High-Caliber Concealer (37 page)

Nikki’s skin felt clammy, and she reached
for her gun as she opened the door. Her heart was racing.

“Do not move,” she said.

“Ah, Nikki,” said Valerie Robinson, “We’ve
been waiting for you.” Val looked suspiciously the same: hair cut
in a sharp black bob, pale skin, blue eyes, crisp black shirt. She
looked as she had always looked, effortlessly sophisticated and
cool. The only difference was that there wasn’t a cigarette in one
hand.

“Where’s Mom and Grandma?” Nikki
demanded.

“I think Peg is getting baby pictures and
Nell is fetching lemonade. Because I look like a lemonade kind of
woman.” Val paused, then continued when Nikki didn’t comment or
change position. “Relax, Red, I’m here about your father.”

“Nicole Lanier,” said her grandmother coming
into the room and attempting to snatch the gun out of her hand, “we
do not point guns at guests.”

“But she shot me!” Nikki said, holding the
gun further away.

“Twice,” said Val holding up two fingers,
with a lazy smile.

“What?” said her mother, coming into the
room carrying a tray of lemonade. “Shot you? What is this? Nikki,
please stop pointing guns at people. You can’t carry guns around
like that!”

Behind her, there was a slam of a car door
and running feet.

“Nikki, what’s going on? Why did you pull—”
Ellen’s sentence abruptly cut off.

“Oh, shit,” said Jenny. Nikki heard the guns
come out.

“Hey look,” said Val, “the glee club has
arrived.”

“You are supposed to be dead,” said Jenny,
aiming steadily.

“Jenny, Ellen, Jane! What are you all doing
with guns? You work for a make-up company!” Nell thumped the tray
down on the coffee table. “You don’t carry guns.”

“These ones do,” said Val.

“You want to shut up now?” asked Nikki.

“Actually, I think I’d like to hear more,”
said Z’ev, crossing the room and dropping into her grandfather’s
old armchair.

“Oh, please, it’s not like you could ever
keep a secret anyway,” said Val. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“That is kind of true,” agreed Z’ev.

“Nikki, who is this woman?” demanded her
grandmother. “She said she worked with you.”

“That is Valerie Robinson,” said Jane, “and
she’s supposed to be dead.”

“It’s called Kevlar, sweetie,” said Val,
smugly. “Don’t leave home without it.”

“Next time, I’ll make it a head shot,
sweetie,” said Ellen.

“Why— How are you here, Val?” demanded
Nikki.

“We still haven’t covered why you’re
carrying guns,” protested Peg.

“I’m here about your father,” said Val.

“Oh, God,” said Nell. She picked up a glass
of lemonade and emptied it into the ficus. Then she pulled out a
bottle of Scotch from the sideboard.

“Actually, if you’re pouring, I wouldn’t
mind some,” said Val.

“You shot my daughter,” said Nell, pouring
out a generous measure. “Twice? The only way you’re getting some of
this is if I hit you up the side of your head with the bottle.”

“Point taken,” said Val shrugging.

“Actually,” said Z’ev, “I’m with Peg. I want
to know who Nikki and her friends work for.” Nikki tried to read
his expression, but couldn’t.

“We work for the Carrie Mae Foundation,”
said Nikki defensively. This wasn’t how she wanted to do this. She
wanted to have a private, honest conversation with Z’ev where she
could explain. Val, as usual, was ruining everything.

“The Carrie Mae Foundation carries a lot of
heavy weaponry, do they?” asked Z’ev.

“Not a lot,” said Jane. “Just the
necessities.”

“Just what does Carrie Mae do?” asked her
grandmother.

“Carrie Mae uses a multi-disciplinary, local
approach to solving the problems facing women on a global level,”
said Nikki, as if reciting a well-learned lesson, which thanks to
Mrs. Boyer, it was.

“With extreme prejudice,” added Val.

“Well, I appreciate that you want to help
women,” said Peg, “but that doesn’t mean the four of you can form
your own little vigilante group.”

“What makes you think it’s just the four of
them?” asked Val, unwrapping a piece of gum and popping it into her
mouth.

“Shut up!” Nikki yelled at Val. She could
feel her breath coming in rapid gasps. This was her worst
nightmare.

“That’s impossible,” said Z’ev.

“What?” asked Val, looking at Nikki’s
furious expression. “He’s CIA. I’m sure he’s figured it out by
now.”

“CIA?” repeated Peg. “Nell, be a dear and
pour a glass for your mother.”

“All of Carrie Mae?” He asked looking at her
as if she were the only one in the room. Nikki felt herself flush
bright red.

“Oh! He didn’t know,” exclaimed Val
laughing. “That is so cute! You’re like the Dumb and Dumber of
espionage.”

“All of Carrie Mae?” he repeated.

“Not all of it,” said Nikki, blushing
harder. “Just the non-profit portion.”

“Most Carrie Mae ladies really do sell
make-up,” said Jane, clearly trying to help.

“But not all of them,” said Z’ev. “Most is
not the same as all.”

“Well, all of them do sell make-up. But some
of them also do… other… stuff.” She finished awkwardly, and glanced
at Nikki apologetically.

“So what we have is a worldwide organization
with advanced training in tactics, weapons, and explosives,” said
Z’ev. “That about sums it up, yes?”

“More or less,” said Nikki.

“Only, it’s an organization that no one
knows about? How can no one know about it?”

“Because we’re women,” said Val, standing
up, sounding suddenly bitter and tired. “And women are the
invisible, alien others. The CIA doesn’t know about us, not because
we’re so clever, but mostly because you’re so dumb that it doesn’t
occur to you that women could do anything. Nikki, this has been
fun. It’s practically a Homecoming Dance and a ten-year high-school
reunion all rolled into one. Now maybe we could get down to
business?”

“What business could we possibly have?”
demanded Nikki.

“I’ll say it for the third time. I’m here
about your father. He’s in trouble. There isn’t a lot of time and I
need your help.”

“Don’t believe her,” said Jenny.

“Actually,” said Peg, clearing her throat.
“I think she might be right.” Everyone swiveled to look at Peg.
“The reason I’ve been pushing your mom so hard to tell you about
Phillipe is that three weeks ago I got a letter in the mail. It was
addressed to you, but I opened it because…” She paused, then shook
her head. “Because I’m a snoop.” She pulled a folded envelope out
of her pocket and handed it to Nikki. “Once I read it, I knew it
wouldn’t make any sense if you didn’t already know he’d gone to
jail. I figured we had to tell you. I just thought we had more
time.”

Nikki read the letter. She read it
again.

“Where is he?” she asked, looking up at
Val.

“South Africa,” said Val. “I can get him
out, but I need someone I can trust.”

“That’s a laugh, coming from you.”

Val shrugged and stood up. “Are you in or
not? We have to leave now.”

“Nikki, don’t trust her,” said Jane. “We
have to bring her in. Mrs. Merrivel will want to know where she’s
been. Once we question her, we can put together a plan to go get
your father.”

“There isn’t time,” said Val. “And can you
really be sure they would allow you to go? Helping your dad doesn’t
fall within mission parameters.”

Nikki tucked the envelope in her pocket. Her
jeans were covered in smoke and dirt. She couldn’t even guess what
her hair looked like. She knew her body was about to hit a wall—too
much adrenaline, not enough food, not enough water, not enough
time. There never seemed to be enough time. Everything she loved
and wanted to cling to seemed to leave her behind. Everyone was
always pushing her into something new. She didn’t want something
new. She wanted everything to be like it was. She could feel a
rising tide of panic that seemed to sweep away feeling from her
limbs and close her vision down to a tunnel.

She looked at Jane. Stuck behind a computer,
when she wanted to do field work.

She looked at Jenny. Never going to be in
command with Nikki around.

She looked at Ellen. Ellen, who’d buried her
adventurous side in mommyhood until she found Carrie Mae. Ellen
smiled at her and tilted her head ever so slightly toward Val.

She couldn’t look at Z’ev. If she looked at
Z’ev, she’d know whether or not he still loved her, and the idea
that the answer might be no was more than she could stand. She
tucked her gun away in its holster, trying to hide the way her
hands were shaking and pulled out the Impala keys.

“Fine. Let’s go,” said Nikki.

Val snatched the keys out of her hand. “I’ll
be driving,” she said. “It is my car after all.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Jenny.

Mrs. Merrivel picked a microscopic piece of
lint off her skirt.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to bump Jane up to
field agent and request a new technology liaison.”

“What are we going to do about Nikki?”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do
about Nikki.”

“But she just left. With Valerie Robinson!
We can’t do nothing.”

“Jenny,” Mrs. M appeared to be picking her
words carefully. “Your team garnered a great deal of political
goodwill by dealing with Valerie Robinson, but the unfortunate
Canadian incident with Ellen may have used up the last of it. Right
now, Darla has made some very smart moves, one of which was putting
your team on administrative leave. The current perception is that
Darla is a hard-ass and that she is appropriately dealing with
matters. If word gets out that not only is Valerie alive, but that
Nikki has left with her, how well do you think that is going to go
over? Darla will be forced to send teams to retrieve them. And if
the three of you were to go and assist Nikki… I’m rather certain
that you would also be added to the shoot-to-kill list.”

Jenny gaped. “But, Val said it was about
Nikki’s father. It didn’t sound like they were doing anything
bad.”

“Ah, yes, helping Nikki’s father, the known
smuggler? And we believe Val Robinson, the traitor, do we?”

“Oh, crap,” said Jenny, sinking down in her
chair.

“Quite. No, the best thing we can do is
nothing. The four of you are on leave currently and I think we can
drag that out for a bit longer. Hopefully, Nikki will be back in a
few weeks.”

“And what if she isn’t?”

“Then we’ll come up with an alternative
plan,” said Mrs. M with a shrug.

“And what about Z’ev? He left right after
Nikki. He wouldn’t even talk to us.”

“Well, thank goodness Jane kept her head and
put a tracking device in his luggage. We know he simply returned
here to LA.”

“Yes, but he could be telling people about
us right now. What should we do about him?”

“I’ve already taken care of it. I invited
him here to the house for dinner. John is going to talk to
him.”

“Is that going to work?”

“It better. Nikki will probably be upset if
I have to take measures regarding her boyfriend.”

“If he is her boyfriend. She left at kind of
sensitive moment regarding their relationship.”

Mrs. M shrugged again.

“How can you take this so calmly?” said
Jenny, jumping out of her chair and pacing the length of the
office. “This is a serious problem!”

“Yes, it really, really is,” said Mrs.
Merrivel. “But it’s not like I wasn’t aware that this was a
possibility. Admittedly, Val turning up again was a bit of a
surprise. But Nikki’s relationship with Z’ev was always leading in
this direction.”

“I just can’t believe we’re going to leave
Nikki out there by herself.”

“She’s not by herself,” said Mrs. Merrivel.
“She has Val.”

“I’m not sure which is worse,” said Jenny.
“Being alone, or being with Val.”

“We’ll have to wait and find out,” said Mrs.
M.

“Yeah,” said Jenny, “if she survives.”

Coming in 2016

Nikki looked out of the plane window at the
distant ground. From the air, what had been a post-sunset world was
now a twilight sphere of advancing shadows as the sun retreated
beyond the curve of the earth. Below, the farm fields of South
Africa unrolled like a patchwork quilt sewn by a half-rate
seamstress. Somehow she hadn’t pictured Africa having this much
green.

“This is a terrible plan,” said Nikki.

“I know,” said Val, leaning over to look out
the window with her.

“You say that now!” Nikki snapped around to
look at Val.

Val popped a piece of nicotine gum in her
mouth and grinned. “I said it when you came up with the plan.”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into
this,” said Nikki.