Authors: Nicola Claire
I'd been spotted leaving the bathroom, the coffees and Amber here at just the right time.
Or had I been spotted sooner?
In
the bathroom where cameras were not meant to be.
I'd mentioned to Adam, Jason, Brook and Koki at The Claddagh that Abi had told me no cameras were present in the showers. Had they rectified that?
I was doubting everything. Even those I didn't want to suspect.
"Hey," Amber said. "Heard you held your own in the ring."
"You didn't watch?" I asked, taking the seat opposite her.
She smiled. It was cunning and secretive. Of course she'd watched.
"Adam is our best hand to hand fighter," Amber said instead.
I blinked. That was unexpected. I would have thought Captain Cain held that title.
"Where did he learn to fight like that?" I mused, a question I hadn't intended to say aloud.
"You'd have to ask him," Amber replied.
Dutifully chastised, I looked down at the folder.
"We all have stories, Charlie," Amber said softly. "I should think you do as well."
"And you haven't found them out yet, Amber?" I asked, genuinely interested to hear what she had to say.
"I haven't asked," she replied, holding my gaze with an impassive one of her own.
Oh, she was good. And I knew now why Nick had arranged her as the policies guru. One look at those big baby brown eyes and you believed her.
One look if you weren't a highly trained spy, that is.
I smiled. "What's all this about then?" I said, nodding at the folder between us.
"Boring, boring and even more boring," Amber quipped. "I can download a file to your cellphone of all the key points you need to know, if you like."
"OK," I said, unsure where she was going with this. I was aware that Amber Shaw was not a rule follower. But then neither were any of those who worked for ASI.
It didn't make them criminals. Not necessarily. It just painted a bullseye over their heads for those with a less discerning eye.
And I suddenly knew why ASI had been chosen. Whether they were on the wrong side of the fence of organised crime or not.
They broke the rules. They fit the profile. They were picked because they fit so damn well.
And my gut was telling me, they were as innocent as I was. Wrong place, wrong time.
Fuck.
But what had we both stumbled into? What the hell was the Director after that linked ASI and an international specialist together?
I blinked when Amber said, "Wanna go get a coffee? I know a great place."
"Pardon?"
"You look like you could use a friend," she said, offering a welcoming smile.
"Is that what Nick has asked you to do?" I queried softly.
Amber's turn to blink.
Then, "You see ghosts behind every door, don't you, Charlie?"
"Usually packing semi-automatic pistols and a lethal eye."
She tilted her head to the side in a move that seemed pixie-like. And then she giggled.
"Oh, they have no idea what they're up against, do they?"
"Who, Amber?"
It took her a moment to answer. Not because, I think, she didn't know what to say. But because Amber Shaw had her delivery down pat. This woman was more than meets the eye.
"Whoever you're running from, Charlie."
I wanted to ask, but I didn't. Just like I didn't press her when we left the building together in search of this café she swore was the best.
She hadn't denied Nick had assigned her to me.
She hadn't confirmed it either, but that would have been a lie.
Nick Anscombe knew exactly who to use in his arsenal and when. The more I knew them, the more I respected them.
And eliminating a target you respected was perhaps the hardest assignment a specialist could acquire.
I wasn't just in unchartered territory, anymore. I was so far gone, I was in danger of getting lost. Black didn't even cover it. There was no colour for where I was heading. No light to reflect on more than shadows and the ghosts of my past.
With a burgeoning sense of dread I slipped into Amber's SUV; standard ASI issue, of course. And let my current target pretend she was my friend.
I
'd never felt
this kind of anger before. Never. I wasn't sure this level of rage was healthy. My fist connected with the tile of the shower wall. Grout and chips of porcelain rained down, making the water swirling toward the drain go murky. Red tinged the edges as my blood dripped into the mess, as well.
I couldn't even put into words why I was so mad. This was insanity. I'd known her less than two days. And I was feeling... What? Betrayed? Let down? Fucking disappointed?
What the hell was wrong with me?
Why did it have to be her?
I shook my head and tilted my face up to the shower nozzle, letting the pelting spray smart against my cheeks and lips.
There was no denying the woman could fight with the best of them. And there was no denying now that she was more than just an ex-Naval Lieutenant. I think that was the hardest to take. Because if she wasn't a Naval Officer, then what the hell was she?
Why here? What did she want at ASI?
Whoever she was and whoever she worked for obviously thought they could fool us. They didn't know Nick Anscombe or his team at all.
And now I had to pretend all was honky-dory. That I didn't suspect her of some sort of competitor espionage. That I trusted her and wanted her at my back.
And mix into all of that perfectly appropriate professional reaction the entirely non-professional one and you've got a fucked up mess.
Fucking A.
But she could fight. Smooth, like a sleek jungle cat. Faster than anyone else at ASI, even Jason. And nasty to boot. Nothing better than a woman who knows how to wear leathers, ride a bike, and fight like a man.
Arghh! Even as fucking messed up as I was feeling right now, I was getting a fucking hard-on.
I turned the shower to cold.
It didn't work, so I hurried up and got done. Scrubbing hard with the soap in the hopes it would scrub some decidedly unprofessional images from my mind.
I was so screwed.
How could you want someone and not really know them, trust them? How could one day change so much?
"I'm scared, all right. Shit scared."
Had she been playing me, like she was playing ASI?
I shook my head and turned the shower off. Grabbing a towel, I stepped out of the stall and came face to face with Ben.
"Motherfucker!" I growled, just stopping myself from jumping backwards like a damn girl. "Like what you see, fucktard?"
He smiled. It was all teeth and white eyeballs. Creepy. All he needed was a moko on that dial and he'd be set.
"Good fight," he commented, taking a seat on one of the benches down the middle of the room. "She held her own."
I nodded.
"She also held back."
"What?" I demanded, halting my drying efforts and just staring at the dude.
"I watched it with Amber. We slowed it down on the playback. Charlie pulled her punches. Placed herself in positions that allowed you to land a blow, but wouldn't allow you to injure her too much."
"You sure?"
"Damn positive. She's elite trained, not just to land the hits, but to take 'em."
I sat down on the opposite end of the bench. Ben didn't say anything else. Just let that little factoid sink in.
Who the hell was Charlie?
The door swung open and we both looked up to see Nick step in. He didn't talk until it shut again at his back. His eyes scanned both our faces and then flicked into the shower stall I'd just vacated. A scowl briefly swept over his features.
"You saw the vid?" Ben asked, leaning back against a locker as though we were having a relaxing conversation at The Claddagh.
"I did," Nick replied steadily. "You tell him?” He nodded towards me.
"Yep."
Nick sighed. I threw the towel I'd had slung around my neck down on the bench and stood to get dressed. Fuck them. If they wanted this conversation in the bathroom where I was fucking half naked, they could have at it.
I was angry enough right now to take them both on, I was sure.
"She's just stepping in with Amber now," Nick said. "Amber's going to suggest they go get a coffee at Sweet Seduction."
Nick scheming was when he was always at his best.
"I want you and Ben to shadow her afterwards," he added. "She'll pick up one of you, but not likely two, if you do it right."
Fuck me.
"This woman is here for a reason," he went on. "I want to know what that reason is. Who sent her. Why us. Why now."
Charlie wouldn't know what had hit her. And somehow this was making me even madder.
"She's clearly got a thing for you, Savill," Nick was saying, but the room was becoming hazy and a buzzing had started up in my ears. "We can use that, but not if you can't control it."
Silence as he waited for me to say what he wanted to hear.
"Are we sure she's the enemy?" was all I could manage. Not exactly reassuring my boss with those words.
Nick turned to Ben. "I'll get Abi to go with you instead."
"No, I can do it," I said, a little too quickly.
"You'll be on tonight. Maybe you're better suited to your normal element of hunting, than shadowing anyway."
"I can do it, Nick."
He looked at me. Ice blue staring me down.
"No," he said with a shake of his head after some deliberation. "Ben and Abi will take the shadow. You need to cool down."
He looked back at the shower stall purposefully and then walked the fuck out of the room without another word.
Fuck.
I looked to Ben. He raised an eyebrow and stood to leave.
"That's it?" I snapped. "I'm grounded?"
Ben stopped at the door, not opening it; more like he was guarding it. And turned to face me.
"I never heard nothin' 'bout you bein' grounded, e hoa." And then he pushed through the door to leave.
It took the door snapping shut to make me comprehend what he had actually said.
I wasn't on the shadow job, but I also hadn't been told to stay put. Pulling on my pants and a t-shirt, I grabbed my jacket and keys and headed to the garage.
Wherever possible I try not to go against Nick. Amber would have Charlie at Sweet Seduction for some time. Ben and Abi would keep her busy for a while longer. At best, I had two hours. At worst, sixty minutes.
I'd make sure I was nowhere near her during that time.
But I'd sure as hell hunt her arse while I was at it.
I peeled out of the garage and followed the GPS to her home address. The one she'd given ASI upon signing her employment contract. What a laugh that was turning out to be. Some contract. Both parties weren't exactly being honest with each other, were they?
Fucking secrets.
Her converted warehouse apartment was in Sandringham, in an up and coming area that hadn't quite got it right. Half the houses were refurbished in the street. The other half were almost abandoned. Until you saw the shadows behind the grimy windows and the tennis shoes hung over the telephone wires overhead.
Junkieville. Nice.
Which made the CCTV cameras - expertly hidden but not from my eyes - appropriate. And also a problem for breaking and entering her house.
I watched from a corner, my bike parked up on a street one block back, and waited for something to happen. How many times had I hidden like this while hunting a suspect down? How many times had I caught them?
Mitchell Wallis’ replacement was the only one to have evaded me of late. I wouldn't let Charlie be added to those numbers.
The street had an ebb and flow to it that matched any other suburban road in Auckland. Kids playing in front gardens. Home mechanics tinkering on broken down pieces of shit in driveways. Solo mothers hanging out screeds of washing on the clothes lines out the back.
No one watching the warehouse across the street with its rolled down garage door and shuttered windows.
I approached from the back of the property; too many cameras angled at the front door. Not that I hadn't expected any around behind. But on the roof?
Even Charlie wasn't ready for that.
I try not to actually break anything when I enter a property illegally. The skill is in getting out again undetected after the fact. Leaving glass fragments all over a windowsill is kind of a dead giveaway. But Charlie's place was locked up tight.
I'd scanned the alarm box on the external wall; it was sophisticated. So I knew leaving without a trace was not on the cards.
Just a look. That's all I wanted. Just a glimpse to see if there was something here that told me who the fuck she was. I needed to know. I fucking had to know. Or I was worried I really would go fucking mad.
I checked the roof area for signs of electronic surveillance. Trip wires were perhaps taking it too far, but I was beginning to suspect maybe not. Nothing obvious, but there was evidence of purposeful tampering along the edge of the area.
Pressure sensors? Fuck me. This place was set up like Fort Knox.
I crouched in the middle of the roof and listened to suburbia do its thing. No sounds came from beneath my rubber soled feet. I looked down at the tar that covered the concrete. X-ray vision might have been nice 'round about now.
Letting a frustrated breath out, I considered my options. Time was ticking. Although wired for intruder alarms, the roof wasn't covered by cameras. If I set something off, she wouldn't necessarily know it was me doing it.
Decision made, I moved carefully over to the edge of the building, knowing a window into her apartment was directly below where I'd end up.
Ridiculously holding my breath, I placed weight on the disturbed edge of the rooftop, but no alarm sounded out. And I didn't lose my leg.
All good.
I inched forward, well and truly on what I assumed were sensor pads, and then leaned out over the side of the building.
For a second I considered what I was about to do. This was a breach of privacy that lacked all finesse. There'd be no trust at all, possibly ever, if she knew I was doing this.
But there was no trust now, anyway.
I lowered myself over the edge and studied the window.
The shutters were electronically controlled.
I broke them.
They parted and revealed a near empty room. One mattress lay on the floor in a corner. A pile of clothes sat folded neatly next to it. A lamp would be her only illumination at night. No paintings on the wall. No personal knick-knacks to show this was someone's bedroom.
Just half a bed and a week's worth of clothes.
The window opened with a flick of my knife. If you made it this far, there was no stopping you anyway. The shutters and rooftop sensors, various CCTV cameras, and sophisticated alarm system should have done the job well before you found yourself here.
I slipped inside silently and waited for the ringing to start.
Nothing. Not a fucking thing. Maybe her alarm was silent. Sending a message to her cellphone now. But the volume of an alarm system's siren is not just to wake the neighbourhood up. It's to scare the fuck out of the intruder.
Somehow this eerie silence made me more uneasy than a blaring alarm would have done.
OK.
I took a step toward the lounge and heard a small sound. A shuffle, a barely there scrape. As if someone had risen from a seat, as quietly as they could. But not quite as quietly as they should have.
I wasn't alone. And if Charlie was with Amber at Sweet Seduction, who was in here?
I pulled my gun, checked the safety, and sidled up to the edge of the door. Crouching down, I breathed through my nose calmly, and then edged my face around the frame.
An open plan room stood on the other side. Sofa, big screen, wall mounted TV. Empty dining area and what looked like a standard kitchen. No paintings. No knick-knacks. This time not even a fucking lamp to set the mood.
But crouching at the window was a man. Light brown hair, chiselled features, a smattering of stubble across a hard jaw. Fit, big enough over the shoulders to indicate an impressive strength, with weaponless hands that had seen the business end of a fight a time or two. His eyes had that look about them that said they'd glanced into the depths of hell and survived. And then he smiled. Calculated. Patient. A little fucking chilling, in all truth.
And dropped out of the window without a second thought.
I was across the room in no more than three seconds. But he'd gone from the street by the time I looked.
I turned back around to face the room, gun still drawn, safety still off. A laptop sat on the floor in front of the sofa. It was switched on.
I checked the surroundings again, looking for the trap. A light flashed ominously over the kitchen window. The alarm was blaring - albeit silently - to whoever was at the other end.
Had it only begun when I stood on that sensor pad? Or had it been buzzing with awareness whenever that man broke in before me?
Had he broken in at all?
My eyes finally landed on the computer, when I'd ascertained no hidden bogeymen were left in the room. Just me and the blinking light, and a message on the centre of a laptop screen.
Tell her I'm coming. Tell her it’s time to face the truth. Veritas Lux Mea. There's nowhere to hide.
I stared at the words for a moment longer, and then took a closer look at the laptop. I didn't touch it. I didn't touch anything. I had the strange sensation that it could all go boom!
Government issue, I was certain. But just to be sure, I took a series of photographs on my cellphone. Then snapped a few of the message and the room.