A Sense of Danger

by Jennifer Estep

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied.

  “Oh, cut the song and dance, Trevor. I know that you’re the mole.”

  His smile faltered again. Trevor Donnelly wasn’t nearly as good at this game as he thought he was—and I was much, much better.

  “You’re the one who sent Rosalita and those other cleaners after me. You used to be a cleaner yourself, so it was probably easy to convince them to target me for money, or perks inside Section, or whatever else you promised them. Or maybe you blackmailed them into trying to kill me. It doesn’t really matter,” I said. “Once you realized that Desmond had killed Rosalita and the others, you rigged that car bomb and sent three more cleaners to take out the two of us. Only your plans kept backfiring, and we kept escaping your traps.”

  Trevor didn’t say anything, so I kept talking.

  “I’ve been around Section agents my whole life. In my experience, middle-management types like you only send cleaners to kill people when they have something big to hide. So I think it’s safe to assume that you were the one who leaked intel on the Blacksea mission to Adrian Anatoly, which means that you are the reason why Graham and all those other Section agents are dead.”

  Trevor still didn’t say anything, but his left eye twitched in another tell.

  “After all, you had high enough clearance to access all the mission files, and no one would question you looking at them. Even on the off chance that someone did, you could always claim you were just checking on your good friends Desmond and Graham. Some loyal Musketeer you are.”

  Trevor flinched at my harsh words.

  “You probably wanted Desmond to die too, just to tie up all the loose ends, but he survived. And then he did something even worse. Desmond started sniffing around Henrika Hyde, trying to figure out how she was connected to Anatoly, and he came to D.C. to see if I could help him put the pieces together. And, well, you just couldn’t have Desmond talking to me about any of that, lest he discover how you had set him up.”

  Trevor’s eye twitched again, and the smile melted completely off his face. “Fuck,” he muttered, then yanked a gun out of his coat pocket. “You just had to make this difficult, didn’t you?”

  Instead of scaring me, the sight of his gun only made me angrier. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot over these past two weeks. Mostly, I’ve been trying to picture your face when you realized that the Grunglass Necklace that Section recovered from the Halstead Hotel was a fake, especially since you were probably going to switch out the real necklace with a fake of your own. That must have been quite a shock and a very bitter pill for you to swallow.” I tilted my head to the side and studied him. “Tell me, Trev, did you curse? Hit something? Both?”

  “Shut up,” he snarled. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Charlotte? Always prying into other people’s business, tracking their comings and goings, and writing your little reports from the safety of your cubicle. Well, you’re right. I have been working for Anatoly and Henrika for months, right under your nose, and you didn’t notice. And neither did anyone else at Section.”

  Oh, I was pretty sure someone else had noticed—Maestro, the mysterious head of the D.C. station. Time would tell whether I was right about that.

  “Now,” Trevor said, taking better aim at me, “you’re going to tell me what you did with the real necklace.”

  “Or what? You’re going to shoot me dead on the sidewalk? Please tell me you’re not that stupid.” I sneered at him. “You need me to take you to the necklace. That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I want the necklace. Now where is it?”

  I shrugged. “I forget. So much has happened over the past two weeks. I’ve had to answer so many questions from so many people. Why, it’s all just a big blur.”

  Trevor stepped forward and shoved his gun up against my stomach. The sharp motion made me lose my grip on my shoulder bag, as well as on the plastic one that contained the pie, and they both tumbled to the ground.

  “Tell me. Right now,” Trevor demanded. “Or I’ll put a bullet in your gut and watch you bleed out all over the sidewalk.”

  “Go ahead,” I snapped. “Shoot me. I still won’t tell you a damn thing.”

  His eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Maybe I won’t shoot you in the gut. Maybe I’ll put a round in your shoulder. Then your other shoulder. Then your knees. Your feet. And everywhere else I can think of until you tell me what I want to know. Trust me. You’ll talk when the pain gets bad enough. Everyone does.”

  I laughed in his face. Trevor looked genuinely surprised that I wasn’t more intimidated by his threats, and anger sparked in his eyes.

  “Really?” I said when my laughter died down. “You’re going to shoot me right here on the sidewalk multiple times and not expect anyone in any of these buildings to wake up and call the cops?”

  He shoved the gun even deeper into my stomach. “That’s what the suppressor is for. And I can always stuff something in your mouth to silence your screams.”

  He had a point, although I would never admit it. So I kept talking, trying to shake his confidence and stall for more time for my plan to take full effect.

  “Forget about shooting me. You’ve already made far too many mistakes to get away with it, starting by dismissing my watchers.” I gestured out at the empty street where the black SUV had been parked. “What do you think will happen if I show up murdered? Section will launch an investigation, and someone will realize that you told the watchers to stand down. And then you will be the one sitting in an interrogation room, trying to answer questions about where you were and what you were doing the night I was tortured to death. And once Section starts digging into you, well, we both know they won’t like what they discover.”

  “That’s assuming they find your body,” he snapped.

  Another valid point, so I changed the subject. “Let’s make a deal.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “I give you the necklace, and you let me live.”

  His eyes narrowed again. “What kind of trick is this?”

  “No trick. I want to live more than I want to bust you for being the mole. Besides, I’m assuming you’re not planning to stick around Section after tonight.”

  Trevor didn’t say anything, but his jaw clenched, and agreement flashed in his eyes. We both knew that getting his hands on the necklace and then disappearing was the only move he had left. I had figured out he was the mole, and it was just a matter of time before someone else did too, especially considering the Mockingbird voice command I’d given to my phone earlier.

  “What do you say, Trev? I take you to the necklace, and you let me live. It’s the best deal you’re going to get.”

  Trevor’s gun never wavered, never moved from my stomach, and I could almost see the wheels spinning in his mind as he debated whether to forget about the necklace and just go ahead and kill me. But he must have realized he couldn’t escape both Section and Henrika Hyde and that he needed the necklace to appease Henrika so she would help him disappear. That was the logical conclusion, and I desperately wanted him to be logical.

  Trevor slowly lowered the gun to his side. “All right, Charlotte,” he said. “You take me to the necklace, and I’ll let you live.”

  LIE.

  The force of his falsehood slammed into my mind, and I had to grind my teeth to keep from wincing. Even without my synesthesia, I still would have known he was lying. I knew far too much for him to let me live.

  “So,” Trevor said. “Where did you hide the necklace? Where are we going?”

  “Back to the place where it all started.”

  He frowned and raised his gun again. “I’m not in the mood to play word games.”

  I shook my head. “No word games. I hid the necklace the last place anyone would think to look for it.”

  “And where would that be?”

  “Inside Section.”

  Trevor’s eyes bulged, and shock filled his face. �
��You have got to be kidding me.”

  I shrugged again. “Why would I kid about something this serious? We both know that Section 47 is one of the most secure buildings in D.C. Besides, where else could I hide the necklace? I couldn’t exactly stick it under a loose floorboard in my apartment. You would have already found it by now.”

  Trevor studied me for a few seconds, but he must have believed me because he let out a soft, muttered curse and yanked his phone out of his coat pocket.

  “Don’t move a muscle, or I will shoot you in the face,” he growled. “Necklace be damned.”

  Keeping an eye on me, he sent a short text, then slid the phone back into his pocket. He gestured with his gun again. “Move. Now. Before I change my mind.”

  I slowly stepped in front of him and started down the sidewalk, heading toward the Section building, wondering if my scheme was going to work—or if I had just signed my own death warrant.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Charlotte

  It didn’t take us long to reach the Section building.

  Trevor made me stop at the corner, and we both stared up at the stone structure.

  “What’s the matter?” I taunted him. “Don’t want to go inside and get your prize?”

  He knew as well as I did there was no sneaking inside Section and that cameras would be recording our every move once we stepped through the doors. Once Trevor made me take him to the Grunglass Necklace, there would be no explaining things away and pinning everything on me as he’d tried to do before.

  “Shut up and move,” Trevor ordered, sliding his gun into his coat pocket. “And don’t try anything cute once we get inside. I was a cleaner for a long, long time. I can kill you before you take three steps.”

  He didn’t have Desmond’s smooth grace, but he was right. He could most definitely kill me before I could warn someone that he was holding me hostage.

  I nodded, then stepped in front of him. Together, we crossed the street, headed down the sidewalk, and stopped in front of the main entrance. It was after midnight, so the pedestrian mall was long closed, and the glass double doors were locked, but Trevor used his keycard to open them.

  He jerked his head at me. “Inside. Now.”

  I did as he commanded and pushed through one of the doors. The lobby was empty, all the shops and restaurants were locked up tight, and the overhead lights had been turned down low. The building seemed completely deserted.

  “Move,” Trevor snapped. “Through the turnstile and over to the elevators.”

  Once again, he scanned his keycard, clearing the way, and I did as commanded. As I neared the turnstile, I glanced over at Evelyn’s desk. Her chair was pushed up to the counter, but the surveillance monitors were still on, and I spotted my and Trevor’s images on the screens. Most of the Section security cameras were video only, with no sound.

  Everything on Evelyn’s desk had been put away for the night, except for one thing—a mug sitting off to one side, tucked away under the counter, almost out of sight. I slowed down, eyeing the steam wisping up out of the World’s Best Grandma cup.

  “Move,” Trevor barked out, shoving me forward. “Quit stalling.”

  I pushed through the turnstile, and we got into an elevator. I expected him to ask me where I’d hidden the necklace, but instead he pushed the button for the third sublevel.

  “Do you have to make a pit stop first?” I asked.

  “Something like that,” he grunted. “Now shut your mouth.”

  I did just that. We rode down to the third floor in tense silence. The doors pinged open. Trevor motioned for me to stay put, while he peered out into the space beyond. The coast must have been clear because he gestured for me to step outside.

  “Move. Now.”

  Once again, I did as commanded. “Where are we going?”

  “To the bullpen,” he said. “I need to get something from my office. Then you’re going to take me to the necklace.”

  We walked down the hallway. Trevor scanned his keycard yet again, and we stepped into the bullpen. My gaze flicked back and forth, but I didn’t see anyone sitting in a cubicle, typing away on a laptop, and burning the after-midnight oil—

  The sound of someone humming cut through the air, and Miriam entered the bullpen from one of the side doors.

  Trevor and I both froze.

  The charmer must have been out at some party, club, or restaurant because she was wearing a dark green jumpsuit covered with sparkly black sequins, along with black stilettoes. She didn’t see us standing in the middle of the aisle, and she went over to and sat down at her desk as though nothing was wrong.

  Trevor cursed and pushed me forward. I stumbled into Helga’s desk, and my feet flew out from under me. On the way down to the ground, I swiped out with my arm, sending all the items on the desk flying through the air. I landed right in the middle of the mess, and I managed to wrap my hand around a pair of scissors, which I quickly, discreetly palmed and shoved into my jacket pocket.

  “Trevor? What’s going on?” Miriam’s voice floated over to me, although I couldn’t see her from my position on the floor. “Wait. What are you doing? Why do you have a gun?”

  With every word, her voice rose a little higher.

  “Stay right there!” Trevor hissed. “Don’t move!”

  He reached down, grabbed my shoulder, and hauled me to my feet. I let him, although I clutched my pocket up against my side so that the scissors wouldn’t fall out. Scissors weren’t much of a weapon, especially when Trevor had a gun, but no matter what happened to me tonight, at least Desmond would learn the truth about his supposed friend.

  I’d already made sure of that.

  Miriam was standing beside her desk, having pushed her chair back and surged to her feet. Her face was pale, and her hazel eyes were wide with fear.

  “What—what’s going on?” she asked in a low, trembling voice.

  Trevor shoved me forward again. “Get over there. Now.”

  I did as he commanded and went to stand beside Miriam, although I made sure to keep a couple of feet in between the two of us.

  “What are you doing here?” Trevor snapped to the charmer. “You’re supposed to be out at one of your stupid parties, chatting up that diplomat’s wife and pumping her for information about her dirtbag husband.”

  “The wife got food poisoning, so I left early,” Miriam replied.

  She didn’t ask him again what was going on, although her wide gaze kept flicking back and forth between Trevor and me. I didn’t say anything to try to comfort her. Nothing I could say would help this situation.

  Trevor leveled his gun at me again. “Tell me where the necklace is. Now.”

  “Necklace?” Miriam asked. “What is he talking about?”

  I kept my gaze focused on Trevor. “He’s the one who gave Section that fake Grunglass Necklace, not me. He’s been working for Henrika Hyde and Adrian Anatoly for months, leaking info to them about Redburn and other missions. He’s a mole and a traitor.”

  Miriam sucked in a ragged breath and swayed on her feet. Trevor swung his gun over to her, and she let out a squeal and raised her hands. He eyed her a moment, then trained his gun on me again.

  “Tell me where the necklace is,” he repeated.

  “Why? So you can shoot me after all? No, thanks. I’m not telling you anything.”

  “We had a deal!” he hissed.

  “Deal? Please. You were never going to let me walk away. No, you were going to put a bullet in my head the second you got the necklace. I might be a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.”

  Anger and frustration filled Trevor’s face, and an ugly red flush swept up his neck. Then his eyes narrowed, and he studied me a little more closely. “Well, if you won’t tell me where the necklace is to save yourself, then maybe you’ll do it to save your friend.”

  He swiveled his gun over to Miriam again. She sucked in another breath, her hands still hoisted in the air. “Tell me where the necklace is, or I’ll put
a bullet in Miriam’s pretty face.”

  I didn’t respond. Trevor glared at me, and I stared right back at him. Several seconds ticked by in utter silence, the tension growing thicker and more palpable all the while.

  Miriam glanced over at me, her hands raised, and her eyes still wide. “What are you waiting for? Tell him what he wants to know before he kills us both!”

  I shrugged. “He’s going to do that anyway. So why should I tell him anything?”

  “Charlotte!” Miriam wailed. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Oh, I am very serious.” I glared at Trevor. “He might kill us, and he might even get out of the building, but he’ll be on the run for the rest of his miserable life, whether it’s from Section for being a mole, or from Henrika for failing to get her the necklace.”

  “And the two of you will still be dead in the meantime,” he warned.

  I shrugged again. “Yeah, but it won’t be too long before someone tracks you down and puts a bullet in your head. Or maybe Desmond will snap your neck with his pocket-watch chain. He’s very handy with it. Either way, that’s all the incentive I need to keep my mouth shut.”

  Trevor stepped a little closer and took even more careful aim at Miriam. “I’m not bluffing. You either tell me what I want to know, Charlotte, or I’m going to kill your friend. I’m going to splatter her blood and brains all over your face.”

  “Well, it won’t be the first time that’s ever happened to me. So go ahead, pull the trigger.” I held my hands out wide. “I hate this waitress uniform anyway.”

  “Charlotte!” Miriam squealed. “Do what he says! Please! I don’t want to die!”

  “Neither do I, but that’s the risk we take working for Section.”

  Her eyes bulged even wider. “But I’m just a charmer! I go to parties and flirt with people! That’s all!”

  “Sorry you got mixed up in the middle of this. I guess this just wasn’t your lucky night.”

  “Sorry?” Miriam hissed. “You’re sorry? He’s going to shoot us! Why won’t you just tell him what he wants to know? Do it! Now! Before he kills us both. Please! Please, just tell him what he wants to know…”