So why did Riley call me? The only thing I could think of was that it was personal. He'd gotten into something unrelated to work and didn't want his boss brought into it. If that was the case, what did he think I could do? I was here with twelve little girls. Was I supposed to drag them with me across DC, toting guns and looking for trouble? I mean, sure, they could totally handle it, but I wasn't going to do it. He'd have to get his own troop for that.
The only kind of problem Riley ever had was with women. If that was it, he could just figure it out himself. But in the phone call, he'd said, "Help me." Did that mean more than one woman? If so, he probably deserved whatever they were going to do to him. He made serial womanizers look like priests who were overly eager about celibacy.
I couldn't really say anything. I'd fallen for his charms once. I couldn't help it. Riley had this sexy, surfer vibe with longer-than-normal, wavy blond hair, a glowing tan that never seemed to fade, and a smile that not only lit up a room but also dissolved the underwear of any woman present. We dated very briefly, but it turned into a compatible working relationship until a year ago when he barged into my life and started to confuse me with random kisses.
An idea flashed into my mind. What if it had to do with the yakuza? Then it was my problem. Almost one year ago, yakuza leader Midori Ito had rudely shown up dead in my kitchen. At first, we thought it was related to the deaths of other baddies who also inconveniently inserted their corpses into my life. But it had turned out to be unrelated.
Riley and I had taken it upon ourselves to dump the body behind a Japanese supermarket in Chicago in order to disconnect ourselves from the murder (of which we weren't guilty). The CIA hadn't known about it. Ito's body had been found a few months ago—but as far as we'd seen, no one could trace it back to us.
Unless they had. A shiver went through me. Was Riley being held by the yakuza? That sucked. The Japanese mob was scary. They were a very stabby crew and had lots of very sharp swords. Dammit. Why didn't he call me back? Why didn't Maria call me back?
Who had Riley? And why?
CHAPTER TWO
"Ma'am?" I looked up to see the lifeguard standing over me. His right hand rested on Betty's shoulder. His left was on Inez. The other girls crowded around, their eyes as big as headlights. It was then that I noticed that the water in the pool was almost black. Its transparency was gone, and it looked like something you'd see in a moat filled with giant, incontinent squid.
"What were you thinking?" I scowled at the girls as I led them back up to our room. The lifeguard, who would probably have nightmares for the rest of his life, had told us we were now banned from the pool for the rest of our stay.
Betty and Inez shrugged. They'd refused to explain how they'd changed the water's color, and the lifeguard had no ideas. He said one minute the pool was clear. The next minute it was black. Maybe I should loan these girls out to the military.
"How many dye packs did you steal from Langley?" I asked once we were back in the room.
Betty sighed. "Seven. How did you know?"
Because I'd been a spy. Because I'd been trained in counter-terrorism measures. Because that was the only idea I had.
"I've got psychic powers," I told them.
"Whoa!" Inez said quietly.
"We didn't mean to do it," Betty added. "I just wanted to see if the canisters would float so we could play with them. I didn't know they'd explode."
I stared at them, trying to figure out if this was a lie. It was possible that they just thought they'd grabbed some sort of pool toy. At CIA headquarters. A place one didn't usually consider when searching for aquatic playthings.
On the other hand, eight-year-olds can read, and the canisters were clearly marked.
"Why were we at CIA HQ?" Inez asked.
Uh-oh. I'd hoped they wouldn't notice. My troop had no idea about my past.
"It was one of the stops on the visit," I assured them. "And I wanted to thank them, since they were our largest group of cookie buyers."
"Oh," Betty said. "Well, they really should keep things like that locked up. We are just kids."
I decided to give up. Interrogating children was much harder than interrogating adults, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't get much more out of them.
So I sent them to their rooms to change into dry clothes. Evelyn Trout came out of her room looking like she'd been napping. Apparently, we'd woken her up—something she seemed to be unhappy about.
"You have to be with us all the time now, Mrs. Trout," I said, pointing at her for effect. "We've been banned from the pool, and I can't handle twelve kids by myself."
Evelyn Trout looked at me as if a skunk had just sprayed her. "But I have a massage scheduled in ten minutes."
"Not anymore," I said with as much finality as I could muster. "You came along to help, and you are helping. No more disappearing. Got it?"
"But it's a Swedish massage. It's with this cute Swede named Gunnar. That's why it's a Swedish massage," she said, as if that was supposed to change my mind.
"No, that's not why it's called that. And unless you can change your appointment to later in the evening, it's not going to happen." I put my hands on my hips and gave her my best intimidating glare.
The woman stomped back to her room and slammed the door. I thought I could hear her talking to herself. She certainly wasn't on the phone to her husband. He'd hardly be sympathetic to the idea of Gunnar giving his wife a rubdown.
The girls started trickling out into the main room. They seemed to know they'd pushed things too far. I told them to sit quietly until everyone was there. To my complete surprise, they did.
Evelyn's door opened, and she emerged in shorts and a T-shirt. She sullenly stalked to a chair and dumped herself into it, arms crossed over her chest. She gave the appearance of a surly teenager—not a middle-aged mom. Well, this was going to be fun.
"Okay, ladies." I held up the sign for silence. "We've only been here two days, and already you've caused chaos with the Secret Service, the CIA, and the hotel. We've been banned from the pool area, and I'd guess each and every one of you now has a file with your name on it in a secret basement somewhere inside the beltway."
I thought I heard a few murmurs of, "Awesome!"
Mrs. Trout made no response. She probably wasn't even listening.
"This trip is an honor. It's a privilege," I continued. "The National Council has paid our way. Remember, this trip is a reward for selling more cookies than anyone else in the country. We can't cause international incidents while we are here. We are representing the Girl Scouts. And we will go back home first thing in the morning if you don't shape up!"
I waited for this to sink in. The girls grumbled a little, but it was Evelyn who looked the most shocked. Maybe this would convince her that I needed her assistance. If she helped, I'd cut her loose the last day or so. Maybe.
It was too bad I had to get tough with them, because the girls weren't normally like this. Sure, they were overly curious when it came to weapons and matches, but usually I had some semblance of control. But then I also had Kelly with me most of the time. She could silence them with her angry-nurse look.
The troop knew how to behave, and they were good girls. I guessed travel made them a little crazy. That made sense. They were out of their comfort zone and only had one adult chasing after them. Stupid Riley. Things had gone south since he'd called this morning. It was clearly all his fault.
"Tonight, we're going to order pizza and hang out here. I'll order up a movie on pay-per-view, and you can take turns showering. Then tomorrow, we'll start this again and do it right. Okay?"
The girls nodded. I put Evelyn in charge of finding an appropriate movie and ordering the pizza. She didn't look too happy about it but didn't refuse, which I took as a total win.
I slipped into one of the bedrooms and dialed Maria.
"Any word?" I asked.
"How's it going?" Maria asked. "I heard your girls wrecked the pool."
"How did you kn
ow that?" I asked. Stupid CIA. They always knew everything.
"My cousin is the assistant manager." She laughed. "I smoothed things over, but you won't get to swim again until your last day. And when you do, you'll have to pay for four more lifeguards. My cousin said something about stun guns, but I think he was just joking."
I would bet her ten to one he wasn't.
"Fine. But what about Riley?"
"One of my guys heard some chatter about him at the Japanese Embassy, which was weird. Riley's not working on anything in the Asian theater of ops."
Damn! "Really?" I asked innocently. "Maybe he's just sleeping his way through the staff?" Alarm bells were clanging inside my skull. The thought that this involved the yakuza was now becoming more possible. I'd much rather have had him being held hostage by a group of pissed-off boyfriends. That I could handle. I wouldn't even need a gun.
"I don't think so," Maria said, more quietly now. I imagined others were listening. "Wrath, what's going on?"
"Why do you think anything's going on?" I asked. Something was going on, but what could I tell her? Involving Maria any further might cost her her job. She was my friend…and my most valuable cookie sales client. There was no way I was jeopardizing that.
"Meet me in the hotel's restaurant for dinner. In an hour." She hung up.
My stomach was doing flip-flops. By involving Langley in his disappearance, I'd put Riley's job at risk. Maria would keep things discreet—I had no doubt about that. But I didn't want to get her in trouble. She was a good friend, but she hadn't done fieldwork for years. Her desk job definitely came in handy for me now, but how long did we have before someone at the Agency spotted irregularities?
I filled Evelyn in on my dinner plans and fled the suite before she could refuse. And I didn't feel bad about it in the least.
Maria was already waiting for me. She'd ordered two glasses of wine and motioned for me to sit. I slumped into the chair.
"So here's your situation as I see it," Maria said before I could speak. "You and Riley were involved with Midori Ito's murder and disposed of the body without telling the CIA. And now you're in over your head with your Scouts, who we probably should begin recruiting now for future wet work." She took a sip from her wine.
"How did you know?"
My friend threw back her head and laughed. Her shoulder-length brown curls bounced attractively. She really was stunning. A desk job didn't do her justice.
"It doesn't take much to put it all together. I may have been out of commission for a while, but I still remember how these things work." She took a drink of wine.
"We didn't kill her, but stuff happened, and we were involved. What are you going to do?" Maria didn't owe us any allegiance. Why should she help us and risk her pension?
She shrugged. "I've decided to take a week off for vacation. Thought I'd help you out."
I stared. It felt like my eyes bulged out of my head. "You want in on this? Are you serious?"
"Sure. I miss the field. And besides, you look like you need help. I like your troop. They remind me of my nieces."
"This is your idea of a vacation? Are they still putting stuff in the employees' coffee for experimental purposes?" The CIA was supposed to stop doing that back in the '80s, but every now and then some unlucky intern or accountant would go berserk, strip off all his clothes, and hold the coffee machine at gunpoint. The last one actually garroted a stapler.
Maria shook her head. "Riley's my friend too. I'm completely bored sitting at a desk now. And I do well with kids. This is gonna be fun!"
I leaned in. "You and I have a very different idea of what fun is."
She laughed again, and I relaxed as we ordered dinner. It was actually a huge relief having my old friend at my side. She'd aced manipulation in training, so maybe she'd have a positive effect on the girls. It made sense what she'd said about assignments. I also missed the action of the field. My career had been cut short, and I resented it. And I would've hated administration. Maria had earned her desk job, but it lacked the excitement of working undercover. I'd feel the same way if I was her. I'd practically gift wrapped this opportunity without even realizing it.
My troop made me feel a little of the excitement I used to have. They were smart, funny kids who liked learning off-the-grid stuff like knife throwing. They didn't have a badge for that, sadly. In fact, I was pretty sure the Council would frown upon such training, so I'd made the girls swear not to say a word. They agreed only if I'd teach them more stuff like that. I agreed, mostly because so far we never set a date for that kind of training to happen. I was starting to believe that I was living on borrowed time.
I filled Maria in on my troop's itinerary for the week. We were going to visit Capitol Hill, meet my dad (who the girls knew only as their state's senator), go to the zoo, see a show at the Kennedy Center, and visit the usual tourist sites. How we were going to fit in rescuing Riley was beyond me unless he was being held inside Lincoln's head at the Lincoln Memorial.
You'd be surprised how many monuments are hollow inside. George Washington used to hide inside Revolutionary War monuments and jump out at people, toothless and giggling. And there are Cold War stories of how the CIA had built a huge statue of Stalin and placed it out on Red Square. When the Soviets dragged it inside KGB headquarters, two dwarves, spies who had infiltrated the Moscow Circus, had popped out and placed bugs everywhere. It would've been an effective Trojan horse too, except that they'd gotten caught and were summarily executed.
"Okay," Maria said as she finished her salad and pushed her plate aside, bringing me back to the present. "I think if whoever has Riley is watching you, I need to blend in."
"You could stay in our suite. I'm not using my bed," I offered. "And you can have the troop T-shirts Evelyn was supposed to wear." Each day of the trip we were in matching neon shirts with our troop number on them. This was so I could locate them quickly in a crowd. It helped in that I was usually able to identify the blur of an acid green shirt as it flew past me.
She nodded. "I'll move in tonight. I'll swing by the office after dinner and see if anything else has popped up before I come over."
"Thanks. I know I should dissuade you from getting involved, but it's obvious I could use your help." Our friendship was too good for me to lie to her.
"Merry, I don't want you to get your hopes up." Maria frowned. "Riley could already be dead." She said the last word quietly. It still made me wince.
"I know I should think that," I said. "But my gut tells me he's alive and that somehow I can help. I have to try."
Maria sighed. "As long as you know what you're getting yourself and possibly the troop into."
I nodded. "I'm not going to let anything happen to them. If it gets too dangerous, I'll back off."
"Okay," Maria agreed. "I'll hold you to that."
We finished dinner and chatted for a few moments more. In spite of the subject matter, I felt more relaxed. For the first time on this trip, I got to eat an entire meal without chasing girls around. I considered it a small victory.
Back in the room, I found twelve girls passed out on the floor in front of a James Bond movie. Mrs. Trout was awake and gave me a dirty look before stomping off to her room. I woke the girls up one at a time and helped them to bed. Moving sleepy kids was way easier than fully alert children. I was toying with doping the girls with Benadryl during the day when Maria knocked on the door.
I settled her in my room (thus irritating Evelyn because she would now have a roommate) but still thought I should sleep on the sofa in case the girls decided to wander in the night. And yes, I have reasons behind this suspicion. A few weeks ago, at a sleepover at my house, the girls put lipstick, eye shadow, and nail polish on my cat, Philby, and colored the kittens blue with sidewalk chalk. Philby ignored me for four whole days, especially after her tongue turned blue from cleaning her babies.
I felt a small pang of regret at being away from my cat and her kittens. I'd never really had a pet before Philby showing up
on my doorstep with suitcases and moving in. She looked rather unfortunately like Hitler and hissed loudly whenever she heard the name Bob, but other than that, she was a great kitty.
Rex was taking care of them for me. My neighbor and the town's hottie detective was a great guy. For reasons I couldn't understand, he adored me and liked my troop. It never bothered him that I was using Dora the Explorer sheets for living room curtains or that I thought Pizza Rolls were a food group. He was the perfect man.
As I drifted off, I felt a twinge of guilt. It had been almost twelve hours since Riley's call for help, and I hadn't gotten any closer to finding him. He just had to hang in there until I could manage a rescue. I forced him from my mind in an attempt to get some sleep. The last thing I remembered was the pay-per-view bill for fifty bucks that popped up on the television screen.
It was dark…raining. The bright lights of Tokyo melted on the pavement, running together like a damaged watercolor painting on black velvet. Yeesh. Where do I come up with these descriptions?
Obviously, I was dreaming. Why else would I be back in Japan? Was this a memory? Traffic tied up the street, so I stayed on the sidewalk. I had no idea where I was going, but hey, it was a dream. My feet just kept moving like they knew what was up.
Buildings blurred as I passed them. Where I was didn't seem as important as where I was going. I followed the sidewalk until I came to an alley and stepped into it. Really? A dark alley in a crowded city? Now there was a spy cliché if ever there was one.
I kept to the wall on my right, slipping in and out of the shadows until I found an unmarked door. Raising my fist, I gave a brief knock, and the door swung open. A man I'd never seen before nodded and stepped aside as I entered. Without giving him a second look, I made my way to the stairs and began to climb.
I kept my hand in my right coat pocket the whole time, curled around the cold steel of my Glock .45. I always liked the .45. It was invented to kill men the size of giants. I loved the slow drag after firing and the nice large hole it made in whatever I hit.
Marshmallow S'More Murder Page 2
