True Deceptions (True Lies)

by Veronica Forand

  He escorted Cassie to the edge of the quarry. The drone had devastated the entire area. The hut was gone. All that was left was blackened stone and rubble from part of the collapsed wall. Brilliant.

  The team had brought special suits to avoid coming into contact with the acid. They dressed in white one-piece coveralls and put on gloves and a mask to shield their heads. Cassie searched the upper rim for residue, while he and the team dropped into the quarry to find anything useful they could examine for their post-blast analysis.

  He climbed down the ledge using stone outcroppings as hand and foot grips because the ladder providing access to the area was on the ground, twisted into an interesting metal sculpture. The explosives contained more power than he’d anticipated. A quick glance at the team and their high fives told him they’d been surprised at the massive impact as well.

  Four hours later, the team had only found three small pieces of the drone, all with untraceable markings melted into indistinguishable shapes. Mission accomplished. Cassie slept the entire trip back to the farmhouse.

  He’d taken several pictures of the site for the businessmen. This was exactly what they were looking for—a super powerful weapon that would force the South Korean government to retaliate. Allies would join them and soon North Korea would be a thing of the past. What the men didn’t anticipate, however, was the Russian and Chinese governments’ unwillingness to allow that country to become another casualty of the United States’ need to help its friends and right wrongs. The consequences would be huge and unknown until after a major international incident. Men who looked at shortsighted profit margins could not understand the implications of the tsunami they were unleashing on the area and the world.

  Chapter Twenty

  The drones had been transported early in the morning. The Israeli team had departed the previous night. That left Cassie alone with Simon for a day in the French countryside before meeting with the North Koreans in Hong Kong and then flying on to Daecheong Island, their departure point from South Korea into North Korea.

  Cassie’s fatigue continued to hamper her. She must have caught the flu along the way, because in addition to a general malaise, she didn’t feel like eating. Simon had designated himself the food police and wouldn’t let her alone without a bite of something every few hours. She lived on herbal teas and large amounts of baguettes.

  “I’m ready to go.” She carried her suitcase down the stairs and grinned to herself as Simon hopped up from his chair to grab her bags. “Relax. I’m perfectly capable of handling things myself.”

  “Since I had the unique opportunity of lifting you off the ground when you planted that cute ass of yours in the dirt, I have the right to assist you whenever I want. And I agree you are perfectly capable of handling things on your own. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and completely competent. Now hand over the bags.”

  He wouldn’t relent, no matter how hard she argued, so she gave him the luggage and followed him to the car. She sat in the passenger seat and watched him place the bags in the trunk and take a phone call.

  Something was wrong. His eyebrows furrowed as he spoke into the phone. He rarely showed anger, but now he paced back and forth while clutching his free hand into a fist. His tone intensified from businesslike to threatening.

  Opening the door, she tried to listen to his conversation.

  “Make it happen, I don’t care how much you need to pay,” Simon yelled into the phone.

  She waved at him, wearing a sympathetic smile, but he shook his head and turned away.

  He continued with a softer voice. “Three days at the most, then we need to find a new supplier…Call me back in an hour.” He hung up on the person without a good-bye.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “The crates are stuck in some bureaucratic nightmare with the French authorities. I need to know who tipped them off and what it will cost to get them moving again.”

  “You think someone ratted you out?”

  He nodded and hopped into the driver seat of the car. “I have a gut feeling it’s a jealous playboy from San Francisco who has suddenly gone under the radar. “

  As he drove, he made phone calls to what seemed to be his suppliers and various government officials. His mood remained sour. Simon didn’t trust the local airports, so he drove all day and into the night, through France and down into Italy. They stopped to sleep in a small hotel south of Milan. It would have been romantic, looking out into the fields and rolling hills, but Simon needed to keep the pressure on whomever was holding the drones.

  After a brief dinner, Cassie took a walk down one of the small roads to refresh her mind and calm her nerves. Simon wouldn’t notice—he was handling frantic calls to and from his associates all over the world.

  Her energy levels had lifted since leaving France. Was she finally free of whatever was dragging her down? Her stomach sickness lessened as the day carried on. It tended to last through the morning and dissipate in the afternoon.

  Morning sickness.

  She froze on the side of the road. Her hand lifted to her chest to press on the ache of a heart beating too forcefully. How could she be so stupid? She quickly calculated backward to the only time they’d had unprotected sex and realized she was a week late with her period.

  She continued walking into the village and found a pharmacy. A light was on in the back of the store, but the signs weren’t illuminated and the main area was dark. Perhaps someone was still inside. She banged on the door. Nothing. Then she saw some movement. She banged on the door again. Slightly uncomfortable with her rude behavior, she carried on anyway. She needed to know.

  “Please open, per favore.”

  Nothing. She leaned her head against the door, willing herself not to cry. She’d find another way to figure out whether she was pregnant. Once she had a yes or no answer, she could plan. Facts first. No use panicking before she understood every angle of the problem.

  Footsteps caught her attention. A figure moved toward her from the back of the store. The door opened. A beautiful woman, no older than forty, with long dark hair and a sympathetic smile, waved her inside and then shut and locked the door after her.

  “Si? Can I help you?” Her English was slow and staccato, and the most beautiful sound Cassie had heard all day.

  “I need a pregnancy test.” Cassie’s throat tightened while she attempted to tell the woman her embarrassing predicament. Her hand went to her stomach. The action told the storekeeper enough. With a subtle nod, she touched Cassie’s arm and gave her a faint smile.

  The woman appeared calm and non-judgmental. No overflowing happiness, no glance toward her finger for a wedding band. She simply entered the stacks behind the counter and returned with a box. Cassie assumed it was a pregnancy test.

  “Go home or take here?” the woman asked.

  She couldn’t take it near Simon. He’d know something was going on the minute she walked in the door and would probably stand over her as she peed on the stick. “Could I take it here?”

  “Yes, of course. Follow me.”

  She led Cassie through the back room, past rows of white boxes of medicine and medical supplies, into a house. An amazing house—white stucco walls, vibrant green curtains covering a large window that looked out into a courtyard not seen from the street. A small fountain provided the perfect acoustic backdrop to such a magical place.

  In the privacy of the bathroom, she took the test and waited. Tears flowed down her cheeks. If it was positive, Simon might be angry. Would he help raise his child? If it was negative, however, Cassie would be heartbroken over the loss of a connection to Simon she never knew she wanted.

  Cassie had been missing for an hour and a half. She’d left for a walk after dinner and damn well better be back in his sight in five minutes, or he’d handcuff her to him. He had the whole deal falling apart and didn’t need to worry about Cassie’s whereabouts as well.

  She arrived with three seconds to spare. When she saw him, she nodded w
ithout expression and tried to walk past him into the house.

  He grabbed her arm and whipped her around to face him. “You’re grounded.”

  “Grounded?” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her go until she understood his command. Her eyes focused on his, never dropping, never backing down. Now she was the brave one? She had no idea how much he needed her safe.

  The tension of the past few days pushed through his calm and caused his words to come out harsher than planned. “You heard me. I don’t need another international manhunt for your location. You remain with me or go back to London.”

  “You want me gone?” Her bravado faded.

  “I want you in one piece, by my side.” He released her. “Can you respect that?”

  She nodded, relaxing into his arms. His hand swept through her hair, and he pulled her to him, as close as he could, tucking her head into his shoulder. By my side, forever.

  After Cassie went to sleep, Simon confronted his biggest roadblock—the son of a bitch who had stopped the shipment of the drones. Some of his contacts in the French government notified him that a U.S. informant requested they look further into the origins of the crates Simon was shipping to South Korea. Dane. The bastard had warned him about using Pelican drones in something against U.S. interests, but he’d never sabotaged one of Simon’s missions before. A few phone calls later and he had his answer. Dane wanted a meeting. They were to rendezvous in Hong Kong.

  This was getting more and more complicated. The more players involved, the more could go wrong. He wanted Cassie as far from the action as possible. Since her return from her walk, she’d stayed hidden in their bedroom. Her emotions ranged high and low. It wasn’t like her. She tended to be more stable and level headed.

  The next morning, they drove through the Italian countryside to Rome. She’d dressed up for the trip, wearing a designer suit jacket and loose fitting trousers. Her high heels gave her a tactical advantage over most of the crowds in the airport. A supermodel, without the gaunt, smoker’s face. Men froze as she breezed by, oblivious to their stares.

  After the flight attendant provided water to Cassie and vodka for him, she stared out the window and then sank into a deep slumber. Her face relaxed while she was sleeping. The stress lines she’d worn between her eyebrows disappeared, and her lips fell into a soft pout.

  If someone had asked him a few weeks ago if he’d trust her in the field, he would have said no without hesitation, but now he’d give an unqualified yes. He’d never seen a more miraculous transformation in a field agent. She wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he could place his trust in her now. She used her intuition and stayed calm amid explosions and high-pressure deadlines.

  Thirteen hours later, they arrived at their destination. The Peninsula hotel in Hong Kong had the reputation and level of service Simon expected when he traveled. He booked a harbor view suite and enjoyed observing Cassie’s reaction to the view of Victoria Harbor and the modern skyline, lit up with a million lights and bit of moonlight, too. But before Simon could persuade her to share strawberries and chocolate with him, she’d fallen asleep.

  The next morning, she was up before him and practicing yoga in the living room. He’d take advantage of her flexibility later. When she saw him, she jumped up and gave him a kiss before pouring them each some orange juice. Damn, he’d love to wake up to that every morning.

  “It’s so beautiful here.” Her hands pressed against the glass, and she stood still as though absorbing the view like a photograph.

  “I’m glad you like it. We’ll be here for a few days while I find a way to blackmail Dane into releasing our cargo.”

  “Dane stopped the shipment? I don’t understand why he’s being so difficult.” She sounded surprised. Dane had been her hero in the past month, and it made sense she wouldn’t see him as the jerk who was holding up the deal. She didn’t know he was CIA.

  Simon stared through the windows at the huge city in front of them. “If Pelican is listed as a supplier to a country that has an arms embargo imposed on it by the United Nations, the company could be fined heavily, and in some cases, officers of the company could be arrested.”

  “He’d get arrested?” Cassie approached him from behind and slid her arms around his waist. She rested her head on his shoulder, the only woman he’d been with who was tall enough to do that in bare feet.

  “No. He’s not an officer, but his bosses could be interrogated, and the company doesn’t need that kind of press.”

  He held her arms in place as he pivoted to face her. A lift of her chin and they were locked in a delicious kiss. A kiss from her morphed his screwed up world into heaven on Earth. Her lips opened, and her sweet breath took him to a place where a beautiful woman could reside with him forever, filling his life with comfort and passion. In his dream, he’d do the cooking, and she’d heat up his nights.

  “I want you so badly, but I need to go downstairs to see someone who might be able to get the drones out of France.” He pulled away with difficulty, his own body fighting his efforts, her body trying to seal itself to his.

  Cassie’s moan turned into a deep sigh. “Okay. But understand I’ll be sitting next to you during the meeting with the North Koreans, completely horny and frustrated. And just maybe without my knickers.”

  He rested his head on hers and kissed her forehead, refusing to let himself become lost in her. Not right now. “I’m glad you told me that, because my job isn’t difficult enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Simon slipped away from Cassie for his one-hour meeting. Dane opened the door to his room and gestured him inside before Simon could knock.

  “Nice place. Remember back in 2010, meeting Miss Philippines and her sister? Good times.” Dane’s smile revealed nothing of his current mood.

  Simon stepped closer to him without a smile. “I want the drones.”

  “I have conditions.”

  “If this deal falls through, you’re out of a job.”

  “First, I want to know your purchaser.”

  “No.”

  “Second, I need to know how you plan to keep the weapons from detonating. Third…”

  “There’s acid located behind the explosives, it incinerates the drone upon detonation. In the test, we found only the smallest, unidentifiable fragments.”

  “And finally, is Cassie with you? Because I have need for a long legged blonde tonight.”

  Simon held back. Dane was goading him, and he wouldn’t take the bait as he had in France.

  “You’ve trusted me in the past. You need to do so right now,” Simon replied.

  “My gut tells me this one is different, and it’s going to be my ass that will be burned.”

  “I’ll give a few details in exchange for the release of the crates. But you can’t interfere.”

  “I’ll stay out of it unless I feel my interests are compromised. At that point, I can’t promise anything.”

  “Deal.” Simon sat on the couch and mapped out the basic plan in exchange for Dane’s phone call to the French authorities.

  An hour later, Simon and Cassie met their contacts at the restaurant called Above and Beyond. They had a private room and a very discrete waitstaff. Simon described the drones to the men, but he couldn’t provide them the technical minutia without revealing gaps in his knowledge. He invited Cassie to go over some of the technological details, without revealing a few extra modifications they’d made to the machines. Their clients didn’t need to know about the acid hidden under the explosives to eradicate the evidence.

  Mr. Lee appeared to be the most technically minded and barraged Cassie with questions. “Ms. Watson, do you believe these drones can transmit payload imagery to a remote position?”

  “The way they’ve been programmed, the only video interface is with the driver. If you want additional views broadcast to an isolated command center, I’ll need a few additional days.” Cassie explained. She seemed to have garnered the respect of the men in the room with he
r breadth of understanding.

  Mr. Lee shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary. We want the shipment within the week. Time is the enemy. What about the explosive materials? Can they be stored anywhere?”

  “A typical munitions warehouse or storage unit would suffice for a few days, until you decide to engage in your mission.” Simon tried to reaffirm their use of safe storage methods to minimize the loss of life.

  “We cannot store them with the military units, as there are too many men willing to be bought off for better living conditions for their families, a promotion, and the gratitude of the government. We’ve identified twenty men who can carry out our objectives. The drones will stay with them in special backpacks until they are deployed.”

  “That’s not optimal. Could you keep them in one location until the mission?” Simon pushed, but the businessmen were fairly stubborn about this point.

  Mr. Lee shook his head and scowled as though Simon had asked him to blow up his own family. “No. Keeping them apart from each other ensures we will have enough to succeed in the mission, even losing a few.”

  Cassie sat stunned. Simon could see the lines on her forehead revealing her stress. She hadn’t foreseen any casualties at all in this operation. She was still a pacifist, despite her employment with a hard-ass agency that justified murder when the need arose. He could feel her foot tapping in nervous waves against his leg. They’d figure out a solution when they returned to the hotel. After all, they didn’t even have possession of the drones right now. Although according to Dane, they’d be shipped out of France to South Korea in a few hours.

  The first thing Simon did upon arriving in their suite was to pour himself a drink. A vodka, no ice. Nirvana in a glass.

  Cassie stretched out across the sofa and stared into the harbor lights. She didn’t talk much at all during the ride to and from the meeting. Something was bothering her, and it wasn’t the storage of the drones.

  “Care for some wine?”

  “No, thanks.”

  He moved a step closer to her and lifted his glass toward her. “Vodka?”