In a Fix (7 page)

“Not much. Yet. I’m taking the Swede back with me on a company plane—I just stopped by to leave Billy some travel clothes, and both of you new passports. ‘Trey’ and ‘Mina’ are booked on a flight tomorrow—we’ll talk more about it when you’re back.”

Well, that was quick. Guess it pays to have connections in high places. “Did you get in touch with Trey? Does he know Mina is okay? If he heard about the explosion, he’s probably worried to death.”

“Not yet, but we will. In the meantime, I have something for you.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a battered ring case. Opened it and held it out to me. My heart thudded against my ribs, jolted by past fantasies of precisely this moment—Mark giving me an engagement ring. Like an idiot, I stared at it, sparkling in the soft light of the table lamp. Mocking me.

“You gonna take it, or do I have to get down on one knee to make your job officially complete?” he joked.

I took it and snapped the case shut. “Thanks,” I said, jumping up and heading to the guest room before he could read my face. Not that he could have failed to realize my pathetic crush on him over the years, but I was kind of hoping he thought I’d outgrown it. No need for him to know my girlhood passion blazed on. It was embarrassing enough that Billy was aware of it. “I’ll just put it with Mina’s stuff.”

He followed, taking my arm and turning me back toward him. “Hold on a second. I have to go … hey, are you okay? What’s the matter?”

I swallowed hard. “Nothing. I’m fine. I just … it’s been a day. You know?”

His arms circled me gently, pressing me to his chest, and mine automatically went around his waist.

“It’s going to be fine. Billy will take care of everything tomorrow, and you can put this whole thing behind you. And, Howdy … I know it pisses you off, but I’m not going to stop watching out for you.” His lips pressed against the top of my head briefly. “You get some sleep.”

Yeah, right. Like that was gonna happen now.

Chapter 6

Billy and I got to the airport early, after driving through a raging storm, so I had plenty of time to work myself into a state of near-frozen panic before we boarded. I’m not the best air passenger, even under ideal circumstances. Toss in some bad weather and I stiffen up like a nun in a whorehouse. Not precisely in character for jet-set Mina, but frankly I didn’t give a flying fig.

As soon as we were airborne, Billy signaled the flight attendant. She came at once, bearing booze. The hundred-dollar bill I’d seen pass from Billy’s hand to hers as we boarded might’ve had something to do with her alacrity.

“No, thanks,” I said, gripping the armrests and shuddering as the plane bounced. Even the sight of Mina’s new ring on my finger didn’t comfort me. It wasn’t like I could give it to her and call the job done, not before the real Trey was notified.

Billy took the glass from her and held it to my lips. “It’s medicinal. Drink.” We bounced again. I drank. Fast, not even tasting it.

“What was it?” I asked, staring straight ahead and ignoring the clouds floating past the window in my peripheral vision.

“Only the finest Tanqueray martini. Wasted on your taste buds, apparently. Breathe.”

I gulped some air. “I don’t think it’s doing anything for me.”

He downed his drink in two quick sips and called for refills. I shook my head at the flight attendant, but I was invisible to her. Ensnared as she was by Trey’s killer smile, she wouldn’t have noticed me if I’d stood on my seat and danced naked.

“Bottoms up, sweetheart,” Billy said, pouring the second one past my lips, not giving me a chance to refuse. He popped my olive into his mouth and chewed. “Don’t worry. You’ll feel better in a minute or two.”

“I dunnoh…” But he was right. My grip on the armrests gradually eased.

He smiled. “There now. You’re not scared anymore, are you?”

I thought about it, somewhat amazed. “No. Not at all.” In fact, I felt pretty good. I snuggled up to Trey’s manly bicep as a wave of euphoria settled over me. “You’re wonderful. Martinis are magic, aren’t they?”

“I’ve always thought so,” he said, eyes alight. “Now, have I told you about a little organization called the Mile High Club?”

I swatted him. “I’m not
that
drunk.”

He laughed. “Too bad.”

The landing at Reagan National Airport was bumpy, or maybe that was just me. But after staying lubricated with magic martinis for most of the flight, at least I was no longer stiff. In fact, I was so un-stiff Billy had to help me down the aisle.

“Can’t hold her liquor,” he stage-whispered to the amused flight attendant as we passed. I would have denied it vehemently had I been capable of forming coherent words, but she probably wouldn’t have believed me anyway after I stepped on her foot.

The first thing we noticed after we deplaned (and by “we” I mean Billy—I wasn’t noticing much of anything myself) was a TSA agent who seemed excessively interested in the pair of us. It wasn’t until Billy gripped my upper arm and hurried me into the midst of the crowd stampeding toward baggage claim that I picked up on something being out of whack.

“Wha’s—what’s up?” I said. Billy let my mush-mouth moment pass without comment. It was the least he could do after pouring the martinis down me.

“TSA does not customarily greet arrivals—they are more concerned with departures. They also do not use the kind of badge that guy was wearing, nor do their officers speak into their badges. Plus, the blue of his shirt is at least two shades off.”

I craned my head to get a better look. He gave my arm a small shake. “Eyes front, cuz.”

“He’s not following us, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said, a small burst of adrenaline having cleared my mind somewhat.

“Yet. He’s giving us space because he thinks he knows where we’re going.”

“But we’re not?”

“Oh, we are.” He maneuvered us over to the restrooms. “But not as Trey and Mina. Meet me in two minutes right here. Get comfortable,” he said, adaptor code for be yourself.

Luckily, there was a free stall, so I could change right away. I switched shirts with one from my carry-on. Figured that would have to suffice clothing-wise. Billy was waiting when I returned. He’d done the same.

We continued to Arrivals at a more leisurely pace, which was good because Mina’s shoes were at least an inch and a half too long for my feet. We’d gone through customs in Nassau, so we could leave the airport without that delay. As we passed the baggage claim area we saw a uniformed driver holding up a sign with Trey’s name on it.

“Aw, how thoughtful,” I said. “Mark ordered us a limo.”

“Think again, cuz,” Billy said, guiding me away from the man, toward the taxi stand, with one hand on my waist.

Oh. Well, crap. Guess Trey and Mina were still on somebody’s radar.

*   *   *

I live in D.C., not too far from George Washington University, in a condo I rent from my oldest brother, Thomas. He held on to it after he moved to a bigger place because its location made it such a good investment. When I decided to start my own business, I grabbed at his offer of cheap rent, figuring there were worse places to live and work than D.C. For one thing, it’s far enough away from the family homestead in New York that I’m not dropped in on by an endless parade of well-meaning relatives.

And, okay, D.C. is the closest thing to a home base Mark has. That might have had a
little
something to do with my decision. He used to room with Thomas, and still stops by the condo occasionally. Sometimes even stays overnight in his old room, which is now my guest room. I keep hoping he’ll wander across the hall some fine night, but I’m not holding my breath.

By the time the cab dropped Billy and me at my building I was slightly more functional. Not precisely sober, but Billy only had to steady me with one hand on my elbow as we walked to the condo.

I punched in the code to unlock the front door. It stayed locked. Tried again.

“Damn it. Somebody must’ve changed it while I was gone.”

“Here, let me.” Billy, of course, got it on the first try. I hate people who can hold their liquor.

My stomach contracted the instant he turned on the lights in the living room. “Shit. What the fuck happened here?” he said, echoing my thoughts. “I don’t suppose you left it this way?”

I stared blankly, trying to take it in. My mind kept fighting me. Finally I said, “No. I may not be Martha Stewart around the house, but I usually manage to keep the cushions on the sofa and the TV off the floor.”

“You stay here. I’ll check the rest of the place.”

No argument from me. If whoever had done this was still here, I was in no hurry to meet him. A minute later he was back. “It’s the same upstairs. The stuff I keep in your guest room is all there. You’ll have to check your room and see if anything is missing. Come on.”

I followed him reluctantly. When I got to my bedroom door I froze, sucker-punched again, even though I was expecting what I saw. My comforter and sheets had been ripped from the bed and strewn on the floor, my clothing yanked from hangers in the closet, my underwear pulled out of my dresser drawers. Bile crept into my throat at the thought of some stranger handling my intimate apparel.

Billy laid a hand gently on my neck. “Hey, you okay?”

I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway. “Why would somebody do this?” On top of everything that happened in the Bahamas, it seemed a little much to just be bad luck.

“Obviously whoever did it thought you had something he wanted.”

“But I don’t have anything. My furniture is all secondhand. My TV and stereo are crap. I don’t even have any good jewelry.”

“How about a computer?”

“My laptop!” I rushed to the desk and rustled beneath the scattered papers. “It’s gone.”

“Anything vital on it?”

Say, like backup copies of confidential client files? Oops. “Uh, no, of course not. Well, maybe a few … never mind, it doesn’t matter. It’s password protected.”

Billy snorted. “Oh, now we can rest easy. Please don’t tell me you used the security software that came with it.”

“Of course not—I’m not stupid. Mark set something up for me when I got it.”

“Should be okay then.” Approval, if somewhat grudging.

I looked around at the mess, trying to survey it dispassionately. “What do we do now? Call the police?”

“No. We’ll call Mark and let the spooks handle it. I suspect whatever this is, it’s more up their alley. Besides, I’d prefer Mark to run interference between us and anyone official. But first let’s look around and figure out what else is missing.”

After a thorough search, I said, “My diary.”

“The green suede one, or the cute little pink one with unicorns?”

I closed my eyes and counted to ten under my breath. “Green,” I ground out. I hadn’t used the pink one since middle school, which I was sure he knew darn well.

“Well, you shouldn’t keep a diary if you don’t want people to find it,” he said, without an ounce of shame. “Anyway, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. If I couldn’t decipher your mumbo-jumbo, I doubt our thief can.” That was some consolation, at least. I’d developed my own secret code at an early age. Growing up with three brothers and a very annoying pseudo-cousin will drive you to extremes to ensure some privacy.

“It’s not like I wrote anything important in it, anyway.” Unless you think schoolgirl fantasies about a certain spook are important.

Billy wanted to make the call, but I told him it was my condo so I should be the one to do it. Mark answered after the first ring, sounding alert in spite of the late hour. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Somebody broke into my condo, trashed the place, and took my laptop.”

“Shit. Is Billy still with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Put him on.”

“No. You can talk to me.”

“Ciel, I need to ask—”

“Ask
me
,” I insisted.

“Never mind. I want the both of you out of there now. Tell Billy I said to use full caution. You know where I am.”
Click
. Didn’t anybody say good-bye anymore?

“Well?”

“We’re supposed to go to Mark’s place using ‘full caution,’ whatever the hell that means.”

Billy seemed to understand. He smiled and said, “How good are you at projecting drunken college boys?”

*   *   *

Oddly, I didn’t have a single drunken college boy in my repertoire, but that was okay because Billy had plenty to choose from in his. It was easy enough to borrow one—Billy called up an alcohol-riddled specimen of undergrad manhood and took my hand. After a few minutes I had a good enough take on the image. And the smell. Ew. I felt myself getting woozy again on the beer fumes alone. Once I was set, Billy dropped the fragrant aura and brought out another one for himself, a much finer example of campus masculinity.

“Hey, why’d you give me the overweight one with pimples?” I protested, my new voice cracking. Good thing the waistband on Mina’s skirt was expandable.

“It was the first one handy,” he said in a pleasantly deep voice, looking at me through only slightly inebriated bedroom eyes. Handy, my ass. “Now come on. Get changed and let’s go.”

Billy visits D.C. a lot, and keeps as many clothes at my place as he does at his own in New York. I suspect he has stashes everywhere he frequents, because he never seems to be at a loss for something to wear, no matter which aura he’s using. His jeans were all too tight for my new persona, but he had a pair of cargo pants that had been stylish once upon a time. They were intended to be worn baggy but, sadly, on me were not. Mina’s ring—back in its case—fit neatly into one of the side pockets, though, so that was good. I couldn’t risk leaving it at my condo now. The old black T-shirt was a slightly better fit than the pants, but the picture of Bart Simpson mooning the world wasn’t exactly my cup of tea.

We made it to the street unobserved. Once there, we blended in with a group of similarly jovial college kids as we made our way to the closest major road to get a taxi. One of the girls was a tall, big-bosomed brunette who cozied up to Billy like a kitten to cream. Her T-shirt was emblazoned with a “Slippery When Wet” road sign. Huh. I’ll just bet.