by Holly Kerr
It’s not easy finding spy candidates you can trust with your life. I lucked out with Tenley and Pippa, but I know Ham is still looking.
In the special operations division, we only have the three of us and Lance, along with Minka, who is about to finish her training, and Payton. Payton is Ham’s right-hand woman in the office, and lately has been insisting on more assignments in the field. I’ve never been overly fond of Payton, but even I have to admit she’s good. Not as good as me, but if Ham could spare her, she’d get more experience and be quite good.
If I were to get pregnant, Ham might allow me to do more work in Head Office, freeing up Payton for missions. We could switch places…
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
About being replaced; about a day-to-day job, confined to an office.
It’s something I’ll have to think about.
There are a handful of other agents, relegated to smaller, less volatile missions, but I rarely work with them.
It may be business as usual at Head Office, but I can’t get Suriname out of my mind. I spend my free time in the archives, reading everything I can find about the country.
I pour over my old reports and debriefings. As expected, I was as close-mouthed about things then as I am now. As I read, I’m assaulted by bits and pieces of memory—warm, laughing brown eyes, the kitchen of a house I don’t recognize, the smell of cookies and fresh bread, smiling at a face in the backseat of a car.
“What are you doing in here?” Payton finds me deep in the archive room a week after the mission. Her voice sets me jumping up to cover the files with other files, creating a mess of papers on the table. “Hiding something?” She gives me her usual patronizing stare.
“I’m doing a little research,” I tell her, keeping my arm across a file as I close another.
“Since when do you do that?” Before I can respond, Payton snatches up one of the files. “Suriname 2009. Trying to remember something?”
“Did you know I was there?”
Payton flips through the pages. “You always seem to forget that your partner was Nick, my husband. Oh, right.” She smiles smugly. “No memories.”
“Some are coming back.” As much as I dislike Payton, she knows more about the procedure that downloaded my memories than anyone else.
“I told you they would. I take it you’re remembering—” She shows me a half-page picture of a dark-haired, dark-eyed, very attractive Bryton Raak. “It’s not surprising, considering what went down a few nights ago. You spent a lot of time in Paramaribo.”
“Has there been any word?”
“Is this from the agent who failed to acquire the target or from the woman who was closely associated with him?” Payton asks archly.
“Never mind.” I stand and try to gather the papers. “I’ll find out myself.”
Payton continues to stand over the table as I pile the files together. “How is your shoulder?”
“It’s good,” I say. I can now roll my shoulder without pain. “Scotty says I’m ninety percent. I’ll be fine for the mission after Christmas.”
“Good.” She stands for a moment watching me. “He was a nice man,” she says finally. “Decent. You could have done worse, but it would have never worked. You were consumed with the NIIA and being the best agent, and he was caught up with running his country someday. The two of you enjoyed a moment in time. Look at it like that, and move on.”
“A moment?” All my worry and confusion was because of a moment?
Payton rolls her eyes. “A few weeks. Knowing you, you would have spent more time fighting your feelings for him than actually acting on them. Look how long it took for you and Ham to get together. It was a blip. Move on, or it’s going to affect your work.”
With a sweep of her long hair, Payton leaves without a glance back at me.
~
Pippa tracks me down as I leave the archives.
“Stalking again?” I ask, shutting the door carefully.
“You’re the one who told me to work on my surveillance.” She cranes her neck to read the sign on the door. “What’s the craic? I’ve been lookin’ for you for donkey’s years.”
“You know I still don’t understand half of what you say, right?”
“You know I’m only takin’ the piss.” Pippa smoothes her face. “Charlotte, what on earth are you doing in the archives room?” The words are spoken in a perfect Canadian accent, except for archives, which she stumbles over. “What’s an archive anyway?”
“A fancy word for files. Old files. Historical records.”
She narrows her eyes as we get to the elevator. “Who might you be looking for among these archives?”
“Is it weird to say myself?”
She nods sagely as the chime of the elevator signals its arrival. “Still wondering about Mr. Fancy-Pants.”
“Do you blame me?”
“I don’t blame you for anything, Charlotte Dodd,” Agatha’s soothing robotic voice says as the elevator doors slides open.
“Just me, right, Aggie?” Pippa asks. Then to me, “Tenley not talking?”
“It’s…weird…”
“Then go talk to someone who’s not weird. Who knew you best back in the day?”
I think back to what I know about my early years in the Agency. “Tyler, but he’s gone. Nick, but I don’t think I’d tell him things like this.” I pause. “Ida.”
“Well, then let’s go talk to Ida. Agatha, Ida’s lair, if you please.” The elevator stops the descent quick enough to push me off balance and starts rising. “Thank you kindly.”
“You’re very welcome, Pippa McGovern-Stock-Dodd.”
Pippa winces. “That is a mouthful, isn’t it?”
A few minutes later, Pippa knocks on the door to Ida’s lab and leads the way in without waiting for a response.
“Don’t they teach you manners over in Ireland?” a voice drifts across the room as I follow Pippa inside. Ida’s lab is a gamer’s paradise, a virtual who’s who of pop culture. She has figurines and models and posters of everything from Buffy the Vampire Slayer to Game of Thrones to the Simpsons. It’s almost too much to look at. I imagine a child would be over stimulated within minutes.
I finally locate Ida behind the long counter, huddled over a tray with a thin laser in her hand. She pushes the safety glasses onto her forehead as she glances up. “How’s she cuttin’?” she asks.
“Holy hell, now you’re gettin’ the hang of my language.” Pippa laughs. I only shake my head.
Ida grins at me as she turns off the laser. “What’s up?”
“Can you take those goggles off? You look like some kind of bug.”
Ida slips off her glasses, propping her elbows on the counter. She’s tiny and thin and androgynous-looking with hair now a vibrant green held off her face by a Survivor buff. Becoming a contestant on the reality show is her latest pet project. Ham keeps telling her she isn’t allowed to send in a video, but I know she’s working on getting around that rule.
“So?” Ida barks. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
“You’re playing with toys,” Pippa scoffs.
“I’m making toys,” Ida corrects her. She turns to me with a knowing expression. “I heard about Paramaribo. You remember anything about Bryton?”
I shake my head. “Bits and pieces, but not really. Is there more?”
Ida snorts. “Please. You were nineteen and head over heels when you came back. Whose shoulder were you going to cry on? That tattoo was because of him, you know.”
Pippa’s jaw drops. “You have a tattoo?”
“I took her to get it,” Ida says proudly. “An itty-bitty cute Cupid.”
At Pippa’s questioning stare, I pull up the hem of my Tshirt to show her the ink. “I would never have pictured you with a cartoon tat,” Pippa says with a laugh. “He’s cute.”
“Ida’s a bad influence.”
“I did not pick that one.” She waves her laser at me. “You have a bare-a
ssed boy drawn on you. Not my first choice.”
I pat the tattoo and drop my shirt. “I like him.”
“Like you liked Bryton?” Pippa asks.
“It was more than like,” Ida confirms. She snaps her goggles back in place before returning to work.
I groan softly as the hiss of the laser fills the lab. “So I did love him.” The realization makes me more confused than ever, as well as regretful that I can’t remember such a thing.
“You left, still hung up over that dork Luke Pendergrass, but he was forgotten once you laid eyes on Bryton’s smoldering good looks,” Ida says without looking up.
“Please tell me I didn’t describe him like that,” I say weakly.
Ida cackles. “Oh, you have no idea what you said about him. Eyes like dark chocolate, a mouth that only tempts you to taste and that ass.”
“See?” Pippa slaps my shoulder and I wince. “What’d she say about his ass?”
“Was I trying to be a romance writer or something?”
“You had it bad.” Ida flips up the goggles, her face sober. “He was a big improvement over Luke. But unfortunately, you couldn’t really talk about it because it might have caused an international incident.”
“Because she liked a guy?” Pippa asks with disbelief.
“I’m not the diplomat; Ham is. But I’m guessing you don’t want to talk to him about this.”
I smile tightly. “Do you blame me?”
“He knows enough. But you weren’t Charlie and Ham yet, so no worries. It didn’t last long, but it was intense. He left his mark on you.”
“Like what? A hickey?” Pippa wants to know.
“No, not a hickey!” I turn wide-eyed to Ida. “Did he give me a hickey?”
“I have no idea. You’re not much for details.”
“Tell me about it,” Pippa mutters.
“But did I—do you know if we—”
“Yes, you knew him in the Biblical sense,” Ida finishes for me.
“I really did.”
Pippa slaps my shoulder again. “I think this new information calls for a pint or two, don’t you? Ida? You with us?”
She shakes her head. “No can do. I’ve got a date.” The way she avoids meeting my gaze tells me she’s hesitant to talk about it, but Pippa shows no qualms.
“A date!” She practically lunges over the counter. “Who is she?”
“Who says it’s a her?”
That stops Pippa. “Last time you told me about someone, it was a she.”
“It’s still a she,” Ida concedes. “Just a different one.”
Pippa offers her hand for a high five. “Atta girl.”
A thought hits me. “Did I—have there been others for me?”
“Not that I know of, but then again, you’ve always been a little shy on details.”
Chapter Ten
“The awkward moment when you go out with your friends for coffee and come back as drunk as f*&%.”
LeFunny.com
It’s an odd feeling not knowing how many guys I’ve known in the Biblical sense.
But it’s effective in shutting down any more plans for research. Right now, I’m a little afraid of what I might find out.
After leaving Ida’s lab, Pippa and I find Tenley and convince her to come with us for a drink at the nearby pub. It’s not difficult since her ex-husband Simon has Lucy for the night.
“Let me tell Seamus he has the night off,” Tenley says, thumbs racing across the keyboard as we take the elevator to the ground floor.
“Tell him to call Declan,” Pippa suggests.
“Or Ham.”
Both Tenley and Pippa glance at me. “He said he’d try,” I protest. “But it’d be nice if Seamus made an effort, too.”
We arrive at the main floor of the Mutual Liberty Insurance building. The Agency’s bank of elevators is behind an innocuously labeled door. I take a moment to smooth my features into an expression suitable for an equally innocuous office worker.
I should know the feeling well because I worked as a temp at Mutual Liberty for a while after my memories were downloaded and I had no idea I was a spy.
Those were the years I was with Luke, and I want to talk about that time in my life even less than I want to talk about Bryton.
I push open the doors with a sense of relief. Some days I can’t believe the normal folks who work here have no clue about what’s underneath them.
Outside, the wind is sharp and cold, and I huddle into my coat as Pippa leads us across the busy street against the lights.
“Jaywalking is illegal, you know,” Tenley says as we dodge a car that refused to stop for us. The driver blasts his horn with a dirty expression as we hop over the snowbank onto the sidewalk.
“Only if you get caught. I can’t wait for the light—it’s bloody cold enough to freeze the balls of a brass donkey out here.”
“Welcome to Canada.” I grin.
Keeping our faces hidden from the cold, we hurry to the nearest pub and pull open the door, sighing in the welcome heat. Again, Pippa leads us, this time across the crowded floor to the back of the bar. It’s a secluded little alcove, with a pool table and a few tables, and well away from the other patrons. A waitress follows us, laughing as we argue about who sits where.
She doesn’t understand that agents prefer to sit with their back to the wall, facing the rest of the room.
Tenley wins.
In no time, we have drinks before us. “No talk about work,” Pippa insists, raising her pint of Guinness.
“What else do we talk about,” Tenley protests. “You have to admit, the three of us don’t have much in common. Charlie is a life-time special agent, you’re basically a thief, and I’m a single mom.”
“You’re also a business owner,” I say. “That’s important…and yet has nothing to do with me and Pippa.”
“It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” Tenley says in a conciliatory tone. “Some women have friends that they’ve known for years, or went to school with, or their kids are friends.”
“Do you have friends like that?” Pippa takes a sip, watching Tenley over the rim of her glass.
“Not really, no.”
Pippa lifts her glass. “So you’re stuck with us. Cheers!”
I laugh. “We have my brothers in common. We all love them. Well, maybe I don’t love them exactly the same way you love them…”
“I bloody well hope not,” Pippa mutters. “Then you Canucks would be effin freaks.”
“No one is a freak here.” Tenley raises her vodka martini, takes a healthy mouthful and sighs with pleasure. “I needed that.”
I look at her expectantly and Pippa gestures with her hand to continue. “And why do you need that?” she adds when Tenley doesn’t respond. “Friends tell friends all their shite.”
“Oh, it’s nothing really. Just Lucy…these girls at school are giving her problems.”
“Want we should take them out?” Pippa suggests.
“You sound like Seamus.” Tenley smiles, but I frown.
“He hasn’t done anything, has he?” I ask cautiously.
“I don’t expect him to—why?”
“I still have the memories of my childhood and one thing I do remember is Seamus giving grief to this kid who kept teasing me. They used to call me Elf, and I hated it. It’s not funny,” I protest as Pippa laughs.
“You got upset for being called an elf?”
“It was mean. Have you ever been called an elf?”
“Charlie, mate, I’ve been called lots of things, some of which would curl your hair.” She grins ruefully. “But sure, bad kids, saying bad things. Did Seamus come to your rescue?”
“He did, which was sweet, but it only made it worse. Because then the kid said something about Seamus and I ended up tackling him in the middle of the playground. It stopped him, but I got in a bunch of trouble for it.”
“How old were you?” Tenley asks.
“Maybe six.”
“You
got into a fight when you were six?” Pippa laughs and clinks her glass with mine. “See, there’s something we have in common. Before I got into gymnastics, I’d get into rotten trouble. We would have got along like a house on fire.”
“Really?”
“No, we would have been scrapping like a couple of mad dogs. It’d be bad. Good thing we had an ocean to separate us.”
“So what did you tell Lucy?” I ask Tenley.
“I told her to ignore it; that bullies are often the most insecure out of all of us and are only fighting back against how someone treats them.”
“That makes sense,” I say hesitantly. I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea of what to tell a child who was being bullied. I knocked Marcus Welby on his ass for teasing me and couldn’t care less if he was upset about something kids said to him.
“But I told her to always stand up for herself, as well as others. And I signed her up for extra karate classes.” Tenley grins and holds up her glass. “She needs to always be able to defend herself.”
“If I had a daughter, I’d teach her to fight back coming out of the womb,” Pippa says.
I wince. “I can’t see that being comfortable.”
“I’d give her a couple of days to adjust.”
I laugh at the image of a tiny Pippa-like creature kicking and scratching as someone attempted to cuddle her.
“Have you ever thought of having kids?” Tenley asks her.
Pippa’s face falls before quickly smoothing into the unconcerned expression that makes her so good at being an agent. “I don’t suppose I can, now, I don’t think. Me mam…” She takes a long drink of her beer before continuing. “She gave me some stuff when I was a kid to stop me from growing. Obviously, it didn’t work.” She gives a bark of humourless laughter. “But it messed me up. Inside.”
“I’m sorry, Pippa.” Tenley drops her hand on top of Pippa’s, who shakes it off.
“No worries. I’ve got your little darlin’ to spoil in the meantime. She seems to like her Auntie Pippa.”
“Lucy likes you a lot.” Tenley smiles before glancing at me. I know she wants to ask about my conversation with Ham, but after Pippa’s revelation, neither of us feels comfortable bringing it up.