I, Spy?

by Kate Johnson

  “Jesus,” Luke said in my ear, “you’re turning me on.”

  I ignored him. “So what are you going to do for us, Mr. Wright? Can I call you David?”

  He nodded, looking glazed.

  “Will it be just the fifty-one percent majority you’ll be buying? That’s not a lot of control, David. Maybe you need some surety.”

  Gosh, I sounded like I knew what I was talking about and everything.

  “Oh, I’ll have surety,” Wright said. “I have a partner who’s interested in stock as well.”

  “Bingo,” Luke said.

  “You do? A business partner?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “I thought you owned Wrightbank and its subsidiaries outright.”

  “Well, yes, I do—”

  “I thought you had no partner.”

  “No, well, I don’t, but when I say partner I mean a personal friend. Not a close friend,” he blustered, “not that kind of partner…”

  I smiled. “Of course. You’re well known for keeping your personal life private.”

  Was he? I had no idea. But it seemed to please him.

  “Well, yes, of course.”

  “But is this personal friend trustworthy?” I asked, as Luke said in my ear, “God knows how this imbecile runs a company.”

  I thought it was pretty obvious that he didn’t.

  “Oh, yes, very trustworthy,” Wright said. “She’s been in it with me from the beginning.”

  “She?” Luke said, and then Alexa broke in with, “Ask him about Jane Hammond. She was his partner way back when.”

  “Your partner is a woman?” I said. “I thought after Jane Hammond you might have changed your mind about working with women.”

  “I know I have,” Luke muttered.

  “What do you know about Jane Hammond?” Wright asked.

  “I know she was your partner way back when,” I said, hoping Alexa would come up with something else.

  “Bad break up,” she said, and I repeated it. “Swore to work alone after that.”

  “So I’m sort of surprised you’re working with someone else on this,” I said to Wright. “She must be very special.”

  “Oh, she is.”

  “Is she a well-known figure?” I didn’t want to ask outright for a name. Didn’t want to push him too far. He didn’t look too bright, but then, neither did I.

  Hmm.

  “No, no, she’s very private. Totally unknown.”

  “But obviously she knows a lot about this venture, about the world of finance,” I said. “I mean, I've been looking into this,” I said, looking down at my miraculously empty champagne glass modestly, “and there are a few names I’ve become familiar with.” I started randomly casting around. “I know Helen Shilton said she’d kill to work with you.”

  “Really?” Wright said, looking interested. “Helen Shilton?”

  Jesus, don’t tell me there really is a Helen Shilton.

  “Who?” Luke and Alexa said at the same time.

  “But then obviously it’s not her,” I added quickly. “Is it a name I might know?” I asked coyly.

  Wright tapped his nose. “I’ll never tell.”

  “But surely I’ll find out sooner or later when she starts buying up shares in my company?”

  “Oh, is it your company now?” Wright said teasingly, and I knew I’d lost him. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Antonia, er, Portman.”

  “Porter,” Luke hissed in my ear.

  “I’m sure I know you,” Wright said, peering closer.

  “No, I just have one of those faces. Would you like some more champagne?” I trilled, grabbing another couple of glasses.

  “Not for me. You have some,” he said generously.

  How kind. Especially since it was free.

  “No more,” Luke said firmly as I lifted the glass to my lips, and I nearly spilled it. Was he watching me? “Get him drunk.”

  “I can’t have any more,” I pressed both glasses on Wright. “It goes straight to my head. Must be the, er, bubbles.”

  “Airhead,” Luke sniggered, and was ignored.

  “Me too,” Wright said. “Don’t drink much.”

  Fantastic.

  “Can I not tempt you at all?” I said, fluttering my eyelashes.

  “Not with champagne,” Wright said, and actually winked.

  Ugh.

  Luke was laughing in my ear. “I think maybe you should get out of there,” he said.

  Oh, God, please yes.

  “I have a room just upstairs,” Wright said, and I nearly gagged.

  “Really?” I said. “Well, why don’t you go up there and I’ll, I’ll get my things and follow you up.”

  “You won’t need a thing,” Wright said, leaning close. I leaned back.

  “You won’t say that when you see what I have in my bag,” I managed, and I could hear Luke laughing.

  Wright’s piggy eyes were all lit up. “Room 305,” he said. “Five minutes.”

  Jesus.

  I watched him scamper away, little piggy that he was, and turned in disgust to see Luke standing about ten feet away.

  “That was a hell of a show,” he said, grinning.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “So what do you have in your bag?”

  “Lots of things that could be fashioned into weapons.”

  “Just weapons? You didn’t bring the cuffs?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was a bondage party.”

  He laughed. “Room 305 probably is. Right.” He took one of my champagne glasses and turned away from the crowd. I had to stretch to see what he was doing, but it looked like he was tipping something into the glass.

  “What’s that?”

  “Sleeping powder. Five minutes and he’ll be out.” He grabbed a waiter and presented him with the glass. “Could you take this to Room 305, please? Compliments of Miss Antonia Porter—” he gave me a severe look, “—who desires him to drink it straight away as a prelude to the party. Those words exactly.”

  The waiter nodded and went away with the glass.

  “That’s that,” Luke said. “He’ll think it’s Viagra or something.”

  “From the way he was walking I don’t think he’ll need it,” I muttered, and Luke laughed out loud.

  “Right,” he said. “Five minutes. Wanna dance?”

  They weren’t playing a waltz any more, but we danced one anyway, feeling foolish, giggling a lot. Or at least I was. Luke looked very amused and held me so close I could hear the squashed crackle of his microphone in my ear.

  “I can hear you,” I said.

  “Well, I am right here.”

  “No, I mean here.” I took my hand from his shoulder and placed it on his chest. “I can hear your heart beat.”

  Luke looked into my eyes and we slowed almost to a stop. I could hardly breathe. He was going to kiss me again.

  “Time’s up,” he whispered, and released me.

  Bastard.

  We took the lift up to the third floor and the atmosphere was tense. Gray’s Hotel was movie-set grand, panelled in gleaming wood with faded gilt everywhere and lots of dark, aged paintings. But I hardly noticed, because every sense I had was desperately attuned to Luke walking easily beside me.

  “Knock,” he said to me when we reached the door. “If he’s still awake, go in and wait for him to sleep.”

  “What if he’s not drunk the champagne?”

  “Propose a toast.”

  I took a deep breath and knocked. Nothing. I knocked again. “David?”

  “Oh, he’s David now?” Luke mocked under his breath as I tried the handle, with no success.

  Luke pulled something from his pocket, a little wire, and picked the lock.

  “Please show me how to do that,” I begged.

  “You planning on breaking into a lot of places?”

  No, I just got locked out a lot.

  “Hey, if you know it, I should know it. Spy training a
nd all that,” I whispered as Luke pushed the door open and reached for the gun holstered under his immaculately cut jacket.

  We were immediately hit by the sound of snoring. I couldn’t keep a straight face.

  “Oh, is that the welcome I get?” I said.

  Luke grinned. “Wouldn’t catch me sleeping,” he said. “Oh, Jesus, look at this.”

  We stood and looked at Wright, who was flaked out completely naked on the huge four-poster bed.

  “Oh, that’s just not pretty,” I said, holding up my hand to shield my eyes.

  “Definitely not,” Luke agreed, holstering his gun and going over to Wright. He slapped the sleeping guy’s cheek, and Wright snored louder. “Right. You keep an eye on the door. You never know, he might have invited lots of revellers up here.”

  Charming thought.

  I stood by the door, listening hard for footsteps, while Luke did a lightning sweep of the room. I was gratified to see he checked all the places I had the night before, in Rome. Suitcase, briefcase, drawers, checking for hidden compartments in each.

  Then he went over to the laptop. There hadn’t been one of those in Rome.

  “This could take some time,” he said.

  “Why, computer illiterate?”

  He gave me a withering glance and took a USB stick out of his jacket pocket.

  What the hell else did he keep in there?

  Every minute he spent searching and downloading I was sure Wright was going to wake up or someone was going to come in. I was practically hopping with nervousness when there came a knock on the door.

  “Shit,” I said to Luke, who nodded and quickly ejected the disk and pocketed it.

  “Answer it. Make them go.”

  Heart pounding, I crossed to the door and when I opened it, I nearly fainted.

  “Harvey?”

  “Sophie?” He looked as amazed as me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I, er, this is my room.”

  Harvey looked at the number. “Really? Your room?”

  “I, er…”

  “No,” I felt a hand on my shoulder and another at my waist, “our room. Sophie, honey, friend of yours?”

  Oh, sweet Jesus.

  Chapter Twelve

  I looked back at Luke, whose fingers were firm on my shoulder, then at Harvey, who looked speechless.

  “You’re sharing with your brother?” he asked eventually, and I could have kicked Luke. Hadn’t he heard me say that?

  “Is that what she called me?” Luke said easily. “Bad girl, Sophie, telling lies like that.”

  Harvey looked between us. “You’re a couple?”

  Looked like it. “Yes,” I said. “But it’s a secret.”

  “Sophie, could I talk to you a second?” Harvey said tensely, and I extracted myself from Luke and slipped out of the room before he could protest.

  “What’s up?”

  Harvey folded his arms. “You didn’t tell me about him in Rome.”

  “No, well, erm, like I said, it’s a secret.”

  “So secret you came back to my room?”

  I blushed.

  “Is that why you left?”

  “Sudden attack of conscience,” I said meekly. “I’m sorry, Harvey. It’s…it’s complicated.”

  That was becoming my catch phrase.

  Harvey shook his glossy head. “And I thought he was your brother,” he said as the door opened and Luke came out.

  “He’s not my brother. My brother is in Essex. You remember, Luke, I was talking to him when we were on the phone the other day…”

  “Oh, so you do have a brother?” Harvey said.

  “I thought he was your boyfriend,” Luke said.

  “I thought he was your boyfriend,” Harvey said, pointing at Luke, looking confused.

  “Who? Chalker?”

  “Who’s Chalker?” they both asked.

  “Yeah, who is Chalker?” asked Alexa in my ear. I’d forgotten about her.

  “He’s my brother,” I said firmly.

  “So who’s your boyfriend?” Harvey asked.

  “No one,” I said.

  “That’s not what you told me,” Luke said.

  “You said it was him,” Harvey said, pointing again. Didn’t the boy know it was rude?

  “You told me it was the other guy,” Luke said.

  “What other guy?”

  “The one you were talking to. At your parents’.”

  “That was my brother!”

  “You’re sleeping with your brother?” Alexa said. “How Greek.”

  “Not this guy?” Harvey pointed at Luke, and I grabbed his hand to stop him.

  “No. This is Luke. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not my brother. He’s just my…my tormentor.”

  “So who am I?” Harvey asked, reclaiming his hand and massaging it pointedly.

  “Yes, who is he?” Luke asked.

  “We met in Rome,” I said.

  “Oh, you’re the guy.” Luke folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, looking Harvey over.

  “What guy?” Harvey asked.

  “Yes, what guy?” Alexa asked.

  “No guy!” I half yelled. “We had dinner. That’s all.”

  “Not totally all,” Harvey said.

  “I love this,” Alexa said.

  I looked at Luke. “Can we go now?”

  He shook his head, looking highly amused.

  “We have popcorn,” Alexa informed me.

  “Is there a boyfriend?” Luke asked.

  “No!”

  “Then why’d you say there was?”

  “To piss you off!”

  “Why?”

  “Because you were being annoying.”

  “So why did you—” Harvey began, but I’d already had enough. I started walking away.

  “Sophie, wait,” they both yelled.

  I suppose under other circumstances it might be nice to have two handsome men running after me, but I’d had a really long day. The week seemed about eight days long already. My feet were truly killing me—her Ladyboat’s shoes were too small and not really designed to be worn this much.

  “No,” I said, determined not to cry although my eyes didn’t seem to know that. “I’ve had enough. I’m going home.”

  “Can I take your number?” Harvey asked hopefully.

  “No,” Luke and I said at the same time. I glared at Luke and carried on walking. I was almost at the lift now.

  “Sophie, calm down,” he said.

  “No, I will not.”

  “Look, I’m sorry—”

  “But you’re not, are you, Luke? This isn’t funny. You keep laughing at me and none of it’s funny. I’ve had enough, I’m going home, goodbye.”

  “How?” Luke asked.

  “What?”

  “How are you getting home?”

  “Same way I got here.”

  “Last train leaves Liverpool Street in ten minutes. You’ll never make it.”

  Shit. I hadn’t realised it was so late. Damn Angel, making me take my watch off.

  “I’ll—I’ll get a taxi.”

  “It’ll cost you a fortune!”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “After Rome and everything? Do you even have any cash on you?”

  I said nothing. The lift doors opened and I stepped in.

  “I’ll figure something out,” I said.

  “I’ll give you a—”

  “No,” I said. Luke tried to follow me into the lift and I glared at him. “Go away.”

  “No.”

  He was just like Chalker. So I did what I do with Chalker. I gathered my skirts and planted my heel in his chest.

  I just had time to see his astonished face as the lift doors closed.

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I pulled out my earpiece and switched off the wire. I no longer looked gleaming and expensive. I looked tired and miserable. Luke and Harvey would probably be fighting over who didn’t get me.

  Well done, Sophi
e. Well done.

  I stomped into the ladies, where the attendant probably thought I fancied her or something, and peeled the contact lenses off my eyeballs. They were making my eyes sting.

  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

  As I left the hotel, I tried to figure out my route home. Maybe if I got the tube back to Liverpool Street I could get a taxi and it’d be cheaper. Or maybe a night bus. Or something.

  I stood on the steps of the hotel, shivering, the wind blowing bits of my hair around, trying to think.

  A car pulled up in front of me. A silver Vectra. Luke’s silver Vectra.

  “How did they even let that in the car park?” I said as he rolled his window down and leaned over to me. “Don’t they have a fifty grand minimum?”

  “I showed them my badge. Come on, Sophie, get in. I’ll take you home.”

  “Who says I want to go home? Maybe I’ll go and find Harvey and get a room.” I started walking and he cruised along beside me.

  “Because that worked out so well last time. Look, you need sleep.”

  “I’ll make my own way.”

  “I have a CD changer.”

  I almost smiled at that.

  “What’s on it?”

  “Led Zeppelin—”

  I held up my hands. “I’ll walk.”

  “Nickelback. Avril Lavigne. Madonna. S Club Juniors. Dolly Parton. Pavarotti. Use the radio. Just get in the bloody car, will you?”

  I hesitated. On the one hand, giving in to Luke, which I really, really hated to do. On the other, spending hour upon hour trudging around in someone else’s deadly shoes, alone, unarmed, in London—all right, Kensington, but it was still dark and cold and lonely.

  I let out a big sigh as if it was the biggest chore in the world and got in. The car was warm and quiet, a cocoon against the outside world. We slid out onto the road again.

  “You don’t really have S Club Juniors in here, do you?”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I don’t even have a CD changer.”

  See? I knew he was a liar.

  I must have dozed off some time before we hit the M11, because the next thing I remembered was Luke shaking me by the shoulder and saying we were home. I looked at the clock on the dash. It was well after midnight.