the next six minutes and seventeen seconds.”
Ellewood had finally removed both layers of her helmet. “Shouldn’t we get her in one of these suits?”
Blue Eyes looked at the timer. “There’s not enough time. She knows what she’s doing.”
According to the document, there really wasn’t too much involved in disarming it. The first step was removing the casing. Thank you Ellewood for that. Step two was to peel off the sheath around a set of wires running from the control device at the top down to the selvanium chamber in the middle of it.
Squatting over the bomb, Jayne grabbed the wire stripper from the carefully arranged tools. She placed the scissors-like blades over the wire at the very point where it met the control device and took a breath. If she severed any of the dozens of tiny wires inside except for one very particular wire, the damn thing would blow.
She turned and looked at Blue Eyes.
“I think you might want to get out of here.”
He shook his head stoically. “You’re not doing this alone.”
His presence was soothing and supportive. Jayne hoped his confidence wasn’t misplaced. Getting him killed would be a real shitty last act of her life. She laughed and broke one of the cardinal rules of any spy cover. She showed her nerves. “You know, I’ve never actually done this before.”
Jayne deliberately avoided looking at him. His reaction would throw her off her game and she only had one chance to get this right. She clamped down on the wire and twisted, holding her breath. So far, so good. Maintaining a tight grip on the handle, she slid the blades down the plastic to open it. When she reached the point where it attached to the selvanium chamber, she twisted it again.
Jayne forced a calm breathing pattern and peeled the insulation off the fine copper wires inside. A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead, narrowly missed the exposed wires, and plopped on the casing. If that had struck the wires…
“Wipe my forehead,” she instructed.
Shirt fabric dabbed against her brow. At least Blue Eyes had enough presence of mind to use what was on hand instead of disappearing in search of a towel.
Jayne held her breath as she eased the last section of the insulation away from the wiring. She handed the plastic to Blue Eyes and set the wire stripper down.
Almost there.
The last part was the trickiest. She had to track one single strand of copper from where it originated in the selvanium chamber and make sure it was the one soldered to a specific chip on the control device’s circuit board.
Then, she had to cut it.
Jayne selected a pair of long slender needle nose wire cutters from the bomb kit and leaned forward to study the multitude of identical thin copper wires. The closet light was dim and the inside of the bomb even darker. It was almost impossible to make out the individual strands. “I need some light.”
“You’ve got it.” One click later, a single beam illuminated the wires.
With a focus carefully honed over years of training, Jayne identified the strand she needed to cut. At least she hoped it was. Her eyes tracked it back and forth from the selvanium chamber to the chipboard. It went exactly where it was supposed to go. According to the guide, cutting that wire first would allow her to safely sever the rest and detach the payload from the control device that triggered the explosion.
Jayne paused and asked, “Any last words?”
“No. I’ve got plenty more words to come,” Blue Eyes said, half joking and half serious.
This guy should not be so confident in me. She steadied her hands and homed in on the wire. Her implement seized the thread and she pulled gently, separating the strand from its fellows.
“Here goes.” She exhaled a long slow breath and made the cut.
Nothing happened. The timer ticked on.
“Uh…” Blue Eyes sounded bewildered.
“Sorry. Let me say it again: here… it…”Jayne shut her eyes and gritted her teeth. “…Goes.” She cut the rest of the wires as one and the timer stopped.
She collapsed backward in relief, crashing into the arms of her helper.
“It’s done?” he asked, almost in disbelief.
Life was good. The bomb threat was over, and Jayne was in the arms of a charming, handsome man who wouldn’t bail when things got dicey. “It’s done.”
“That’s great!” he exclaimed.
His arms around her felt great too. “I’ve already jammed the other three bombs so the activation signal can’t get through. You can cut the wires on those right now without worrying about them detonating. They’re basically inert.”
“My God, you’re amazing,” he whispered.
The words ignited a spark of joy deep within her. For one of the few times in her life, she was not afraid to place absolute trust in someone. She wanted to stay like this in his arms, but she needed to get out of there before too many questions were asked. Her cover wouldn’t last indefinitely. Besides, if he kept holding her like this, she would kiss him. Better to get to know him first. For all she knew, he wasn’t even single.
Jayne pushed out of his arms and stepped to the doorway. She turned and gave him a soft smile. “Gotta report to my supervisors. You were good in there, Blue Eyes.”
“Do you want to get dinner some time?”
The invitation halted her in her steps. She did want to get dinner with him, but there were certain complications and her clock was winding down.
Jayne pulled a mini felt tip marker from one of her jumpsuit’s pockets. She took his arm and pulled up his sleeve.
“This is for your eyes only. I’m a highly classified federal agent, and no one should have my number. Don’t give this to anyone. Not even your superiors. Got it?”
She looked at him and he grinned. “Okay, Blue Eyes. I’ll pass out for a day or two, but I expect a call shortly thereafter. Don’t wait too long or I might be off-planet.” She squeezed his arm quickly.
“I won’t wait too long. I promise,” Blue Eyes pulled his sleeve back down and buttoned it. “By the way, my name is Cameron.”
“Hmm,” Jayne hummed. “Cameron Blue Eyes. I like it.”
Jayne capped the pen and strode off, not bothering to suppress the smile that shone on her face. Not yet at least. She’d wait until she was on the first floor to look serious and official.
+++
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Downtown Surface Level
Getting the bombers to the police station would be an issue.
Jayne had taken the air cab when she left, and even if she hadn’t, stuffing three bound criminals in the back of a cab seemed like a bad idea. So did the idea of squishing into the front seat with Merry. Fred had serious reservations about the girl, particularly after what she had done to Brandon and the others and the glee on her face when she did it.
“I say we call the cops and have them pick these shitheads up,” she proclaimed as she kicked Jonah in the ribs. “Transporting them across town is a stupid idea.”
They’d already gone over this. Why was she making this more difficult than it had to be?
“If we leave them here for the cops to pick up, there’s a chance they could escape. And if we stay here watching them, the cops will have some questions for us. And they’ll know our names. There are certain things we don’t want to be linked to.”
The bombers remained silent during the discussion. Merry had gagged Brandon and Jonah with her stockings and Terrance with his bloody sock. A strip of duct tape around their mouths sealed the deal.
Merry threw her arms up dramatically. “Fine. Call Vlad.”
Fred shot her a look. “I don’t have his number. Do you?”
; She kicked Brandon. He toppled over and moaned, still groggy from his concussion. “No. Why would I have his number? I just met the dude.”
He frowned and realized he desperately wanted this over and done with. “Can you call a friend?”
Merry responded acidly, “No, I can’t call a friend. That’s a horrible idea. Just give me a sec. I’ll call Vlad.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have his number?”
Merry grinned as she pulled out her tablet. “I don’t have it. But I can get it.”
Fred watched over her shoulder as she worked. At one point, she glanced at him and scowled. He backed off and studied his former clients who now seemed docile enough.
Terrance was pale from blood loss, but Fred had duct taped the bullet hole in his foot and was reasonably sure the thug would be fine. All three looked very uncomfortable. Knowing you were facing jail had that effect. So could having a rod shoved up your ass. Merry had a perverted sense of justice.
Or humor.
Maybe both.
“Vlad!” she lilted.
Fred could hear some muffled cursing.
“No, don’t hang up. I’m not a bill collector. It’s Merry. Yeah, Merry, from the you-know-what. We need you to come here—”
Vlad cut her off and Fred made out the words ‘stay here.’
“Don’t worry about that. We got them. They can’t set off the other bombs now. But we need you to pick us up. You wouldn’t happen to have a large air car, would you?”
+++
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Downtown
Vlad didn’t have a large air car but he did have his own air car. That solved the problem of ridesharing.
Merry insisted on sitting on Jonah’s lap in the backseat. The pressure of her weight on him dramatically increased his discomfort. None of the three prisoners could sit very easily.
Merry and Vlad passed a joint back and forth as he drove. Once again, Fred opted out of the circle. He was still coming down from the gummies. He thought it was a particularly bad idea for a stoned professor to drive to the police station in a car with an ID Merry had disabled.
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