Spy Girl

by Jillian Dodd

  My heart does a little leap thinking they could be from Daniel.

  I rub my eyes as Ari sets them on my desk and plucks an envelope out of the arrangement. He’s followed into the room by our housekeeper who places a large gift-wrapped box on my bed and then retreats. On top of it is a formal invitation with my name in a gorgeous gold calligraphy.

  Ari plops down on my bed as I brush my hair off my face and fluff it. I’m sure it’s a freaking mess.

  He narrows his eyes, surveying me and then my messy bed. “If I didn’t know you were home early and alone last night, I’d think you had a night filled with sex.”

  “I had a restless sleep,” I say, attempting to explain the rumpled sheets and the duvet strewn across the floor.

  “You always sleep in a man’s shirt?”

  I arch an eyebrow at my fake brother. “Sometimes I just sleep naked.”

  He rolls his eyes and picks up the phone on my bedside table. “My sister and I would like to have brunch on her terrace.”

  “Could you ask the chef to make me something hearty? Maybe a grilled cheese and roasted tomato sandwich?”

  I’m starved. Must be from all the calories I burned with Daniel last night.

  Ari lets the kitchen know what we’d like and then holds up the invitation. “This is from the Queen.”

  “So, the flowers must be from the Prince,” I say, hiding my personal disappointment even though I am actually professionally thrilled they’re from him. It means he’s interested. I pop the seal, pull the card out, and read aloud. “Please accept these flowers as a token of my sincerest apologies regarding the events yesterday. I’d be delighted if you would accompany me to the Queen’s Garden Party today as well as the fashion show this evening. Sincerely, Lorenzo.” I open the larger gilded envelope to find an inner envelope with both my name and Ari’s, followed by a formal invitation to the tea. I toss it to him. “Looks like you’re invited, too.”

  “You’re playing him well,” Ari says. “I’m impressed. I’m also impressed with your quick thinking yesterday. I wasn’t sure if you were just theory and promise.”

  “Is this your first mission?”

  “With the CIA, yes. But I’ve been on special ops missions in the Army.”

  “Have you ever killed anyone?” I ask, tilting my head. Sometimes I wonder if I could really do it. Hitting targets with rubber bullets and in simulations is a lot different than seeing it happen in front of you. I should know.

  He looks down. “Yes, I have.”

  “I haven’t. You’re right to have concerns about me. I’m well-trained and prepared but not yet field tested. Ari, what was your mission? Like, what did they tell you?”

  “No one told me anything. I was simply given an envelope. Inside it was a single card with my mission. To uncover the person or persons behind the plot to assassinate the Prince of Montrovia.”

  “What color was it? The envelope.”

  “It was pink and covered with glitter, rainbows, and unicorns.” He rolls his eyes at me. “What do you think? It was a nondescript plain white envelope with a plain white card inside with black print.” He studies me. “What color was yours?”

  “Same,” I lie, realizing that my mission was slightly different. While I, too, was ordered to uncover the plot, my mission varied in that I am supposed to also both protect the Prince and eliminate those responsible. I think about my training. I was taught to kill a man with nothing more than a paper clip. I can tail a mark without his knowledge. And, once during training, I jumped out of a three-story building using an embroidered hankie as a parachute. I was the star student at Blackwood Academy. Only instead of excelling at normal collegiate activities like keg stands and frat parties, I’m an expert marksman, unbeaten in hand-to-hand combat, and impossible for even the school’s best to tail. “Is that all it said?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Yeah, it is,” I lie, opening the gift. Inside are three smaller boxes. One with the golden gown I was trying on the day I met the Prince.

  “That’s quite the dress,” Ari says, as I hold up the dreamy golden masterpiece. Under the gown are a pair of Jimmy Choo sandals and a complementary clutch.

  “I had it on when we met. Well, actually, I was looking at ties when we met, but then he came over to the women’s side and introduced himself when I was standing in front of the mirror in this.

  “Must have made an impression. Do you think this will work? Getting close to him? I feel like being close to him might only allow us to protect him. To react to an attempt.”

  “My orders were a little different than yours,” I confess.

  “How so?”

  “I was told to get close to and protect him.” I don’t mention the part about killing the bad guys.

  “So I’m the sleuth, and you’re the bodyguard?”

  I shrug. “Maybe. But I think you’re right. We have to figure out who’s behind this. I feel like we aren’t making any progress.”

  “I wish we could have interrogated the gunmen,” Ari says. “Maybe we could have gotten some clues.”

  “The fact that a group hasn’t claimed them by now leads me to believe we can rule out the major terrorist groups.” I open the other box to find a demure pink crepe dress with an Alexander McQueen label.

  “Terrorist organizations are infiltrating all areas of the world. It could be a smaller group,” Ari counters. “What’s in the last box?”

  “Oh! It’s a hat!” I place it on my head and stand in front of the mirror over my desk. “Look at the beautiful sweeping brim. And the roses and feathers are so pretty!”

  “You’re going to look like royalty in that,” he teases. “I think the Prince fancies you.”

  I roll my eyes. “He probably sends invites and dresses to lots of girls.”

  He holds up a card. “Did you not see the note in the hat box?”

  “No. What does it say?”

  “I’m honored to custom design your millinery for the Queen’s Garden Party. Best, Anna Remaldi.” Ari sets the hat down and pulls out his phone, clicking buttons. “It says here that Anna is the Royal milliner for the Queen of Montrovia.”

  “Wow. Okay, maybe he does fancy me a bit. But that’s the goal, right?”

  “Yes, it is. So at the Garden Party, let’s try to spend more time with the cousins. We need to figure out if they are threats or targets.”

  “And I want to find out more about the gunmen. Who they were. Who they were working for.”

  “You think they’re mercenaries not terrorists?” he considers.

  “I think we have to consider that possibility. What if there is something bigger at play here? Most terror happens in protest. Some is simply to disrupt the governments they are against. The biggest terror group now says their ultimate goal is to overthrow governments of unstable, heavily Muslim nations and establish their own state.” I pause. “Which doesn’t really fit Montrovia. I read that about ninety percent of the country is Roman Catholic.”

  “But it’s a jewel of great wealth.”

  “So where does the Terra thing fit in?” I wonder.

  “I think terra sounds a lot like terror.”

  Our server taps on the door and enters with a tray of food.

  “Looks like it’s time to eat,” Ari says. “I expect Allie will be up to join you soon. An invitation to the party was delivered for her and Peter as well.”

  A short time later, Allie is at my door.

  “You awake?” she whispers.

  “We’re out on the terrace. Come join us.”

  She’s still wrapped in a robe and looks like she just woke up.

  “Did you get an invitation to the Queen’s Garden Party?” she asks.

  “We did.”

  “What are you going to wear?”

  “The Prince sent me an outfit and a hat.”

  “I looked online to see what Kate Middleton wears when she goes to these sorts of things in Britain. Usually a proper suit or a tailored dr
ess and always a hat. I have a floral dress that will work, but no hat. Do you think they wear them here?”

  “Yes, they do. What color is your dress? I have a hat you could borrow. Or we could send the boys out to shop.”

  Ari groans. “I think since I’m finished with breakfast, I’ll leave the fashion to you ladies and go have a pint with Peter.”

  “Oh, he’d love that,” Allie says. “I’ll get my dress and be right back.”

  I finish my meal and take a deep breath. I had hoped to do some yoga and work out, but now I’m going to have to hustle to be ready in time. I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t show up fashionably late to the Queen’s party.

  I consider sending her son a text thanking him for the gifts, but decide it’s better for the mission to keep him wondering if I’ll show up.

  “Here’s my dress,” Allie says, returning. “What do you think?” She’s holding it up to herself. “Too short?”

  “It almost comes to your knee. I think it will work. And the black background with the floral pattern is both modern and traditional.” I have no idea what that even meant. My fashion decisions usually revolve around which black yoga pants make my butt look the best. She nods like I made sense.

  “Oh, good. Ellis told me you have hair and makeup on call. Have you called them?”

  I go into my closet and grab a hat box. The Kates sent me with two hats. One to wear to a daytime party and one to wear to the beach. “No, but I’m sure Ellis did. He’s on top of things.”

  Ellis knocks on the door just as I’m pulling the hat out of the box.

  “Hair and makeup will arrive in one hour to prep you for the Queen’s Garden Party. We are on a tight time frame, and you don’t want to be late.”

  “We won’t be. Allie, what do you think? Shall we pre-party with some champagne?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “I will send a server back shortly. Miss Allie, would you like something to eat?”

  “Oh, yes. A spinach salad, no dressing. Maybe some grilled salmon or chicken on it?” She turns to me. “I told my agent I was coming here, and she booked me in the fashion show tonight at the Amber Room. Can you come? Will you bring Daniel?”

  “Daniel went to Switzerland. Something to do with a photo shoot.”

  “Have you seen his watch ad? The one where he is swimming with the waterproof watch on?” She picks up my extra hat and fans her face with it. Then she realizes what she’s doing and looks at the hat. “Oh, this is adorable. And the black will match my dress. Are you sure I can borrow it?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “So do you like the Prince or Daniel? You had a lot of chemistry at the gala. And the way you danced together—it was almost magical.”

  “Magical?” I scoff. “Uh, no. It was just a few dances.”

  “And then you left together.”

  “We got pizza.”

  “I got some pizza of my own. Do you know about me and Ari? Do you think badly of me?”

  “I think what matters is what you think of yourself. I personally have no problem with you sleeping with whomever you fancy. Unless you have some kind of a commitment with Peter.”

  “Oh, no. He’s told me many times he doesn’t do commitment. I know he goes through women, but he’s really sweet, and I enjoy his company. It’s just that he’s not—how can I put this delicately? Your brother is a beast in the sack. And I feel like an addict waiting for my next hit. Staying at your villa is both brilliant and torturous. I snuck into his room last night.”

  “I try to stay out of his love life.”

  “You just found out he’s your brother. Admit it. The first time you saw him he heated up your panties.”

  “I did think he was nice looking.”

  “You two look a lot alike. I looked up your dad online. He must have had dominant genes, because you both look just like him.”

  I make a mental note to find a photo of Ares and have a look myself, but am now even more impressed with our casting. I’m lost in thought and not really paying attention to the fact that Allie is rummaging through my handbag. She pulls something out of it.

  “Oh, I should borrow one of these. Flights seem to clog my pores.” She starts to take the back off one of the pore strips.

  “Wait!” I yell, ripping it out of her hands, imagining her beautiful nose blown off by the incendiary device.

  She’s taken aback by my outburst.

  “Sorry,” I reply. “It’s just I need to throw those away. They’re cheap and practically ripped half the skin off my nose. It was red for two days. You wouldn’t want that for the fashion show tonight.”

  She clutches her chest as if I just saved her life. “Oh, thank goodness you stopped me. I would have been so upset if that happened!”

  “Me too,” I say, taking all the strips out of my bag and throwing them in the trash. I’ll retrieve them when she goes to get changed.

  X X X

  Getting into the Queen’s Garden Party is much different than driving to the castle with the Prince. Vehicles are not parked onsite, but rather valeted. All guests must show their invitation and identification then pass through a metal detector and have their bags checked. My shoes go off even though they aren’t outfitted with any gadgets, since they were a gift from the Prince. The shoes aren’t X-rayed as they should be, simply run past the nose of a bomb-sniffing dog who gives them a cursory whiff. There are a fair number of armed military present, both watching the crowd and surrounding the castle.

  I’m relieved to see it. It wouldn’t deter a well-trained assassin, but it is a good defense against suicide bombers or armed attacks.

  Allie and Peter are held up in security, so Ari escorts me toward the garden, and we talk while winding down the brick, tree-lined path. Flowers are in full bloom, and the hedges expertly tended.

  “Let’s go over the weak spots in security,” he says, speaking low so that no one will overhear us. "There are snipers on the roof. The castle is surrounded by soldiers with assault weapons. They brought in portable restrooms so that visitors will have no reason to enter the castle. The guests have been personally invited and, I’m sure, pre-screened. What would you do if you wanted to kill the Prince today?”

  I look at the brick walls surrounding the garden then up at the sky. “Maybe fly in?”

  “A helicopter would be susceptible to the snipers.”

  “It could do a lot of damage before it was taken out, though. What about a drone? Or one of those little helicopters with the cameras? Only maybe it’s a gun instead. It would be quiet and could sneak up. But, honestly, I’d be more worried about the backend of the event. The food delivery trucks, the caterers, the servers. Or, worse, someone like us.”

  “What do you mean?” Ari asks.

  “We got through. Do you have any weapons in your possession?”

  “No, the invitation mentioned security, so I’m not packing.”

  I grab his wrist. “What about your watch?”

  “Cartier, brand new.”

  I show him mine. “My Cartier is special.”

  “How so?”

  “It's loaded with poison darts.” I flash my hand at him. “And this ring can reveal a single-use poison tip. If I scratched you with it, you’d be dead in a matter of minutes. If I were playing for the other side, I’d be the big threat. And I’d succeed easily.”

  “My sister is a badass,” he says, and it makes me smile. It’s the first mission-related compliment he’s given me.

  “Don’t you have any gadgets?”

  “Yeah, I do.” He rolls his eyes like a little boy caught with candy.

  “What do you have?”

  “A fine writing pen that when clicked properly contains a similar dart. Cuff links that become tracking and listening devices. A hankie square made of Kevlar.”

  “My brother is a badass,” I tease.

  “So that’s what we need to be looking for—someone like us. But I agree with you. The threat could be a man or woman and c
ould be either a guest or server. Keep your eyes open and stick close to the Prince. I’ll stay close by, as well, forming a sort of outer perimeter.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I agree as we arrive at the entrance to the garden.

  “Wait up!” Allie calls from behind us, her and Peter scurrying to catch up.

  “That was ridiculous,” Peter huffs. “To be invited to an event and have to practically be strip searched.”

  “What happened?”

  “He had a nail file in his pocket,” Allie states.

  Peter goes on. “Clearly, it is not a weapon. What could I even do with it? File their royal nails until they bled?”

  Ari and I share a glance, both thinking the same thing. There are a lot of things you could do with a nail file, jabbing it directly into a man’s eye being the first that comes to mind.

  “Why do you have a nail file? They don’t even allow those on airplanes,” Ari states.

  Allie smiles at him. “I don’t think Peter’s ever flown commercial.”

  “And it wasn’t like a big metal file,” Peter continues. “It’s a pair of clippers that have a little nail file. I’m prone to hangnails.”

  Clippers can be effective, too, I think. With the right amount of force and a quick slash, a major artery in the neck could be opened and a man would bleed to death. Messy, but effective.

  “They didn’t let me keep them. That’s what took so long. I had to fill out a coat check type form. If they weren’t made of gold and a gift from my grandfather, I would have just ditched them.” He grabs Allie’s hand. “Remind me to pick them up when we leave.”

  “I’m sure after the castle attack yesterday, they aren’t taking any chances, for all our sakes,” Ari says.

  “Still, pain in my arse,” Peter replies.

  We go through an arched trellis to enter the large, perfectly manicured green-lawned garden. It’s beautiful. Large, leafy trees surround its perimeter. A mammoth ornate marble fountain punctuates its center. Smaller floral trees line the center paths and numerous iron benches allow for gazing at the floral displays. We are quickly greeted by a white-gloved server offering us champagne from a silver tray.