Marshmallow S'More Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  My parents didn't demand that I go to an Ivy League school or major in law or medicine. They thought it was great when I said I wanted to go to the University of Iowa and major in International Studies. When I was recruited by the CIA, they didn't mind that either. But that was probably because they'd moved to Des Moines and Dad was launching his political campaign.

  Huh. I guess I had a pretty idyllic childhood. There was nothing I could complain about. Was I being too sensitive in thinking something was wrong here? That could be it. I didn't see my folks often—just on holidays. Could be I was looking for something that wasn't there. I decided to back down…for now. I had other problems—twelve who were sitting a few doors down the hall.

  We chatted for about half an hour more about nothing really before Mom popped her head into the doorway to say the girls were falling asleep. I felt a little sad to be leaving. For a few hours I'd had other adults to help with the girls. Evelyn Trout came to mind. She hadn't joined us today since Maria was around. The woman was probably getting a two-hundred-dollar pedicure at one of the spas near the hotel. Let her have her fun. When I needed her, she'd better be there.

  Liam helped Maria and me get the girls loaded into our van. I slipped him three hundred dollars and asked if he'd be available any other time this week. He said he would be and thanked me before walking back to the Irish Embassy just a couple of doors down.

  Back at the room, Mrs. Trout appeared to help get the kids to bed. She didn't look too happy when I told her we'd need her the next morning for the tour of the Japanese Embassy, but she didn't complain (something that made me immediately suspicious). Maria and I had decided that we'd confuse the embassy officials with three adults. In their minds, when the tour started, they'd see two, and in the chaos that would no doubt ensue, wouldn't even realize there'd been three originally. Maria and Evelyn would stay with the girls while I slipped away to do a little snooping. Besides, I was the only one who could speak and read Japanese. That made me the main spy for this little trip.

  As I climbed onto the couch and pulled up the blanket, I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Female spies are the worst at second-guessing themselves. Male spies never seemed to have that problem. Why was that? They just blustered through their assignments and blew off the mistakes. I'd have to ask Maria if she'd had the same experience. Most likely, her answer would be yes. I closed my eyes and quickly fell asleep.

  I ran through the hall to the staircase, ignoring the shouts behind me. Maybe I should've identified myself. Chances were that running away was foolish. After all, Riley was my handler. I didn't know he had a British connection here, but I wasn't surprised. As a field operative, I was only told the details of my assignment. Handlers usually had two or three agents working for them at any one time.

  I took the steps two at a time, landing hard on the ground floor. The man who'd let me in attempted to stop me, but I clotheslined him with my arm as he came at me, and he fell to the floor. I jumped over him and was in the alley in seconds.

  Maybe the woman upstairs was another agent of Riley's. If so, I might have some explaining to do tomorrow. I raced into the street and into the first cab I found. Barking out an address close to my safe house (but not directly there—that would be stupid), I slid down in the seat so anyone following me wouldn't see.

  Get a grip! What are you doing? The question stumbled around in my head, looking for purchase on my slippery brain. Why would I even think about following Riley?

  Oh yeah, I'm paranoid. That's it. If you're a good spy, then you're properly paranoid. That sounded confusing, but it was a legit thing. Properly paranoid fell just between "whatever" and "oh my God, I'm gonna die."

  It always bugged me how James Bond walked around, undisguised, dropping his real name everywhere he went. The man never even attempted a disguise. Real spies didn't do that. Real spies got killed for that. Maybe I should go around saying my name is James Bond.

  The taxi swerved through traffic, and after several turns, I felt it was safe to sit up in my seat. My phone buzzed with a text message that read Finn, it's Riley. Can I come over?

  Not a good time, I texted back before stuffing my phone in my pocket. It wasn't unusual for him to request this—we'd actually started dating, and it was going well up until a week ago when I'd found him with another woman. The thought made me cringe. I shoved it aside.

  Was that why I was following him? Oh, for crying out loud! I was jealous! And when I got a text from a burner phone earlier this evening, giving me only the address I was just at and saying Riley would be there, I'd briefly thought it was someone tipping me off to the other woman.

  Damn. I had it bad. I tried to tell myself I wasn't that into Riley. That it was just a fling. Agents often did that under threat of danger to release some steam. And I knew, going into this, that Riley had lots of women in his contacts list. I'd been hearing whispers around the Agency for years.

  But Riley was hard to resist. When he looked at you with those blue eyes and smiled, it was like you were the only person in the room. He had charm by the boatload. Too much charm.

  My cell buzzed, and I pulled it out.

  Please? Riley texted.

  No, I replied as the taxi pulled up to the address I'd given. I slipped him a huge tip, putting my finger to my lips. The driver nodded and smiled before driving away. I walked the remaining five blocks to my rooms and leaned heavily against the door when I got inside.

  Flicking on the lights, I spotted something that made me pull my gun and go into overdrive. There, on the table, was a piece of stationary from the Tokyo Grand Hotel. Written on it was a phone number. And it hadn't been there when I left…

  My eyes flew open. I'd forgotten all about that memory. Hazy fragments from my first dream were hard to remember, but this one was clear as day.

  Of course I was dreaming about Riley. He was the biggest thing on my mind right now. I guess I'd forgotten how much our little fling had hurt me. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes. None of this mattered anymore. I'd resolve my personal issues with Riley when I found him. Obsessing about it wouldn't do any good. Slowly and uneasily, I willed myself back to sleep.

  I got up early the next morning and ran out to get donuts because every secret mission should start with donuts. There is no exception to this rule.

  An idea had sprouted once I'd gone back to sleep (as some of the best ideas in espionage do), and I'd decided the best way to go unnoticed was to start out as a member of my dad's staff. It would be easy for me to slip out under the pretense of taking or making phone calls, and in a suit, I wouldn't get noticed walking the halls of the embassy. Mom still had a few of my suits, and I picked one up before heading back to the hotel—making it back to the girls with only a few donuts eaten. A personal best for me. Seriously—I loved donuts.

  It had been a while since I'd worn heels. I borrowed a pair of Mom's kitten heels but still felt a little unsteady. At least the suit still fit—which surprised me, considering I'd developed a serious Oreo addiction since my retirement. To complete the disguise, I'd bought a pair of thick-framed glasses with clear lenses and borrowed a suitable tote bag from Mom.

  Maria helped me with makeup and hair—it had been a long time since I'd had to worry about that. As the dazed girls woke up and wandered into the main room, they stared at me.

  "Why are you dressed like that, Mrs. Wrath?" Inez asked.

  "We're going to play a little prank," I said. "We could only get tickets for two adults to go with you, so I'm going to pretend like I'm on the Senator's staff. Doesn't that sound fun?"

  "That makes sense," Inez said with a nod.

  "Make sure you keep a low profile," Betty advised.

  "You don't want to blow your cover," Lauren added.

  I grinned at Maria. My little girls were growing up and participating in missions with me. To say I was proud would be an understatement.

  The girls nodded seriously. They seemed to like playing along, even though the
y really had no idea what we were doing. I just had to make sure they kept our little secret to themselves.

  Maria stuffed a notepad and pen into my bag, and Evelyn Trout just nodded in distracted agreement. She had a sour disposition and told me she was blowing off a meeting with a personal life coach for this. What was a personal life coach? Maybe I needed one. As long as they didn't demand I change my eating habits, it was possible it might work out.

  As for Evelyn, I'd already decided that if she caused a problem, I was taking her out. The jury was still out on whether I meant lethally or not. Most likely I wouldn't kill her. It was never a good idea to "off" one of your Girl Scouts' moms. That could come back to haunt me.

  One by one, we all piled into the van and drove to my parents' house. They lived on Embassy Row, so we could walk to the Japanese Embassy from there. My father met us out front, and the girls gave him a group hug. His cannonball into the pool the day before had really won him some votes.

  "The Senator is doing a great job," Maria whispered as we walked. I agreed. Dad was giving the girls the grand tour of the neighborhood, and they seemed to hang on his every word. My father managed to inform the girls while speaking on their level. How many men knew how little girls thought? Evelyn walked sulkily but kept up. That was something at least.

  My heels were killing me before we even hit the gate to the Japanese Embassy. I needed to make this look good, or they'd see through it. No one would believe that a senator's aide wasn't accustomed to wearing painful shoes twenty-four seven. I'd just have to work through the pain. Like I did that one time, running through the streets of Sarajevo after a cocktail party exploded. And I was not exaggerating. The party literally exploded. Someone had rigged the furnace to blow.

  "Senator Czrgy!" A tall, thin, Japanese man in a suit came toward us with his arms open.

  "Mr. Ambassador!" Dad said, clasping the man's hand warmly. "Allow me to introduce Girl Scout Troop 0222, from my home state of Iowa!"

  The girls curtseyed. Where had they learned that? They were all wearing neon yellow T-shirts with their troop number on them. All we needed to do if a girl got lost was turn out the lights, and they'd glow.

  "These are their leaders, Ms. Santiago and Mrs. Trout." Dad indicated Maria's code name and Evelyn. "And this is my personal assistant, Ms. Mathers. I hope you don't mind me adding her, but she's dealing with some sensitive issues for me, and I need to have her nearby. I do apologize for the inconvenience."

  The ambassador smiled warmly at me. "Not a problem, Mike. It is nice to meet all of you!"

  "Thank you, Isas. Again, I appreciate this. Have to show off now and then for my constituency."

  I liked Ambassador Isas Nakano instantly and felt more than a little guilty for the deception. In my former line of work, I was very good at summing up someone quickly. The ambassador struck me as sincere and open. I just hoped I could find the connection to Riley's distress call without disrupting things too much. With any luck, this place would be clean and clear of yakuza, and we wouldn't have to involve him again.

  "Thank you," I said with a small bow.

  I stifled a grin as my dad leaned toward the man and said softly, "She's actually a distant cousin. Not very bright, I'm afraid. But very good at organization."

  The ambassador nodded knowingly. "I have two of my wife's nephews here. Idiots."

  The idea was to make the embassy personnel think I was harmless, so if I wandered into the wrong area, they'd gently correct me like I was dim-witted. It was my dad's idea. It was just a little disturbing to see his lie come so easily to him.

  The ambassador launched into welcoming the girls, charming them with a few jokes. Evelyn actually stopped grumbling long enough to smile. The people at the Japanese Embassy were known to be warm and amazing hosts. And the ambassador was no exception as he handed each girl a traditional, hand-painted fan.

  He even had one for Maria and the now blushing and giggling Evelyn. I tried really hard not to roll my eyes. Was she…? Oh, my God. She was flirting with him. Yeesh. I wondered what Mr. Trout, whoever he was, would think about that.

  The tour commenced, and as the girls followed their guide, Dad pulled me aside and said a bit loudly, "Mathers—can you call the office to let them know I'll be unavailable for the next hour? And see if there are any messages for me."

  I nodded and fumbled for my phone, heading out of the main lobby area as Dad and the others went the other way.

  "Allow me to show you to a private office?" A neatly dressed, severe young woman asked.

  "Oh! Thank you!" I gushed. "That would be wonderful!" I gaped openly at the artwork, the décor, and everything else as I followed her down a hallway and into a small conference room. Acting as an idiot was no real reach for me.

  "You have such a beautiful…um…embassy!" I held out my hand before she left me. "I'm Evelyn Mathers." I hoped it wouldn't get back to Evelyn Trout that I was using her name. Okay, so I kind of hoped it did.

  The woman gave me a tight smile and a little bow. "I'm Ms. Ito, if you need anything more."

  Ito? Now that was interesting. Not that it was an uncommon name, but I had to wonder what the odds were that she was connected somehow to Midori Ito, the dead yakuza leader who'd made an unfortunate appearance as a murdered body in my kitchen last year.

  Ms. Ito closed the door behind her as she left, and I put my bag on the table and sat down. I noted a camera in the corner but couldn't tell if it was for teleconferencing or spying. There were no two-way mirrors or anything else remotely obvious. One thing about the Japanese government—they had the best tech ever. Chances were the stuff was all there—I just wouldn't be able to see it.

  I had to be careful. Dad's reputation was on the line, and he could be brought up on charges of espionage, and I didn't want to blow that. I set my cell phone on the table in front of me and touched the screen. Maria had uploaded a top secret Agency app that would detect hidden surveillance systems. I'd worried that she could get in serious trouble if found out, but she insisted. According to the app, there weren't any secret cameras. Huh. I didn't expect that.

  The Japanese Government had no tolerance for the yakuza—tackling them very much in the same way we go after the mafia in this country. However, it was possible that the Japanese version of the CIA, the Public Security Intelligence Agency, had an office in the embassy, and like our spy network, you never really knew what they were involved in. And it was also possible that there might be a rogue employee or two who had connections to the crime syndicate. That was what I was counting on. Riley's name came up here, so there must've been some connection.

  I dialed my cell and listened. But instead of getting Dad's messages, I was listening on the frequency the CIA does when spying on embassies, cell lines, etc. Once again, I'd warned Maria that me using this technology could get her fired. Once again, she'd insisted that I use it. Fortunately, the CIA had an app for that. There was the usual stuff: interoffice gossip, personal calls to family, business calls, but nothing stood out. I hung on the line for a few minutes more, pretending to take notes on a legal pad.

  After a little longer, I put everything but the phone away and got to my feet. What did I expect, really? Did I think they'd just walk Riley over to me and say, "We give up. Here's your American. Sorry about that"? Time to do things the old-fashioned way. I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, looking both ways in the pretense that I was lost.

  While chewing on my fingernail, I pointed in the opposite direction that I'd come in, gave a quick nod to look like I'd made a decision, and trotted off down the hallway. The embassy had two buildings—the main center, where I was, and an auxiliary building that served as overflow offices as the embassy had expanded in the latter part of the last century.

  There was no way I could explain finding myself accidentally in the other building, so I just had to deal with the main embassy. Under the pretense of staring at my phone, I hit another app that should locate Riley's cell phone, using the same t
echnology Apple does for the Find My iPhone app. I had to be careful using the Agency's tech toys. I wasn't totally sure, but if they found out, I'd probably never be able to own a cell phone again.

  To my surprise, no one was around. Nobody intercepted me. Maybe they bought the story that I was a moron. It seemed a little suspicious, but for now, I just had to go with it. What choice did I have? Besides, I never turned down an opportunity. Yeah, it could've been a trap, but it was possible that the security guards were off that day…or the administrative assistant was too busy playing solitaire… Whatever the excuse was, I'd have to run with it.

  I passed office after office, but no one looked up from his desk. It was eerie…odd. Maybe they were just very trusting, or maybe the security was lax. Whatever it was, I kept walking down hallway after hallway, pretending to look lost.

  A blip showed up on my cell phone, and my heart jumped. Was it Riley's phone? Maria had warned me that the app might not be one hundred percent accurate. Not that she had to. A lot of the technology developed by the Agency had a moderate success rate—usually because it was developed quickly to solve a problem and was needed in the field before anyone did enough testing.

  I couldn't get my hopes up. Besides, it seemed too quiet for a place that could be holding hostages. There wasn't so much as a hint of sound. I could see people typing but heard no clicking. Maybe they were all ninjas. That would totally suck.

  Granted, the floors were carpeted, and the atmosphere was subdued, but there should've been some noise, right? Maybe they were trying to achieve a peaceful atmosphere, but I was getting a little panicked by the complete lack of sounds. Something seemed really off. Maybe the people I saw in the offices were holograms. That would be cool. No, wait. That would also suck. It would mean the real people were somewhere else. Someplace I didn't know about, watching me.

  I hit a dead end a few seconds later when the hallway ended. I'd have to go back. Had I cleared half of the first floor already? I looked at the phone. The blip was gone. I hit the app a couple of times, but it didn't reappear.