EasterSpice

by Cynnamon Foster

  Never miss an opportunity. Something Seria used to say all the time, back when she was my best friend, but she hadn’t meant never miss an opportunity to have sex with your lover. When she said it, she’d meant never miss an opportunity to use the bathroom. This used to be her advice to me whenever we were out on the town. I avoided public bathrooms as if I might be eaten alive inside one, and could hold my water for hours, but almost always making a mad dash for home when I ignored her. Eventually, nature always won and Seria wouldn’t waste the chance to gloat. “Chica,” she would say. “That shit just ain’t good for you.” Well, I knew now that missing an opportunity to be with my man as my man instead of as my coworker wasn’t good for me either. Sex withdrawal felt as bad as the DTs looked.

  The remembrance of Seria hit me hard, much harder than I thought it would. I had managed to put her out of my mind pretty well for quite a while. I swallowed hard, not sure whether I was sad because Sam was ignoring me or because I hadn’t spoken in several months to the woman who’d been my best friend. I might as well get used to it. No matter what her problem was, or had been, she was going to be in my face now whether I wanted her to be or not.

  “You okay?” A look of concern broke through Sam’s austere façade. He looked at me as if he sensed a disturbance in the force or something.

  I managed a thin smile. “I’m good.” We’d talk about it later. Right now, we needed to concentrate on getting to our final destination and starting the assignment. A lot had changed since I’d joined the agency. I hadn’t spoken to Seria, and the opportunities for romance between Sam and me had changed frequency. That was to be expected since we officially worked together, but the intensity of those times had increased, if anything. Sam certainly wasn’t one of those men who had problems with intimacy. He laid it all on the table whenever he could, even if those times were few and far between, or relegated to locker rooms and secret flights.

  Pushing thoughts of Seria and her crazy ass to the back of my mind, I followed Sam’s lead as much as possible, blending in with the waiting passengers. It was hard to ignore him; just one look made me want to wrap my legs around his neck and let him bury his face between my legs, but that just wasn’t possible. We didn’t even sit together on the flight, but at least we didn’t have to sit in the butt of the plane. After the luxurious ride on that fabulously decked-out G6, even business class was somewhat of a letdown. Before I had time to whine, the meal was served, I’d had my two drinks and when I woke up, we were already on our approach to Bangalore’s landing strip. I didn’t even have time to check out my fellow passengers. Whatever was in the food had knocked me out for the majority of the trip.

  Sam and I parted ways in the airport, and I wasn’t sure when I would see him again, or even what my instructions were. I assumed he’d be staying the same place I was, but wasn’t sure of that either. Silently, I rode to my hotel in the car provided. A sense of loneliness washed over me. I wanted to text Sam, but knew that was not permitted. Texts were too traceable. I wouldn’t even be turning on my personal phone and knew that per protocol, I’d be receiving one just for this job. The uniformed driver wasn’t talkative and offered no tour-guide-like assistance, although our eyes met in the rearview mirror a few times.

  India was brown and gray and smelled as if it was burning. The haze that hung over everything reminded me of Los Angeles and made me feel as if I needed to clean my sunglasses, but I wasn’t wearing any. After a while, dust gave way to trees and greenery as we neared the ITC Bengaluru Hotel. This was a business district of some sort. The hotel was gated and the driver slowed and maneuvered around an ox pulling a cart and turned toward the closed gates. He opened his trunk as a guard passed a mirror under the small car. I’d been told to expect them to check for bombs. A second guard ran an X-ray wand over the contents of the trunk and finally waved us through. A uniformed bellman met the car and removed my one small bag, which really wasn’t more than an empty briefcase.

  “Namashkar.” A doorman and a female door attendant greeted me. They pressed their hands together in a prayer-like pose, bowing in deference. They waved me over to the left, away from the hotel door.

  I was confused. “My purse?”

  “Please, madame,” the female said, practically but politely herding me to place my bag in an airport-sized X-ray machine, then guiding me around a metal detector and behind a curtain. The female wanded me fully and gave me a pat-down that would make the TSA blanch in envy. Security to get into the hotel was better than what I’d experienced in the airport.

  The lobby was a wide-open expanse. I was immediately greeted by more people. A man carried a silver tray laden with three kinds of juices and hot towels. He said “namashkar” and offered them to me at the same time. I took a towel as another man, dressed in Western clothes, greeted me.

  “Welcome to our property, madame. Let me show you to your room. We can complete the formalities there.” I was a little overwhelmed, but allowed myself to be whisked through the wide-open expanse that was the lobby. This was not the India I’d seen on television. Plush furniture was strategically placed throughout the lobby near large picture windows that looked out onto lush gardens. I could have been in paradise as opposed to a country known for parasites that could make your ass bleed and Slum Dog Millionaire poverty. Television and the media had their ways of messing up our view of everything. I’d pictured a wild India much the way someone pictured Africa as all safaris and starving children or Texas as full of nothing but cowboys, JR and deserted ranches. All of those pictures were obviously mis-drawn because I was standing in what might be the fanciest hotel I’d even been in. I’d never been in a Ritz Carlton, but this was better than what I’d imagined one to be like. I did my best not to gawk as the bellman led me to my room.

  The bellman opened my room door and stood waiting while I surveyed the largest hotel room I had ever seen in my life. I had no idea what to expect, but this certainly wasn’t it. The room had completely modern appointments that made a high-end Beverly Hills establishment look like a roach motel. The foyer was marble and lined with heavy furniture. I walked inside and the man in the suit followed. He stood at the desk while I found the bedroom and immediately fell backward onto the plush bed. I melted into it. After the flight from hell, it felt wonderful. At least I’d sleep comfortably.

  “Madame.” My daydreaming was interrupted by the singsong voice of the check-in man. I’d forgotten about him. He probably thought I was some kind of country bumpkin. I hopped off the bed and practically ran back out to the front room.

  The bellman was still standing by the door with my small bag still in his white-gloved hands, and the other man was still by the desk.

  “Would you like the butler to unpack for you?”

  I glanced at the “butler” and shook my head.

  “This is your room rate.” He opened his folder and pointed with his pen. “If you sign here and here, we will leave you so you can get comfortable.”

  Dumbfounded, I nodded. I hadn’t expected a butler and had no idea what to do with one.

  The bellman walked over to the window and opened the wall-sized shutters. “As you can see, you have a premium room. From the balcony, you have a lovely view of the gardens. I hope you enjoy it. And if you need anything, please ring me. Enjoy your stay.” He didn’t wait for me to answer and practically backed the entire way out of the room. The butler followed.

  The trip had been harder on me than I thought. I wanted to peel back the covers on that comfy bed and crawl between them, even though it was broad daylight, but I had been taught in my training that when I was in a new time zone, the best thing to do was to jump right into whatever I would normally be doing at that time of day. It was near midday, so sleeping surely wasn’t it. I walked back into the bedroom and stopped short. A large, legal-sized manila envelope was in the middle of the bed and two suitcases were in the corner.

  A chill ran down my spine. I’d fallen back onto the bed earlier, so I was reasonably sur
e that, had an envelope been there, I would have noticed it. Nothing else seemed out of place in the room that I could see. I thought I was alone, but glanced over my shoulder anyway. The possibilities paralyzed me. Although part of the trip had been like a movie, this was no fairytale. My mind raced. I must have listened to the room a good five minutes as I stood there. I was on my own. I wasn’t supposed to call back to the office, and Sam was going to contact me. I couldn’t chance blowing our cover on the first day. Finally, I took a step forward and slowly opened the envelope, dumping the contents onto the bed.

  Funny money, which I assumed to be Indian, fell onto the bed. An ID. A key. A picture. A flip phone. And a typewritten set of notes. I looked closer. One of the pages had an IP address and the word “bindi” on it. I turned it over in my hand. This was how I could access the Seria’s recording while in India. My assignment had begun.

  Chapter Six

  Sam

  I was having serious second thoughts about bringing Desiree in now and felt sort of bad to have to leave her like I did. As soon as we got through immigration and customs, I turned left when she turned right and before she knew what hit her I was gone. Seemed cold-blooded to treat her that way, but business was business. I was learning to get a handle on when I could treat her as my woman versus when she was simply a coworker. I was reasonably sure no one had a second thought about dropping me in a hot zone when I first started. I kept reminding myself of that and refused to let the nature of our private relationship get in the way of the job. The first time I did, Reed would gladly split us apart.

  Dez had learned a lot in the past few months, but there was a reason I was among the best at what I did. She knew about the stealth part of the job, but I wasn’t sure she was even remotely prepared for the ninja in me to be sprung on her like I did. It was best though. If she was going to be believable, then we had to play this to the hilt.

  I watched her for a while. She kept a good poker face although I knew she was surprised. India was a lot to stomach for the Westerner and this was a sink-or-swim proposition. I had soft spot for my girl, and I couldn’t imagine being without her, on or off the job. I held my breath and bet on her. People either made it or they didn’t, and if I knew Desiree, she would swim or at least tread water like an expert water polo player. I didn’t even want to have to think about the alternative.

  I hung back until I was sure she’d met her contact, taking in all that was going on around us. This airport was as crowded as it had been in Narita, but it was certainly more diverse here. The throngs of people pushed you forward and onto the curb whether you wanted to go or not. There was only one way to go, and that was out. Holding your breath was necessary. The Ugly American in me wanted to believe that everyone just stank, but the well-trained, more rational me knew that that was not the case. I could smell every spice everyone had eaten in the past few hours and the city smelled like burned trash. The oppressive heat had rendered even the best deodorants null and void. I took a deep breath and let my lungs fill with India’s perfume. I’d get used to it quickly. I had no choice.

  My face burned with that little sixth sense we have that tells you someone’s eyes are trained on you just a little too long. I turned to meet the eyes of a man, about six feet tall with salt-and-pepper hair. He turned away quickly and walked in the opposite direction. I was already being watched. I hadn’t spoken to Desiree since we’d boarded in Tokyo, so hopefully no one had put us together. We hadn’t pieced together all the parts of the story yet, so I wasn’t sure why someone would be interested in me. My body kicked into high alert and my heart beat loud in my ears. After all this time, the chase still excited me. I burned his image onto my brain for further use, making note of the details. There was something odd about his eyes. It could be nothing, but I’d learned to never be too careful. It was time for me to find my contact and get on with things.

  Just as I stepped out to meet my driver, my phone rang. We always got assigned a new phone for each assignment, so I knew it was Reed. Desiree didn’t even have the number. I fished the phone out of my pocket and pressed it to my ear just as my eyes connected with those of my contact.

  “I’m here.” Reed needed no greeting and my driver needed no instructions.

  Reed’s deep and unchanging voice sounded as if he was next to me instead of on the other side of the world. “I hope you enjoyed your little adventure. I think the flight attendant is scarred for life.”

  “She ain’t scarred. I’m sure she’s seen far worse working for you.” Reed’s momentary silence told me what he wanted to say, but didn’t. He wanted to scold me about the use of resources, but held his tongue. “I’ll pay.”

  “Yes, I guess you can do that. You’re a wealthy man after the last one.” His words were full of accusations and resentment. I just wasn’t sure of what. I didn’t know what Reed made, but he’d been around a while, so I was reasonably sure he made a shitload of bank. Not that you could tell it from the way he dressed. Or his ride. Reed was agency to the core and as inconspicuous as he could be.

  I grunted. “I’m paid handsomely for putting my life on the line the way I do.”

  “C’mon. Life on the line? Up to now, it has been mostly white-collar stuff. Piece-of-cake assignments. But it’s not my business to tell you how to spend your money.”

  Reed sat behind a desk all day and moved bodies around the globe as easily as he put pushpins in his office map. “You would think that. Don’t believe for a minute that white-collar criminals won’t kill you. Those are the worst kind, especially if they feel as if their freedom might be taken away. Having the most to lose makes them the most desperate. And the most dangerous.”

  He knew there was no use arguing the point. It was a discussion we’d had many times. “Did Desiree do okay?”

  “She seemed to. Although I’m not sure she’s ready to be out there like this. She didn’t know she was going in alone.”

  “You’re getting soft. No one held your hand and you did okay.” His pause told me more than any of the words he’d said. “Is she going to a problem for you? I told you that getting attached was a bad idea.”

  I’d heard it before, but as always, had considered the source. Reed was notorious for having no one in his life at all. No one to leave all that money to. His family had left him a long time ago. It would be a rare woman who could put up with his strange and mysterious schedule. He hadn’t remarried, and as far as I knew, he didn’t even date. “I’m a professional, Reed. I know what this is.”

  “I know you are. I could think of a thousand better things to do with your money than to spend it on some lover who might be gone in a flash.” He chuckled. “Not that she would dump you. You are Mr. Comfort after all.”

  I resented the sarcasm in his voice. “Don’t hate me because no one loves you.”

  For the first time in a long time, I felt as if Reed had nothing to say. He wasn’t used to someone else poking holes with their words. That was usually his job. He changed the subject. “I don’t have to tell you that the only contact you should have with her is via secure line. You’re me on this trip.”

  Whoa. I was him? I got what he was saying, but I didn’t want to be him. For the past few weeks, he’d been pushing me to take on more and more responsibility. I wasn’t interested in the back office. I was young and had a few more good field years in me yet. Hell, I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready for back office. I might want to retire and go live a normal life elsewhere. Have a real family, complete with kids. Away from all this double secret agent shit. “I got this, Reed.” I checked behind me to make sure our salt-and-pepper friend hadn’t tailed us. “You know I’m a get-the-job-done type guy. Besides, you taught me how to appear and disappear well. Between the three of us, we’ll figure this out.”

  “You’re going to have to since I’m not in country. And don’t count on Seria too much.”

  “Elisheba.” Correcting him would ruffle his feathers.

  “You know who I mean. She’s really
just serving her time. She’s ears for you, that’s all. And based on her psych report, she’s too vulnerable to be much else and won’t ever be real agency material. She’s been over there a month or so and by now she’s probably feeling pretty lonely.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  He cleared his throat. “It is. It’s right where we want her. We want her to get sucked into everything, as much as possible.”

  Reed had no conscience. He had no qualms whatsoever about putting people in harm’s way without telling them the full story. “We don’t know what everything means yet.” It was as if he’d forgotten that these people were just ordinary citizens. Or he just didn’t care. Sometimes, the depths of his ruthlessness scared me. It was a good thing we were on the same side.

  “Exactly. It’ll be real that way. She won’t be able to give herself away.”

  “She won’t be able to defend herself either.”

  Reed didn’t even hesitate. “We’ll deal with that bridge when we get to it. Don’t be a fucking bleeding heart. Suck it up.”

  Reed had been telling me to suck it up for years. It no longer even made me blink. We all had our reasons for being the way we were. I knew I had more of a heart than Reed did. I’d long since accepted that he’d shut himself off from everyone else emotionally. This job had a way of making you hard. Maybe I’d get like that eventually, but I doubted it. We all did what we had to in order to survive. There was nothing else to say about it. “You have any more information for me?”

  “Only that your suspect isn’t Indian.”