Cinderella's Secret Agent

by Ingrid Weaver

  “It’s a good thing Jonah advised against wiring the place,” Bill commented. “Otherwise, they would know we’re here.”

  “I’ve never met Jonah,” the blond man said. “I’ve heard he’s got some kind of disfigurement and that’s why he retired from fieldwork to run the agency.”

  “No,” his companion said. “The way I heard it, Jonah doesn’t really exist, he’s a committee of retired SPEAR agents. Together they’ve got the best brains in the country.”

  “Someone else told me Jonah’s really a woman,” the blond man said.

  Bill took his pipe out of his shirt pocket and tapped the bowl thoughtfully. “Actually, he’s a clone of the last three directors,” he deadpanned. “That’s why everyone had to give a tissue sample when they were recruited, in case it’s needed later. Top-secret, experimental stuff, of course, from the lab in area fifty-one.”

  The young agents turned to look at him.

  Del struggled to swallow his laughter. To most operatives in SPEAR, Jonah was a voice on a briefing tape or the authority behind an intelligence report. Few people spoke directly to the reclusive head of the organization, and none had met him face-to-face. Del and Bill had been around long enough to know that Jonah was an ordinary man, albeit a man dedicated to the success of the agency he had headed for the past decade, but because Jonah’s past was a mystery, speculating about his identity had become something of a tradition among the junior agents.

  Bill lifted an eyebrow as he looked at Del. “Come to think of it, the technology behind the cloning was purchased right here in New York.”

  “Oh?”

  “From a gentleman who also sold the Brooklyn Bridge.”

  The blond agent muttered an oath under his breath and pressed the headset more firmly against his ears.

  Clearing her throat, the woman turned to the telescope. “The subject is progressing to the rear wall now,” she said briskly.

  Del exchanged a grin with Bill, then turned his mind to business. “Since they’re doing a sweep, that might mean they’re expecting Simon soon,” he said.

  “Possibly,” Bill agreed. “If we’re lucky.”

  Del raised the binoculars once more and turned his attention to the street. First he looked for anyone loitering nearby. When no one caught his eye, he watched the traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian, for any pattern of repetition. “I don’t think anything major is going to happen soon,” he said. “There’s no backup in sight. Our tattooed visitor over there appears to be on his own.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Maybe not,” Del said. “Since he’s alone, it would be easy to follow him when he leaves.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Del was walking along the sidewalk, a newspaper tucked beneath his arm and his head down. He strode quickly, endeavoring to appear as if he knew exactly where he was going so that he wouldn’t attract any attention to himself if his quarry decided to look back. The man did pause once outside a subway entrance, but Del strode right past him and down the stairs without glancing sideways. The maneuver paid off. When the man came down the stairs a few minutes later, Del had no trouble following him onto a train.

  Over the next three hours, Del trailed the man to a triple-X-rated movie house near the Port Authority bus terminal, a pool hall in the Bronx and finally a run-down apartment building across from a gas station.

  In all likelihood, this man was just a small fish in Simon’s organization, but the tighter SPEAR drew its net, the fewer places Simon would be able to hide. Del used his cell phone to relay the information he had gathered, then remained nearby until he saw a SPEAR surveillance van move in. The man in the passenger seat flicked a cigarette lighter, a signal to Del that he was no longer needed. His job done for now, Del turned and headed for his hotel.

  There was no message waiting from Maggie when he reached his room. He hadn’t expected any, and he understood why. She was still cautious about their friendship, and he couldn’t blame her, after the betrayal she had suffered from Delilah’s father. Nevertheless, over the past two weeks, Del sensed she was starting to trust him.

  How would she feel if she learned how often he had lied to her?

  A familiar twinge of guilt tweaked his conscience, but Del forced it aside. He wasn’t doing Maggie any harm. He was giving her a hand with the child he had helped bring into the world, and in the process, he was enjoying himself. Why should he feel guilty about that?

  He rolled his head, feeling the bones in the back of his neck grind from the tension in his muscles. He kicked off his shoes, then stripped down to his boxers and dropped to the floor. He’d told Maggie that exercise helped him work off tension. Lately it had become a nightly habit. He went through his routine by rote, counting off the sets of push-ups. He rolled to his back on the carpet and propped his feet on the edge of the mattress to prepare for his sit-ups when his gaze was caught by the two photographs he had propped on the nightstand.

  One was of Maggie cradling Delilah in her arms. He’d taken it the day after he’d brought them home from the hospital. There were faint circles of exhaustion beneath Maggie’s eyes, but her face was filled with such naked love for her child, she looked dazzling.

  If ever a woman was born to be a mother, it was Maggie. She hadn’t breathed a word of complaint for the sleepless nights she’d been having or for the constant demands of a newborn. Del had done everything he could to help her, short of hiring a housekeeper…or moving in himself. And God help him, the latter option was looking more appealing every day.

  Each time he left Maggie’s, he noticed the sterile silence of this hotel room more and more. It had never bothered him before. He liked to have his surroundings orderly and un-cluttered. Now he was beginning to prefer the cramped chaos of the little apartment in Astoria.

  But Maggie was born to be a mother. And Del could never be a father.

  He clasped his hands behind his head and curled upward, concentrating on contracting his abdominals. He gradually increased his pace until he could feel sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip. Yet still his gaze returned to the pictures on his nightstand. The second photo was one that Maggie hadn’t seen. It was one of the three she had taken, and like all the rest, it had turned out perfectly.

  It had been right after she had taught him how to change Delilah’s diaper and then had trusted him to do it on his own for the first time. He had just managed to put a fresh sleeper on the baby and had picked her up to hold her against his shoulder the way Maggie had shown him when she had snapped the picture.

  Del almost hadn’t recognized himself when he’d first seen that photograph. He looked nothing like the man who hunted terrorists as a SPEAR agent. He looked younger. Happier. More relaxed.

  That’s what Maggie and Delilah were giving him. And what had he given them in return? Friendship, a few baby items…and continuing deceit.

  But he’d had no choice. It had been necessary to lie about those pictures she had taken. Like the agents in most clandestine government agencies, he didn’t allow himself to be photographed. He couldn’t afford a record of his face to get around.

  And he couldn’t have given her the number of his cell phone. It might look ordinary, but it was specially modified to route calls through a scrambling system that guaranteed security. Only top SPEAR agents with high enough clearance were issued one. Del had been skirting the line when he’d borrowed one of the agency’s cameras to take baby pictures. He couldn’t risk compromising himself and everyone else by divulging his contact number.

  He didn’t like lying to Maggie. That’s why he changed the subject whenever she asked about his job. Yet that left him feeling even worse. She was so honest about everything, so down to earth and good-natured, he knew she deserved better.

  What kind of man had Delilah’s father been? What kind of selfish idiot could have taken Maggie’s love and then turned his back on his child?

  Judging by the wholehearted way she devoted herself to her daughter, Del would bet that Maggie woul
d have been a passionate lover. She would be earthy, sensual and uninhibited. Del could easily imagine how her eyes would sparkle and her laugh would turn low and sensuous in bed. The pregnancy had left her body with extra weight on her breasts and hips in a way that accentuated her femininity. She wasn’t any svelte model-thin waif. No, she was all woman. Beautiful. Ripe. Desirable.

  Desirable?

  Damn, he shouldn’t have touched her today. She had been so tense, he’d only meant to help her relax. Once he’d started that massage, though, he hadn’t wanted to stop.

  Two weeks ago he had told Bill that thinking about Maggie in a sexual way would be wrong. Del had too much respect for her to take advantage of the intimacy of their situation. He only wanted to be her friend.

  And he didn’t need to kill another bottle of whiskey to remind himself of all the reasons friendship was all he could offer.

  Clenching his jaw, Del rolled to his feet and headed for the shower. “Her friend,” he repeated, stepping under the spray. For a man who had a reputation for nerves of steel in life-and-death situations, exercising self-control around Maggie should be simple.

  But just to make sure his body got the message, he adjusted the water temperature to its coldest setting.

  Chapter 5

  “You’re toast, mister.”

  The instant the narrow-bored cylinder pressed into his back, Del’s body stiffened. The gun had the diameter of a nine millimeter, thick enough around the rim to have been fitted with a silencer or a muzzle flash suppressor. Del had checked the hall automatically before he had stepped off the elevator and it had been clear, so his assailant must have been concealed behind the stairwell door. They were less than a step away from it now, and Del hadn’t heard the door close. That meant if he dived to his right and kicked left he would knock the gunman down the stairs.

  All this flashed through Del’s head in less time than it took for the surge of adrenaline to hit his muscles. He was a heartbeat away from exploding into action.

  Fortunately, before Del’s body could follow through, his brain absorbed the wording of the threat…and the lisp in the speaker’s high-pitched voice. He turned around.

  A red-haired boy with freckles and a striped shirt was standing in the hallway. He brandished a bright orange plastic toy that looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Jumping backward, he made a high-pitched whirring sound, following it with a whooping siren noise. “Intruder alert! Intruder alert!”

  Del exhaled silently, relieved he had held himself back from overreacting. Luckily, he hadn’t been on full alert anyway, since this was Maggie’s building and he could afford to lower his guard. He lifted his eyebrows at the boy. “Excuse me?”

  In response, the siren increased in volume. “Die, alien slime!”

  A door to an apartment down the hall opened suddenly. “Robbie?” a voice called.

  More whirring sounds mixed with sharp tongue clicks.

  An elderly woman poked her head into the hallway. The white bun on top of her head wobbled like jelly as she looked from side to side. As soon as she spotted the boy, she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “Robbie, you get back here right now.”

  “Aw, Gramma.”

  “Now, Robbie. You know better than to talk to strangers,” she said to the child. She pushed her glasses up her nose and eyed Del. Despite her small stature, she bristled with all the defensive menace of a mother bear with an errant cub.

  “He’s not a stranger. I seen him lotsa times going to Aunt Maggie’s.”

  Del felt a start of surprise. He’d never seen the child until now. That meant the boy must have been watching him through the window, or through the peephole in the door, or from the concealment of the stairwell. It was disconcerting— Del had done surveillance often enough but wasn’t accustomed to being the target himself.

  Good thing he was only the target of a boy armed with a plastic ray gun.

  The woman’s stance relaxed somewhat. Nevertheless, she grabbed the boy by the shoulder as soon as he came within range and guided him behind her. “You saw him, not seen him.”

  The boy slipped out the moment she turned to shut the door. “Zap, zap,” he said, waving his orange weapon.

  Del shifted the shopping bag he was carrying and clutched his hand over his heart. “Agh! You got me.”

  Chortling in glee, the boy raced into the apartment.

  The woman sighed. “Sorry about that,” she said to Del.

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  “I hadn’t realized you were Maggie’s friend. These days, you can’t be too careful.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I keep telling Robbie not to play in the hall, but I can’t catch him every time. Are you on your way to Maggie’s?”

  He started forward. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.”

  “I’m Armilda,” she said, offering a smile. She didn’t let go of her door, though. “You must be Del. I’ve heard about you. You’re the Good Samaritan who delivered her baby.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Maggie baby-sits Robbie for me now and then.”

  Del remembered that Maggie had told him she was going to baby-sit for her neighbor as a way to earn extra money. “Yes, she mentioned something about that to me.”

  “She’s so busy with that baby, I don’t know where she finds the energy. Raising Robbie alone is sometimes more than I can handle.” There was a sudden crash from within her apartment. She turned her head sharply. “Robbie?”

  “It’s okay, Gramma,” he called. “I saved the lid.”

  “That’s the second cookie jar this week,” she muttered. With a hurried goodbye to Del, she closed the door.

  Del continued along the hall until he reached Maggie’s apartment. Even before he knocked, he could hear Delilah’s fretful crying through the door. If it hadn’t been for Robbie’s space siren, the crying would have been audible all the way to the elevator.

  “Hi, Del,” Maggie said, jiggling Delilah against her shoulder. She pushed her hair off her forehead with her free hand and gave him a weary smile. “You might want to wear hearing protection if you come any further.”

  “I just survived a ray gun attack, so I can survive this.”

  “Robbie?”

  “Uh-huh. What’s wrong with Delilah?”

  “Oh, she’s fussy today.” Maggie rubbed the baby’s back and paced past the couch. “I think it’s because of the broccoli.”

  “Broccoli?”

  “I ate some for dinner yesterday so she’s been getting my version of cream of broccoli milk today. I think it gave her gas.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Other than find some industrial strength earplugs?”

  “Does she need a doctor?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Maggie reversed direction to pace back again. “She doesn’t have a fever, and her appetite is good. I’m sure this will pass.”

  As if on cue, Delilah chose that moment to interrupt her wailing long enough to emit a loud burp.

  “Clever girl,” Maggie said, patting her back.

  The baby was silent for a moment, then drew up her legs and resumed her sobs.

  Maggie sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Oh, you poor thing,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. No more broccoli, I promise. I don’t even like it that much. It’s nasty, nasty stuff. I just wanted to get our vitamins.”

  In spite of her efforts to appear cheerful, Del could hear the fatigue in Maggie’s voice. He set the shopping bag on the coffee table and held out his arms. “Here. Let me take her for a while.”

  “It’s okay, Del. I can walk with her.”

  “How much sleep did you get last night?”

  “Sleep? You mean people are supposed to sleep at night? Hey, what a concept.”

  He stepped in front of her on her next circuit of the room and smoothly plucked the baby from her grasp. “Hi, Delilah,” he said, transferring her to his shoulder
. “Let your uncle Del have a turn.”

  At the change of position, Delilah snuffled.

  Del cupped the back of her head in his palm and took a few steps. “There you go,” he said. “You must be as tired as your mom by now.”

  Delilah let out a whimper and curled her knees into Del’s chest. Her sobs tapered off into a tired sigh.

  “That’s it,” he said, moving his hand to her back and rubbing slowly. “We’ll walk around a bit until you’re feeling better. Then I’ll show you the unicorn mobile I brought you. It fits over your crib and the unicorns will dance for you if your window’s open. I think you’ll like them.”

  Maggie stood where she was, her mouth agape. “How did you do that?”

  “What?”

  “She stopped crying.”

  “Being held by a different person could have distracted her.”

  “It’s your voice.”

  “My voice?”

  “It’s very…” She hesitated. “Nice,” she said finally. “And you have, um, nice hands.”

  “Thank you.”

  Maggie ran her fingers through her hair and flopped down on the couch. “No, thank you.”

  Del could feel Delilah’s tiny body begin to relax as her breathing steadied. He was struck by the complete helplessness of the infant—and the total trust.

  What would she think of the lies he kept telling her mother?

  But he wasn’t deceiving anyone now, he told himself. This warmth he felt for Delilah was genuine, as was his concern for Maggie.

  He eased into the rocking chair. “I think you could use a break.”

  “Me? No, I’m fine.”

  “You were practically asleep on your feet.”

  “Oh, that’s one of the perks of motherhood.”

  “Things are quiet at work for the moment, so it wouldn’t be any trouble for me to give you a hand.”

  She glanced at him. She hesitated, chewing her lip for a while as if uncertain of what to say. “I’ve been wondering, Del. Would you mind if I asked you something?”

  He smiled. Finally, he thought, she was about to admit she could use his help. “Anything, Maggie. Go ahead and ask.”