The Spy with the Silver Lining

by Wendy Rosnau

  “I wouldn’t have had to run if my ride had showed. What was I supposed to do, let Petrov’s gunman stuff us in a trunk and drive us to the nearest landfill? Whatever plan your boss and Polax cooked up is a joke.”

  “And you think I’m a joke, too?”

  “If the shoe fits, buy a pair in every color.”

  He could snap her beautiful neck so damn easy. Instead, Pierce backed off. After all, he was the calm and collected one, while she was the spitfire who never knew when to shut up.

  She turned, unlocked the door and walked out. He followed, stopping in the hall to light another cigarette. He took his time, taking a much-needed drag of nicotine. As he entered the bar, he saw her head for the table where she’d left her mother.

  She picked up the empty martini glass, then turned to search all four corners of the bar. When she didn’t see Ruza anywhere, she spun a half turn and nailed him with that bitch look that had made her famous in the spy world as one of Quest’s untouchables.

  “Where’s my mother?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Because you’re a—”

  “Oui, I know.” He sauntered to the table, sat down in a chair. “The words you used on the phone when you were burning Polax’s ears were, a useless turd in a sea of stink.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Sit down.”

  “I said—”

  “Sit.”

  She hesitated, then jerked the empty chair out, and as she sat, she slammed the empty martini glass down between them. “Okay, I’m sitting. Where’s my mother?”

  “On her way to Le Mystère.”

  “With who?”

  “The gypsy scum.”

  The gypsy wasn’t one of Yurii’s loyal soldatos. Casmir contemplated that. Rationalized why it had been easy to make the mistake. Considering the man’s appearance at the airport, it had been an easy one to make.

  “And where were you when we got off the plane, riding in the gypsy’s pocket?”

  “I sent Lazie to pick you up in my place.”

  “Without telling me? Why would you change the plan and send a new contact? Someone I didn’t know or expect? I’m confused.”

  “Use that line when you call Polax back. Tell him you got turned around and you made a mistake.”

  He had to be kidding. “The mistake was yours, not mine. You never showed at the airport, and now some wild vagabond wearing an earring has hijacked my mother. She’s probably scared out of her wits.”

  “Make the call.”

  “I have a better idea. You make a call to the gypsy. Tell him to bring Mama back.”

  “That would be a wasted trip. We’ll be joining them soon enough.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. Besides not being able to tell time, you don’t hear well, do you?”

  “You want to see Mama, right? Lazie’s got quite a reputation as a lady’s man.”

  “Somehow I’m not worried Mama is going to fall hard for your colorful friend unless it’s while she’s scrambling to get downwind. He probably smells as bad as he looks.”

  “Lazie has never been above taking what he wants when his mind is set.”

  “You’re not suggesting that his mind is set on having my mother?”

  “He did confess an interest in Cookie.”

  “Cookie?”

  “He’s already given her a nickname. Sweet, isn’t it?”

  Casmir narrowed her eyes. “Are you blackmailing me?”

  “Oui. Call Polax.”

  “No.”

  “Tell him you ate something on the plane that scrambled your brain. Tell him since you last talked, you’ve taken some antacid, and now you’re thinking straight. Tell him we’re together and things have worked out.”

  Casmir was so busy plotting the appropriate death for Mr. Asshole that she didn’t see the guy she’d had words with earlier leave his table and head their way.

  “Your jealous badass boyfriend finally show up, cher?”

  She looked up and saw the cretin she’d backed off at gunpoint. Big Burly was once again behind him—the giant looked like barroom brawling was his profession instead of his hobby.

  Whatever, Casmir thought, but he really needed to get himself some new friends and a haircut and invest in a new razor.

  “I asked if dis is da boyfriend you was crowin’ about, cher?”

  She had never had a boyfriend, but if she was ever in the market for one, Pierce Fourtier wouldn’t make the bottom of the list. He was arrogant, practiced deviant tactics and no doubt had the morals of a rodent. Which was probably why Onyxx had recruited him as a rat fighter.

  She glanced at Pierce, who had lit another cigarette—she added chain smoking to the list of his unsavory behavior—then looked back at the cretin who didn’t know when to give up.

  “How old are you?”

  The question seemed to throw him. He blinked his bloodshot eyes, then slowly grinned. “Old enough to know what ta do with you, cher.”

  Casmir rolled her eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “Name’s Parnel, sweet thin’.”

  “Well, Parnel, I’m surprised that someone hasn’t shut you up permanently by now. If this is your routine every time a woman comes through the front door, I’m amazed that your throat hasn’t been slit, or your kneecaps blown off.”

  Pierce chuckled, and Parnel gave her boyfriend a narrow-eyed glare. “You tough enough to slit my throat, badass?”

  “It could happen, mon ami, if you’re not out of my face in five seconds.”

  “You think you’ve got big enough balls to send me to hell?” Parnel grabbed his crotch. “I guarantee mine are bigger. I can back up what I say in an alley or in the bedroom.”

  His friend stepped up and gave Parnel an elbow. “You’ve made a mistake. This guy is—”

  “Shut up, Frog.”

  “You should listen to your friend. He knows something you don’t. Something you don’t want to find out the hard way.”

  Casmir glanced at Pierce, then Parnel’s muscle-bound friend, who had just been given the name Frog. An interesting nickname, but Big Burly fit him better.

  Pierce and Frog exchanged that look. The look of recognition. Parnel never saw it: he was too busy puffing up his chest.

  “I doan like you. I’m not so sure I like your girlfriend anymore neither, but no one tells me ta get lost. What’s it gonna be, fists or knives?”

  “Parnel, I’m tellin’ you, this guy isn’t someone you want to piss off.”

  “Stuff it, Frog. He’s da one who should be worried ’bout pissin’ me off.”

  “But you don’t want to fight him. He’s—”

  “I said, shut up. We can do dis outside, or right here. Winner goes home with blondie.”

  “Ha!” Casmir laughed, knowing full well that Pierce Fourtier would never agree to such a ridiculous wager.

  She watched him stand. Now she would get to see just how tough Pierce really was.

  She studied his stance. She had to admit that he really did come off as a hard case. He had attitude, as well as a lean and fit body—the best in the bar from what she’d seen so far.

  Okay, so he wasn’t bad looking, either, but that didn’t mean she’d changed her mind about his growing list of faults. He was still out of a job, because she was never going to call Polax and go willingly to Le Mystère.

  With his expression composed, and his dark eyes giving nothing away—she remembered that about him in Austria—he said, “Your five seconds are up. I choose knives. Location, downstairs. Frog, set it up. By the way, it’s good to see you again, mon ami. It looks like Lazie’s been treating you well.”

  Casmir leapt to her feet. “Are you crazy? No one bets me in a wager. I’m not some—”

  Pierce slipped his arm around her and pulled her against him. “Have faith in your boyfriend, amant. If I lose, what is one night with Parnel?” He gestured to the man, who was now grinning like an idiot. “Look, he has all his teeth, and he’s gua
ranteed you a pair of big balls. What more can a woman want in a man?”

  Parnel’s grin grew while Casmir’s anger doubled. She tried to pry his hand off her hip. When that didn’t work, she finally found her voice and hissed in his ear, “Let go of me or your balls are going to be in your throat a second before I kill you.”

  Her threat didn’t seem to worry him, or budge his hand. He said, “I’ll join you in an hour.” When the two men walked off, he looked at Casmir. “You want to see Mama, oui? Killing me won’t make that happen, but it will give Lazie a chance to be alone with Cookie overnight.”

  “More blackmail.”

  “Blackmail? Fact? You make the call.”

  “What’s downstairs?”

  “A game room.”

  “What kind of game room, and how do you know about it?”

  He let go of her. “I used to work here.”

  Curious now, seeing that he was serious, she asked, “How good are you with a knife? Do you think you can win?”

  “Worried about me?”

  “I’m worried about finding Le Mystère after dark to rescue my mother from the gypsy should you end up a slab of meat at the morgue.”

  “I’m thirsty. I need a beer. You? What’s your poison, amant?”

  “Call the gypsy and warn him off. Tell him—”

  “His name is Saber Lazie, and Cookie will be fine as long as she doesn’t do anything stupid. It takes a lot to piss Lazie off.”

  Mama would be too afraid to do something stupid, Casmir thought. Still…

  “He better not lay a finger on her or he’ll be wearing another piercing. Only this hole will be bigger. Straight through his chest.”

  “Somehow I believe you would do it.”

  “The first intelligent thought you’ve had all day. You don’t have to fight Parnel. We could leave now, and—”

  “We? You’ve changed your mind about calling Polax and bailing?”

  She hadn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. “Maybe. It all depends on you and how quickly we can get out of here. Shall we go?”

  “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t fight for my amant? If I ran like a tcheue?”

  “No one here would think you’re a chicken, Fourtier. You look more like a snake. And you’re not my boyfriend. I only said that to get Parnel to back off.”

  “And did he…get off your back?”

  “Not right away. He needed a bit more persuasion. But in the end—”

  “So you shoved your gun up his nose and told him to eat it, didn’t you?”

  “Stomach, and only after he insulted me. I wouldn’t have had to get nasty if he’d known when to walk away. Why does every man think that a woman is just supposed to roll over and drool when he snaps his fingers?”

  “Not every man. I like my women moaning, not drooling. Not as messy, and better for the ego.”

  “A bodyguard with a sense of humor. Who would have thought a snake would have a funny side? They’re so one-dimensional.”

  “This snake is a barrel of fun once you get to know me.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Grinning, he headed for the bar. Over his shoulder, he said, “Coming?”

  Scowling at him, Casmir followed and slid onto a bar stool. She had expected him to do the same, but he stepped behind the bar and slapped the man tending customers on the back.

  “How’s it going, Lute?”

  “I never expected to see you back here, Pierce. You come to visit Lazie?”

  “Something like that. I’ll wait on the lady.”

  The bartender nodded. “Sure, mon ami. You know your way around. Nuttin’s changed.”

  “Sometimes that’s a good thing.”

  “Oui. Like a steady paycheck and sex twice a week with my old lady. Always look forward to Tuesdays and Fridays. A man’s routine is his best friend.”

  The man named Lute gave Casmir a sweet grin before he moved to the end of the bar to wait on another thirsty customer. She dismissed the short little man with shaggy brown hair, and focused on Pierce Fourtier.

  “Now then, tite chatte, you want a real drink, or something pretty?”

  “I don’t think I should be drinking.”

  “Does that mean you can’t handle your liquor?”

  “I can handle whatever you throw my way. I could drink you under the table if necessary.”

  His reaction to her boast was another healthy chuckle. She noticed straight white teeth, and mentally listed them under fit body, nice nose and clear complexion. Okay, so she’d noticed his nice skin, along with a pair of soul-deep brown eyes.

  “We’ll have to settle that one of these nights. See who can outlast who.”

  “Then you plan on taking me to Le Mystère?”

  “Oui. There was never any doubt.”

  Okay, this was the way it was going to work. She’d go with him, get Mama and leave two minutes later.

  Casmir started to stand. “Let’s go.”

  “After I meet Parnel downstairs.”

  She sat back down. “What if you don’t win? I don’t think we should jeopardize Mama’s safety for ego’s sake, do you?”

  “Lazie won’t let anything happen to Ruza.” He reached for a bottle of vodka and began to mix her a drink. At least she suspected it was hers. He’d said he needed a beer.

  Using all the tools of the trade, and knowing where to find whatever he needed, he produced a martini glass and poured the mix into it from a shaker and set it down in front of her.

  “There you are, amant. A fitting drink for Quest’s actress.”

  “What is it?”

  “The house special. The Glitterbug’s version of a French Kiss.”

  “You used to be a bartender here.”

  “Oui, one of the best in New Orleans.” He popped the top off of a beer and raised it in the air. “Here’s to patience, and adaptability. He that has patience, can have what he will.”

  He recited poetry. She would never have guessed that. She answered, “How poor are they that have not patience. What wound did not heal but by degrees.”

  He raised his beer bottle a little higher. “To Franklin and Shakespeare. And to survival. Let’s hope by the time this is over one of us hasn’t killed the other.”

  “You don’t like me?”

  “About as much as you like me, amant.”

  After all she had survived on her travels around the world, dying in the trunk of a car on foreign soil held no appeal.

  Ruza wished she had her purse. She needed a mint to soothe her raw throat from too much screaming. The mace would have been a good thing to have about now, too.

  She felt around in the darkness. The trunk was empty, not even a tire iron.

  An hour later the car stopped. Ruza closed her eyes and waited for her kidnapper to open the trunk. She lay still, as if she’d been overcome by exhaust fumes. Not far from the truth.

  “Come on, Cookie, wake up.”

  She didn’t move. Waited until she could feel him draw closer. Until the smell of his cologne told her he’d stuck his head inside the trunk. She recognized the scent now. It was Duperau. Impossible, she thought. In Russia the cologne cost a small fortune. This man didn’t look like he could afford toilet water straight out of the pot.

  “Come, mon coeur. Let me help you.”

  Keying on the direction of his voice, Ruza squinted open one eye, sized up her assailant, then doubled up her fist and gave him an uppercut straight to his jaw.

  He staggered back, leaving a mere two-foot opening for her to escape the trunk. Ruza scrambled out just as he was getting his balance back. That was when she aimed her foot and kicked him in the crotch.

  “Bon Dieu, mon coeur,” he groaned.

  He bent forward, grabbing his box of jewels, and when he did Ruza doubled up her fist once more and gave him another punch. When he dropped to his knees, she turned and ran.

  She got ten yards when she noticed her surroundings. Nothing but tangled foliage, woods and water
. Dear God in heaven, the gypsy had driven her to the ends of the earth.

  Ruza realized her only escape was the road. That would require stealing his car. She rounded the Eldorado just as the gypsy staggered back to his feet. She was reaching for the door when he made a wild dive at her.

  Knocked off balance, Ruza was taken out like a football quarterback a yard from the goal line.

  “No!” She began to fight like a cat attacked by a bulldog. She scratched and clawed, tried to raise her knee to his crotch. She gave it a good effort, but the gypsy was a resilient advisory.

  Pinned on her back, he grinned down at her. “Careful, Cookie, when we get ta know each other better you might want ta use dat. It would be a sad day if’n I couldn’t perform up ta your expectations because of a little misunderstandin’ on our first date.”

  “I assure you there has been no misunderstanding, you lout. You accosted me and stuffed me in the trunk of your car. If that’s what you call a date you’re as crazy as you look.”

  “I was only followin’ instruction, mon coeur.”

  That took the fight out of her. “Whose instructions?”

  “Your daughter’s.”

  “My Cassie would never hire someone to kidnap me, or stuff me in a trunk, Mr. Lazie. You’re not only a kidnapper and a lout, you’re a liar. Now get off me before I scream.”

  “That would be a waste of energy, Ruza-a…. There is no one to hear you but me.”

  She tried to toss him off, squirming like a bagged fish beneath him.

  Willing to ride out her anger on top until she tired, he moaned, “Oui, Cookie, I have found my match. A vigorous woman, soft in all the right places.”

  “You’re making a deadly mistake, Lazie. Get off me, or die.”

  Her threat didn’t faze him. She squirmed some more until she felt him growing against her belly. Oh, God, she was polishing his jewels. No wonder he was grinning.

  “Now look what you’ve done, Cookie. You’ve awakened the dragon.”

  “I’ve done nothing of the sort, Lazie.”