I, Spy?

by Kate Johnson

  She flicked through her computer. “Twenty-seven.”

  So much for security.

  I nodded gratefully, then looked around for a second. I could never afford a place like this. There was marble everywhere.

  Harvey, meanwhile, was happily checking in, in fluent Italian, ordering English and American papers for the morning (I think, although he could really have been commenting on the weather. My Italian is pretty much limited to a Pizza Express menu), and taking his key. He glanced at me.

  “Where are you staying?”

  I shrugged. “I don't know yet.”

  “Don’t the crew have a hotel?”

  Actually, the crew were probably taking a return trip. Or possibly sleeping in the plane. Damn them. Damn Wright. Damn Luke.

  Yeah. It was all his fault.

  “Yeah, but I have to find my own. It’s a newbie thing, it’s like a, like a, an initiation thing.”

  He frowned. “What, are they like the Freemasons or something?”

  I gave a weak smile. “Yeah, something.”

  “Why don’t you stay here?”

  I’m afraid my eyes boggled.

  “I, uh…” I looked down at my rather shabby-looking uniform. How could I tell him there was no way on any of my salaries, real or fictional, that I could afford a place like this?

  “I can lend you some money,” Harvey said softly.

  It was a tempting prospect. But then how would I pay him back? I’d have to give him surety. I’d have to give him my address. He’d probably expect me to sleep with him.

  Although that wouldn’t be so terrible a prospect.

  “No,” I said, summoning a smile from the depths of my ancient Ace training, “thanks. That’s what credit cards are for.” To the receptionist I said, “I’d like a room, please. Just for tonight.”

  Harvey had a suit carrier, the sort I wasn’t supposed to allow as hand luggage but usually did, out of boredom. It was the sort of bag that could carry everything for an overnight stay. I had my Ace bag with a hairbrush, lip gloss, body spray and handcuffs. Not what you call overnight essentials.

  Well, depending on what kind of overnight you had in mind.

  I said a reluctant goodbye to the handsome American and went to find my room. It was gorgeous. There were toiletries and everything. I just really wished I had some spare clothes. I could hardly wander around in just my uniform, could I?

  Unless they had a laundry service. I checked the room service card. They had a damn laundry service! Yes! If I just stayed in my room, I could get my clothes washed and go home in them in the morning. Easy.

  I called Reception and they said they could have it done in half an hour. I started running a bath. Things were not as bad as they seemed. I had to remember that. Things were never as bad as they seemed.

  I switched on my two phones and used one to send a text to Chalker that I’d be staying at Angel’s tonight. That would stop them from calling home. At least Tammy was being looked after. Then I used the other phone to call Luke.

  “You let him through,” I said.

  There was a pause.

  “Sophie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in Rome,” I said. “I’m in Wright’s hotel. You let him through. Sven let him board. I followed him like a good secret agent and they thought I was crew. So now I’m spending next month’s grocery bill on getting my uniform washed in a ludicrously expensive hotel because I’m fucking stuck here until the next flight out tomorrow morning. And if you tell me to stay in Rome and trail Wright I’ll be forced to improvise a weapon on you.”

  Luke laughed. I hung up.

  He called back in a few seconds. “I lost the connection,” he said.

  “No. I hung up.”

  “Look, Soph, I’m sorry. He slipped through.”

  “Slipped through? Slipped bloody through? Luke, remind me in words of one syllable just what you do for a living?”

  “Erm,” he said. “I’m a spy.”

  I suppose he thought that was clever.

  “So how could you let a dangerous criminal just slip onto a plane? He could have been armed.”

  “I doubt it. Security isn’t that bad. And I don’t really think he’s dangerous.”

  “How do you know? You haven’t even told me why I’m following him.”

  Luke sighed. “Promise not to get mad?”

  I said nothing. I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

  “He’s not a dangerous criminal. That we know,” he added quickly. “But he’s interested in buying Ace. He already owns WES,” Wright Engineering Services, of course, “and there’s a suspicion he’s hijacking Ace planes to bring the price down.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him that was ludicrous, then I thought about all the delays we’d been having. All those planes off tech.

  Having to borrow from Titan because we didn’t have enough to cover for our own. Low-cost carriers don’t have spare planes.

  “Suppose you’re not lying to me,” I said eventually, “tell me what I’m going to do out here?”

  There was another long pause while Luke came up with something.

  “Well, since you’re there and all, I sort of need you to get into his room,” he said.

  “His room?”

  “Yes. Do you know where it is?”

  “It’s on my floor.”

  “Great. Get yourself in there, have a look around, check for papers and things. Use the camera in your phone to take pictures.”

  “I don’t get it. Why is this so important?”

  “Sophie. The future of your employment hangs in the balance,” Luke said severely, and I knew he wasn’t going to tell me the real reason. Well, fine, then. I wasn’t going to snoop around Wright’s room.

  “You do this for me,” Luke added in Luca’s voice, “I take you out for dinner.”

  I sniffed. “That better not be an empty promise.”

  “No, sure, I’ll take you out. What do you like? Tomorrow’s Friday, I could—”

  “Tomorrow’s Friday?”

  He hesitated. “Erm, unless they changed the calendar. Today’s Thursday.”

  “Oh, God! Luke, I need you to do something for me. This is really urgent. Life and death stuff.”

  “You didn’t forget your medication, did you?”

  “I need you to go over to my flat and—”

  “How am I supposed to get into your flat?”

  How am I supposed to convey a sarcastic look down the phone?

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I said heavily. “This is really important so I’ll take you through it step by step. Are you writing this down?”

  Luke sounded puzzled. “Tell me.”

  “Okay. The video control is the large grey one. It says Philips on the top. You need to—”

  “Wait, Sophie, are you telling me to set your video?”

  I shrugged. “It’s very important.”

  “What, is your mum on TV or something?”

  “No,” I said, wondering how he could not know, “it’s Thursday. Sky One. Eight p.m.…?”

  Silence.

  “Buffy,” I said. “You have to tape it.”

  “I thought you said this was life and death,” Luke said eventually.

  “It is! Buffy’s life and all the demon deaths… Oh, come on. I haven’t seen this one and if I don’t tape it, I’ll never see it and I’ll have to buy the videos and they’re really expensive… It’s award-winning TV,” I added defensively.

  Luke gave a great sigh. “Okay. I’ll set the video. Eight o’clock?”

  “Yes. And then set it for Friends as well.”

  “You really watch all this?”

  “Only once a week. And then Scrubs is on at ten.”

  I could almost see him shaking his head. “I’ll tape it for you.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him which tape to use, then decided not to push it. “Okay. Thanks. Now tell me how the hell I g
et into Wright’s room without him noticing me? I only have my uniform and it’s not exactly subtle,” I looked down at the turquoise-ness of it.

  Plus I was kind of conspicuous in it on the flight. I might have accidentally dropped a Danish pastry into Wright’s lap.

  “What time is it over there? About half six, right? Shops stay open late. Go and buy something.”

  “I’ve already got to pay for this hotel!”

  “Should have got somewhere cheaper. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  He was gone.

  Swearing very colourfully, I sloshed around in the bath and used up all the free toiletries as I waited for my clothes to come back. When they did, I got dressed very gratefully, feeling dreadful for having no Euros to tip with, grabbed my bag and set off into the city.

  Within seconds I was lost. I found the hotel again, went in to ask for a map and directions for the shops. And then I found an ATM and got some Euros—which was highly confusing, since the machine was all in Italian. And then I found the shops.

  Jesus, it was tempting. Gucci and Missoni and Valentino. I didn’t dare go in. Not in my uniform. I found some cheaper shops and started searching.

  I’d noticed the hotel staff wearing navy suits with white blouses. Not hard to copy, although not cheap, either, for something I’d never wear again. But I did find an incredible Gucci dress for next to nothing, and bought that too. And then a small suitcase to carry it all home with. And some toiletries and basic make-up. And some shoes, because I might want to wear my dress, and it’d be a shame to have to clump around in my skanky work shoes. And a little bag, because it matched the shoes and because my Ace bag was huge and horrible. And then a pashmina, even though I know they’re very last-millennium, but Rome in April is not as warm as you might think.

  And then I lugged it all back to the hotel, and met Harvey in the lobby.

  “I see you found the shops,” he stared at all my bags.

  “Well, I had to buy everything I could,” I said defensively. “It took me so long to find them I may never get back there again.”

  He laughed. “Are you busy tonight?” he said. “Meeting up with your airline friends?”

  Friends? I hoped they all got crabs.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” I said, my all-purpose answer.

  “Well, if you decide not to, maybe we could have dinner? You could tell me all about the airline business and I could bore you with cell phone frequencies.”

  What was the alternative? Sitting looking at my fabulous dress and cursing Luke for all eternity?

  “That sounds great,” I said, smiling warmly at Harvey, my saviour.

  He beamed back at me. “I’ll meet you down here at eight-thirty?”

  I glanced at my watch in panic. It was already quarter-to.

  “Can we make it nine?” I said. “I have some things to do first.”

  He shrugged. “Nine it is. I’ll see you then.”

  I skipped upstairs, feeling much better already, and changed into my navy suit. I had my phone and credit card in my pocket, hoping I’d be able to jimmy open the door if I needed to.

  I didn’t need to. Wright answered the door, wearing a hotel robe and smoking a cigar. Oh, please.

  “Room service?” I said. I hefted the towels I’d brought from my room. “I’ve come to make your room ready for bed.”

  He stood back to let me in. “English?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What are you doing here in Rome, then?”

  Hoping you’ll go away.

  “Studying, sir. Ancient Roman politics.”

  This stumped him, as I’d desperately hoped it would. “Right,” he said, taking my towels. “I’ll be in the bath.”

  Was it my imagination, or did he wink at me?

  Bleurgh.

  I clattered around for a while, until I was sure he was done listening to me, then I got out my phone and tried to remember how to take a picture with it. I messed around in Wright’s briefcase, taking pictures of a lot of things—the camera was slow but the pictures were hella-good—but I didn’t see anything I thought was very interesting.

  However, I did see a magnificently placed wedding ring on top of a serviette with three girls’ numbers scrawled on it.

  “Room service?” Wright called from the bathroom, and I froze with my finger on the shutter to snap the ring. “Room service? Come and scrub my back.”

  I bolted.

  Back in my own room, I found I had about ten minutes to get ready for dinner. I dropped the suit on the floor, wriggled into my marvellous dress (maybe slightly too small but at that price, who gave a damn) and shoes, sprayed on Impulse body spray in the absence of perfume, and ran my fingers through my hair.

  There. Ready.

  Sort of.

  Harvey was waiting, looking handsome and indefinably American, and he smiled at me as I approached.

  “You look brand new,” he said. “You ready to go?”

  Chapter Ten

  We took a taxi across the river and wandered around looking for a trattoria in the Trastavere district. I had no idea a modern city could be so beautiful. Every road ended in a little piazza with the sort of topiary in huge terracotta pots that my mother would pay a fortune for from the garden centre. Soft, happy light and chatter and music flowed across the streets from every building. The people were beautiful, olive-skinned and charming.

  One of the things I found so frustrating earlier in the day when I was running out of time to go shopping—I mean, complete my mission, ahem—was the way you can’t follow a road to the end, then turn left or right onto the next road, as it appears on the maps. Oh no. Every road ends, as I said, in a charming little geranium-filled piazza with a dozen pretty little alleys leading off all over the place. Whichever one you take is guaranteed to take you completely the wrong way, and by the time you find a street with a street sign and locate it on your (by now very crumpled) map, you’re halfway across the city in the wrong direction.

  I minded very much when I was alone, but now I figured I was getting the hang of it. Of course, it helped that I wasn’t getting quite so hassled by a lot of Romans who appeared to have never seen a blonde before. Now I was getting the same attention, but walking arm in arm with a handsome man seemed to subdue it somewhat.

  “You’re a hit,” Harvey said as a wolf-whistle echoed down the street after us.

  “It’s the hair,” I said. “They have a thing about blondes.”

  “You ever been to Asia?”

  I shook my head, no.

  “Man, they go nuts over a white skin there. If you’re a redhead they practically worship you. Blondes too.”

  “My mother went to Sweden once with her friend who’s Indian,” I said. “They couldn’t get over her. People kept touching her hair. My mother’s blonde like me and she was kinda pissed off people kept ignoring her.”

  “People notice her a lot?”

  I thought about it. My mother had never been like other people’s mothers. She didn’t look old. She didn’t have scary-hair-in-the-air like my friends’ mothers all had from when we were at primary school. She borrowed my clothes. She was attractive and made the most of herself in a growing-old-gracefully sort of way. She moved with the times, which I guess was the secret to avoiding old age.

  “Yeah, people notice her a lot,” I said.

  “Must run in the family.”

  He was very sweet and charming, and he spoke perfect Italian, and he didn’t act appalled when I told him I didn’t eat meat. People have been known to stare at me like I’m an alien or something. I just smile and reassure them it’s not contagious.

  He asked me about being a stewardess and I told him we were now called cabin crew, which if you ask me is just de-glamorising it a bit more. I made up a load of stuff about the training and hours and things I had no idea about and asked him about the mobile phone industry.

  “Ti piace un piccolo caffè?” the charming man who owned t
he trattoria asked us, and Harvey looked over at me and said, “Anything but cappuccino. It’s just not Roman.”

  I thrive on an abnormal amount of coffee. I smiled sweetly and asked for una espresso doppio, which I learnt years ago in school and thought it sounded impressive.

  It was impressive. A pure shot of caffeine so strong it made me dizzy, and I had to hold onto Harvey’s arm as we walked back to the hotel.

  Well, maybe it was also the wine that made me hold onto him. Maria said I should have a glass a day; well here I was bravely taking a week’s worth.

  And maybe it was also the fact that Harvey was very fit and cute and charming that made me hold onto him. It was certainly that which made me go back to his room and let him kiss me like the Prince Charming he was.

  Although, seeing as he’s a classless American, maybe that should be Citizen Charming. It doesn’t quite have the same ring.

  “Mmm,” I said when he stopped kissing me. “Ciao, bella.”

  “Isn’t bella a girl?”

  “Well, bello, then. Although that sounds rude.”

  He grinned and took off his jacket. He had lovely broad shoulders and shiny hair. He looked like exactly what I needed to cheer myself up.

  He kissed me some more, and it was very pleasant kissing. Not the fireworks I got from Luke, nothing as scary as that. I wanted to put my arms around Harvey and let him protect me. I didn’t want to shoot him, which I suppose made him a better contender than Luke.

  Something vibrated in his pocket, and my eyes widened. “That could be fun.”

  He withdrew a sleek mobile and raised his eyebrows at me. “Damn,” he said, reading the display. “I have to take this. Sorry.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

  Oh, great. So a call on a phone was more important than making out with me. I sat down on the bed, rubbing my arms which suddenly felt quite cold, and pulled off my shoes. Harvey was quite a bit taller than me, which is an interesting feat, but he wasn’t lanky. He wasn’t all lean muscle like Luke. He had brawn. A big hunk of American beefcake. Mmm.

  And look at me! Making out with two men in as many days. Ella would be pleased. She said my talents were wasted as it was. I once asked her what she meant by my talents, and she blushed and said, “Remember when I came to visit you at uni that time? Well, the walls in those rooms are very thin.”