Private Eye

by Katrina Jackson

  “Tell me this is all going to be okay,” she breathed.

  “I promise that we’ll get through this and I’ll take a vacation for the first time ever. And we’ll go to Hawai’i for our second date.”

  She didn’t smile but she wanted to.

  “Why Hawai’i by the way?”

  She turned to him and smiled, surely sadly, “My mother always wanted to take us there, but she couldn’t afford it. So close, but so far away. She never got a real vacation in her entire life.”

  His eyes were serious and intense and she believed every word he said as they fell from his lips, “I’ll buy you every souvenir we see.”

  She giggled, “I really could use a refrigerator magnet.”

  He let go of her hand to throw an arm around her shoulders, “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

  “Oh my god, this is so fucking sweet,” someone said.

  They both started.

  “What are you doing here?” Kenny hissed.

  “Duh,” Kierra said with a roll of her eyes, even though she didn’t turn to look at them. “Delivering info. Meet me in the women’s bathroom.” And then she sped away.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in tennis shoes,” Kenny mused.

  “Wow, this is real life spy shit,” Maya breathed.

  At the bathroom Kenny brushed his mouth against her temple. “Make this quick. Someone’s waiting for us at baggage claim.”

  She smiled up at him and winked.

  The bathroom was packed. Kierra was at the farthest sink from the door applying mascara. They locked eyes in the mirror as Maya put her purse on the counter and leaned forward, pretending to check her reflection.

  “Oh my god, your purse is so cute,” Kierra said in a cheery tone that sounded saccharine sweet, very unlike the teasing flirt she was.

  “Thanks, I stole it from my roommate,” Maya responded with a wide, genuine smile.

  “I thought it looked familiar,” Kierra mumbled under her breath.

  Maya smirked.

  Kierra began to rummage in her own purse, speaking casually, “I hate flying. It’s havoc on my skin.”

  Maya wasn’t certain exactly what was happening, but she knew that was bullshit. Kierra’s skin was flawless, not a bump or scar in sight. “It’s the same with me.”

  “I have this serum,” she said. “You should try it.” She pulled a small bottle of Maya’s favorite serum from her bag. Maya squinted her eyes.

  “I stole it from my roommate,” Kierra said with a smug grin on her face. And then she laughed.

  Maya laughed, it sounded artificial and threatening. Kierra ignored the danger. As usual. “That’s so sweet of you,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Kierra’s face lit up. “Actually, you should try these wipes I have as well.”

  Maya watched her fish the face wipes from her bag, it was a small plastic container and Maya was certain that there wouldn’t be one wipe in the entire thing.

  “Oh my god you’re so generous,” Maya said.

  Kierra shrugged. “There’s nothing better than passing on skincare tips, right?”

  As soon as Kierra placed the containers in her purse, Maya snatched it up and put it over her shoulder. “I completely agree.”

  “I hope those work for you.”

  “Thanks, so do I.”

  “Nice meeting you,” Kierra said and moved toward the exit without a backwards glance.

  Maya leaned over the sink to wash her hands, slowly, and dried them just as slow. She felt it in her bones that it was best to put a little distance between herself and Kierra.

  Outside of the bathroom, Kenny was leaning against an airport map. She lit up when she saw him and hurried across the human traffic to get back to him. He grasped her hand immediately and they resumed walking toward baggage claim.

  They stood to the right on the people mover. He turned to her and kissed her softly. “What’d she want?”

  “She gave me a package. Don’t know what’s in it?”

  “Okay,” he said simply.

  “She also might have stolen some of my skincare. The little thief,” Maya pouted.

  Kenny smiled, “She has been spending a lot of time with Chanté.”

  They stepped off the people mover and were at baggage claim quicker than they expected. They spotted the chauffeur with a sign in his hands immediately; Maya’s name printed on it. “This is about to get so real,” she mumbled under her breath. He squeezed her hand in his.

  reconnaissance

  They hit the ground running. They had barely six hours before Kenny and Maya’s commercial flight landed and they had to make the most of that lead time. Asif was up and out of his seat as soon as their jet hit the tarmac.

  “Are you sure you don’t need backup?” Monica’s voice was tight.

  “I like working alone,” he said easily as he went over his small pack. He pulled the gear he needed for this job from his larger duffel. They could take the rest of his stuff to the safe house.

  “Be that as it may, wouldn’t it be better if someone went with you?”

  Asif raised a skeptical eyebrow at them. “Not to be rude, but you two are the opposite of conspicuous.”

  Kierra perked up, “Thank you.”

  Monica let out an exasperated sigh.

  Asif smiled, “We’re light on personnel at the moment.” He heard the ground crew working on the plane. He wanted to be ready to go as soon as the door opened but then he turned, one hand on his hip. “Unless you want to call in some backup. I could sure use a hacker right now.”

  Monica’s face didn’t flinch. She held his gaze and they stared at one another in a standoff. “No.”

  Asif huffed a breath of something like laughter. “Then let me do my job.” He grabbed his pack and turned toward the door.

  “Be careful,” Kierra said. Asif was happy she didn’t finish her thought. He didn’t know Kierra well but he could practically hear the words she’d left unspoken. “Chanté would be crushed if you died.” He wasn’t sure if that was true since she wouldn’t even return his phone calls. But he hoped.

  Asif had a few areas of specialty but surveillance and small explosives were his favorites. Mostly because he liked to be nosy and blowing things up was fun. Usually. He’d offered to just topple Mehmeti’s club when they knew he was inside and shoot anyone who made it out, but apparently that sounded “messy” and “abhorrent” to Monica and Kierra had gaped at him as if he were a monster. Which he wasn’t, by the way. He was, however, impatient. He needed to find Chanté. If he’d known leaving her in Berlin would be her last straw, he liked to think that he’d have turned around. Unfortunately, he wasn’t completely sure. Either way, he couldn’t have missed her in Jersey by more than a few hours and he needed to get back onto her trail. Sure, Monica had said they’d need a hacker on this job, but he wasn’t an idiot. The only reason he was here was because if he wanted to find Chanté, staying close to Kenny was as good an idea as any.

  So even though he’d signed onto this mission, he wanted it to be over as soon as possible. Especially right now as he was shimmying into the basement of Mehmeti’s building through a window that was barely big enough to admit his body. He was also covered in spider webs. Disgusting.

  He swiped as much of the debris off of his body as he could, stooped down to unzip the duffel bag he’d thrown in ahead of him and set to work.

  “Report.” Monica’s barked through the transmitter into his ear.

  Asif jumped. “Can I get a warning next time?”

  “No. Report.”

  “I miss Lane,” Asif muttered.

  “Join the club. Report.”

  Asif exhaled as loudly as he dared. “I’m in. I’m going to set some explosives down here.”

  “Asif.”

  “Just in case,” he hurried to add. “You never know when you might need a distraction.” He took Monica’s silence for acceptance and continued. “I don’t want to risk going into any of the up
per floors blind so I’m going to send some probes through the air vents.”

  “Good. If nothing else, getting some footage from the building’s interior is better than nothing.”

  “I agree.”

  “You have one hour. If you don’t check-in then, you’re on your own.”

  “I’m always on my own,” Asif said as he attached a small pack of explosives behind a load-bearing brick column. He surmised that this old building wouldn’t take much to bring it down so he decided that would be enough. Besides, if worst came to worst, he could use a small blast as a good enough distraction to get his people clear.

  He was reaching for the remote-controlled probes when Monica’s voice stilled his hands. “Only because you want to be.” She hung up before he could respond. Not that he could think of a witty retort for the truth.

  ***

  Monica shifted the car to park in a basement parking lot of a building that looked like an old school residential hotel on the outside, but was really a safe house. She pressed the button to open the trunk and pushed her door open. She stood and stopped in her tracks. Walking toward her across the garage was a lanky body and cocky strut she’d recognize anywhere.

  Monica thought she’d conquered her fear of sending Lane out on a mission years ago. This was their job. This was what they’d signed up for. But she realized, only as his face was illuminated under a row of track lighting – that damn smile aimed right at her – that Kierra changed everything. The gush of air that left her lungs and the relief she felt as she ran into his arms and he held her close wasn’t just for herself.

  “Does this mean you missed me?” Lane chuckled as he planted kisses in her hair.

  “You have no idea,” she whispered. His lips grazed her cheek. “No idea.”

  He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest, “She’s been keeping you up all night, hasn’t she?”

  Monica laughed and nodded. “And not just with her mouth.”

  Monica looked over Lane’s shoulder as a tall Black man she recognized as Kenny’s former partner stood awkwardly looking on. “What’s he doing here?”

  He raised his eyebrows and then his eyes lifted over her shoulder. His brows bunched together and he frowned. His voice was shaky with fear when he spoke again, “Where’s Kierra?”

  ***

  Kierra didn’t want to be a spy. She had absolutely no interest in the part of the job that involved guns or broken bones or anything gross like that. She wasn’t trying to break an acrylic nail. And from what she’d glimpsed in Europe and in the aftermath of Monica and Lane’s missions over the years, the gun parts were either a lot or a whole lot. And nope, Kierra was too pretty to risk getting shot.

  But the other stuff… she knew she’d be fantastic at that. She’d heard that from Lane and Monica enough to be sure. She was a great liar, fast on her feet in a chase (so long as she immediately ditched her heels, of course), and she could manage a pretty solid French accent. But most importantly, especially right now, she could sense danger. Once she’d left the airport bathroom she’d known something wasn’t right.

  Monica had once forced her to take a self-defense class that she’d kinda bombed because she’d been too worried about her very expensive manicure to hit her pretend attacker too hard. But she had absorbed all of the rest of the useful information the class had to offer. For instance, if she was ever being followed, she was supposed to go to a public place. She could practically hear her former instructor saying that very sensibly, albeit forcefully, inside her head. So that voice of reason in her head started screaming when she turned down a hallway, away from the very heavy flow of human traffic.

  The sound of the flight attendant’s heels sounded like gunfire as she stepped off of the airport carpet onto the tile flooring. Kierra had spotted her as soon as she’d left the bathroom. She was hanging back, watching Kenny. He looked up and nodded minutely at Kierra. It was barely noticeable. Someone passing by wouldn’t have even registered the movement of his head. But the flight attendant was so focused on him that she had. The sudden movement of her head caught Kierra’s attention and they’d locked eyes. She didn’t know who the fuck this woman was, but Kierra knew in that moment that this development was not good.

  She slowed her steps in the hallway. They were alone. The flight attendant sped up.

  When she was close Kierra turned, a huge smile on her face. “Oh my god, I think I’m lost?”

  The flight attendant’s steps faltered for a second, which was all Kierra needed. She reached out and grabbed the flight attendant by the shoulders, pulling her close. Most self-defense assumed that the assailant was a man and rightly so. But what to do when it wasn’t? Or more accurately, what to do when the assailant presumably didn’t have a dick to smash with your knee? This had actually been Kierra’s singular obsession while she’d been failing that class. She’d posed it to Monica over and over again, the other woman – only her boss at the time – had been exasperated until finally she’d yelled, “Aim for the gut. When they’re doubled over, aim for the nose. And then run.” Made sense. So Kierra did exactly that. Well, except the running part.

  “Who do you work for?”

  The woman was wailing, blood pouring from her nose. It was all a bit too loud and messy for Kierra’s liking; she’d add that to the list of reasons she was unsuited to the life of a spy. But later. Right now, she didn’t have much time.

  She leaned down, but well out of the woman’s reach. “I said who do you work for?”

  The woman spat at her. “Bitch, are you trying to get kicked in the face?” Kierra hissed as she jumped back from the spray. “Gross.”

  Monica’s advice had always been practical; she urged Kierra to do whatever it took to break free and get to safety. Lane was a bit more confrontational, especially after Berlin. “If you think your life is in danger, you have to neutralize the threat.”

  Kierra assessed her position. A strange woman had maybe been following Kenny and Maya and then had followed her. If her instincts were right this woman worked for Mehmeti and once she recovered, she’d run straight to her boss and the mission would be fucked. And worse yet, she, Kenny and Maya’s covers would all be blown.

  She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. Chanté picked up immediately.

  “What’s up, sexy?” Chanté said. She sounded happy.

  “I’ve got a problem,” Kierra breathed.

  She heard Chanté speak to someone. After a few seconds she was back. “What do you need?”

  Kierra explained her situation quickly and waited. She heard the tapping of computer keys.

  “Okay I’m in the airport security system.”

  “Okay?”

  “Take a picture of her face. Get as close as you can.”

  The flight attendant had stopped wailing, but she was still clutching her face.

  “Um, I think I broke her nose,” Kierra said apologetically.

  “Look at you! Does she have a security badge or something?”

  Kierra scanned the attendant quickly. The woman’s bag had fallen to the ground in their scuffle. She inched toward it, keeping the woman in her line of sight and rummaged through it. Thankfully the badge was near the top. “Got it.”

  “Okay, send a picture and your location,” Chanté said.

  Kierra complied and then waited. The hallway was barely off of the concourse but it was so eerily quiet back here. The flight attendant had stopped wailing and was simply glaring at Kierra over her bloodstained hands pressed to her face.

  “Okay, I’ve marked her as a high security risk. Potential terrorist threat. Security is on their way to you right now and the FBI has been notified.”

  “Shit, you can do that?”

  “Shockingly, I can,” Chanté said, almost regrettably. “Now get the fuck away from there.”

  “Okay,” Kierra breathed. “Thanks, girl.”

  “Oh, any time,” Chanté trilled. “Just,” she hesitated for a second. Kierra was already backing away
from the flight attendant who’d begun to stand. Bloody handprints stained the floor. “Make sure Asif doesn’t get himself killed, okay?”

  Kierra turned and took off running. She wanted to tell Chanté that right now she was trying to save her own hide. But she knew that if the tables were turned and Chanté was on a mission with Lane or Monica, she’d say the same thing.

  “I’ll try, girl. Gotta go,” she huffed, sprinting back down the hallway toward the concourse. She could hear the flight attendant’s heels clacking behind her.

  Just as she burst into the concourse, a security guard grabbed her. She shrieked. And then she put on the performance of her life. “Oh my god officer, she attacked me.”

  Maybe under normal circumstances this man would have questioned her intensely. Certainly he might have wondered how, if the flight attendant had attacked her, Kierra didn’t have a scratch on her but the flight attendant’s face and uniform were painted with blood. But whatever national security protocol Chanté had put out on that woman had security pushing Kierra to safety and drawing their guns.

  When the flight attendant burst into the concourse, she pulled to a stop quickly.

  “Hands in the air,” one of the guards yelled. She complied. Kierra hung around just long enough to see them order her to lie face down on the ground and to watch them secure a pair of handcuffs around her wrists. And then she slipped away as if nothing had happened.

  She hailed a cab and thought to herself that in another life, she’d be a great fucking spy. Kierra kept turning around in the cab, peering out of the back window, making sure she wasn’t being followed. It certainly made her conspicuous as hell, but whatever. She tipped the cab driver way too much and crawled from the cab four blocks from the safe house. She called Monica once the cab had turned onto a major street and she verified she was alone.

  “Where are you?” A voice that was not Monica’s asked.

  Kierra shrieked. “Oh my god! You’re here?”

  “Where are you?” He asked again, rudely.

  “A few blocks away,” she said and started running toward the safe house.

  Lane stayed on the phone with her the entire short trip. And he was standing outside of the safe house, very dramatically, his phone pressed to the side of his face, turning in a circle, waiting for her. She ran straight into his arms.