SPY: His Mission. His Orders. His Promise.

by Maggie Carpenter

  As he folded it into a small square and closed his hand around it, he had an unexpected thought to add the pen, then moving swiftly from the garage he strode towards the grassy area. It was directly in line with the hotel's entrance so it wasn't odd that he'd walk across it, and as he passed the glum young man, he dropped the pen and folded up note into his lap.

  "Don't look up," he said keeping his voice low. "Read it then flush it down a toilet."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  With trembling fingers Andy stared at the small, folded piece of paper and the everyday ballpoint pen. They looked so innocent, but the unexpected encounter with the tall, muscled stranger had sent his heart thumping. Laying his hand over them he curled them into his palm and rose unsteadily to his feet. The stranger was heading towards the hotel. He was broad-shouldered and brawny and walked with a swagger. A tough guy. Thrusting his hands in his pockets and starting off, Andy allowed himself a sliver of hope. Moments later he was walking into the lobby, and pulse racing he hurried into men's room, stepped into a stall, and opened the note.

  Andy, Natalie sends her love. Kindness costs nothing but can be worth more than gold. We want to help you. I serve at the Metro Bar. Noon to midnight.

  Natalie! Natalie was reaching out to him! He couldn't believe it, but how could he talk to the man without being seen or heard? As he dropped the piece of paper into the toilet and pushed the flush button, an idea came to mind. Pulling out his wallet he withdrew a ten dollar bill, and using the pen the stranger had dropped into his lap he wrote, Room 1524, 2:30 a.m. Stuffing it back into his wallet, he leaned against the wall and tried to settle himself.

  Could he dare to hope?

  Suddenly overcome with an array of emotions, he covered his face with his hands and silently sobbed.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  While Leo had been talking to Oliver, and Andrei had been sitting on the grass and leaning against the palm tree, Victor had learned that Natalie had not only slipped through his fingers yet again, but caused Sergei to crash into a tree! It had sent Victor's fury into the stratosphere. Now watching the security camera footage, he saw Natalie had brazenly walked into the hotel, left the note at reception, then began taking photographs of the precious artifact.

  Managing to suppress his wrath while in the control room surrounded by the hotel's security staff, once back in his suite he let loose. Flying into a violent rage he hurled a heavy crystal decanter across the room. It smashed into pieces against the wall and was quickly followed by several tumblers. Xavier locked himself in the bedroom while Victor screamed and cursed and kicked the furniture, then downed several shots of vodka. Finally running out of steam he pulled out his phone and called the head of the hotel's security.

  "Alan, Victor Pichenko here."

  "Yes, Mr. Pichenko. How may I help you?"

  "I need to move the relic that's on display."

  "What would you like us to do?"

  "I don't trust vaults. What would you suggest?"

  "Honestly, Mr. Pichenko, you'd be hard-pressed to find somewhere more secure than the exhibition itself. It has 24 hour guards and video surveillance from both our cameras and yours. We could arrange for a glass display case equipped with motion detectors and alarms."

  "Do it. How soon can you have it ready?"

  "In a couple of hours."

  "Excellent. I'll be there to oversee the move myself."

  "I'll call you the moment it's set up."

  Victor clenched his teeth. The situation had turned into a cat and mouse game with Oliver Barton and things were feeling the same as the last time their paths had crossed, and he was determined history would not repeat itself.

  "Not this time cocksucker," he grunted under his breath. "This time you'll lose."

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was early evening. The desert sun was low in the sky, and moving into the dining room, Natalie sat down gingerly as Oliver poured the light-colored wine into their glasses.

  "This Sauvignon Blanc is from a boutique winery in Napa Valley," he declared, placing the bottle in the ice bucket before taking his seat. "It has the barest hint of lemon. It will be a perfect pairing with this Dover Sole."

  "I'm sure it will be," she said with a giggle.

  "Is that amusing?"

  "No, it's just sometimes you're so…"

  "What?"

  "You!"

  "Just as well," he chuckled. "I don't fancy anyone else slipping into my skin."

  They clinked glasses, took a sip, then tasting her first bite she rolled her eyes.

  "My God, Oliver, this is incredible."

  "I'm glad you think so. How are you feeling?"

  "You mean besides my sore butt?"

  "That's what I'm asking about."

  "Like I said, sore."

  "As it should be. Did you have a good nap?"

  "You asked me that when I woke up."

  "Indeed."

  "Oliver, is something going on?"

  "Something is always going on."

  "What did you do all afternoon?"

  "I was working."

  "Working? Did you leave?"

  "No, I've been in my study. I had some research to do and arrangements to make."

  "Can you tell me about them?"

  "Better I don't. If you know things and Victor gets his hands on you…"

  "He won't, and I would never tell."

  "Things can happen, and a man like Victor has ways of getting information from people. More importantly he knows when a person has that information. If you have nothing to tell you won't have to suffer through his persuasive techniques. He'll know in the first thirty-seconds."

  "But after he saw you at the exhibition and he was interrogating me in my suite, I didn't tell him the whole truth then."

  "He already knew it. He was playing with you."

  "He was? Oh, my gosh. Why?"

  "He was probably curious to see what you'd say, and he wanted to keep you off balance."

  "That is so scary. You don't think he'll find this house, do you?"

  "Highly unlikely, and even if he did he'd have a tough time getting in."

  "Something's going on though, I can tell."

  "Of course. I'm still on the mission."

  "Should I be worried?"

  "No, in fact there is one thing I want share with you. Something I think you'll be very pleased to hear. Leo has a meeting with Andy."

  "That's, uh, I'm not sure what that is."

  "Unfortunately your young friend has had a spot of bother. Victor saw your note."

  "Oh, no. Is he okay?"

  "Yes, he'll be fine. Victor slapped him, but according to Leo it didn't look bad. Natalie, leaving that note was a terrible idea, but it may have worked in our favor. How did Andy end up working for Victor? Do you know?"

  "His mother landed a new boyfriend and wanted Andy out of the house. Victor is her brother and so he hired Andy to do the IT work for the exhibition. He said he was glad to get away, but then he discovered working for his uncle was just a different kind of hell."

  "How old is he?"

  "Twenty-two, but he acts and looks much younger. What are you thinking?"

  "He could be invaluable, but helping us would be dangerous and he might not be up to it."

  "I think he'd love to get his own back on Victor, but Oliver, he said more than once that he wished he could leave his life behind and start over. Do you think you could help him do that?"

  "I don't know, and he may have just been venting."

  "No. He loves the West. His English is perfect and it's self-taught. He's crazy smart. Maybe, instead of risking his neck for revenge, he might be more inclined to risk his neck for a way out."

  "The organization is always looking for fresh blood, especially in his line of work, but it's not like walking into McDonalds and filling out an application. Even so, I can get him away from Victor and help him settle in England if he's serious. I am quite well connected."

  "So am I,
remember? I have an excellent pedigree."

  "I know, but even without that you'd still be my Princess."

  "Aww, listen to you. And you're my Prince."

  "Correction, I'm your King."

  "Of course you are," she said, laughing out loud. "My apologies."

  "A week in the tower."

  "I'd rather have a week in the dungeon."

  "That can be arranged, but let's get back to Andy. Do you really think he'd want to take such a drastic step?"

  "Honestly, from the things he's told me and how unhappy I believe he is, I think he'd jump at it."

  "Then I have a favor to ask."

  "Anything."

  "When we finish dinner I want you to write him a short letter. Apologize for putting him in danger and tell him he can trust Leo and me."

  "When will you be seeing him, and how will you do that safely?"

  "Later tonight, and I'll have to pass on that last question."

  "Please be careful. If Victor sees you…"

  "Actually, Natalie, I'll be making it a point to see Victor, and yes I will be careful."

  "Why do you want to see him? I don't understand."

  "I'm going to poke him."

  "Poke him?"

  "He's aggravated that you got away from him again, and I'm going to make him even more aggravated. When people are aggravated they make mistakes."

  "As long as that mistake doesn't get you killed."

  "Don't worry. I'm the last person he's expecting to see. He'll be caught off guard and upset. I'll be the one in control."

  "Don't tell me you're going to that party tonight!"

  "I am."

  "That's crazy!"

  "Don't worry, Princess, I've traveled this road many times before. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I'll be late so try not to worry."

  "I'll never get through this," she said shaking her head. "I'll have a nervous breakdown waiting for you to get home."

  "No, you won't. You'll be the tough lady I know you can be."

  "Oliver, what's going to happen when this is over? Can you have a woman in your life? I mean, is it allowed?"

  "I can do whatever I want, and I can leave The Force whenever I want, but I don't have any desire to quit."

  "I wouldn't want you to, in fact…"

  "Let me guess. You want to figure out a way to be involved."

  "Don't forget, I speak seven languages and I can disarm a bomb. Do you think there's any chance? I can shoot and I can—"

  "My beautiful girl," he said, gently interrupting her, "this is a long conversation for a different time."

  "At least you didn't say no."

  "Change the subject."

  "There is something I'm curious about. Why did Victor think you were with Interpol?"

  "I wanted him to. Last time he thought I was MI5. Keeping people guessing is part of the game."

  "When will you be taking off?"

  "After we finish our meal. Why?"

  "I thought maybe we could have a post-dinner cuddle."

  "Not until I get back, but don't worry, it will be worth the wait."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  It was turning dark as Oliver drove his Harley from the garage and out the gates. Zipping through the streets he turned on to the busy strip and rode directly to the hotel, parking his bike on the street adjacent to the back alley. Taking the only two tools he would need, one of which was on a long piece of thin cord, he set the bike's anti-theft device. If anyone touched it they'd be hit with an electric shock.

  Moving swiftly to the second of several dumpsters, he reached behind it, pulled out a duffle bag, and entering the parking structure he made his way to the public mens room. Locking the door, he unzipped the bag and withdrew a pair of worn gray overalls, a baseball cap and wide-rimmed glasses, then rolling up his leather jacket he stuffed it into the bag along with his motorcycle helmet. The overalls would give him a bulky appearance, and with the baseball cap pulled low on his head, and wearing the wide-rimmed glasses, he was satisfied he wouldn't be recognized if caught on camera, but he had no intention of walking through the hotel.

  Carrying the bag he walked to the hotel's service elevator and rode it to the roof. If anyone asked he was there to check the HVAC units, but rarely was he stopped. Exiting the elevator he moved quickly to the nearby stairwell, trotted up the short flight of stairs, and pushing open the door he stepped on the roof.

  Night had fallen, and quickly determining where he was he moved into position Retrieving the rope from the bag and anchoring it, he tied the one tool he'd need around his waist, dropped the other into his pocket, pulled on his gloves, and began to scale down the side of the building. He didn't have far to drop, and stopping at what he believed was room 1524 he peered through the window. A single lamp was burning next to the bed, but to his surprise he saw the room was full of boxes. Lifting the odd-looking tool hanging from his waist he pressed it against the window's weather stripping, and pushing a tiny button he felt it heat up in his hand. As the stripping became flexible, a thin blade slid through to the other side. Wriggling it upward he popped the latch, and pushing the window open he swung silently into the room.

  "Thank you for choosing a hotel with working windows, Victor," he muttered as he crouched down.

  He'd already retrieved the small flat square box from the overalls' deep pockets, and holding it out he moved stealthily around the room. If the light on the box turned green he'd found surveillance equipment. It quickly became obvious the room was clean, and he said a quick thank you to the spy Gods. It meant Andy was sincere, and he'd chosen the room for their meeting because it was safe. After opening a couple of boxes and finding an array of cables and computer accessories, he was about to leave when he heard voices in the hall.

  He paused.

  The unwelcome visitors had stopped outside the door.

  He heard the card-key click in the lock.

  Quickly closing the window, he hastily pulled the drapes to hide the rope, then slipped behind them just as the door opened.

  "I don't know why Victor can't make up his mind."

  "I know, right? First the lobby, then all the extra fucking security, and now it's off to the exhibition room. What a three ring fucking circus."

  "Where the hell is that extra wiring? Do you know which box it's in?"

  "Yeah, the small one by the headboard. Why doesn't he have the hotel security doing this shit?"

  "He is. Didn't you know that? He's getting one of those big glass jars. This is just extra crap."

  "That old piece of clay must be worth a shitload of money to go to all this trouble."

  "I was told it was fake. That's why he could display it in the lobby because it was just a copy."

  "Then why…? Screw it. Let's just get this job finished so we can get the hell outta here."

  "Found it."

  "Thank God. Let's go."

  Oliver heard them leave, and pushing open the drapes he smiled. Lady Luck had just delivered him a newsflash. Pichenko was moving the artifact into the exhibition and putting it under a glass dome, but as Oliver turned to the window he paused. Why was Victor placing it in the exhibition hall? It was closed overnight, and regardless of his security arrangements it would be at greater risk than being in the lobby in front of the public.

  It didn't make sense. He smelled a rat.

  Opening the window he maneuvered his way out and grabbed the rope. He loved scaling, and as he climbed he could feel the adrenalin pumping through his body. Reaching the roof he pulled up the rope, removed his gloves and the cord around his waist and stuffed them into the bag, then stopping for a moment he stared out at the sprawling glittering lights.

  Built in the middle of a godforsaken desert by a man with an extraordinary vision, it had become one of the most visited cities in the world. That man had understood human nature. Though the opportunity to see the famous perform was one magnet, it was the promise of riches that was the true lure. The lust for more.

>   "Your lust is unquenchable, isn't it Victor? That, my maniacal enemy, will be your ultimate undoing."

  Picking up his bag he headed for the stairwell.

  After removing his disguise in the men's room, he'd place the bag back behind the dumpster then jog to Leo's motel. There was a tuxedo waiting. He'd change, catch a cab, then brazenly enter the hotel through the front door and waltz into the elite private party being held in the exhibition. He loved giving people surprises, especially Russian mobsters, and Victor was about to get a bucketful.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Victor stared, astonished, as he watched his arch enemy ambling through the crowd. It was an elegant, elite party. Only the most powerful, celebrated and wealthy in Nevada had been invited, and more importantly, Xavier was at his side. The last thing Victor wanted was any kind of scene.

  "How the fuck did he get in here?" Victor muttered. "What's wrong with that doorman? I'm surrounded by idiots."

  His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. Cursing under his breath he pulled it out and stared at the screen. It was Dean Parks, his man inside the Las Vegas police force.

  "Sorry to interrupt your evening, Mr. Pichenko, but a black Ferrari Spider was spotted driving into the hotel's parking lot. My boys followed and it's now parked at the Northeast corner of the lot close to the strip."

  "Good work," Victor said curtly, and ending the call he immediately sent out a text.

  "What is it?" Xavier asked. "Who is that man who has you so upset?"

  "That man is Oliver Barton," he said gruffly. "Who the fuck does he think he is coming in here?"

  "That's him? He looks…"

  "He looks what?"

  "I thought he'd be more attractive, or tougher, or something," Xavier lied. "I can't imagine he'd be any match for you."

  "He's not, but it fucking pisses me off that he's here. He was supposed to break in after the exhibition closed for the night. He's probably scouting, but he's also saying fuck you. It's making my ass cheeks clench."