Code Name: Red Rock

by Taylor Lee

  Reaching up ensuring that the effort showcased her breasts, she fastened her now glossy hair into a French twist and secured it with two sliver sticks, the rounded ends of which contained a miniature camera. One more search inside her bag produced a set of dangling silver earrings that skillfully concealed high-powered recording devices.

  Unzipping the garment bag, she freed the dress inside. On the hanger it looked like a glistening black tube of stretchy material. She held it in front of her aghast. Everything in her questioning expression underscored that it would be impossible to make this scrap of fabric cover her curvy body. Pretending difficulty, she wriggled and squirmed into the dress, tugging at the bottom so that it covered the tops of her stockings—barely. Fussing with the strapless top, she frowned, then reached inside and with a careless flip removed the bra. The result was precisely what she’d intended. Only a blind man wouldn’t see that there was nothing under the dress but gorgeous womanly pulchritude.

  Gazing at herself approvingly in the mirror, Jesse pinched her cheeks and smeared more gloss on her pouty lips. She tucked her black-rimmed glasses and lip gloss into her evening bag and moved in a slow tantalizing circle in front of the full length mirror. Reaching up under her skirt she tugged at the lacy stockings, revealing the creamy flesh at the top. She glanced at the doorway and as if dreading what was to come she allowed uncertainty to cloud her face. With a determined frown, she squared her shoulders and walked into the hallway where Shirley Ambrose had told her to wait for Mr. Walker.

  Minutes later two men came toward her out of Walker’s office. Jesse was surprised to see the American visitor, Mr. Hughes, with Mason. For a distressing moment she wondered if he might also have watched the peep show. Dismissing the troublesome thought she focused on her host. Mason’s face was flushed a dark blotchy crimson, a sheen of sweat glistened on his upper lip. His eyes were shining, glassy. It was impossible to ignore the bulge tenting the front of his trousers. Coupled with the musky smell of arousal it was clear how he’d spent the last hour. Jesse shoved down the sickening thought and drew her protective professional cloak tightly around herself. Swallowing hard, she smiled shyly at the flustered man who was leering at her.

  Lowering her eyes, she stammered, “I hope this is okay. I’m… I’m not accustomed to wearing clothes like this, sir.”

  Walker grasped her arm and pulled her next to him. The alcohol on his breath was as pungent as the smell of sweat. He cleared his throat several times and struggled to speak. When he did, he recovered his usual smarmy smirk.

  “You should wear clothes like this all the time, my dear. You have transformed yourself. Unbelievably.”

  Jesse hesitated and whispered to him, pretending chagrin. “Thank you. But… I… I feel almost naked.”

  He grinned. “You mustn’t be shy. You have a beautiful body. It just needed to be unclothed. The only way you could be more beautiful is if you were naked.”

  She gasped and was gratified to feel her face heat. Jesse didn’t have to pretend to be embarrassed. She was. It was bad enough that Mason was practically licking his lips, but Hughes was standing behind him staring at her with a lascivious leer.

  As they walked down the hallway to the ornate conference room, Jesse asked, “Do I need to get my computer?”

  “No, Miss Ambrose set up a station for you in the corner of the room. But now that I’ve seen the rare butterfly that emerged from your shockingly plain cocoon, I want you right next to me at the conference table.”

  A group of Middle Eastern men were clustered around a bar laden with exotic delicacies. It was clear that as much as the group was enjoying the expensive fish and meat, alcohol was the biggest hit. The men all turned when she came in and greeted her with a murmur of appreciation. Because she understood five different Middle Eastern languages and dialects, Jesse was privy to their lewd comments and insinuations. So much for their vaunted regard for women. Apparently they assumed she was Mason’s mistress and therefore available to them as well.

  Assuming a shy deference to the men, Jesse kept her head lowered as she was presented to each of the guests. She politely repeated their names as they were introduced, carefully enunciating to best ensure that her surveillance team was apprised of who was in attendance. It was for this purpose that the squad had gone to the lengths they did to position Jesse at the meeting. She’d captured the transaction records on camera the night before but it was critical to know the precise identity of the buyers of the illegal weapons.

  When Mason indicated that the discussion was to begin, he motioned to the chair beside him. Speaking to the assembled men who were eyeing Jesse with interest, he said, “This lovely lady is as talented as she is beautiful. We will be transcribing our conversation this evening so that we have confirmation of all the auction bids.” He glanced at the group. “I presume none of you objects to our recording your final bids?”

  When none of the guests expressed reluctance, the formal meeting began.

  Jesse reached into her evening bag and withdrew her more stylish black-rimmed glasses. Whispering to Mason she explained, “I’m terribly near sighted, sir. I will need to wear my glasses when I work.”

  “But of course, my dear. On you, even those unusual glasses look inviting.”

  Jesse smiled to herself wondering if he would find them so inviting if he knew that the glasses allowed her to capture the activity and faces of everyone in the room and transmit the video in real time to her surveillance team. She made a point of looking directly at each of the men as they indicated which of the stolen weapons systems they wished to purchase and how many millions of dollars they were willing to pay. While it would be icing on the cake to visually tie the terrorists to their bids, their faces would be familiar to both the American and British teams watching the transmission. Most of these terrorist’s faces had adorned the walls of MI5 and their U. S. headquarters for months, if not years.

  Chapter 3

  The last of the guests said their goodbyes and left by the back way. In the crowded streets of the Square, limousines and town cars carrying steely eyed men with visible transmission devices were a common sight. Dressed in Western garb, the terrorists were barely noticeable among London’s myriad dark faces from every corner of the world.

  Jesse powered down her computer after sending the transcript to the waiting team. Along with the evidence stored in her earrings and hair accouterments, the case against her host and his guests was iron hard. She gathered up her personal things and prepared to go back to the dressing room. Walker grabbed her arm possessively and with an obvious effort hid his interest.

  “Where are you going, Millie?”

  “Just… to the dressing room to get my things…”

  Her voice trailed off leaving him room to make the expected overture.

  “But my dear, there is no need for you to do that. You can get your clothes in the morning.” He gave a harsh laugh. “That is if the trash men haven’t disposed of them.”

  She startled and stared at him.

  “No, no. Don’t misunderstand. I’m pleased to see you home.”

  Jesse shook her head.

  “That’s not necessary, sir.”

  “Oh, but it will be my pleasure.” Turning to Hughes, he added, “Can we drop you off, Stanley?”

  The urbane man winked.

  “But, of course. I have a car waiting. Let me do the honors so that you can focus on our lovely transcription specialist.”

  Walker beamed.

  “Excellent. Come, my dear. It’s late and we don’t want to waste another moment.”

  Jesse frowned. “If you’re sure it won’t be a bother, that I’m not out of your way…. “

  They settled into the luxurious limousine. When Jesse tried to sit in the single seat across from the roomy back bench seat, Walker rebuked her.

  “No, no, Millie. This is where you and I will sit. If I understand my new friend as well as I think I do, Stanley will be quite content sitting across from us.” H
e added with a guffaw, “The show goes on, correct, friend?”

  Stanley nodded and settled into the armchair with an unctuous smile.

  As the limousine eased into traffic, Stanley took three glasses and a bottle of Glenlivet cognac from the well-stocked bar. He poured the odorous liquid into each of the glasses and passed one to Walker and one to Jesse.

  “Here’s to a most successful transaction. I am impressed, Mason. You have to be pleased with the outcome of tonight’s auction.”

  Mason downed his drink and held out his glass for a refill and laughed out loud.

  “Bit of an understatement, wouldn’t you say?” Turning to Jesse, his eyes glinting, “And, the night is young.”

  Stanley gave him a knowing wink.

  “Ahh, Mason, I hope you don’t mind. I asked our driver to drop me off at my hotel first. I thought you might want to show Miss Roane the spectacular view of London from the balcony of your penthouse apartment.”

  Mason’s face twisted in a salacious grin.

  “Precisely what I had in mind, Stanley. Thank you for your foresight.”

  Before Jesse could savor a decent sip of her drink, Mason took it from her and pulled her next to him. Subtlety clearly wasn’t in his game plan. Running his hand possessively over her leg, he landed on a space just below the lacy top and fingered the inside of her thigh. When she started and pulled back, he shook his head.

  “No, no, my dear. Just relax. I cannot help but notice how beautiful you are. And your legs? My god, you could work in Las Vegas, be a showgirl with legs like these. Couldn’t she, Stanley?”

  His friend was clearly enjoying the view. Pressing his lips together, his eyes dancing, he remarked casually, “You’re right, Mason. Those legs—especially in silk stockings—are stunning.”

  As if on cue, Mason grunted, and raised Jesse’s skirt several inches. He slid his hand up the length of one stocking revealing the bare flesh at the top of the lace. His voice was strained with lust.

  “You’re right Stanley, there is nothing like gorgeous legs clothed in silk to bring a man to his knees.” He barked an ugly laugh. “Or better yet, bring the woman to her knees.”

  Stanley chuckled in agreement.

  Jesse sat up straight and shoved at Mason’s hand.

  “Please, sir. I… I shouldn’t let you do that.”

  “No girl, you shouldn’t, but you are going to, aren’t you?”

  Jesse moved back across the bench feeling her cheeks heat.

  Mason seemed to relent for a brief second then lunged toward her capturing the space between them. Jesse tried to wriggle away but the lecherous man had a firm grip on her thigh. Apparently satiated with her legs for the moment he focused his leer on her breasts. His eyes gleamed and spittle hovered in the corner of his fleshy lips.

  Running a finger along the top of her dress, Walker asked in mock innocence, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  Jesse frowned and shrugged. “I… I guess not…”

  “Are you wearing a bra, my dear? You almost look as though you are not.”

  He dragged his finger down across her breast and began stroking her erect nipple.

  Jesse shoved at his hand and shook her head. Holding his hand firmly, her voice shook.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I hope I didn’t embarrass you. The… the dress was so tight across my breasts. Could you see? I hoped that no one would notice that I took off my bra…”

  Stanley’s quiet chuckle was lost when the driver’s voice came over the speaker.

  “We’re here, sir. At your hotel.”

  Stanley smiled at Mason.

  “This is where I get out, Walker.”

  He rapped on the window and the back door swung open.

  “But then so do you.”

  The shiny barrel of a .44 Magnum was visible in the doorway. An official voice spoke.

  “Mason Walker, you are under arrest for the crime of illegal weapon’s procurement and treason. Please exit the vehicle with your hands over your head and face the limousine.”

  Mason reared back, startled.

  “There must be some mistake…”

  Jesse returned his frantic gaze with an insouciant shrug. Nodding to the doorway flanked by a cadre of men in uniform, “It would be best for you to do as they say.”

  Walker’s eyes widened in horror as if seeing her for the first time.

  The barrel of the gun pressed against his temple spoke as clearly as the officer. “Now, Mr. Walker. Exit now.”

  As they were reading the shrieking man his rights, one of the officers poked his head in through the doorway.

  “I woulda thought he had a weapon.”

  Jesse nodded. “He did, but I took it off him.” She slid a silver hand-tooled Sig across the upholstered seat to the officer. She gave the surprised man a soft smile. “I disarmed him.”

  The officer shook his head and chortled.

  “I’ll bet you did.” Staring unabashedly at her skin tight dress, silk stockings and stiletto heels, he grinned in appreciation. “I’ll just bet you did, Ma’am.”

  Mason’s outraged cries were lost in the sounds of the men in SWAT uniforms dragging him to one of the nearby police vans. When the doorway to the limo cleared, a British-looking fellow in a trench coat rested his elbows on the top of the car and leaned in. His sandy hair was slicked over to cover his balding pate and his light blue eyes danced with pleasure.

  He smiled at Jesse. “Good work, Major.”

  Jesse smiled at him. “Thank you, Agent Michaels.”

  Agent Michaels nodded to the man in the single seat, Mr. ‘Stanley Hughes.’

  “I have to admit. You Yanks are first rate. Particularly the distaff side of your enterprise, Col. Caldwell.”

  Agent Michaels re-focused his attention on Jesse and gave a soft whistle.

  “Major, any time you want to leave that military force of yours, check in with me. That was superb work.”

  Jesse smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

  She removed her hair ornaments and earrings and handed one of each to the British agent. “You will be wanting, these, Sir. I’ll keep the others for the Yankee side of the team.”

  She held out her hand, “It was an honor working with you.”

  The Brit took her hand and brought it to his lips and bowed slightly.

  “The honor was mine, Major.”

  As if as an afterthought, he added, “You too, Colonel.”

  Chapter 4

  “Damn, Jesse. That was great! That pretentious prick, Michaels, is right. It was superb work.”

  Jesse hid her grin. God, talk about the kettle…. The only pretentious prick on their team was sitting across from her gloating in their victory. It had been a challenge not groaning at her Colonel’s officious pronouncements throughout the night. She wondered if the terrorists were as impressed with Elliott Caldwell as he was with himself. If he’d said ‘Har-vaard’ one more time in that pompous tone of his, she might have gagged. But Mason had been impressed. Clearly he was glad to have a kindred spirit on his side. Apparently he had bought Elliott’s act as much as he had hers. Reluctantly Jesse acknowledged that at least Elliott hadn’t compromised the mission. Which wasn’t a sure thing. Elliott rarely went in the field. Rather he “led” his team from headquarters.

  Determined not to let him spoil her pleasure at their victory, she agreed with his assessment with a heartfelt sigh.

  “Yes, it was, Colonel. We brought down some very bad men and at least for awhile saved many lives.”

  Elliott’s pale blue eyes were shining with excitement.

  “What do you say, Jesse. How about coming up to my suite for a drink? The least we deserve is a celebratory belt of Scotch.”

  Jesse hesitated. “Um… I don’t know, Colonel. It’s late…”

  Elliott broke in.

  “No, no. Major. I insist. And, enough formalities. For tonight, let’s skip the titles. Tonight it’s Jesse and Elliott.”

  “Oh, oka
y… Elliott.”

  Jesse was surprised, particularly at his request for first names. She and the rest of the team were on a first name basis when they weren’t using their code names. The Colonel’s code name was Quick Snake, which the team had promptly reworked to Dick Snake. Jesse stifled her grin and thought: What the hell. It wasn’t like a drink with her teammates, but after tonight’s escapade, a large glass of Scotch sounded damned good.

  Elliott helped her from the limousine and spoke to the driver.

  “You may stand down, Sergeant. I’ll see that the Major gets home safely.”

  As they were riding in the elevator of the lavish Soho Hotel, Jesse frowned at her reflection in the bronzed panels. She still looked good, great even, but her dark wig was a challenge.

  She turned to the Colonel.

  “I think even more than that promised Scotch, I want to take off this wig. It’s killing me.”

  Elliott quirked an eyebrow.

  “You have my permission to take off any damn thing you want, Jesse.” Not acknowledging her surprise at his suggestive remark, Elliott marched on. “But you are right. As gorgeous as you were tonight, that dark hair is not nearly as beautiful as your trademark red mane.”

  They arrived at his suite and Jesse stopped short, impressed at its opulence. Guess rank does have its privileges. She wondered if Caldwell used some of his family fortune to augment the digs they were assigned by the Army. Knowing the Colonel as well as she did, she doubted he’d coughed up any of his own money. No, he’d bill it to the Army as a mission necessity.

  Once inside the bathroom that was as large as her entire hotel room, Jesse began having second thoughts. She wondered if it had been wise to come up to the Colonel’s suite. She wasn’t born yesterday. Colonel Caldwell’s reputation with women was epic. And, she couldn’t ignore some of the looks he’d given her tonight. It was one thing to put on an act and pretend to agree with his host. But damn, some of Caldwell’s smarmy looks had creeped her out.