The Innocent Assassins

by Pema Donyo

I glared at him. It shut him up enough to lift his hands in mock defeat and hand me my carry-on bag.

  He leaned in close before I left, his hot breath caressing my cheek. "See you on the plane.”

  A shiver ran up my spine when he whispered to me. My palms started to sweat at the unexpected nearness. I banished all heated thoughts from my head as soon as they entered. Yep, yep, better ignore them completely.

  And I did, all through customs and checking in and boarding, right up until I sat down. Within minutes, Tristan slid down next to me.

  "You've gotta be kidding." I deadpanned. I avoided his teasing gaze and feigned sudden interest in the summer catalogue tucked in the pouch in front of me. Distracting myself with useless and interesting products suddenly seemed like a great idea. Anything to distract myself from how close he was.

  "Why? Were you expecting someone else to handle you?" He murmured in my ear, lower than necessary considering no one else was listening or cared about what we said. And why did he have to use the word "handle"? I glanced at his hands, strong and large and... Oh, what am I doing?

  I could kill a man with a single lentil and a straw, I could assassinate five snipers who were shooting a rain of artillery fire at me while I had a single cartridge from a shotgun, but I could not handle sitting next to CIA Special Informant Tristan Morelli.

  I kept flipping through the magazine, thinking maybe if I seemed interested in those green garden gnomes for sale then Tristan would leave me alone.

  No such luck.

  "You know, kid, I thought you were too young at first." He adjusted the air conditioning above us to focus on him. I resisted the urge to slap him when he even changed mine. I could handle my own air-conditioning, thank you. "But then I saw you during the tests over the past week and I thought, ‘Wow, she's good.’"

  At least his tone returned to normal, I mused as I kept glancing at all the different products. An authentic bear skin with a rubber fox head at the top, a sauna for your feet, and a... wait a second, what had he said?

  "You spied on me?" I realized, nearly dropping the magazine. "Why were you watching me?" I shuddered with disgust. What kind of creep spies on a girl, no matter how good-looking the creep is?

  "Relax, relax. Don't want to get us in trouble." But his expression seemed more playful than concerned. He acted like he enjoyed pissing me off more than anything else. "I was told I'd be your new informant, and I wanted to see how capable you were." His lips still curled into an infuriating smirk. "Didn't want to have to babysit anyone."

  A mental database appeared inside my head of all the different ways I could kill him and make it look like an accident even in the middle of the plane as passengers were boarding. I counted fifty ways in thirty seconds. I flexed my right hand, resisting the urge to punch him and employ Way #1. "I can guarantee you won't be babysitting anyone.”

  He settled into his seat and inclined it so far back, I felt bad for the people sitting behind him. He rested his leather-jacket-covered arms in front of him and closed his eyes. "We'll see," he sing-songed.

  At least with his eyes closed he didn't look so devious anymore. In fact, he seemed kind of peaceful, with a piece of dark black hair flopping over his forehead and the rest of it set back against the seat behind him. A scar slashed across his left cheek. I leaned in closer. If I could get a good look at it I could identify the weapon which had slashed him...

  "It's not polite to stare, you know." He opened one eye, and the glint in his gaze was there again. I pulled back, blushing like crazy. Had he caught me checking him out? I straightened my spine, my chin lifted with purpose. No way. I was simply identifying the murder weapon.

  "I was just checking your scar out.”

  "You were just checking me out.”

  The air crackled with an energy I decided was loathing, coming all from me. "I was not," I added before he could say anything else. "Go back to sleep."

  He opened his mouth to respond with something even more irritating than before, I could tell, but the announcement from the pilot crackled over the intercom and caused him to stop speaking. I thanked the heavens for arranging the pilot to talk just in time. The in-flight safety video played, reminding us all to buckle our seatbelts and to not sue the airline when we didn’t remember where the emergency exits were. I seriously considered taking one of those exits so I wouldn't have to deal with Tristan's flirting the entire plane ride. Now was not the time to flirt. He was ten years older than me! So not happening.

  I pretended to be asleep as soon as the informational video ended, able to ignore Tristan’s chatter with my headphones plugged in. I closed my eyes until I fell into a real sleep, complete with a dream. It wasn’t entirely a dream; it was a memory.

  The cool water surrounds us, swirling around my waist and Adrian's upper thigh. He's so much taller than me now, it's getting ridiculous. Standing side by side, he reaches an easy 5'11" while I'm still stuck a whole six inches beneath him. He doesn't seem to mind, though, as his soft lips press against mine with a kiss as tender as the sun scorches.

  I rub the back of my neck, which burns from the heat. He chuckles when I pull away, as if my weakness to the sun is endearing.

  I try my best to look annoyed, but fail. I end up glaring at him and then closing one of my hands around his. Our fingers interlace and we look out at the water together, our backs to the sandy beach.

  "What do you want most in life?"

  His question startles me, and I look up at him in surprise. He squeezes my hand as if to reassure me, while his blue eyes search mine for the answer I'm not sure I possess.

  "What kind of question is that?"

  He laughs. The sound fills me in the best way as a flutter appears in my stomach. Normally, the sensation would make me feel pathetic. With him, I feel fulfilled. There's something about his presence which energizes me and makes anyone else's company exhausting by comparison.

  I purse my lips. He does want an answer. "I want..." I hesitate and bring my free hand up to bite my thumbnail.

  He pushes my hand down from my mouth with a look of disapproval. "I thought you were supposed to stop that?"

  I lean back against him, bringing his arm up around me and setting it around my waist. "You can’t possibly know me so well," I want to pout. Seriously, I can't even bite my thumbnail without his reminder of my pledge to stop the habit. But it answers my question. "I want to be in control of myself."

  I can't tell if the answer is or isn't what he's expecting to hear, because when I gaze back up at him his face remains impassive. His strong jaw is set, and the golden honey-colored hair remains still. I'm about to nudge him to hear what he thinks about my answer when he finally responds.

  "What if you were in control of someone else too?"

  I feel his hands begin to run up and down my arms, a clear sign he's about to kiss me. I somehow sift through my hormonal haze to realize his question confuses me.

  "What do you mean, in control of someone else?"

  He kisses me anyway, closed-mouth and sweet. I forget my question and don't want it to end, but he pulls away to answer. I regret the question.

  He holds me and looks down at me with a gaze fit for examination.

  "That's what I mean."

  "What?"

  "The ability to control someone with something as simple as a smile, a look, a gesture." He runs a hand down my back, and I shiver in his arms. It's clearly not because of the water, though the water's cold too. He presses his forehead against mine, and our noses touch. "Like that."

  The implications of what he's said start to tug at my rationality. "Did you say I'm under your control?"

  He laughs again, and this time the sound fills the little bubble we've created around us, the world we’ve made for the two of us. "No, Janey."

  I resist the urge to stamp my foot like a child, frustrated by his cryptic answers. "What are you trying to say?"

  His lips ghost over my cheek. "You do have control. More than you know.”

&
nbsp; Then someone's nudging me, poking my arm and it clearly isn't Adrian...

  "Wake up!" The pokes became more severe and painful.

  “Ow!” My eyelids snapped open to the sight of Tristan prodding my elbow with his sharp jabs. "I'm up; I'm up," I grumbled.

  "About time." Tristan pointed out the window. "Say hello to Los Angeles."

  I followed his forefinger to the tiny window next to me. The glittering lights greeted me like an old friend. The neon signs looked like a line of multicolored ants running in sweeping lines I recognized as the freeway.

  Back where it all began, Southern California. Back to the life I lived before inducting myself as part of the CIA. Back before I became a spy, back when I didn't know my parents had tried to look for me, and back to a time of innocence.

  "Back to Covert Operatives," Tristan whispered in my ear.

  I'm home.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Covert Operatives Files: Jane Lu

  Name: Jane Lu

  DOB: 9/6/95

  Sex: Female

  Height: 5'5"

  Weight: 128

  Eye Color: Dark Brown

  Hair Color: Brown

  Place of origin: Hardwick House for Displaced Youth, Los Angeles

  Parents: Removed

  Special Skills: Sambo, Judo, Dambe, German Ju-Jutsu, Long Range Shooting

  IQ: 119

  Languages: Italian, Chinese (Mandarin), Spanish, Farsi

  I stood outside the faint blue light. My knuckles were white from how hard I gripped my suitcase.

  The scanner accepted my thumbprint and scanned my eye. My heart drummed in my chest, threatening to give me away. I tried to push the thoughts of fear as far away as possible. CO agents were trained to smell fear, I reminded myself. Stay calm, Jane.

  The handle clicked, I pressed down, and I was in.

  Sunday. The day most people returned to their apartments/golfed/went shopping. The office was nearly abandoned, except for a few scientists scurrying about and some agents returning from missions.

  To my surprise, Lucy stood next to a scientist, having her blood pressure taken in the lobby of the office. At the sound of the door opening, she glanced in the direction of the doorway. She gasped and squealed when she saw me.

  The scientist glanced up in alarm and followed her gaze. When he saw me, his eyebrows raised so far up his forehead I thought they would fall off. "It's impossible!" He removed the blood pressure clasp from around Lucy's arm and walked toward me. "You've been gone for a month without a word, Agent Lu."

  Lucy seemed to have an easier time believing I was there. As soon as I set down my suitcase she ran up to me, threw her arms around me, and hugged me as if I'd disappear if she let me go. "I knew you'd return. I told Emma you'd return."

  Joy replaced fear as I hugged Lucy back. It felt like years since I'd seen my best friends.

  The scientist still stared at me in shock. His face turned as white as his lab coat. "How is this possible?"

  "I went rogue after I escaped from the police but I wasn't able to make it back to the blue light. I stole someone's identity and took a plane ride over here." I held up my ticket as proof. The CIA at least had enough sense to give me a fake identity, so the ticket wasn't under my name and the story was somewhat plausible.

  Lucy marveled at me, her eyes brimming over with tears. "Just like the CEO's story.” She hugged me again, her arms squeezing the breath out of me until she loosened her grip. "Wait till Emma's back. She'll be so glad to see you."

  "Where's Emma?"

  "She's on a mission..." Lucy swallowed, her voice low before she said the next part of the sentence, "...with Adrian."

  "So his partner's been replaced." My voice sounded flat. Why did I feel upset? I was the one who tried to switch partners before the last mission.

  "You haven't been replaced, no. Not at all!" Lucy nodded to the scientist and guided me back to my apartment room. We walked toward the elevators, me holding my duffel bag and Emma carrying my suitcase. "Adrian has been different since you left.”

  The elevator doors slid open, and we entered. I tried to keep my gaze as disinterested as possible, resisting the urge to flinch with each word Lucy said. "What do you mean?"

  Lucy leaned against the elevator wall. She avoided eye contact, choosing instead to stare at the announcement on the elevator bulletin about a commencement dance for CO agents. "He doesn't talk much anymore; he blames himself. He thinks you're dead." Lucy’s eyes filled wide with fear even though I stood in front of her. "I tried to convince him otherwise, but he didn’t believe me.”

  I bit my lip at her cry, trying to keep my own waterworks under wraps. Dead? Far from it. I'm getting a chance at a second life.

  All I wanted to do was ask questions about Adrian, ask once more about how he was doing and what he thought of me and if he ever brought me up in conversation like I wanted to do right then. But I kept silent for the rest of the elevator ride up, until the elevator stopped at my apartment.

  We stepped out onto the wooden flooring of the fifteenth floor. A rush of familiarity and comfort overwhelmed me. The hall, with the gold-leafed wallpaper and large, circular mirrors, led to the fountain in the center of the hall. In front of the fountain, the marble tea table and indoor gazebo were just as charming and gleaming white as I remembered.

  Lucy wiped away her tears of joy with her dress, ruining the chiffon with her cheerfulness. A lump rose in my throat.

  I kept it together long enough to reach my apartment. The key code was still the same. To my relief, even if CO agents thought I was dead, the executives didn't think so, because all of my things were still in the same place as they were when I left. The chocolate bars, the romantic comedies, the e-reader filled with cheesy romance novels... I almost laughed as I surveyed my place, all the evidence of my break-up with Adrian strewn on the floor.

  I breathed in the familiar perfumed air of my apartment, the scent of the air freshener still dispersed. The scent was the last straw. The dam in me broke, and I couldn't stop crying.

  I sank to the carpet as I heard Lucy close the door behind me. I was home. I was home, I was back where I belonged, I was going to betray everyone here, and I was going to live the life I wanted and destroy the lives of those who had raised me.

  Lucy hugged me, thinking my tears were nothing more than a reaction to being back at CO. Everything here felt so right, everything here was so familiar. For a few desperate seconds, I thought about betraying the CIA. How would they know if I left espionage? I would stay under CO's protection.

  But for how long? At least CO agents still lived like civilians when we weren't working on missions. I would have to hide in CO headquarters for the rest of my life, in a gilded, lavish cage to avoid being caught by the CIA anywhere outside. It was as good as prison.

  No, no. I wiped away my tears, standing up. I straightened my back. I was going to give the information to the CIA, I was going to be their most loyal and informative spy yet. I would earn my freedom and live a life of peace somewhere remote, far enough from CO's clutches but within the CIA's protection. I wasn't going to let myself be a prisoner. I would be in control.

  I would be free, finally.

  ****

  The tests hadn't taken as long as I'd expected. There seemed to be a buzz among the scientists over how I was back; there was even a sense of appreciation from the doctors I'd never had before. They asked me questions, I answered with lies. But they believed my story, as I knew they would. Stealing an identity wasn't the difficult part. I'd known other agents who'd done the same during a mission.

  No, the unbelievable part was returning. Agents stole identities while they were on missions, but always to find their target – not to return home. I hadn't known anyone—and, judging by the scientists' reactions, they hadn't either—who returned to CO headquarters after capture. I was the first lost agent who found her way back in the seventeen years I'd been at CO. I was even told to show up to the Chief Executive Officer'
s office at eleven o'clock, for a special meeting with him to tell him what had happened.

  The process was almost frighteningly easy, as if there was some catch I should know about but couldn’t find no matter how hard I looked. The ease of my transition was alarming. I was given back my equipment, a new schedule, and a new version of my CO badge and everything was finished. The scientists let me go, approved and ready for the next mission.

  Emma and Adrian were on an international mission. I'd watched television in my room with Lucy for most of the day, until she left for her own mission in the evening. Neither Emma nor Adrian had returned. A jolt of jealousy stabbed my gut. Would Emma be Adrian's new partner? Did he even want to see me again, or was I going to bring up bad memories of how I'd treated him during the break-up?

  Sighing, I turned off the television. Enough reruns for now. I changed into my training gear, grabbed my badge, and headed to Marty's Workshop.

  When I arrived the Workshop was empty, as I'd hoped. I heard the tell-tale tinkling inside Marty's office of him fixing or making some new weapon for us to use. I rapped on the door three times and waited for him to come out.

  Marty opened the door, a sour expression on his face. "What do you want?" he snarled out before the door was fully open. When he saw me, his face froze.

  I waved my hand. "Hey, Marty."

  Marty gave out a whoop of joy. He waddled toward me, looking like Santa Claus with his impressive girth and the beard he’d started to grow out. "Is it you? My stars, it is!" He touched me on the shoulder as if to prove I was real. Satisfied, he grabbed my shoulders, giving me a good look up and down. "No broken bones, I see. I knew you hadn't left us.

  I pointed to where my scar was. "Stabbed, though."

  Marty's expression grew troubled. "Oh, dear. I always worried we didn't teach enough defense against sharper objects, like swords and knives." He frowned. "We place too much emphasis on guns. But try explaining the truth to the CEO."

  "I'm supposed to meet with him tonight."

  Marty whistled. "So you've caught the eye of the CEO. Better apply for the executive position, Jane. Seems like he's impressed."