License to Love (An Agent Ex Novel) (20 page)

“Though I think the comedian really meant pants made of jam, as in jelly that you spread on toast. Maybe a more correct term for ours would be
jamming pants.
” He paused. “That doesn’t sound quite right, either. Jammer pants?” Rock shook his head side to side as if weighing the idea. “Could be a new trend. If we got the right designer.”

Rock watched Ty set up the last of the jammers. “Maybe our billionaire here would like to invest?”

Tate laughed and shook his head. “No. Too much of a niche item. I put my money on mass appeal.”

“Jammer pants, I’ll suggest that to our version of Q.” Ty took a seat in a chair across from Rock.

Tate walked to the minibar and poured himself a glass of bourbon. “Drink, anyone? Rock, money aside, why haven’t you tried staging a smaller version of your Space Invaders illusion?”

“Are you kidding?” Rock said. “I don’t do anything half-assed. Until I had full capabilities, I wasn’t risking it.

“Besides, the last thing I needed was the government watching me.” He realized what he’d said and laughed. “With the airport hangar to Area 51 across the street from the hotel I perform at? I’d be branded a nutcase if word got out before I was ready. Or a threat to the U.S. government’s top-secret military installation.

“Hell, it’s bad enough already. With my fame, money, and apparently psychic abilities and magical tendencies, people might start to believe I’m part of MJ-12. Or a half-breed alien myself. After all, the identity of my biological old man is pretty much a mystery, even to me.”

The secret agents stared at him as if he were a little touched. Maybe it was
already
too late to save his reputation.

MJ-12 was supposedly a top-secret organization made up of powerful, rich, influential men who were keeping aliens a secret from society. Theories varied as to whether these men were using alien technology to make fortunes. Whether they were behind disappearances of people who were never heard from again only to be mashed up as alien food, or used to mate with aliens and create a superhuman, superpowerful alien-human half-breed. Evidently, according to urban legend, anyway, aliens had lost the ability to reproduce on their own. MJ-12 would then be raising these half-breeds to rise as rulers under the control of MJ-12. The first half-human, half-alien U.S. president would be quite a coup.

“All those acts we saw tonight,” Rock said. “The core of the illusion. All needed for setting up Outlandish Marauders. Ten years ago, it wasn’t possible to perform. But now with social media and readily available lasers…” He shrugged. “Even though it’ll be dicey whether I can pull a convincing illusion together with novices so quickly, it’s exciting.

“I hate to say that, knowing what’s at stake. But this illusion has been my dream since I was a teenager. Although I’d always planned it as an illusion, not a vehicle for evil.

“I’ll get to perform it, a version of it, anyway. But it won’t be a spectacular like I planned. A major television event.”

“I wouldn’t say it won’t be spectacular.” Ty grinned. “And you’ll still get your reveal.

“As for the timetable, in an ideal world, we would have involved you earlier. We’ve had the basics of your Outlandish Marauders illusion since Lani lifted it two years ago.”

Lani shrugged.

“We didn’t know RIOT had complete enough plans or access to the technology they needed until just a few weeks ago. Or how they were planning to use the trick to get into Area 51. We called you up, so to speak, as soon as we could.

“Now our problem is making sure RIOT knows we’re planning to perform it at the NUFO conference. That’s Lani’s job. She has to feed that intel to Sol for him to pass on.”

Rock shook his head, imagining how Sol would feel once he found out the illusion had been snatched from him. “He’ll be furious that I’m planning to steal his trick. He’s relishing the thrill of performing it as much as I am. Watch for him to retaliate.”

Rock frowned. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the illusion and RIOT’s plans for it.

“The way they’re planning to use Outlandish Marauders is really nothing more than performing a modern version of the 1938 radio broadcast of
War of the Worlds.
The reason that worked so well was twofold. One, Americans were already primed for an invasion.

“And two, Orson Welles timed the broadcast so that the part where the Martians emerge from their spaceship coincided with a commercial break on the other, large commercial stations. The station he was broadcasting on scheduled their commercial breaks to be at different times from the big stations. So like with TV today, listeners flipped stations. And so they happened to tune in late, without hearing the caveat that it was fictional at the start of the program.

“They were already primed to be listening for a German invasion. A large segment of the audience didn’t hear the reference to Martians or spaceships and thought the Germans were invading.

“So you got two kinds of people panicking—those who believed in aliens and those who believed the Germans were attacking. That’s what Sol and RIOT would want to do today—play to those who believe in aliens and those who are afraid of a terrorist attack.”

“That worked then because there was no instant replay,” Ty said. “Today you can go back and read through hashtag streams or Facebook posts.”

Rock nodded. “You can. But you can also cause a lot of confusion and diversion in the short term. Or rather, someone like Ashley can. Diversion is the soul of magic. All you need are a few hours. By the time the truth is sorted out, the trick, and the damage, is done.”

“As you’ve already determined, the NUFO convention picnic at the black mailbox provides a supply of true believers ready to panic.”

Lani was still wearing the blond wig and the nude-colored dress. “Personally, a picnic sounds like fun. The clothes are more comfy than dressing for the Magic Castle, anyway.” She sighed. “I can’t wait to get out of these body shapers.”

Rock would happily volunteer for that job.

“By all means, go ahead,” Tate said.

“And miss being in on the plans?” She shook her head. “No, thanks. So, about the second set of panickers—how do we get those?”

“If it were me, and I had all the time in the world,” Rock said, “I’d wait for an opportunity when the public’s attention is focused on another major event of some kind. When they’re jumpy and easily susceptible to believing they’re being attacked.”

Rock felt dazed as he realized the implications of what he was saying. “If I were RIOT, I’d stage a real terrorist attack somewhere in Nevada shortly before performing the alien attack illusion. That will cause confusion, tension, and apprehension like the
War of the Worlds
broadcast did. Cover for the illusion.”

“It will also divert our resources,” Tate said.

Rock took a deep breath. “What they’re planning is diabolical. It makes me sick to think of them using my trick for evil. All I ever wanted to do was entertain and maybe debunk some of this alien invasion conspiracy theory. I never intended to use it for evil. I never even considered trying the
War of the Worlds
approach. It was supposed to be a show that people paid to see, not a tactical event to scare people.” Rock looked at Tate. “I think I need that drink now.”

Tate poured him one.

Rock took it from him and swirled it in the glass in front of him. “But using human nature to do their work for them. Appealing to the nut jobs, the conspiracy guys. Making sure they hear about the invasion and storm the place to get a look for themselves.

“Frothing up the general populace and adding them to the mix. Getting the patriots out to defend the territory. Getting others racing to the area for help. Overwhelming the outer security … It’s heinous.”

Ty nodded. “Random is brilliant in his way. Who else would have thought of courting magicians in the hope of using an illusion to get what they want five to ten years in the future?”

Rock shook his head. “It is brilliant. The notices on the property state that deadly force can be used against trespassers, but shooting dozens of innocent civilians who were duped by an illusion? That’s some bad press brewing. No president wants that shit on his political record.

“What’s to say RIOT can’t manipulate our illusion to its advantage? Whip up some kind of other panic there that will overwhelm security and cause an incident? A fake camo dude firing into the crowd, for instance?”

Ty nodded. “We’re already taking precautions against it. But it’s a risk we’ll have to take.

“This NUFO conference with their specialists in debunking sightings and fakes, and their believers trying to prove aliens exist is what we’ve been handed. Their picnic at the black mailbox, the reported prime alien viewing spot, is what we have to deal with.”

“Isn’t the black mailbox white now?” Tate said.

“Yeah, come to think of it, I think it is,” Ty said.

“Gentlemen, the color of the mailbox is neither here nor there,” Rock said. “The real problem is that RIOT must be planning that attack that makes the general public jumpy. Whether they perform the illusion, or we do, it plays to their hand. We have to stop it.”

“Or use our considerable talents, our camoufleurs and sonic deception engineers to create and stage a fake attack.” Ty grinned. “A thwarted one, of course. But we have to beat RIOT to that one, too. Fortunately, we have a gullible, easily manipulated media on our side.”

“And one talented social media magician,” Rock added.

The meeting wound down. Lani yawned. “It’s been a long day and tomorrow we have an early morning. I think I’ll turn in.”

Rock popped to his feet. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

“I’m still Gillian. I think that’s Tate’s job.” She moved toward the door and grinned at Tate.

Tate waved her off. “I think Gillian can manage on her own. Her room’s just across the hall.”

Rock wasn’t backing down. “I insist.”

She gave a graceful shrug of her creamy shoulders as if acquiescing. Everything she did turned him on, even when she spurned him. He had to talk to her.

“Good night, boys.” She blew a kiss to Tate, winked at Ty, and let Rock follow her out of the room without further objection.

At her door, she swiped her key card and turned the handle when the door clicked unlocked. “I think I can handle it from here.”

As she opened the door, Rock caught her arm. “We have to talk.”

She studied him. “Do we?”

He refused to back down.

“All right then.” She let him in just inside the door. “Stay here while I make sure the room is clear.”

Spies were a paranoid variety, but he enjoyed the view of her in her skin-colored gown, imagining her really naked, as she cleared the room. Finally she nodded to him. “Close the door.”

He did as she requested, but she stopped him from coming in any farther than the entry. “That’s far enough.”

“Don’t trust me, or don’t trust yourself around me?” He took a step into her. They stood only inches apart.

“You’re full of yourself, Rock Powers. But that’s part of what I like about you.” She took a baby step toward him, standing so close her breasts nearly brushed his chest and they were toe to toe. She looked up into his eyes. “So talk.”

“Can you take off the wig and stop being Gillain for just a minute?” He knew all too well how easy it was to play a role when a person was in costume. He somehow had to reach the real Lani, the one he knew and loved.

She pulled the wig off, unpinned her hair, and shook it out, brushing up against him as she tossed the wig away, egging on his desire and getting a rise out of him. He’d been too long without her.

“Better?” She smiled up at him.

“Much.” He held his ground, though he ached to take her in his arms. He imagined the feel of her pressed up against him, slim and firm, soft in all the right places.

“So?” she said again. “Talk.”

“If you’re trying to intimidate me, it won’t work.”

She held his gaze. “Why would I try to intimidate you?”

“Because you don’t want to admit that you love me.”

She stared at him and then laughed as she ran a finger over his bare chest that showed through his open shirt. “You are bold.”

“If I’m wrong, look me in the eye and tell me I am. Tell me you never loved me.” His lips were just inches from hers. “And remember that I’m trained to read facial expressions. I’m so good people think I’m a real mind reader and a psychic. So lie to me, baby, if you dare. I’ll know the truth one way or another.”

“Maybe I did love you, a little.” Her eyes were lit with excitement as if she was enjoying their game, too.

He felt the brush of her breath against his lips as she spoke. He was so close to her, just a breath away. Her heady, sensual perfume filled his senses. Her cold calm only turned him on further.

She was a clever little femme fatale. She knew how to read people, too, and cover her true feelings. Admit the truth, but mask it in a little lie. It was a brilliant strategy and threw him off. He was having a hard time determining just how much truth she told.

“But it was foolish,” she said. “And dangerous to both of us.”

“And now?” He held himself still though he ached to touch her. But it was clear they were playing a game of chicken, each daring the other to break.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.” She moved her lips a fraction of an inch closer to his, teasing him with her nearness. “How do you know you really love me?”

He frowned. “What kind of question is that?”

She laughed. She’d won this round and thrown him off his strategy. “My colleagues call me Magic for a reason, and it has nothing to do with what you do.” She smiled. “Well, maybe just the tiniest bit.

“I’m magic because I can be whoever I want to be, whoever I have to be. I have a master’s degree in psychology. I’m a trained hypnotist. And I trained with the best and was a star pupil in neuro-linguistic programing. I read people, particularly men with the ease most people breathe.

“Do you know what my specialty at the Agency is?” Her words were sensually spoken, slinky.

He shuddered beneath her touch as she pressed her warm palm over his heart. He had a horrible feeling he knew the answer. But he couldn’t force himself to say it.