by Alex Siegel
"Where is Victor?" Aaron said.
"Still working the mean streets of Chicago looking for leads."
"Should we go help him?"
"I gave you an order," Ethel said sternly. "Take a break. You earned it."
"Yes, ma'am!" Marina said. "Come on, Aaron. Let's go get a beer."
He followed her out of the room.
Instead of going to the main entrance, she took him to another exit near the exercise equipment. There were two doors made of steel and thick glass with a small enclosure in between, like an airlock.
Marina talked to the ceiling. "Jack, please let us out."
There was a buzzing noise. She pulled open the first door, and Aaron went into the enclosure with her. After the first door closed, she opened the second. They proceeded into a narrow passage with concrete walls.
"What is this?" he said.
"The rear exit," she said, "in case the front door isn't an option."
"It's good to have one of those."
"And there is a third exit near your quarters at the end of the hallway."
"I thought that was a closet."
"No," she said. "It's for emergencies only. It leads to a lock-out chamber on the bottom of the Chicago River. We can escape underwater."
"Dirty, cold water," he said, "especially in the winter."
"Which is why our enemies would never expect it."
The concrete walls of the passage were cracked and patched with tar. Darkened areas indicated water damage. Apparently, they were still below the water table.
The tunnel ended at a steel ladder that was bolted to the wall. Aaron and Marina climbed up a long vertical shaft, pushed up through a trap door, and arrived in an empty closet. She closed the trap door, and it blended perfectly with the wooden floor.
"Where are we?" he said.
"An apartment," she replied softly. "Keep your voice down."
She peered through a peephole and then opened the closet door. They walked into a studio apartment, lightly furnished in a contemporary style. The walls were eggshell white.
"Does anybody live here?"
"No," she said. "Sometimes we use it as a safe house, but it's usually empty."
They left the apartment, went down a flight of stairs, and emerged onto a busy street. Aaron recognized North Wabash Avenue. Tall buildings, all at least ten stories high, rose up on both sides. The architectural styles ran the gamut from traditional brick façades with concrete moldings to sterile towers of glass and steel. Nearby, a homeless man begged for spare change from pedestrians. Further away, a train rattled along a track supported by rusty steel pillars and beams. The warm, humid air smelled of car exhaust.
"Where are we headed?" Aaron said.
Marina pointed to a restaurant named Topaz across the street. The large windows were tinted a dark yellow, and strips of pink glass framed the door. He followed her inside. She immediately went to a well stocked bar on the right side of the restaurant. The interior glittered with yellow, pink, and brown crystals lit from all angles by concealed lights. It was still early in the evening, so the place was quiet. The patrons who were present wore nice suits and dresses. Lawyers, bankers, and their girlfriends, Aaron thought.
He patted his pants pockets. "Uh, I just realized. I don't have any money or credit cards. I lost it all when Alex Dempster got stuffed into a garbage can."
"That's OK," Marina said. "I got it covered."
They sat at the bar. She laid down a credit card with the name Gretchen Stableford.
"Good old Gretchen," he said. "Always ready to buy a round or two for her friends."
She nodded. "She's very generous. What's your pleasure?"
He looked at the shelves full of expensive liquor. "Let's have some fun."
"Not too much fun." She gave him a look. "Ethel doesn't like it when her people get drunk. We're never really off duty."
"Then we'll sip, not gulp. Let's see... that Highland Park Scotch looks very sip-able."
They called the bartender over. He told them a shot from that particular bottle cost eighty dollars. Aaron gasped in horror, but Marina didn't hesitate when she ordered two shots.
He took a small sip of his drink. The flavor was a mix of honey and wood smoke, but not too sweet. It stayed on his tongue for a long time. He drank the rest eagerly.
"Smooth," he said.
"Yes, it's very nice," she said, "but I'm more of a traditional vodka girl. Bartender, let's try a little of that Stolichnaya Elit."
Two more shots were poured, this time for a mere twenty dollars each. Still, it was a lot more than Aaron was accustomed to paying for his liquor.
The vodka had a delicate flavor with hints of vanilla, sugar, cream, and a touch of spice. It was so easy to drink he finished his shot in a single pull.
"One more," Marina said, "then we quit."
"Oh, come on. The party just got started."
"We have to stay sharp. We're in the middle of a mission. You get the last pick."
He furrowed his brow. "In that case, I see a dusty bottle of Courvoisier Cognac that looks like it needs some love. The blue and red label is certainly unusual. Bartender, two shots, please."
The bartender, a middle-aged man in a tuxedo, raised his eyebrows. "That Cognac is a hundred dollars a shot, sir."
Aaron cleared his throat.
"Go ahead," Marina said.
The bartender poured.
Aaron took tiny sips of his drink to make it last as long as possible. The dominant flavor was fine champagne, but there were delicious hints of fruit. As it went down, he also detected vanilla, more in his nose than on his tongue.
"Wow," he said. "That's good, but I'm not sure if it's a hundred dollars worth of good. I'm glad Gretchen was buying."
Marina paid the bill, and they left the restaurant. The sun was setting, but the air was still warm and humid.
A series of loud popping noises made Aaron jump. Several teenagers ran past with smiles on their faces.
"Firecrackers," Marina said. "The Fourth of July."
"Oh, right." He nodded. "This weekend."
"Hmm. Large crowds and families with children. A perfect target for a terrorist attack?"
"If you're right, we're running out of time."
She grimaced. "We'll worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, we're under orders to relax, and I intend to follow those orders."
"How about a movie?" he said.
"Sure. I have a few rentals back at my apartment that I need to watch."
"You don't want to go to a movie theater?"
"Sitting in a dark room with hundreds of strangers is not my idea of relaxation. I get antsy in crowds. Let's go to my place where we can be ourselves and speak freely. I'll even cook you dinner."
"Really?" He smiled. "Are you a good cook?"
"I'm terrible," she said, "but the food will be full of good intentions."
"Sounds delicious."
They walked several blocks south and came to a twenty-story building with a classic limestone and cement façade. It had a certain charm, even though pollution had made the exterior dingy. It was surrounded by clean, modern architecture.
A doorman nodded to Marina, obviously recognizing her, and she rewarded him with a cheerful smile. She and Aaron entered an elevator which needed to be unlocked with a key card. They went up to the eleventh floor. Her apartment was at the end of a pale green hallway. Her door had three deadbolt locks that required three different keys. After they went inside, she carefully relocked all three bolts. The door was made of painted metal instead of wood.
"You're serious about security," Aaron said.
"When I'm home, I like to feel safe. There are also a few booby-traps, so don't wander off and peek in my drawers. Just stay with me."
He looked around the large apartment. There were two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. The walls were painted a uniform pale yellow. Tan carpet was everywhere except in the kitchen, which had speckled yellow tile. All the furniture was
cheap, plain, and dull, the kind usually found at discount furniture outlets. Even the few prints hung on the walls seemed entirely generic.
"You look disappointed," Marina said.
"I was expecting something more... exotic."
"The blandness is intentional. There are no documents here, no family photos, no heirlooms, no mementos. Even the furniture is uninteresting. This is just a place where I eat, sleep, and get dressed. I can abandon it without a second thought."
"I get it," Aaron said, "but it's a shame. I wanted to learn more about you."
"You already know too much about me. I can show you my special closet. You might find that interesting."
"A 'special' closet?"
He followed her into the living room. Huge mirrors covered one wall, creating the illusion of a space twice as large as it actually was. She used her keys to tap on one of the mirrors in a complex, irregular beat.
"What are you doing?"
"Sonic lock," Marina said. "Edward built it for me. The man is a genius."
Aaron heard something go thunk behind the mirror. She pulled on the edge, and it swung out silently, revealing a huge, secret closet.
It contained several long racks of clothes. There were hundreds of outfits, ranging from formal dresses to skimpy bikinis and everything in between. A wall of cubby holes held at least fifty pairs of shoes and other accessories. A make-up table with a lighted mirror and several wigs stood against the opposite wall.
"What happened to intentional blandness?" Aaron asked.
"This is for work, not pleasure. I change my identity all the time, which means I change my clothes all the time."
"For work? Right." He winked at her. "Most women I know would kill for a closet like this."
He noticed guns hanging on the back wall, and he approached for a closer look. Marina possessed a nice collection of weapons. The smallest was a derringer that could fit in the palm of a woman's hand, and the largest was a .308 caliber sniper rifle. She also had a great variety of edged weapons which included a real Japanese katana. Some of the daggers looked like antiques.
"Don't we have enough guns back at headquarters?" he said.
"Sure, but sometimes I need a weapon right now. Besides, these are my personal favorites." She stroked the very short barrel of a revolver that had a shockingly huge muzzle bore. It looked capable of killing big game, although it probably had a hellacious kick.
One of the clothes racks had an entire section dedicated to lingerie. He brushed the tips of his fingers across sheer black material that was almost transparent.
"Sparkle wears that item," Marina said.
"Your exotic dancer identity?" He smiled. "Nice."
She contemplated the lingerie for a long moment. "I could put it on for you."
"Really?" He stared at her.
She nodded.
"Um." He swallowed. "Is that a good idea?"
"What's wrong? My body is unattractive?"
"You're beautiful. Perfect. That's the problem. If you wear this outfit, I'll get very excited." His pants were already getting tight from the thought.
"I'm sure a responsible gentleman like you wouldn't lose control."
"I just don't like to be frustrated. I mean, we're alone in your apartment. A man gets ideas."
She moved closer to him. In a sultry voice she said, "What ideas, exactly?"
"You told me you don't want a relationship. I'm trying to respect that."
"Who mentioned a relationship? We're just talking about lingerie. Don't make it so complicated."
"It's already complicated." He looked into her lustrous green eyes. "Very."
"Actually, I'm warming up to the idea of being with you. You've seen what kind of woman I really am, what kind of life I lead, what risks I take, and you still want me. That means something."
"You changed your mind about us?"
"In my world, love is a dangerous luxury, but in your case I might be willing to gamble on it. Either way, I need you to hold me now. I'm feeling... lonely."
She put her arms around his waist and her head against his chest. Her hair had a faint aroma of apples. He hugged her, and her body felt right pressed against his.
"This is crazy," she said softly. "We can't do this. You were right to be reluctant. A relationship between legionnaires always creates a mess."
She didn't let go of him, and he didn't let go of her. For a minute they just stood in that intimate position. Then he felt tears on his shoulder.
"What's wrong?" he whispered.
"I can't remember the last time I felt like this. It's scary."
He squeezed her gently. "It's OK."
"No, it's not." She pushed him away. "Go back to headquarters and let me wallow in self-pity. By morning I'll be fresh and ready to work like a professional. I'm no good for you anyway. I'm a horrible person."
"What are you talking about? You're the strongest, bravest, most talented woman I've ever met."
She looked down. "I'm the cruelest, most vicious woman you've ever met. I've done things that would make you throw up. Even my own teammates are afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid." He put a hand on her shoulder.
She shrugged off his hand. "Just go, please, before I make a fool of myself."
With great regret, he turned and walked towards the door of the apartment.
"Wait!" she said. "Just, wait. But don't look at me."
He heard her moving around behind him. It sounded like she was changing her clothes.
"What are you doing?" he said.
"I don't know anymore." After a moment she added, "Now you can look."
He turned to discover she had put on the black lingerie. The sheer material concealed very little of her slim, athletic figure, and it didn't cover her breasts at all. Instead, the outfit emphasized her feminine curves, making her even sexier than if she had worn nothing at all.
The only response he could utter was an incoherent grunt.
She took his hand and pulled him towards her bedroom. "Come on. Show me the ideas a man gets."
Chapter Fifteen
A loud knock on a door woke Aaron from a deep sleep. He found himself in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar bedroom, but then he remembered his night of passion. Marina. She was already getting out of bed.
"Shit," she muttered. "We overslept. Move!"
A clock on a nightstand showed 7:00 AM. They were supposed to meet Agent Hoskins at 8:00, and preparations for that meeting were still incomplete.
Marina threw on a bathrobe and rushed out of the bedroom. Aaron's clothes were scattered across the floor where they had fallen last night. He got out of bed to collect them.
Soreness in his back made him stiffen. The night had turned into an adventurous exploration of unusual sexual positions and techniques with Marina as his enthusiastic tour guide. The strength and flexibility of Aaron's body had been tested to its limits. He couldn't say he had completely enjoyed every part of the experience, but he had certainly learned some new tricks.
He heard the front door of the apartment open. Ethel barked a few sharp words at Marina. A moment later, Ethel entered the bedroom with a paper grocery bag in hand. Still naked, Aaron froze.
She tossed the bag to him. "Put these on." She didn't sound happy.
The bag contained fresh clothes. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "Can I have a little privacy?"
"No." She closed the bedroom door but remained with him. Her dark eyes glared at him. "We'll talk while you get dressed."
With as much dignity as he could muster, he dressed himself in a blue business suit made of cheap, thin cotton. The black shoes were already scuffed and worn, a nice touch of authenticity. He would look just like an underpaid, overworked government agent.
"The Gray Spear Society has many rules," Ethel said, "and they include restrictions on personal relationships. Now seems like an excellent time to review the main points."
"I'm not allowed to love Marina?"
"Love is tolerated, barel
y, and only on the condition that it doesn't interfere with a mission. However, you may not marry or have children. The Lord demands total obedience and commitment from us. There is no accommodation for a family."
Aaron raised his eyebrows. "I understand that children would be a problem. Marina and I can't be good parents if we're always risking our lives. I don't want to be a father, anyway. But what's wrong with marriage?"
"What if I order her to sleep with another man as part of a mission? Or you to sleep with another woman? You'll violate your marriage vows."
"Technically," he said, "but..."
"What if Marina becomes a liability? It may become your duty to kill her."
"That's not a good example, ma'am." He shook his head. "It would never happen."
"Oh? Life in the Society can be very stressful, particularly for legionnaires like you and her. Breakdowns happen."
"Marina is too strong."
"Not really," Ethel said. "In fact, her mental stability is doubtful. She has a long history of psychopathic behavior. If you want an even better example, look at Yvonne. She used to be as tough as anybody, one of the Society's most elite operatives. Now she's afraid to leave headquarters alone."
"The cook?"
"She's an ongoing reclamation project. But sometimes the case is hopeless, and a life must be taken."
"That's cold."
"We can't have crazy people telling our secrets to the world. Either you're a trustworthy member in good standing who follows the rules or you're dead. That is our law. I hope my message is clear."
"It is, ma'am." He nodded sadly.
She walked up to him. "You and Marina are walking down a dangerous road together. It's all kisses and hugs now, but I expect it to end in tears. Situations like this always do. That's all I have to say." She opened the bedroom door and called out, "Marina? Come in here. We need to go over some mission details, and we don't have much time."
* * *
Aaron and Marina stood on the sidewalk in front of Cook County Jail, Division 11. Even though it was still morning, the sun felt very warm on his face. He was glad his suit was made of thin cloth that let his skin breathe.
She wore a gray vest over a pleated, white shirt that had too much starch in it. A gray skirt went down to her calves. Pins held her hair back in a tight bun.