Noe studied the screen. “You didn’t expect that?”
Drew shook his head. “I didn’t think he was the kind of guy to get his hands dirty. He’s not violent. Or wasn’t. He loves to fish, but catches and releases half the time. He doesn’t hunt. Not that I know about. Claims guns aren’t his thing.
“Two years ago, he was just a bitter document control engineer who thought he deserved more of everything. A prime RIOT target—a dissatisfied man with access to top-secret documents.”
He took a breath, pushing away his most disturbing thoughts. “Someone’s taught him how to shoot to kill. This changes things.”
Noe nodded again.
“He’s in deeper with RIOT than I’d feared.”
“Anyone who deals with RIOT is in too deep,” Noe observed. “No one ever leaves that association alive. SMASH makes sure of it.”
Drew pounded the table next to him with his fist. “Here’s what’s bothering me—how did Sam know Martel was an agent? And why did he kill him?”
Noe could have taken offense at Drew’s implication that CSIS was inadequate at protecting their agent’s cover. Or that their agent screwed up and blew it himself. But he didn’t appear to.
“We’ll find out.” Noe stared at Drew and paused, looking as if there was something he didn’t want to ask. “Could Sam put two in your head?”
“Two minutes ago I would have said no.” Drew paused. “The real question is—will Sam shoot Linda, my mother-in-law, if she gets too nosy? Or Staci?”
Damn, he’d put Staci in more danger than he’d originally thought.
Noe looked at him. “You know your father-in-law better than I do.”
“Watching this, I feel like I don’t know him at all.” Drew nodded toward the video. “Let’s make a copy of this and splice the killing out for the feed we leave here. Until the deal goes down, we’re going to have to protect Sam from a murder investigation. And we’re going to have to be very careful. Until we know better, we’ll have to assume RIOT had Martel under surveillance, discovered who he was, and ordered Sam to kill him.”
Noe nodded his sympathy and switched topics. “Next up is Martel’s office. We’ll see if he ’as left us any clue.”
The men rigged the security cameras so they wouldn’t record their trip to Martel’s office, picked up their beer, dumped their nuts, and made their way through the facility.
Drew had a set of master keys. He spoke as he unlocked the door. “Want to place a bet on whether this office has been ransacked or not?”
Noe laughed and shook his head. “If RIOT is as efficient as they claim, it most certainly ’as been. As you said yourself, Martel’s apartment was tossed quite thoroughly. But RIOT does not know what we know—Martel’s hiding place.” He winked at Drew.
Drew pushed the office door open. Sure enough, the office had been ransacked, looking as if someone had been in a hurry to find something. He cursed beneath his breath. Martel’s office didn’t have a camera. They had no way of knowing who’d searched it or what the unknown person was looking for. Drew assumed Sam was the culprit. What did RIOT want?
Noe didn’t walk into the room, as Drew expected. Instead, he held the door open, pulled a tiny screwdriver from his pocket, and removed the old-fashioned brass office numbers. From behind them, he pulled out a tiny memory device. “See! Here it is, just like I said.”
Drew shook his head and grinned. “That is just too Casino Royale, too obvious.”
“Obvious is sometimes best.” Noe’s eyes twinkled. “Good thing evil RIOT agents don’t read.” He laughed.
Drew surveyed the room again and turned serious. “Damn, look at this mess. We’re going to have to clean up before we leave.” He glanced at his watch. “We better start playing janitor. We don’t have much time before the brewery staff comes in to open for breakfast.”
Noe moved to stuff the device into his pocket.
Drew caught Noe’s arm before he could finish pocketing it. “Hang on there, buddy.”
“What?” Noe comically arched one dark brow.
“Share and share alike, that was the deal.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust anyone.” Drew held out his hand.
“We don’t have much time.”
“We have enough.” Drew pulled a memory stick from his own pocket. “It won’t take long to make a copy.”
* * *
Three hours later Drew and Noe sat in Starbucks, sipping their coffees as they studied their open laptops. They’d each sent their respective headquarters Martel’s intel. Both of them had now received new orders and complete mission instructions.
They sat across from each other reading the latest dispatch, innocuously encoded, of course. To the casual observer, they appeared to be reading the Sunday paper online. In reality, the “Sunday paper” was carefully encoded intel. Since each of them was a master at deciphering coded messages, especially if they had the key, they read the paper as quickly as the normal person perused the Sunday edition.
While it appeared as if Drew was reading the sports page, this is what the latest baseball scores really meant:
From NCS Chief Emmett Nelson to Field Agent F:
Using a shadow corporation and a complicated money laundering scheme, RIOT chief Archibald Random has been investing heavily in a small telecommunications company. This particular company has secured all necessary permits to launch a new satellite from North Korea into geostationary orbit into the heart of the equatorial satellite belt at 22,223 miles above the earth, where all weather and communications satellites sit.
He’s also secured permission to launch satellites from Cuba, Iran, Venezuela, and several African countries. And I’m sure some we’ve missed. Our informants say these launches will happen within the month. Random is waiting for a few key things to line up: the last bit of sophisticated attitude software for his new satellite, clear weather for a satellite launch, followed by a string of storms that will disrupt any further satellite launches from the Western world, particularly the United States, for at least several days.
The equatorial belt is packed with new satellites. Each new one must be carefully placed to avoid a collision with a neighboring one.
Based on Martel’s intel about what the Fisherman has been stealing, we believe Random plans to use his satellite to knock out as many communications satellites as possible. This would result in a loss of communication service worldwide, cause world panic and lack of faith in current communications companies, leading to a crash of global stock markets. In the meantime, Random has positioned himself to make money in the bear markets. And he’ll be the only one with any broadcast power. He’ll have a bully pulpit to spew his plans of world domination to the unsuspecting public who, as you know, has no idea he exists.
We must stop Random before he can acquire the attitude software from the Fisherman. Our old friend, the Russian RIOT operative, the Gardener, has made reservations for a garden tour of Victoria, BC, for this weekend. The Fisherman plans to meet him on Friday afternoon and make the transaction.
Fly to Victoria Friday morning under the guise of going to talk to the Trumpet Brewpub about opening a similar hotel facility to theirs at Hook House. Take Staci along for cover. We’ll make sure she can get the day off.
In the meantime, keep a tight eye on the Fisherman. We don’t want him bolting.
And even though Friday is your anniversary, don’t get any grand ideas of a suite at the Empress. Agency cutbacks. The director wants 6 percent slashed before Congress gets the idea to cut more. You’ll be staying at the Trumpet.
PS: Sam is cheating on Linda with Lucy Wells, the Attitude receptionist. They have a once-a-year fling at the document control conference in Vegas.
Drew frowned. Sam was screwing Lucy once a year in Vegas? And yet Lucy was the one buying the Check Your Spouse kit. Maybe she was as worried as Linda about Sam’s mysterious trips, thinking the same thing—that he’d taken another lover.
/> Drew took a sip of coffee. He didn’t relish telling Staci about Lucy. And that bit of intel was sure going to put a crimp in Linda’s Bunco group.
He decided on the spot to make his life easy—Staci and Linda didn’t really have a need to know about Sam and Lucy. That wasn’t the new behavior that was worrying Linda.
“Looks like next Friday should be a nice day. They’re predicting clear weather,” Noe said, speaking in code and interrupting Drew’s thoughts.
Drew understood his message. Noe had been given the same time line he had.
Friday was none too soon for Drew. He couldn’t wait to take Sam into custody. Until he did, he was stuck marketing beer and Staci was in RIOT’s crosshairs.
“Weather looks great in British Columbia. Be nice to get out of the country for a few days. What do you think?” Drew looked significantly at Noe. The United States didn’t want to take action on one of its citizens on US soil if it could avoid it. Better to handle things out of the country.
Drew assumed CSIS knew as well as the CIA that the Gardener was ready to spend his cash on something bigger and more expensive than the latest hybrid begonia.
Noe grinned, indicating he understood. “If you’re thinking Victoria, I’m in.” He arched a brow. “Going to bring the wife?”
“Friday’s our anniversary. I can’t leave her behind. She’d kill me,” Drew said.
Noe nodded. “Victoria is the perfect place for an anniversary. Very romantic. Fly in. Stay at a brewhouse. Drink beer. Make mad love. And the gardens are lovely this time of year.”
Drew shook his head and winked. “I’m not touring any damn gardens.”
“Good idea. Wild sex is much more fun.”
Drew grinned. It was all settled then.
They resumed their silent study of their laptops as they drank their coffee. Only this time Drew was thinking about his anniversary and the last romantic getaway they’d had together—Iguazu Falls. Why hadn’t Mandy just told him what Iguazu Falls meant rather than being cryptic?
Drew resisted a sigh. He’d been Staci’s husband for nearly ten years and now it was all going to end after this last, “romantic” weekend.
Husband—
As so often happens, when you’re not thinking of something directly, you remember something important.
He remembered a lot of things—Jack encouraging him to take Staci away for a romantic weekend at the resort near the falls, an exotic hotel room in the midst of the tropical forest, long walks, a soaking boat ride beneath the thrumming falls, Staci’s wet blouse see-through and clinging to her breasts, giving him a hard-on, lots of hot sex, and a steward coming toward him.
“Your wife is waiting for you by the pool, señor.”
It didn’t seem important at the time. Just an honest mistake by a steward who had seen them together and made an innocent assumption. Drew hadn’t bothered to correct him.
But now with Mandy’s comment in mind, he pieced together the truth. Staci had slipped up and told the steward they were married. And the steward had run to Bevil. Bevil had her followed. And the whole mission came crashing down.
Damn. What do I do now?
He had no idea. He texted Staci. Mission accomplished. Be home soon.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Staci was making waffles when Drew and Noe finally returned home at eight. Some wives would have been peeved at their husband for staying out all night. Staci was used to it. Clandestine operatives didn’t work regular hours. Downside of the job. She only looked up from setting the table and drew her Pocket 9 when the front door rattled open and the two men strolled in because she was jumpy about being killed. And given recent events, who could blame her?
She relaxed when she saw Drew and Noe, but she didn’t drop the gun. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Her 9mm aimed at them stopped them just inside the door.
Drew looked her in the eye, and her heart stopped. “If you’re angry about the hours I keep, just say so.” He grinned.
“I’m not angry.” She was relieved he was back safely. “Just following orders. You told me to keep the gun with me at all times.”
“Now I’m telling you to put the gun down before someone gets hurt.” He had dark circles under his eyes, but they leaped with excitement. He was definitely jazzed and high on adrenaline. The mission had gone well.
She loved it when he came home from a mission so full of passion, when he looked like a hero and she knew the world was a little safer because of him. Somehow she felt like a small part of it, like a hero herself.
He spoke in a low, sexy tone full of innuendo. Damn him, it would have been easier to let Drew go if he didn’t make a physical impact on her every time he entered a room. Did he have to aggravate matters by flirting with her?
She grinned wickedly. “Funny thing, I don’t remember the word obey being in our wedding vows.” She waved the gun, drawing an imaginary circle around his feet. “Make me.”
“I can still get the drop on you.” His voice held a sexually charged challenge. With the dark blond five AM shadow, he looked dangerous and edgy. And so delicious, she’d rather douse him in maple syrup than the waffles she had in the iron.
Before she could move, Drew sprang forward, closed the distance between them in two steps, disarmed her with a single fluid movement, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her so forcefully, he took her breath away.
Drew must have expected her to pull away. He cupped the back of her head with his right hand and held her firmly in his kiss. She remembered very well that they were still undercover, pretending to be happily reunited in front of Noe. Intending to throw Drew off balance, she looped her arms around his neck, opened her mouth to him, and returned his kiss with the passion and showy vigor of a newlywed—turned on, throaty, moaning sound effects included.
Though he kept his cool, her easy acceptance of her role as turned-on wife obviously surprised him. It took a second before he relaxed the pressure at the back of her head and dropped his hands to her waist, pulling her tightly against him.
She upped him one by running her fingers through his hair.
He matched and raised her, running his hands beneath her blouse up her bare back and toying with the clasp of her bra.
She stuck her hands in his back pockets, squeezed his butt, and kissed him with even more passion.
Finally, Noe cleared his throat and muttered something in French, which might have been “get a room.” Her high school French was a little rusty. “I think the waffles are ready. The little light on the waffle iron is green.”
She pulled away and tried to look sheepish, rather than triumphant. Drew looked as hot and turned on as she felt.
“Waffle time!” She gave Noe a pat on the arm.
Drew stared after her as she pulled a batch of steaming waffles from the iron.
“We really have to get you to the range before you hurt the wrong person.” He set her gun on the counter. “I also distinctly remember telling you to stay upstairs in the bedroom.”
She stacked the waffles onto a plate. “I got hungry. When I got your text, I figured you boys would be, too.” She walked past Drew on her way to the table and ran her hand along his stubbly cheek. “Poor babies. You haven’t slept at all, I take it?”
He grunted. “How’d you get past the alarm?”
She waved the waffles under his nose. “I’ve been married to a spy long enough to know a thing or two about security systems.”
Behind him, Noe grinned and took a seat at the table.
She set the waffles in front of the men and grabbed the coffeepot. “Coffee?”
Drew grabbed his mug and held it out for her to fill. He gave her butt a playful slap and sat down. “After breakfast we’re going to the range for a little practice.” Drew sounded calm, but Staci detected an edge of concern in his voice.
He was suddenly too eager for her to be proficient with her pistol.
“From now on you don’t go anywhere without it.” He took
a bite of waffle.
She shook her head. “You want me to take it everywhere? Even bed?”
He shook his head and frowned, warning her not to push him.
Noe held up the maple syrup. “Ah, real maple syrup.” He sighed, looking happy. “So often you Hamericans serve the fake stuff.” He made a face.
She smiled. “Tell me why you spoke perfect American English last night and now you’ve lapsed back into mixing up your h sounds?”
Noe grinned and shrugged as he doused his waffle in syrup. “Last night I was in character.”
“If that’s the case, why can’t you be in character all the time?” She went to the waffle iron and poured more batter in.
“It’s too hexhausting.”
Staci shook her head. She’d never understand spies and their logic.
Drew glanced at the counter. “Nice manicure job on the cling fingers.”
She had them hanging over the counter. She beamed, pleased he’d noticed them. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised. He noticed everything. But she had worked hard on them. It wasn’t easy painting plastic fingernails to look realistic and femme-fatale hot.
Noe looked to see what Drew was talking about and grimaced. “Fake fingers?”
“Don’t make that note of disgust. Cling fingers are essential spy equipment,” Staci said.
“Yeah, but that’s a misuse of them,” Drew said. “You obviously aren’t hanging on the edge of the counter. A good spy is like a magician—he never gives away his gadgets’ uses.”
“You two are kidding, no?” Noe’s gaze bounced between them.
Staci shook her head and laughed. “Nope! We bought these at an official spy shop. Those cling fingers could save my life someday.”
“Speaking of saving lives, Noe and I just saved yours. We spent part of our night checking Sam out. We can’t find any evidence to support Linda’s suspicions that he’s cheating.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.
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