“Right,” he muttered, “ten paces.” He complied and then stopped. “All right, mysterious voice, now what? What is thy bidding?”
Her voice came from his left, deeper into the woods. “Turn left. Ten more steps.”
“Where are you takin’ me?”
“You’ll see…”
Getting uncomfortable but not hearing any malice in her voice, Roman moved on, stopping after his ten steps.
“Twenty to the right and you’re there.” Her voice sounded farther away now. He hadn’t even heard her move.
Ninja feet.
Inhaling deep, he held his breath and listened, still not hearing any other footfalls. The air was still and quiet and the space around him jet-black. It smelled organic and pure—pleasant. The only change he noticed was about ten paces in. The air around him felt emptier, bigger than the path behind him. It felt open.
“Lights.” The word wasn’t just a word. It was a command.
Roman blinked as tiny, voice-activated LEDs bloomed to life overhead, hidden somewhere within the dense canopy. He doubted you could see it from the outside. They weren’t overly bright either but after being in the pitch of night for the time that he was, Roman’s eyes teared up as they adjusted. Shielding them, he saw a smiling face through his fingers. Violet was enjoying herself.
“Maybe a little warnin’ next time, huh?”
Blinking away the spots in his vision, he looked over the space and was amazed at the ingenuity of it. It was completely natural, minus the cut dome of foliage and the chairs. To his amazement, he was standing in a hidden tea room, complete with a small, single hot-plate burner. The perfectly round space was easily thirty-feet in diameter.
There was also eight plain, yet, elegant chairs perfectly situated around the room. They faced towards the central stove and looked well used.
Seven Dragons. One Keeper.
“This is where we would come and celebrate after a successful mission,” Violet explained, moving to the knee-high stove. She flicked a switch and Roman watched as the burner came to life. “Electric, in case you’re wondering. We have solar panels all over the grounds.”
“Perfect,” he said, spacing out.
She looked up at him and smiled.
“The room, I mean—not that I think you’re…”
He decided to shut his mouth before he could stick his whole right leg in it. She was undoubtedly beautiful, though. The dim light cast her in a mysterious glow, and the soft aura that was coming off the single burner made her eyes dance again.
“There ain’t no roofies in there, right?”
She laughed, sounding tired. “Would you like there to be?”
“No, ma’am. I have a responsibility to act like a gentleman around a fine lady like yourself.”
She rushed forward and threw herself into his arms, their lips locking together like the strongest of magnets. There, they kissed for what felt like an eternity. But they both groaned in unison, interrupted by a whistle.
The tea was done.
“Damn tea,” Roman mumbled as a slightly embarrassed Violet pushed away from him to tend to it. He strode forward and kneeled opposite her and picked up a small, ornate cup and saucer. “What’s your real name?”
She stopped and looked into his eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
“Humor me…”
“Once, I was called, Rio.”
He smiled. “Like the song?”
Her confused look told him she had never heard of the Duran Duran classic.
“It’s a tune that was popular when I was little.” She listened and poured him a glass. Roman cleared his throat and recited the chorus from heart. “Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand. Just like that river twisting through a dusty land. And when she shines she really shows you all she can. Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grande.”
Violet smiled. “You have a good voice. It’s a little off key, but still, it’s nice.”
Roman laughed. “Pretty sure that’s why I do this for a livin’ instead.” He sat on the crunchy, leaf-covered ground, foregoing the more comfortable chair behind him. The detritus cover ground was cool and enjoyable. She did the same and sipped her tea, eyeing him as she did. He eyed her back.
“The Rio Grande is the river that splits Texas and Mexico but…” he drank, “…in my head that sand is in a place like Tahiti or somethin’.” He smiled staring vacantly into the red burner. “Someday when I’m done with all this, I’m gonna go there and have me a fruity cocktail with an umbrella in it.”
A massive explosion cut off any reply from Violet. Then, the two bolted from their hidden place. The ground rumbled as they made their way back through the darkened path, Roman tripping as they ran. Huh, weird… It wasn’t as dark as it was before and it was still in the middle of the night. There was no way there could be that much light without—
Oh, no, Roman thought, instantly knowing what had happened.
Half a thought later, they emerged from the trees and found the entire estate burning and an attack helicopter hovering overhead.
Then, the aircraft turned toward them and opened fire.
13
Violet shrieked in time with the second explosion. Something within the burning building had caught and detonated. Roman did everything he could to hold her back, taking an elbow in the face as he did. She tried to pull away and charge into the flames, but he once more grabbed her from behind and did what he could to talk some sense into her.
“Let me go!”
“No, dammit, look at me!” He yanked her back, squeezed her face, and turned it, forcibly making her look at him. “There’s nothin’ we can do!”
“There’s always something to do!” she shouted back.
Bullets tore into the ground around them, causing both of them to run back towards the home. Whoever was hunting them was guiding them toward the carnage. Violet got to stairs leading back up to the deck first and began to climb them much to the chagrin of Roman.
“What about Willy?” she asked, yelling over the chaos. For the time being, the helicopter had let up on its assault.
Another explosion rocked the estate, sending Violet spilling backward into Roman’s arms. He turned and ducked, shielding her with his body as fiery debris came their way.
“You don’t think I want to help her?” He squeezed Violet tighter, hissing into her ear.
The wooden staircase shook and came loose. Now being closer to the top than the bottom, Roman and Violet both stumbled up the stairs. The rear of the house was a ruined husk of itself, and there was no sign of Willy.
“We need to look for Ms. Cho!” Violet shouted, seeing an opportunity to move. But just as she did the helicopter opened fire again, and she was tackled hard from behind, right into the pool.
Both she and Roman went under and kicked for deeper water. Unlike the movies, bullets didn’t do a lot of damage once they struck the water’s surface. The lack of oxygen would be the real problem, not the automatic gunfire. They would either surface and get torn to pieces, or drown.
Decisions, decisions…
They weren’t given time to come up with a plan, however.
Another blast cracked the base of the pool nearest the backyard. With its integrity compromised, the fault quickly spread, advancing higher and higher until gallons upon gallons of water drained through. Less than ten seconds later, it crumbled from the relentless pressure and Violet and Roman were each swept away along with the rest of the pool’s contents.
Grabbing onto one another, they rode the wave until they were jettisoned onto the rear lawn, sliding along on their backs. Luckily, they kept their wits about them and drew their guns. Firing into the open cargo hold of the aircraft, Violet thought she saw someone lurch back. Either way, whether the gunman was hit or not, it gave the pair enough time to get to their feet and run.
“Where do we go?” Roman asked, following Violet.
“Below ground,” she replied. “There is a false door in the tea ro
om.”
“The one we were just in?”
“Yes, beneath the stove.” She explained as they ran across the dark lawn. If they used the path, the motion sensor lights would give away their position. Plus, the further they got from the burning home, the deeper the shadows on the grounds grew.
Seconds later, Violet dove into the opening, just as more bullets ate their way through the brush. They were concealed but she knew the torrent of gunfire would eventually hit them.
And Roman was.
“Fuck!” he shouted, holding his left shoulder. Violet couldn’t see anything in the darkness around them, but from the sound of his footfalls, she knew he was still able to move and was right behind her.
“Lights!” she yelled as they reentered.
Sliding to the ground like a baseball player, Violet quickly leaned into the low, cast-iron stove and shoved. Roman helped with his good arm, and together they successfully moved it far enough to make use of it. Both crawled in as Violet yelled for the lights to turn off, ducking down when more gunfire erupted around them. They landed with a bang and swiftly slid the stove-hatch back into place from underneath.
Violet flicked twin deadbolts into place and fell back into the cramped space, landing hard on Roman’s lap. He yelped but was otherwise okay.
A dim light met her drenched face, and she smiled. Roman’s waterproof cell phone case did its job, and the light illuminated them enough to see each other. For a moment, they just stared into one another’s eyes, comforted by knowing that they had both survived.
“I’m sorry about Willy,” she said, looking away.
“Hey…” He turned her chin back to him. “We still don’t know if she’s dead or not—Ms. Cho either. They may’ve made it out.” He leaned back. “No bodies. That’s not always a bad thing.”
“But the explosion—”
“Can’t worry ’bout that now,” he quickly replied. “First thing’s first…we gotta get out of this rabbit hole.”
Violet smiled. “Who says we’re in a rabbit hole?”
“Lights,” she said, repeating the command in Japanese—same as she did earlier. Her smile widened when Roman’s jaw drop.
They most definitely were not in a “rabbit hole” as he put it. In reality, the pair was sitting in the bed of an all-black pickup truck. It was parked directly beneath the secret passage, acting as a step ladder into what Roman eventually saw was a large subterranean garage.
They stood together and looked over the room’s contents.
“You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you were well funded.”
“Before you ask,” Violet added, “yes, this used to be a natural cave beneath the grounds—and, no—I don’t know who originally built it into a useable room. It was already here when I joined. Although…”
“Although what?” he asked as they climbed out of the truck bed.
“I did have a hand in its redesign.”
“Redesign?”
She nodded. “In the past, it was used merely as a storehouse. Then, years later, it was converted into a relocation center for girls on the run.”
“People you saved?”
“Yes. We’d get them healthy and provide them with new identities before sending them on their way. We’d bring them here—blindfolded, of course—and then smuggle them out of the country by whatever means necessary.” She smiled again. “As you know, we have many contacts throughout Asia. Unfortunately, as global security tightened up over the years, it became harder and harder to covertly move people around, and we had to give up on that part of it.”
“Regardless, this is impressive…”
The garage was like the ones you’d see in America, belonging to the rich and famous. But instead of it being stocked with vehicles no one would dare drive, this one was stocked with well-worn, inconspicuous variants.
“What are those?” Roman asked, pointing to the North end of the garage.
Violet led him there. “Those are our higher-end models, just in case we need to look the part.”
“I’d say so,” Roman muttered. “A Lambo and a Ferrari aren’t what you’d call ‘low-key.’”
He whistled, and his eyes widened as they neared the two sports cars.
She shrugged. “Sometimes being in the spotlight is the best place to hide. Most don’t see it coming from right in front of them. A daring killer will take out their target, even if it means looking them in the eyes right before they pull the trigger.”
Roman’s arms visually broke out in goosebumps. It made her proud that she could cause that kind of response in a man like him.
“So,” he said, looking around, “I’m assuming there’s a way outta here then?”
Violet smiled again. “They are cars, aren’t they?”
Roman’s eyebrows scrunched when she opened the driver’s side door to the gorgeous, black Ferrari 812 Superfast. She didn’t even have to adjust the seat.
“Comfortable, are we?” he asked, moving around to the passenger door as she buckled herself in.
“I picked it out and have driven it the most.”
He climbed in and turned toward her, grimacing as he did. “Doesn’t…grrr…surprise me a bit.”
She could see the torn fabric of his jacket. “How is it?”
He waved off the question and likewise buckled up. “I’ve had worse.”
She was worried, but she knew she wouldn’t get a formal reply out of him. Instead, she started the beast of a vehicle. It roared to life, getting another grin out of Roman.
Violet shook her head but smiled. Americans and their horsepower.
“What did you mean when you said that it doesn’t surprise you that I’d drive one of these?”
“Well, I mean, look at you,” he replied, sounding uncomfortable. “You’re strong, yet, sexy. Powerful but sleek and mysterious.”
Violet blushed and pressed a modified garage door button clipped to her sun visor. She had always loved what happened next and still did.
The wall in front of them pivoted and raised, swinging back as some standard garage doors did. It was one of the redesigns she made a decade ago.
“You talk like you’ve known me for years,” she said, not sure if what she was feeling was a case of schoolgirl butterflies or not. It had been a long time since she’d felt a liking for anyone.
His comment made her step on the gas too quick.
“I did just have my tongue down your throat.” She looked at him as she hit the brakes. “That’s gotta count for somethin’, right?”
His drawl was growing on her. It made even the most ridiculous things sound charming, cute even. She knew he had talked his way into more than one girl’s bed before. Spies did that sort of thing to gain trust and acquire information. James Bond wasn’t entirely fiction. Some of his moves, no matter how far-fetched they were, worked.
Getting into bed with someone just to pump them for information was part of the job.
The tunnel gently sloped up a smooth incline. Violet had to keep her speed under control, even though she wanted to floor the pedal and leave as soon as they could. She and Roman badly wanted to go back and search the home, but she knew she couldn’t. Whoever was trying to kill them would be waiting for them to show their faces again.
“What do we do for weapons?” Roman asked, checking his gun.
“In there,” she replied, nodding to the glove compartment. “It’s not much but—”
He opened it and smiled. “Well, hello there.”
* * *
Roman had no idea where they were going to pop out, but at least they had some firepower on their sides. The oversized, aftermarket glove box held four Glock handguns and more magazines than he could carry. There was also a cell phone as well as a stack of plastic-wrapped cash.
“They come with the car?” he asked, joking.
“All the vehicles in the garage are loaded for something like this, or if something happens on a mission. We have contingency plans in place for everything.”
“Like losing your entire team and your base of operations?” He saw that the comment stung her hard. “Sorry…”
She didn’t react to it. “Yes, we do. The Dragon I learned everything from taught us to always be prepared and never take anything for granted.”
“Smart woman,” Roman said, watching as another wall began to open.
She explained. “Motion sensors… The tunnel can only be accessed from below ground.”
“How do you get back in?”
Her face fell. “Ms. Cho usually tripped the hidden entrance and let us back in.”
Violet flicked the paddle shifter on the underside of the steering wheel, gracefully piloting the ultra-stylish sports car along. As they roared out of the tunnel, Roman looked into his side mirror just in time to see door swing shut, once more merging with the surrounding landscape. No one would ever know it was there unless they went around knocking on grass and rocks.
They were deeper in the property, traveling on a concealed roadway. It was impossible to tell what the surface was, only that it was smooth and offered the car no resistance. Roman guessed it was paved and had natural detritus scattered atop it.
“Where are we going?” he asked, normally the one with all the answers.
“We need to figure out exactly who is trying to kill us and how they knew where to find us. Besides, Madame, of course. That’s pretty obvious.”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Think we can go back to your warehouse?”
“Nope,” he replied.
“Why not?”
“Willy.”
“Willy, what?” she asked, confused.
“Who knew where your place was beside Ms. Cho and us?”
“Willy,” but Violet replied, “but there was no way for her to tell anyone.”
“She didn’t,” he said, “our car did.”
“GPS?”
Roman silently nodded, thinking it through before formally accusing the CIA of trying to kill him. The agency could follow the car’s beacon until it disappeared inside the estate’s firewalled security measures. Once there, all they’d have to do is send in the attack dogs and corner their prey.
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