Solid Gold: A Red Riley Adventure #3 (Red Riley Adventures)

by Stephanie Andrews

  Everyone sat quiet, watching the confusion and anger boil up through my neck and into my face. I wanted to lash out at someone, but I didn’t know who. It was all my fault. It wasn’t Don’s fault he was so good at his job. I had just expected to be in charge, and I was suddenly following someone else’s plan. A man’s plan.

  Fortunately, Don was so good at his job that he softened and smiled at me. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a misunderstanding. We’ll go through the plan, with revisions, and at the end you can make any changes you want. Okay?”

  What could I say? The man was confident his plan would be better than mine, and I was sure it would be. I took a deep breath and nodded. Just then, the front door opened and T.C. entered.

  “Hey, everybody,” he smiled. “You save me anything?

  “Excellent timing,” said Don. “We were just about to lay out the plan. Nick made plenty of food,” he added, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Get some and grab a seat. I think we might need you more than expected.”

  “That’s fine,” said TC. “I’ve got nothing on my calendar until Saturday.”

  Moments later he was back, and Don took a laser pointer out of his pants pocket and projected a red dot on the map. The guy was unbelievable.

  “Here,” he began, pointing to a wooded area on the map, “is Negron’s compound. Martin has been doing some research. Martin?

  Marty straightened in his chair.

  “You say compound, I say mountain fortress. It’s built on an abandoned gold mine, I kid you not. It is totally James Bond, all the way, right? Right. The entrance is about two thirds of the way up the mountain, a private road that enters a tunnel and doesn’t come out. Top of the mountain, cantilevered steel and glass building with offices, living room, indoor pool. There must be some sort of elevator that runs up the middle.”

  “Helicopter pad?” asked T.C.

  “No, no chance. Super windy up there, too.”

  “That’s what the climbing gear is for,” Don interjected toward T.C. “Did you get everything okay?”

  “Explosives, radios. Whole list. No climbing gear on the list.”

  “That was my list,” said Jorge, who had been sitting quietly, nursing a Corona. “All set.”

  “Right, so,” continued Martin. “Not much time to do surveillance, but I was able to pull some satellite footage from a site I’d prefer not to name. Easier to hack then Negron’s network, though, which is too bad. If we could get in electronically, we wouldn’t have to do any of this.”

  “Unless Valentina is actually in his house,” put in Park.

  “Right, hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Anyway,” said Don.

  “Right. Anyway, satellite combined with the payroll information we pulled off his accountant— that gift just keeps on giving—lots of people. Way too many people. Twenty, thirty on the security team, plus household staff.”

  “Impregnable,” said Cosmo.

  “Well, yeah,” said Marty. “If they all stay inside.”

  “Exactly,” said Don, “and so, we have Operation Anthill. We will create a number of imminent threats to Negron’s nearby properties, here,” he said, indicating a part of the map called Costa De Oro, on the coast in Veracruz. “We will gain his attention, and we will let him know it’s us. I feel sure that he will want to respond with all possible strength, given the outcome of our last encounter in Chicago.”

  “And now, after Houston, he knows I’m working with Selena. If this doesn’t work, it could be a death sentence for Valentina.”

  “Then it had better work,” said Don, calmly. “Now, the original plan had entailed the entire crew working the Veracruz plan, while Riley and Selena climbed their way into the fortress to attach a satellite chip to Negron’s network, allowing Martin to get into the system, locate Valentina, and cause as much havoc as possible.”

  “Which, by the way, is mucho havoc,” said Marty.

  “Now we must change the line-up, I think,” said Don, as if Marty hadn’t spoken.

  “I can do it on my own,” I said immediately, “and that way no one else is at risk.”

  “Absolutely not,” cried Nick, leaping to his feet. “You can’t!”

  I stood up slowly and glared at him, my good hand involuntarily clutching my napkin.

  “What?”

  “I won’t let you.”

  That, of course, was absolutely the wrong thing to say. A little something broke inside me. If I hadn’t been so angry I probably would have sobbed.

  “You. Won’t. Let. Me?” My voice was slow and level, but something in it made Park slide her chair back from the table.

  “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

  “You’re damn right it came out wrong.”

  “I just—” he looked around wildly. “I’ll go with you!”

  “That,” interjected Don, calmly, “is a patently ridiculous idea.”

  Nick slapped his hand on the table in frustration, then turned and stalked into the kitchen.

  “Can you do the dishes while you’re in there?” I yelled after him, because at heart I am a terrible person who can’t seem to ever leave well enough alone. My eyes started to well with tears, but I beat them back.

  “Right,” said Don, “to continue. You can’t possibly do it alone, Kay. There’s too many moving parts. I suggest Cosmo and Park go with you, and, maybe you, Jorge?”

  Jorge nodded, then looked thoughtful. “I have no idea how to climb a mountain.”

  “Don’t worry,” Don assured him. “You won’t have to.”

  Cosmo raised his hand politely.

  “Yes, Mr. Cosmo.”

  “Just Cosmo is fine. I know I’m new here—” Marty snorted at this, and I was glad I wasn’t the only social misfit in the group— “but do we really need three people to replace one?”

  “Yes,” said five voices in unison.

  It took another hour to go through the rest of the plan. It had more holes than a piece of cheese with a lot of holes in it, but I trusted Don. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

  Nick stayed in the kitchen. Whether he was doing the dishes or not, I don’t know, because I headed to my room as soon as the meeting was over, but not before Ruby could gather me up in a big, warm, hug. Uncharacteristic for her.

  “Too many risks for you, in too quick a succession,” she said when she stepped back, a grim look on her face.

  “It seems like it’s the new normal,” I admitted. “I promise, though, when this is over I will take it easy and help you and Park with the agency.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Cross your deeply conflicted and somewhat underdeveloped heart?”

  “And here I thought you were being nice,” I scowled.

  “I am. I am always nice,” said Ruby.

  “That is patently ridiculous,” I said, a phrase I had heard and enjoyed earlier in the evening.

  She shrugged. “Okay, true, but I love you, and I want to see you stay whole. Body, and heart.”

  I hugged her again and headed toward my room. Crap, our room. I had forgotten that Nick and I were sharing a room. The other guys were all set up on cots and couches in the huge common room, and Ruby and Park had the other bedroom, which had two twin beds.

  I entered the bedroom and closed the door behind me. The first thing I saw was Nick’s overnight bag on the floor in the corner. I threw myself face down on the king size bed and maybe cried a little. I’d talk to him when he came in, and we’d work things out. He’d apologize again, we’d move forward.

  Instead, I fell asleep face down, in my clothes, and didn’t wake until five a.m. the next morning.

  Twenty-seven

  I got up, bleary eyed, and wandered into the big bathroom. I turned on the shower and pulled off my clothes, which were filthy from travel. Before the big mirror fogged up too much, I turned and looked over my shoulder at the bruises on my back, from where I had landed hard on the warehouse floor. They weren’t
too bad. I stretched toward the ceiling, and then side to side, and could feel the muscles slowly loosening. I stepped into the hot shower, and that helped too. I used the shampoo I found there to wash the temporary black dye out of my hair. I wanted to take on Negron face to face, as myself.

  I walked naked back into the bedroom, picked my backpack up from the floor, and began to rummage in it for something to wear. At the bottom my hand encountered an odd-feeling material. I grabbed it and pulled it out; it was a white bodysuit. Of course she had an extra, that only made sense, I just hadn’t noticed it mixed in with the other clothes when I had combined our stuff into one backpack.

  I held it up in front of me, letting it unfurl. It was dazzling in the light of the sunrise that was streaming in the window. The material was strange to my touch. It wasn’t rubber, but it wasn’t really Lycra either. It was something in between, stretchy but firm, and sadly, not bulletproof.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I slipped my right leg into the suit, and then my left. That was the easy part. The material stretched as I pulled it up over my hips, but it also resisted; it was a very tight fit. I put my arms through the arm holes, and then reached behind for the zipper. With a deep breath I pulled the zip from my tailbone up to the small of my back, and then reached over my shoulder to grab it and tug it up the rest of the way.

  Since my body was very differently shaped than Selena’s, I expected it to sag at the breast and butt, but instead it held me there tightly, very tightly. I smoothed my hands down my front, but there were no wrinkles, none at all. I felt more naked than I had a minute ago, when I was actually naked. Tentatively, I took up a defensive pose and ran through a few taekwondo moves. I’ll admit, it felt amazing. I did a few more high kicks, then I stepped back into the bathroom, turning to look at myself in the big mirror over the sink.

  Oh. My. God. Despite knowing I was completely alone, I blushed from my red hair down to my neck, my right arm instinctively coming up and covering my nipples, which were poking up through the fabric. One thing was absolutely certain: nobody was ever going to see my dressed like this. I averted my eyes and stepped back into the bedroom, reaching behind me for the elusive zipper.

  What the hell had I been thinking? Minutes before, O had been happy to have my red hair back, to feel like “myself” again. Whatever that meant, this was not me. I got the zipper halfway down my back, then reached around behind to pull it the rest of the way. I guess I’m a lot more self-conscious than I even thought. Looks like my leather pants were going to hold their status as the most risqué thing in my wardrobe.

  “I pulled my arms out of the suit and was starting to roll it down my hips when there was a knock on the door. Without thinking, I leapt across the intervening space and hit the button on the knob, locking the door.

  “Kay, it’s me,” said Nick quietly through the door.

  Oh, crap! I turned toward my backpack while trying to pull the suit down my legs at the same time. As a result, I lost my balance, and fell hard onto the carpet.

  “Kay, are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. Just fine.” I kicked wildly at the suit, trying to get it untangled from my ankles and off my feet.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Not right now,” I called. “Just give me a minute.”

  “Look, I’m sorry about last night. Can we just talk about it?”

  “I said not right now.”

  “Jesus, Kay, I made a mistake, alright?”

  I didn’t answer, untangling myself from the stretchy fabric and leaping to my feet. I shoved the suit into the backpack, then ran to the bathroom to grab a towel. Hurriedly I wrapped it around my torso as I headed back to the door.

  “Nick, I’m sorry,” I blurted as I opened the door, but the hallway was empty.

  “Nice, Riley,” I muttered to myself. “Nice job.”

  WHEN I CAME OUT INTO the main room, Nick was nowhere to be seen. I thought I had woken early, but it seemed that everyone else had to. Don sat drinking coffee, looking at his phone. Across the table, Marty’s fingers sped across his laptop. His hair was mussed, and he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. So was I, but that didn’t mean I approved.

  I crossed the room and knocked lightly on the door of the other bedroom. Park opened it, fresh faced and beaming. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress, and her long hair was done in a sophisticated French braid.

  “We were just coming out,” she said, brushing past me and heading for the kitchen, tottering on high-heeled white sandals. Ruby followed close behind, wearing a dignified black business suit.

  “Good morning, cupcake,” she said, an endearment I hadn’t heard her use before.

  “Cupcake? You think of me as a six-year-old, don’t you?”

  “Some days,” she admitted. “Somedays you act more like fourteen.”

  “Well, I try to stay young. How’d you sleep?”

  “Quite well, actually,” she said. “Though I had a strange dream about that FBI agent, Carter.”

  “Now you’re making me jealous. Let’s get something to eat.”

  We started toward the kitchen, but Park and Jorge stepped through the doorway, carrying a plate of pastries and a bowl of bananas and oranges. Jorge was wearing black dress pants and a plain white Oxford, buttoned up to hide his tattoos. Shiny leather shoes completed his outfit.

  I grabbed a banana and stepped out onto the patio, scanning quickly for Nick. No sign of him. Cosmo was sitting at one of the round tables, carefully putting batteries into walkie-talkies and then lining them up in a neat row. Also on the table was a row of accessories: Two leather briefcases, a black leather purse, a white leather purse, and five blue over-the-shoulder bags like bike messengers use, made of a canvas-type material.

  “Did everyone wake up before me?” I asked casually, biting off a piece of banana. “I thought first call wasn’t until 7 a.m.”

  “Lots of prep,” said Cosmo.

  “Thanks for coming. You having a good time?” I asked him.

  He smiled, but didn’t look up from his work.

  “I owe Ellery a favor, so I would have come anyway, but yeah, this is my kind of thing.” He looked up at me. “Especially if this guy is as bad as you say.”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve spent too much of my life doing jobs for assholes,” he continued. “It’ll feel good to be doing something that makes a difference.”

  “Loud and clear,” I said, turning as I heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. I walked cautiously to the edge of the house and poked my head around. It was T.C., driving the same truck and trailer from yesterday, but the motorcycles were gone. Just behind him a large black van with tinted windows pulled in, overhanging branches scraping lightly along it’s roof. The driver’s side door opened, and Nick stepped out, wearing a very dapper grey suit. I pulled my head back quickly, and went back across the patio and inside the house. I crossed the main room without looking at anyone and entered the bedroom. I found my toothbrush and brushed vigorously, avoiding my own gaze in the mirror, until there was a light knock on the outer door.

  I spit.

  “Yeah?” I called. It was Park.

  “Time for run-through,” she said through the door.

  “I’ll be right out.” I washed my face one more time, dried it off with a towel, and headed back out into the main room, my tightly laced Belleville combat boots thumping heavily on the wood floor.

  Everyone was grabbing seats around the long table. By the time I had gotten myself cup of coffee, the only seat left at the long table was between Marty and Cosmo, directly across from Nick. We looked intently at each other for a moment, and then Don started and we both turned toward where he sat at the head of the table.

  “Good Morning, everyone,” he began.

  “Good Morning, Charlie,” Park and I both said at the same time, looking at each other and laughing.

  Jorge looked at me, confused.

  “Charlie’s Angels,” said Cosmo. “T.V. show.” />
  “I thought it was a movie,” said Park

  Don cleared his throat and we fell silent.

  “All the prep work is in place,” Don began. “Make sure you all have the correct bag from the patio before you go. Any questions on the mechanisms? No? Good. Any questions on the route?”

  No one answered.

  “Great. You’re going to love it, it’s a nice wide highway. It’s going to be like the Daytona 500.”

  T.C. gave a big smile. “I can’t wait for this,” he beamed.

  “Any questions about the cars?” asked Don.

  Park tentatively raised her hand.

  “El?”

  “I probably should have brought this up before, but, I’m not really very good with a stick shift.”

  “How not good?”

  “Really not good.” Her face began to redden.

  “No problem,” Don assured her. “Anyone else?”

  Marty raised his hand, as did Jorge. My dad had taught me when I was a teenager. You never know when you’ll need it, he always said. I don’t think he was envisioning international espionage at the time.

  “Ruby?” asked Don.

  “Of course I can drive standard,” she said from her place at the foot of the table, looking offended.

  “Seems generational,” said Don. “Kids these days. No worries, just make sure you check the car before you get in. Don’t take something you don’t think you can handle. There’s one that looks a bit like a Subaru that is definitely automatic.”

  “They make a Porsche that looks like a Subaru?” asked Cosmo, clearly disgusted.

  “Sadly, yes,” said Don, shaking his head in agreement. He took a sip of his coffee and then looked at Marty.

  “How’d it go last night with the phones?”

  Marty half-shrugged. “Like I said, no way to get to Negron’s directly, but I’ve pinpointed five different numbers that connect to staff at the fortress. It won’t take long for him to get the message.”

  “Good. Radios. Make sure you have them on your person. Don’t forget and leave them in a bag.” We all nodded.

  “Call names are as follows,” he pointed at Jorge, on his immediate right. “You’re Pride. Nick, you’re Rembrandt. T.C., you’re Copter. Ms. Park, you’re Queen.”