Looking back, it was inevitable that we would end up having sex, even though I was sure it was the last thing I’d wanted to happen. Especially on a plane when the pilot could have interrupted us at any time. That just wasn’t me at all. My friends would never believe me in a million years if I told them I’d joined the mile-high club with a handsome CIA agent on a private jet. It sounded like something out of a novel; not something that happened in real life.
That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the sex. In fact, it was the best sex I’d ever had. Not that that was saying much. I’d only slept with two other guys; my high school boyfriend, who was as nervous as I was to lose our virginity, and a friend who I thought I was in love with, but who turned out to be in love with his ex, still—and who was terrible in bed, anyway.
Jason was so different; confident, commanding, even a little rough. And, to my surprise, I found I’d liked it. If I was honest, this was the first time I’d ever had an orgasm, and I finally understood what all the fuss was about!
Unfortunately, real life kicked in pretty soon afterwards, as I realized the significance of what we had just done. Aside from agency rules about fraternization, this was going to make working together so difficult, just at the time when we needed to be more focused than ever. One of us needed to be the sensible, grown-up one here, and I decided it might as well be me.
“That was amazing, Jason. Thank you. But, well, I don’t know if it’s the best thing to do when we’re working together?”
He looked so crestfallen. I felt terrible, and almost took back my words. But I knew I was doing the right thing. We had a tiny window in which to prepare for Al-Farook’s next attack. After that, we'd have all the time in the world.
As we started our descent to the Antwerp airfield, I sat gazing out of the window, watching the lights below come closer and closer. I could still feel him inside me; what it had felt like when that wave of pleasure had swept over my whole body. I wanted—needed—to feel it again, but we had work to do first.
Chapter 10
Jason
We disembarked the plane together, but Christine could have been a million miles away. There was a definite divide between us and nothing could break through. She was suddenly all business; not even my terrible attempts at humor could crack her professional veneer and force a smile.
I decided to take my lead from her. After all, we were here with a job to do; and not just any job, but one that could save the lives of dozens of people and take a dangerous criminal off the streets. I tried to keep my mind focused, but it was difficult when I could still smell Christine on my skin—and more than once I found myself staring at her as we made our way through the cursory security check and into the waiting car.
“Are you OK?” I asked, once we were alone in the car.
“Of course,” she answered curtly.
“If I’ve done something to upset you…” I began, waiting for her to interrupt with her protestations—but she said nothing. She just stared at the floor, her face flushed with embarrassment.
I began to realize what I might be dealing with. This wasn’t about us; it was about her. I should have realized when she was so shy and awkward during our love making; she wasn’t as experienced as I had imagined or expected her to be. I’d forgotten that some pretty girls don’t realize just how pretty they are. To some men, like me, that’s a turn-on. Others see them as frigid and steer clear. I looked over at Christine. Boy, the men in the UK didn’t know what they were missing.
I smiled to myself as I looked out the window. I guess I should be flattered that someone like Christine had let herself go with me—for me, in a sense. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I knew that I should treat it as a gift; and that like any gift, it was rude to keep pressing for another one.
Part of me wanted to sweep her into my arms right away and tell her not to doubt herself ever again, but another, more practical part of me, knew I needed to give her the time she needed to process everything—and then, of course, I also needed to make sure that her sharp-as-a-tack mind was focused on Al-Farook. She’d made more breakthroughs in the case in twelve hours than I had in six months. It would be selfish of me to distract her with persistent flirtation when I—when everyone—needed her mind on the job.
We were coming into the center of Antwerp now; it was a small city, known mainly for its flourishing diamond trade, and was home to several stores and even a few high—level brokerages. If I’d been thinking straight, it was absolutely the most logical place for an Al-Farook attack.
I cleared my throat.
“I guess my grandad must have fought around here during the Second World War,” I said. Christine looked up at me, surprised.
“Your grandad fought for the Allies in World War Two?”
“Well, it’s not as if he fought for the Nazis!” Finally, I coaxed a smile out of her. “How about your family?”
Christine shook her head. “My grandad was too young for the war, but he did National Service in Germany about the time the Berlin Wall was going up.”
“Tough times,” I went on. “I remember my mom telling me stories about the 1960s. She always said the fear of nuclear war was so real back then. It wasn’t a question of if, but when.”
Christine said nothing. “My mom died a few years ago, from cancer,” I went on, not even sure why I was telling her this.
“Mine, too. Well, she died last year, actually.” Christine was giving me her full attention now. “She made it to see me become an MI5 agent. Proudest day of her life, she said.”
“I bet. My mom brought me up by herself—I’m sure she’s the reason I’m such a stubborn son of a bitch.”
Christine laughed, before turning serious. “You didn’t know your dad at all?”
I shrugged. “He was around. I saw him at Christmas, and the odd other times during the year. He married again—a younger woman.” In the glare of a passing street lamp, I saw Christine roll her eyes. “How about you? Did you have a good relationship with your dad?”
“Never knew him,” Christine replied. “My mom’s life was kind of complicated around the time I was born. She, well, she wasn’t really sure who my dad was.”
I watched Christine intently. I really had been given such a rare gift. Not only had this beautiful and fragile girl given herself to me, but now she was opening up emotionally, too. This was as clear a demonstration of trust as I had ever seen, and I had a responsibility not to destroy that trust.
We rode in silence for a few minutes, but, just as we pulled up at our destination, Christine flashed me one of her amazing smiles.
We were going to be OK.
The car had taken us straight to the diamond district, even though none of the shops were open yet. The sun was just beginning to rise, and street lamps were flickering off one by one. Our local contact, a police officer named Henri, was giving us a guided tour of the streets and business in the diamond district, so we could get an idea of the lay of the land. He was worryingly handsome in his uniform, and he and Christine spoke in French a lot of the time, smiling occasionally at jokes I was sure were at my expense.
As we approached the final shop in a row of three, my phone began to ring. It was Warick.
“Hi, Adam,” I said as I answered. “Got anything for me on those photos?”
“Even better, Jason,” said Warick. “I’m here in Antwerp to lend you my expertise in person.”
I was stunned into silence for a few moments, but recovered quickly to ask the key question: “How on earth did you get here so quickly from the States?”
“States, dear boy? No, I was in Paris. On business. I’m sure I told you that?”
I racked my brain. I’m sure I would’ve remembered if Warick had told me he was in Europe, too. Perhaps with everything that had happened in the last few days it had slipped my mind, but that didn’t feel like me.
“Well,” I responded hesitantly. “That’s great, but I’m not sure what you can do. I mean, I can’t have a civili
an involved in a live operation!”
“Good God, no,” Warick said in disgust. “I don’t want anything to do with the rough stuff. Leave that to all you young chaps, anyway. No, I mean I can introduce you to some of the local diamond merchants. Help you gain their trust. We’re a closed-off little group, Jason. Don’t like outsiders!”
I relaxed a little. “That would be very useful, actually. Shall we meet for breakfast later at your hotel?”
“It’s a date,” Warick replied with a giggle. “I’ll send you the details.”
I turned to Christine and cleared my throat. For some reason, I was nervous about telling her that Warick was here. I sensed that she didn’t trust him, and to be honest, he hadn’t really given her any reason to.
“Was that Warick?” she asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
I nodded. “He’s in Antwerp.”
Christine said nothing, but turned and walked away to where Henri was directing his officers to their surveillance positions. Was I losing that precious trust already?
Chapter 11
Christine
Warick was in Antwerp? Was this Jason’s doing? He had looked surprised on the phone, presumably when his contact had told him where he was, but I couldn’t be sure that it hadn’t all been an act for my benefit. This Warick was inserting himself into this investigation—my investigation—and I knew very little about him.
Except that Jason trusted him. But, did I trust Jason? In some ways, implicitly. I had never told any of my colleagues about my mum’s lifestyle, yet it had felt like the most natural thing in the world to speak to Jason about my unusual upbringing. And there had been our time together on the plane. The flight had lasted barely an hour, yet it had felt like such a significant moment in my life. If Jason wasn't as trustworthy as I thought he was, did that mean that I had let my guard down to the wrong person?
Yet, when it came to Warick, there were just too many warning signs to ignore. And Jason, while he was clearly an excellent agent, just didn’t seem to see them. There are none so blind as those who cannot see, and, when it came to Warick, Agent Kern had a giant blind spot.
“I thought you said Warick was based in the States?” I tried to sound casual, not confrontational, but that was difficult, given how angry I was feeling.
“I thought he was,” Jason answered. “But apparently he’s in Paris on business. He says he told me, but either he forgot to mention it or I forgot that he did!” Jason was also trying to sound casual about the whole thing, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he was hiding something, or if he was just embarrassed that his contact had shown him up in front of a colleague.
“Anyway,” Jason continued. “He says he can help us. Introduce us to diamond merchants who might not be happy to deal with the cops.”
I furrowed my brow. We had a credible threat against a diamond store in Antwerp; why on earth would any of the owners not want to cooperate with us? It sounded to me like Warick was trying to inflate his own importance—either that, or he had an unhealthy interest in knowing the details of our operation here.
“So, what’s your plan?” I asked, trying to sound equally casual. I was going to make sure I met this Warick, and if Jason tried to stop me, then I had to start questioning his own motives. Money did strange things to people—even people who should be above reproach, like a CIA agent. I didn't for a moment think that Jason or even Warick were involved in what was going on—although that would explain why he had missed that Al-Farook was wearing a fake beard—but something just didn't sit right with me.
“I’m going to meet him for breakfast at his hotel,” he said. “He says he wants to discuss the photos I sent him of the burned diamonds, as well.”
“I?” I queried. “Don’t you mean we? We are investigating this case together, remember, Kern?”
Jason looked startled and a little hurt at my use of his surname, but I wanted to show him I was not going to be pushed around on this one. I had been tasked with watching over him while he was on European soil, including reporting his movements and conversations to Billman. There was no way he was freezing me out of this one without a fight.
“I don’t think it would be a good idea, Christine,” he replied, emphasizing my name. “Warick doesn’t know you and it’s taken me months to build up this relationship. Besides,” he went on with something approaching a guilty smile, “it’s hard enough to keep him on track at the best of times. If I turn up with a pretty agent in tow, I’ll never get him to concentrate on the matter in hand!”
I looked at him with astonishment. “Are you seriously telling me you’re not taking me to conduct an interview because I’m a woman?” I shouted the last word so loudly that even Henri and his officers looked over. We were making a scene. I hated myself for being so unprofessional, for letting the situation get so far out of hand.
“You know what,” I said suddenly, “go and meet your contact. I have important work to do and he sounds like he’s nothing but a…a… blowhard, anyway!”
I was so angry with myself for losing my temper, but I was also determined that Jason was not going to meet Warick without me. If he wouldn’t take me along willingly, then I’d just have to find a way to sneak along without his knowledge.
I spoke to my new friend, Henri, about my plans, who turned out to be more than happy to help. I’m not sure what he thought I was up to, especially when I told him to keep it quiet from my partner. I think he thought Jason was having an affair and that I wanted the sound amplifying equipment he had promised to provide to catch him in the act. At least that was what his sympathetic face and paternal pat on the shoulder told me. That suited me fine; at least he didn’t suspect that the real reason I needed top-of-the-line listening equipment was to spy on my partner.
After we had finished up with our initial sweep of the diamond district, Jason announced that he was going to Warick’s hotel for the breakfast meeting. He watched me carefully as he said it, obviously worried that I was going to fly off the handle again or make a scene, but I simply said that I would go back to the base with Henri, who caught my eye and winked conspiratorially.
Jason didn’t ask Henri for a car, or hail a taxi, so I knew the hotel couldn’t be far. I used all the tricks I learned in my basic training to tail him, using parallel back alleys and shop doorways where needed. Eventually, by a process of elimination and assuming that a bigshot like Warick would stay in only the best hotel in town, I figured out where he was likely to be going and headed straight for a park across the street, where I could sit quietly, unnoticed, and listen to their conversation.
I was in luck. Even though it was a cool morning, Jason and the man I assumed to be Warick took a seat outside. I say ‘assumed to be Warick’ because the man Jason was meeting was nothing like I’d expected; I had pictured an older man, fat and jowly from too many dinners at his favorite club. This Warick was younger, slim, and actually quite attractive, in that floppy-haired, upper class sort of way. He and Jason shook hands amiably and took their seats, obviously very comfortable in each other’s company; Warick called the waiter over and spoke to him, presumably ordering breakfast. I wasn’t sure, as I hadn’t quite gotten my sound amplifier up and running yet.
Desperately pushing buttons and sliding switches, I kept one eye on the two men across the road as they started talking. Damn, I could be missing vital intelligence! Finally, I heard a crackle as the system sparked to life, and I turned up the volume to maximum to make sure I didn’t miss a thing.
“…did you get rid of her?” Warick was saying. This was not a good start for Jason, who responded with a laugh.
“I told her you’d be too distracted by her beauty.”
Now it was Warick who laughed. “You besmirch my character, young man!” he replied, pausing as the waiter brought out their coffees.
“On to business,” Warick continued. “How on earth did they find out about Antwerp?”
Jason was quiet for a moment. “My partner—Christine—she s
potted that Al-Farook was delivering messages in Morse code by blinking.”
“Was he, by God!” Warick responded. “He’s a clever devil, isn’t he?”
The two men were quiet for a moment as they sipped their coffee.
“So, what now?” Jason asked. This was a different Jason to the one I knew; this Jason was deferential, almost unsure of himself. Either Warick was his boss, or Jason was scared of him. Either situation put the investigation at risk—especially if Warick really did know more than he was letting on.
“We’ve cased the area for suitable surveillance spots, but we’re going to need access to the shops,” Jason told him. I felt anger building up inside me. What did he think he was doing, telling a civilian the details of a secret and very live operation? Even if Warick was clean as a whistle, he shouldn’t be in possession of that kind of information!
“Understood,” Warick replied. “You know............ need to do.” Damn—I had lost the signal for a few seconds just as a truck passed by. What had he said? Did Warick need to do something, or had he been giving instructions to Jason? And what kind of instructions could a diamond merchant be giving a CIA agent? Yet again, I had far more questions than answers—but these new questions put Agent Jason Kern in a very difficult spot indeed.
Whatever had been said as the truck blundered past, it signaled the end of their meeting. They said their goodbyes, and Jason headed off in the direction of our much more modest hotel a few streets away. I packed away Henri’s equipment, keeping half an eye on Warick ,who simply sat in the morning sunshine calmly drinking his coffee. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, and I needed to know if that was true.
Time to speak to Jason.
When I got back to our hotel, Jason was sitting on one of the armchairs in the small reception area, apparently checking his phone. I had hoped he would be tucked away safely in his room, so I could sneak the listening equipment upstairs without him ever knowing I had been using it, but even after our little discussion that morning, I could hardly walk past without even saying hello.
Toxic Seduction (Romantic Secret Agents Series Book 3) Page 6
