by Fiona Quinn
“—to know intuitively what the other will do. Now imagine someone with those same capabilities, which didn’t need the gazillion hours of training time to do the same thing, and you’ll have Kira.”
Ty kept his eye on the road. He had to do his share of soul searching throughout his career with the military. It was important to his ethos—his code—that he be personally squared away with the ethics of his actions.
This felt like it was treading a very thin line. There were ramifications to playing with someone’s heart, especially in bad faith. He’d never done it. He was always straightforward with the women in his life. But then again, they had been part of his personal life, and this was a job.
Did that distinction make a difference?
“What about sex?”
“You went right there, didn’t you?” White chuckled.
“I’d say it’s a fair question. A moral question.”
“Don’t get wrapped up in the ins and outs of this—and that would be an example of a poorly worded response. He he he.”
Ty glanced at her and saw a faint blush on her cheeks.
“If Kira wants a roll in the sack and you want to, then go for it. If she wants to and you don’t want to, figure out a way to use that desire to your advantage without things becoming physically intimate. You’re not ordered to sleep with the woman.” White focused on him. “But do you find her attractive?”
“I think she’d be seen universally as a naturally beautiful woman. She looks like she’s very nice.”
“Nice?”
“What do you want me to say, White? Yes, she appeals to me. Yes, from the photo, she’s my type. Happy?”
“Very. Thank you. But I’ve placed you in a scenario that you’ve never been in and aren’t trained for. You’re having moral questions about getting a woman to fall in love with you to expedite a mission. What if we threw into that thought pile the idea that her falling for you and leaning on you could save hundreds if not thousands of people from horrific ends when we capture Omar Mohamed Imadi?”
“Yeah,” he said noncommittally. A little bit depended on why this woman Kira had anything to do with Omar. White certainly didn’t paint Kira as having terrorist sympathies. But White could well be manipulating him by sharing what she wanted to share and hiding the rest.
“All right, how about we start?” he asked as they rolled to a stop at the light.
“I’ve been developing Kira for just over a year now. This meeting and Omar as a player are a new twist. A happy and unexpected boon from other work I was doing. Back in their university days, London and Kira were roommates. They continue to have a close friendship. That’s D-Day’s stepmother, London Davidson, I’m talking about. This summer, Kira is doing some work for London. My befriending Kira was originally meant for me to get a better standing in the Davidson social circle. It’s borderline for me because the Davidsons, as we discussed, know my real name. So all I can do is gather intel and direct others to follow up on it. This all happened on foreign soil—and I say that because you mentioned Posse Comitatus. I don’t want you to think we stepped on Kira’s constitutional rights. Recent conversations directed us to a specific event at Davidson Range.”
“Kira’s planning to be there?”
“London wants her to fly to Tanzania with food and flowers, welcome the guests, and leave the next morning with London to move on to their next social event.”
“Getting ready for D-Day’s wedding.”
“Yep. Busy. Busy. Busy. I need you on that plane to the Range. And for you to use your time there gathering what you need to best strike at Omar.”
“Got it. But why does she have to fall in love with me? That’s so—”
“Necessary. You’ll have to trust me on this. It’s the only way—especially with the new circumstances—that this will work.”
“Are you going to share?”
“I’m not sure yet. I need to think on that a bit.” She sat quietly for a moment, then continued. “It’s a last-minute meeting at the Range, and we’re scrambling to take advantage of it. I originally thought I could go in, but my superiors correctly pointed out to me that would be a no-go. While I’m trained to assess a structure and a security team, I would be a woman in a Muslim area of the country and so not able to wander around to all the places that a man could without raising suspicions. Second, I think like a ‘good idea fairy.’”
Ty turned to catch her wink, then pressed the gas down as he moved with the traffic.
“And you think like ‘boots on the ground,’” she continued. “There is no room for missteps. We need someone in there that can plan the mission, communicate that plan to his team, and the team can execute that plan.”
“I won’t be executing it?” Ty’s scowl was fierce. He wanted his hands on Omar.
“To protect Kira, you will leave with her once you have your information. Things you should know about the situation—”
Ty’s scowl hadn’t fallen off. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, trying to disperse his agitation.
“Kira is American born and American educated but has one foot in the West and one in the East. Every one of her living relatives is in Qatar. And you already know she’s from the royal family. To be clear, we do not associate this case with the royal family. We associate this case with corrupt individuals from various countries, including Kira’s uncle, and including her dear friend London’s husband, William Davidson.”
“Okay.”
“America has a good relationship with Qatar. They’re our strategic allies. We have a military base there, which is important to global security. It’s imperative that we don’t upset the royal family. Our diplomatic stance is that we see some Americans who are making pretty big waves.”
“Kira is one of those Americans?”
“She’s a bystander in the vicinity, not a problematic player on the board. It’s her uncle who’s the terrorist sympathizer. There will be millions, possibly billions in his pocket, and foreseen prestige in the Middle East if he pulls this off. What I can tell you is, if he pulls this off, the entire world will turn on Qatar. We must stay on top of this. And that’s the full background that I can share right now.”
Ty spun the wheel, rolling the truck into a parking space out front of the salon where he could keep a close eye on Rory. He’d move Rory to the cab and leave the engine running with the air conditioning on and have White keep an awareness for his safety.
White pointed toward the building. “We’re going to style you the way Kira prefers—grooming and clothing.” She undid her safety belt and swiveled toward Ty. “This is not the kind of assignment where I think you’re in mortal danger. But—” She stopped and pressed her lips together.
“That’s a mighty powerful ‘but,’” Ty said. He’d admit it, his stomach clenched. He’d known White on previous missions. It wasn’t at all like her to grapple with language choice.
She swatted his leg. “Come on. It’s time to get you in there and transform you into Kira’s heart throb.”
Chapter Twelve
Ty
Standing outside the hotel, Ty petted over his face and the back of his neck. He’d grown his hair and his beard for his work overseas. It felt strange to be this groomed, but he preferred it. He wondered what kind of impact this would have on him when he was working a mission overseas. To that end, White had agreed that he didn’t have to be clean-shaven.
The stylist removed the bulk of his beard. He was groomed like some pretty boy in a magazine, with products applied that made his beard soft to the touch. He’d have to grow it back when this was in his rearview mirror.
One mission at a time.
Right now, Rory was sniffing at some bushes, trying to decide which one he’d honor. He was still a little groggy and stumbly. Ty thought some food in Rory’s stomach, a bowl of water, and a little more time, and he’d be okay.
They still had just over an hour before they went to what White kept callin
g the “meet-cute.”
“No idea what that means, ma’am.”
“It’s a literary phrase, it’s the point where the hero of the book—that’s you—and the heroine of the book—that’s Kira—meet. And it’s so cute and memorable.” She clutched her hands under her chin and batted her eyes.
“And this has to do with Rory?”
“It does. Now, I know you have a Harley. Have you ever driven one with a sidecar?”
“You want me to put Kira in a side car? Why wouldn’t she just sit behind me and hold on?”
“Oh,” White said. “That would be wonderful. But for today, I just want Rory to ride along with you.”
Ty looked down at Rory as he lost his balance mid-stream. “I may need to rinse him off first.”
They walked through the lobby to the elevator.
The valet was dealing with the bags and Rory’s crate. Ty was used to sleeping outside with a rock as his pillow. Even Rory was impressed with their new digs. His nose was busy as he walked to the elevator.
White and Ty were silent as they made their way up to the third floor and through his door.
“Nice,” he said. Walking farther into the room, he saw that there was already clothing hanging in the closet. “I’ll keep the lead on Rory until the bellhop’s brought our things up.” He moved over to the window to get the lay of the land—habit.
Out in the parking lot, he saw a cherry red Harley with a black side car. That must be his ride. He’d already spotted the black helmet sitting next to the TV. He let the curtain fall back into place. “That’s for me?”
“What do you think?”
“Looks like a good time in terms of riding around. Looks like a spider web for your fly. Not sure how I feel about all this.”
“It’s your job to protect America. And as such, making the princess fall in love seems the easiest of assignments.”
“Hold up now. Let’s discuss this. I mean, I’ve got no qualms about catching the lady’s eye, getting her to trust Rory and me. I’m not clear on why love needs to be in the picture. That’s a psychological attack on an American.”
“She’s an asset.”
“She’s a lady. An American citizen.”
“Suck it up, buttercup. Your assignment is to get to the Range in Tanzania by hook or by crook. Map it, plot it, prepare it, and get the vulnerables out of the way.”
“Right.”
“Rory already knows how to wear Doggles. I have some for him here in case you didn’t have any in your pack.”
“Yep.”
White had a drawer open and was laying clothes on the king-sized bed. A pair of jeans with a rip on the left knee, a pristine white t-shirt. She looked up and caught his eye.
Ty looked into the opened drawer. “You must not trust my ability to put on clothes.”
“The sticky notes are a step too far?”
“It’s like my mom getting my six-year-old self prepped for overnight camp.”
She pulled out a pair of black socks and a pair of boxer briefs.
“Seriously? You bought me underwear?”
“And washed it a few times too, so it would be soft for you.” She moved to the closet and pulled out a pair of leather biker’s boots.
“She didn’t look to me like the kind of woman who would go for a biker.”
“She wouldn’t. You’re right.” White placed the boots at the end of the bed. “But we are recreating a scene for her.” She stepped back until she could lean her hips into the lowboy. “Are you ready to learn the fundamentals of quick rapport building as it is viewed from the perspective of the CIA?”
“Is anyone ever ready for that? Should I get dressed?”
“Time’s of the essence.”
He gathered his costume and headed toward the bathroom, bringing Rory along with him.
Rory looked like he wasn’t feeling great coming off his plane tranquilizers. If he was going to puke, Ty would prefer it happen on a hard surface. He signaled Rory to jump into the bathtub giving Ty room to get ready.
Ty left the door open a crack, so he could listen to White while he changed.
Rory laid down on the cool surface of the bathtub ceramic and looked much happier.
“I’m listening.” Ty sat on the toilet and unlaced his boots.
“We’re using a bunch of known psychological techniques to help ensure we get you where you need to go. We’re putting behavioral psychology in play with a lot more strategies than usual because we’re on such a tight timeframe.”
“What are we talking about here? I’m uneasy about manipulating a civilian, pulling them into the terrorist’s sphere of influence. That’s not what I do.”
“Me either, but to keep American soldiers safe, wouldn’t you try to befriend an informant?”
“That’s not what you’re talking about here.” He pulled off his combat boot and started untying the other, wiggling his newly pedicured toes. It was weird having a stranger touch his feet. He didn’t like it. “You want me to show up and sweep this woman into my arms.”
“Yes.” White projected her voice so he could hear her. “It’s the best way, and she’s particularly vulnerable to that right now.”
He set his second boot to the side then stood to take off his pants and shorts. “Why? Did she just get thrown over by some turd?”
“Not that I know of. She has an uncle that’s decided to get involved in her life in a way that Kira doesn’t welcome.”
He folded his clothes, put them on the counter, and took a minute to look over his body.
Standing naked in front of a mirror in bright light, now he could see how beat up he was. If he did end up in bed with this woman, these bruises and welts would be hard to explain for a dog handler at the fort. He looked like some guy who was into heavy bondage. And she didn’t seem the type that would be down with that kind of scene. He’d have to finagle some scenario where she couldn’t see him to ask questions about the strap width bruises around his thighs. If she was as intuitive as White had been insisting, she’d know if he was making stuff up, and he couldn’t exactly explain getting blown into a tree in Uganda.
Ty stepped gingerly into the black shorts then turned this way then that. Ty had to admit, they looked pretty good. Well, better than his Army-issued boxers. White knew what she was doing. About this anyway.
“Is everything fitting?”
Ty pulled on the T-shirt. “I’ll be out in a second, and you can see for yourself. So tell me why this uncle is getting involved.”
“He became the traditional male guardian after Kira’s father died. In Qatar, there’s Sharia, and she falls under her uncle’s mantle.”
“She’s an American. And she looked mid-twenties? She’s not subject to that.” After zipping up the jeans, he sat down to put on the socks and biker boots. Should it make him trust White more that she got his clothes size to a T?
When Ty put his foot on the tub to do the closure, Rory reached his nose over and sniffed at the new leather.
“What do you think, buddy? You like how they smell?”
Rory thumped his tail, obviously coming out of his fog.
“Kira’s twenty-eight years old. If she lived in Qatar, she could travel without male permission since she’s over twenty-five. But Sharia law would apply to her while she’s in the country. Life’s complicated. She has choices to make, but all of them have consequences. Right now, she sees two possible roads into the future, and both are dangerous. She needs to pick the one she thinks she can survive.”
Ty swung the door open to find himself face to face with White. “Do you have information to help her find the safest path forward?” Ty had never met the woman, but already he was ready to go to the mat for her.
“Okay, how about this boy-wonder.” She smoothed her hand over his T-shirt and sent a critical eye front and back. “This will do nicely.” She smiled and took a step back. “What if I promise you that I’ll make sure she’s given an intelligence briefing after the mission is
complete?”
His brows came in tight. “Are you in a position to make that pledge?”
“Yes. I believe I am.” She plopped onto the corner of the bed. “Okay, time to brief you on your assignment. Step one. You will come into her sphere of awareness in such a way that she’s intrigued, and you are unaware of her. This allows her to observe you from a comfortable distance.”
“What if she doesn’t like what she sees?”
“Oh, she will. That’s a given. Well, it is when I teach you the scenario. Ready?”
Chapter Thirteen
Kira
Princess Beatrice plopped her tiny bottom on the slate floor of the foyer and looked up at her leash.
Her sharp, insistent bark dragged Kira’s attention from her job of photographing each page of the first novel found hidden in the wedding album. This would allow her to start translations as she worked on the painstaking steps of preserving the delicate parchment. The date on the first page of this incredible treasure was April 10, 1800.
This gift was a treasure.
Beatrice saw Kira turn to her and stopped her summoning, only to start up again, when Kira’s attention went to turning off the light on the platform camera and securing the work for the day.
“I hear you, Bea. I’m coming. I just lost track of time.” She glanced at her phone, and sure enough, it was three o’clock on the dot. “You are better than an alarm clock when it comes to your schedule. Pretty uncanny.” She closed the cover and pulled the protective cloth over it. “Are you sure you can’t read time?”
Beatrice responded by grabbing the tail end of her lead and trying to pull it from its hook.
“I’m coming, Bea. Let me get my shoes on.” After pulling on a pair of ballet flats, Kira stood and headed into the hallway. Stopping at the mirror, she poked at her messy bun, pulled at the oversized shirt she wore over a pair of black capris, and decided it didn’t matter what she looked like.
“So what shall I bring with us to play with today?” She reached into the basket next to her key bowl. “Ball or throw bone?” She held one in each of her hands, wiggling them around until Beatrice jumped for the green ball on her right. “Good choice.” She tossed the throw bone back where it belonged and grabbed her keys and her striped hobo bag.
