[Santa Olivia 02] - Saints Astray

by Jacqueline Carey

  By the time Loup was finished with her, she was beyond arguing.

  “Jesus,” she murmured, running her fingers idly through Loup’s hair. “I don’t know whether I love or hate the fact that you can do that to me without even trying.”

  “Oh, I was trying,” Loup assured her.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Well, then I’m gonna go with love it.”

  Pilar laughed, then stretched, slow and languorous, shivering with lingering pleasure. “Yeah, me too.”

  “All those years,” Loup said softly. “All those years, I never knew what it could be like to be with someone like this. I tried, but it never felt right, you know? Not for me, not for anyone else, no matter how much I wanted it to. Not even Mack, and he tried harder than anyone. It just made me feel lonely. And all those years, I kept thinking about you.” She drew a line from the hollow of Pilar’s throat to her navel. “It’s still… awesome. Not just in that epic sex way, though yeah, that, too. But like the way Father Ramon used the word when he talked about God.”

  “I’m not sure Father Ramon believed in God, baby,” Pilar said gently. “He wasn’t really a priest, remember? He just put on the robes.”

  “No, I know. But he gave people what they needed. Awe. Hope.”

  “Yeah.” She rolled onto her side, regarding Loup. “So did you, Santa Olivia. That town went fucking wild after your fight. I can’t even imagine what it was like after you disappeared.”

  “We disappeared,” Loup reminded her.

  Pilar cupped her cheek. “Baby, you left behind an empty cell with a basket and a boxing robe in Santa Olivia’s colors, and one big fucking mystery. I left behind one pissed-off Rory Salamanca. It’s not the same thing.”

  Loup made a face. “Rory, yeah.”

  “Oh, hush.” Pilar kissed her. “You know perfectly well why I left you, and perfectly well that I’ll never do it again.” She studied Loup’s face. “We’re going back someday, aren’t we? After we make enough money doing this secret agent bodyguard shit. You’re gonna do something stupid and heroic.”

  “Probably,” Loup admitted. “I can’t stand thinking about everyone we left behind.”

  “I figured.” Pilar rolled onto her back, folding her arms beneath her head. “Do you actually have a plan?”

  Loup shook her head. “Jaime and Jane were the ones who were good at making plans. I haven’t figured it out yet.”

  “I’ll try to make sure it’s not too stupid.” She blew out her breath. “Whatever it is, I’m just glad we’re in it together.”

  “Me too.” Loup hesitated. “Do you still hate it here?”

  Pilar thought for a moment. “No, I guess not,” she said. “I’ve done things I never thought I could. It’s a good feeling. And I guess… I’m kinda curious to see what else I can do. It might turn out we need some of this stuff, you know?”

  “Yep.”

  She freed one hand, tracing a line up Loup’s spine. “So, awe, huh?”

  Loup nodded, serious.

  Pilar smiled. “Maybe you could show me just one more time.”

  She did.

  FOURTEEN

  Their education began in earnest the following day.

  “All righty,” Clive said. “Say you’ve been hired to escort a famous actress on a press junket for her new movie. It’s, erm… let’s say it’s about an ass-kicking heroine, so her people wanted to hire the biggest badass girlie they could find as a nice PR stunt.” He pointed at Loup. “What do you need to know?”

  “Um… how to be a badass?”

  He snorted. “Beyond that part, Taz.”

  She shrugged. “Where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to do, I guess.”

  “It’s a start,” Clive allowed. “Everything starts with the itinerary. Say you’re picking her up at the airport. Over the course of two days, you’re escorting her to the hotel, to a press conference, a couple of one-on-one interviews, a photo op, and a movie premiere. What do you need to know?”

  “Where everything is?”

  Another snort. “At a bare minimum.” He walked them through the initial preparations involved in a job of that nature—ascertaining locations, routes, and travel times and alternate routes in case of trouble. “Not that you’ll be driving,” he added. “That’s become a specialized job unto itself. But say you’re being chased by a horde of paparazzi. You might need to use the driver’s car as a decoy and nip into a cab. You’ve got to know the best route to get Missy Movie Star to her next engagement.”

  “How?” Pilar asked.

  “Homework and preparation, sunshine,” Clive said. “You’ll have access to Global’s databases and navigational services, but we expect you to do the research ahead of time and commit it to memory, too. You’ve got to be able to think on the fly.”

  He went on at length about the various issues involved. Communicating with hotel and on-site security. Working with a celebrity’s handlers. Venue surveillance. Memorizing discreet side entrances and exits. Detecting paparazzi stakeouts.

  “Celebs are all different,” he said. “Some avoid the press like the plague; some are pure media whores. Find out up front and deal accordingly.”

  “What about the shopping?” Pilar asked.

  “Huh?” Clive rubbed his bald pate.

  “Personal assistant stuff.”

  “Oh, right.” He smiled wryly. “I’m gonna turn you over to Addie for that, sunshine. She spent years working for Mr. Lindberg in that capacity before he appointed her to manage the facility here.”

  “Is Addie a bodyguard, too?” Loup asked. Clive shook his head. “Okay, if Sabine’s such a hotshot bodyguard, how come she’s working as Magnus’ assistant now?”

  “Mr. Lindberg travels in, ah, unstable parts of the world on occasion,” he said. “Comes with the territory—more and more as the world begins to recover from the effects of the pandemic. And it was Sabine’s choice, not that it’s any of your business. The lady can pick and choose her contracts. She chose to work with Magnus.”

  “Ooh!” Pilar said with delight. “She’s totally got a crush on him. No wonder she’s so jealous of you, baby.”

  “I don’t think so,” Loup said. “I’m not the one he found charming.”

  “Unintentionally charming,” Pilar reminded her. “I’m not exactly sure that’s a compliment.”

  Clive cleared his throat. “A little focus, girlies!”

  He bombarded them with a further onslaught of information, jumping from evasive tactics to polite but firm methods of dealing with an aggressive press, to cultural dos and don’ts, like never showing the bottoms of your shoes in Japan. He informed them that they’d be learning basic CPR. He regaled them with the importance of always carrying a couple hundred euros’ worth of cash in order to be able to pay out the myriad tips and bribes that kept the machinery greased. When he saw their eyes begin to glaze, he stopped.

  “Enough, eh?” He grinned. “I’m rambling, I know bloody well I’m rambling. Don’t worry, you’ll learn it bit by bit. But right now you’re all full of yourselves after completing basic, and I like to impress on new recruits that there’s a hell of a lot more to this job than laying someone out on a mat. Got it?”

  “Very much got it, sir,” Loup agreed.

  “Good girl.” Clive fetched a pair of bound manuals with the Global Security logo on the cover. “These here are your bibles,” he said reverently. “Learn ’em. Study ’em. Everything I’m telling you and more is in these.”

  Pilar flipped hers open, studying a diagram of a limousine blocked at an intersection. “Is there going to be a test?”

  “You bet your ass, sunshine.” He relented a bit. “Don’t worry, you’ll have real-time experience, too.”

  Loup brightened. “Like what?”

  “Oh, opportunities to shadow some of our operatives on the job. Get your feet wet, as it were.” Clive smiled smugly. “And if you’re good girls and do your homework and keep up your training, I migh
t just have a treat in store for you sooner than you think.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They spent the next two weeks immersed in learning the minutiae of good bodyguarding skills, while keeping up on their self-defense training and marksmanship, and for Pilar, additional sessions with Adelaide on the art of anticipating a client’s every need and providing immaculate personal assistance. It was mentally exhausting in a way that basic hadn’t been.

  “Damn, you’re a good shot, Pilar,” Loup commented after a day on the range, lying crosswise on the bed, disinclined to study.

  “Yeah, go figure.” Pilar pored over the manual. “Okay, here’s one. What’s the best floor in a high-rise hotel?”

  “Penthouse?”

  “Nope.” She swatted her lightly on the shoulder. “Fifth, sixth, or seventh. High enough to avoid the risk of thrown objects from street level, but lower risk in the event of a fire. You’ve gotta know this stuff, Loup.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “You do!” Pilar swatted her again. “I know, I know. Magnus wants you so bad, they’re gonna pass you no matter what. But it’s about keeping you safe, too, baby.”

  “Okay.” Loup hauled herself upright. “Give me another.”

  “Hmm.” She studied the manual. “When approaching a doorway, do you proceed in advance or defer to the client and hold the door?”

  “Defer?”

  Pilar shook her head. “Proceed in order to assess threats.”

  “Well, that’s not exactly keeping me safe, is it?”

  “No.” Pilar frowned. “But I think it’s kind of a balance, you know? It’s not like this is the safest job in the world. But if you learn to follow the rules, it keeps everyone safer. Okay?”

  Loup reached for her manual. “Okay, okay! I’ll study harder.”

  At the end of two weeks, Clive was sufficiently impressed that he allowed them their treat. “Kate’s coming to town,” he said, smug. “To Aberdeen. And I know the bloke in charge of their security. We’ve worked together, he and I. He’s willing to do me a favor or two.”

  “Kate?” Loup asked, bewildered.

  Pilar let out a squeal. “The band?”

  “Too right.” Clive nodded. “And a right bunch of prats they are. Still, you’ll get a good look at real-time security in action.” He tossed out a pair of security badges. “Get ready for a field day tomorrow, eh?”

  The following day, they drove into the city. The Aberdeen Music Hall was swarming with technicians and crew members rigging lights and sound equipment. Clive walked them through the procedures that would take place that night.

  “You’ll spend a bit of time shadowing the fellows working the doors,” he said. “They’re the ones making sure nothing gets in that shouldn’t. No knapsacks, none of those oversized purses that can hide God knows what. No bottles o’ booze smuggled in baggy pants. It’s dull work, but crucial. This is a small venue for those lads, and if things go to pot, it gets ugly fast. Old building, lousy fire exits.”

  “There and there?” Pilar pointed.

  Clive smiled. “Good girl. Now, your biggest worry’s gonna be groupies.” He nodded at the area in front of the stage. “Six hours from now, this is going to be a seething mass of teenage flesh. Security’s onstage to make sure no one rushes it, yeah, but also to make sure no one gets trampled.”

  He led them backstage and introduced them to a sturdily built man named Bill Jones, with a crooked nose and bristling gray hair. Bill eyed them dubiously.

  “Sure they’re not just fans, Clive?”

  “Well, I’m not sure this one isn’t.” He put his hand on Pilar’s shoulder. “But they’re my trainees, sure enough.”

  “Awfully young.”

  “They’ve lived through a fair bit. Plus…” He grinned. “Give the man a nice, firm handshake, Loup.”

  She did.

  “Bollocks!” Bill’s eyes widened. “So it’s true? A real live geemo?”

  “Sure enough,” Clive agreed.

  “Right, then.” He showed them where to stand backstage so that they’d be out of the way, yet have a view of the security team’s work onstage. “Keep ’em out of trouble, Clive.”

  “I will.”

  Since they had time to spare, Clive led them on a walking tour of the city, along cobbled streets, past magnificent gray granite buildings and gorgeous flower gardens. He chuckled at the way Loup craned her neck and gazed all around, but without malice.

  “Nice little city, eh?”

  “Yeah.”

  They ate an early dinner at one of his favorite pubs in town, one that served stovied tatties. Clive ordered a half pint of lager.

  “Mind, I’m only having a wee bit o’ beer because we’re not really on the job and nothing goes better with stovies,” he said in warning. “Never, never, never drink on the job. You’ve got to have a clear head and keep your wits about you.”

  “You’re telling me those security guys with the band never drink?” Pilar asked skeptically.

  “Not the good ones.” He fixed her with a stern look. “You find yourself at three in the morning with a pop star foaming at the mouth from a heroin overdose, you damn sure want to be sober, girlie.”

  “Ew.”

  “Too right.”

  They returned to the venue. There was a long line out front, almost all kids in their teens and twenties, with a marked preponderance of girls and young women. Clive led them around to the back entrance, where they were admitted after showing their badges.

  “Here.” A strapping guard shoved T-shirts at them. Like his, they had SECURITY printed in large letters on the front and back. “Hard to spot a badge in all that mess. Don’t want anyone getting confused and thinking a couple fangirls snuck backstage.”

  “Do they do that?” Loup asked.

  “Every chance they get.”

  After they’d donned their T-shirts, Clive escorted them to the front entrance and assigned each of them a security guard to shadow. For the better part of an hour, they hovered and observed as the guards confiscated backpacks and liquor bottles, examined purses, and patted down suspiciously baggy outfits.

  “You’re right,” Loup said when Clive came to fetch them. “That’s pretty goddamned dull.”

  “Eh?” He took a wax plug out of his ear. “Sorry. Can’t abide the shrieking.”

  “Dull! It’s dull.”

  “Dull’s part of the business, girlie. Best you learn it now.”

  Backstage, they took up their posts, doing their best to stay out of the way of the sound and lighting technicians and security guards and dozens of other people hurrying around, swearing at equipment or muttering into earpieces. Beyond the stage, the hall filled to capacity and more.

  “Kinda exciting, huh?” Pilar squeezed Loup’s hand.

  “Kinda, yeah.” She squeezed back. “I think we’re supposed to be acting professional.”

  “Oh, right.” Pilar let go.

  The crowd was calm enough during the opening act, a young soloist who played guitar and sat on a stool crooning love ballads. He played to tepid applause and finished his set in twenty minutes.

  The crowd began chanting.

  “Kate, Kate, Kate!”

  “Ohmigod!” Pilar clutched Loup’s arm, forgetting to be professional. “Here they come!”

  She watched three skinny young men in T-shirts and jeans slouch past them. “Yep.”

  Massive shrieking ensued.

  Onstage the members of Kate were transformed, bouncing and energized as they launched into their opening number. Loup ignored the band and watched the crowd surge forward, watched the vigilant response of the guards.

  “Think we’ll get to meet the band?” Pilar shouted in her ear over the noise.

  She shrugged. “Dunno.”

  For a while, the concert was uneventful. Then there was a roiling in the crowded pit. One of the guards jumped into the fray, shoving and elbowing. He emerged with the slight, unconscious figu
re of a girl in his arms. He passed her off to one of the other guards, then hopped back onstage.

  The second guard caught Loup’s eye and beckoned with a nod as he passed with his burden. She followed him.

  “You’re one of Clive’s girls, yeah?” he asked, laying the fan on a cot backstage.

  “Yeah.”

  “Got a fainter. It happens.” He popped the prongs of an oxygen tube into the girl’s nostrils with the expertise of long practice. Her eyelids fluttered. He glanced at his watch. “She doesn’t come around in a minute’s time, fetch Bill. She comes around, keep a sharp eye on her. We get a lot of fakers.” He pointed at the security doors toward the rear of the space. “Don’t let her get back there.”

  “Okay,” Loup agreed.

  The girl came around. “Who’re you?” she asked, narrowing eyes ringed with heavy black liner.

  “Security,” Loup said mildly. “You feeling okay?”

  “Yeah.” She sat up and plucked out the oxygen tube. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll just be going back to my friends now, right?”

  “Sure, I guess. Let me check.” Not sure how to proceed, Loup glanced around for Bill or anyone else on the real security team. “Hey!”

  The groupie was on her feet and sidling toward the back door.

  Loup hauled her back toward the cot. “Oh, no. Sit here and wait.”

  “Okay, okay!” She pouted. “I’ll sit right here.”

  “Fine.” Two steps later, Loup glanced backward and spotted her making a beeline for the doors. “Fuck!” She put a come-along grip on the girl, who responded by whimpering and falling to her knees. “Oh, c’mon! I just need to find someone to tell me what to do with you.”

  “Don’t hurt me!” the girl wailed. “You don’t understand! I love them!”

  “I’m not gonna fucking hurt you!” she said in disgust, pointing. “Sit. Wait.”

  The girl sat demurely on the cot for the time it took for Loup to turn her back, then bolted for the door.

  “Ohh-kay.” Loup scooped her up, tossed her over her shoulder, and held her in place while she searched, ignoring the girl’s kicking and flailing. “Bill! Hey, Bill! Clive! Anyone?”