Marshmallow S'More Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  "Who are you?" I asked Lauren.

  She scowled. "I'm just an insurance salesman from Buffalo. Why?" Her eyes slid sideways, checking for threats. Good girl.

  "Just asking," I said.

  "Would you be interested in buying a life insurance policy?" Lauren asked. "You know, you're not getting any younger."

  Evelyn began laughing. It was the first time I'd heard her do anything but complain, and I jumped about two feet in the air. Not as good as an American bison, but I thought it was impressive.

  So Evelyn Trout wasn't an angry robot after all. I wondered what her cover story was.

  "I'm good," I answered Lauren. "Selling fish in Italy isn't very dangerous."

  Lauren shook her head. "You never know. You could accidentally slice open a major artery with a boning knife. Or you could fall into the sea and drown. What would your loved ones do if that happened?"

  I tried to recall if Lauren's parents were in insurance or regularly used a boning knife or if she was just really, really good at this. The girl shrugged and ran off to look at a collection of weapons made from everyday household items. When I spotted the camera built into a pack of cigarettes, it was all I could do not to blow my cover. I had that camera once. In Libya. It was eaten by a camel.

  The lipstick gun also looked promising…until you had to use it to prove it wasn't a gun. There was no real pigment in it. It was fake. And I put on one hell of an act in Austria once just trying to prove it was real makeup. A helpful tip—you could color your lips and skin by pinching or biting it. Of course, this effect didn't last long, and I almost shot my lip off, but that was just splitting hairs.

  "I hate to admit it," Maria said. "But this is kind of awesome. I've seen some of this stuff in action before."

  "Buongiorno, do you speak Italian?" I asked her, deciding to keep to my cover. I could pull off the accent, but the language was hopeless. Maybe if I'd studied Italian I could've been sent to the Riviera. Of course, this was the United States government we were talking about. I had a few friends in the Foreign Service. Todd was fluent in Mandarin and Farsi. They sent him to Spain. And Amelia spoke Russian and Czech. She'd never been assigned to either place. She was doing a lovely stint in Bali though. The rule of thumb seemed to be if you spoke it and were completely solid with the culture, we'd send you to a place where it was completely useless.

  She answered without missing a beat. "No, I'm just a college student here on break." Maria tossed her glossy curls arrogantly. "Do you know where the best club for any action is? I've got an awesome fake ID."

  Inez came over and joined us. "Mrs. Wrath? Do you think they'll sell belt-buckle derringers in the gift shop?" No matter how many times I'd told the girls I wasn't married, they always called me "Mrs." I figured it was a kid thing.

  I shook my head. "I don't think so, Inez." At least, I hoped not.

  "I'm not Inez," the girl said. "My name is Angela, and I'm a puppeteer from Idaho."

  Now why didn't I get that? I could pull off a puppeteer, and I'd been to Idaho. Well, not at the same time, but I thought I could have pulled it off better than an eight-year-old girl.

  The kids were having a great time, and I had to admit that I was too. Even Evelyn was checking the computer in each room for updates to her assignment. The Kaitlins ran from exhibit to exhibit, oohing and aahing over things that had been the tricks of my trade for years.

  "Did you talk to Langley?" Maria asked.

  "Oh crap." I smacked my forehead. "I totally forgot. I'll do it when we get outside." I was starting to have fun for the first time on this trip and didn't want to spoil it by getting yelled at by the CIA.

  Maria nodded and went back to browsing. This really was a cool place. There was a lot of history—some I didn't even know about. My favorite spy stories were of George Washington during the Revolutionary War. He was the first spymaster in this country and had an elaborate network of ordinary people feeding him information on British movements.

  It was interesting to note that espionage was really frowned on back then. Spies were outranked by dysentery and rats. The museum had a letter from Washington himself. That was so cool. How did they get this stuff? It wasn't like the CIA willingly gave stuff up. I knew agents who'd received the highest honors you could get, only to have them confiscated moments later and locked up for decades until they were declassified. This wasn't the business to be in if you wanted fame and recognition.

  I browsed the weapons. The nineteenth-century ring gun was beyond cool, and I went all fangirl over the courier shoes and Enigma machine. The technology was impressive for its time. There was nothing from this decade and probably wouldn't be for another forty years. I thought about that. What would be in the museum then? Things I couldn't even imagine…exploding breath mints? Cell phones that turned into jet packs? Laptops that were bulletproof and purified water? Poisonous breath so you could kill your enemies with halitosis?

  I shuddered at the sight of the rectal tool kit. The little knives lay next to the capsule they were supposed to hide in. I had to draw the line at rectal knives. Sure, it seemed like a good idea, until you had to use them. And how exactly did you get them out in a fight? If anyone at the CIA had ever used them, they never said anything. I wouldn't have either.

  Oh, my God. They had the one weapon I'd always wanted to see—the umbrella that injected its victim with a tiny capsule of poison! In 1978, the assassin, code name Piccadilly, came up behind a Bulgarian author named Georgi Markov at a bus stop in London and injected him with the ricin capsule, using the infamous umbrella. The murder was orchestrated by the Bulgarian government with a little help from the KGB. Markov died a few days later. This terrible event was legendary in the history of espionage—and here I was, standing next to it! Squee!

  Looking around, I didn't see any of the girls, so I allowed myself a little end-zone dance. I mean, come on! This was a huge piece of the history of spy activity during the Cold War! It was comparable to seeing Michael Jackson's white, studded glove or Hitler's bunker!

  This place was amazing. I found myself getting lost in the exhibits, reading absolutely every plaque on every item. For the first time on this trip, I was really enjoying myself. When I caught up with them, the four Kaitlins plus Inez were peppering Maria with questions about spies. It made me a smidge wistful. They knew she'd worked at the CIA. Wouldn't they think I was cool if they knew my past? Oh, well. It wasn't meant to be. I'd have to live with that.

  I took the opportunity of being alone to log in to a computer myself. I selected my cover and hit enter.

  You are being followed and are in great danger. Keep your eyes open!

  I couldn't help but smile. It was just the kind of vague alert I expected. As I stopped to read a list of the Moscow Rules from the Cold War, I made a point to look around. No point in breaking character.

  And that's when I spotted her.

  Leiko Ito was standing a few feet to my left, pretending to be fascinated by a diorama of the Berlin Wall.

  My blood ran cold. There was no reason for her to be here. I couldn't imagine someone like her being interested in spy culture. The yakuza were a little too in your face for covert activities.

  Maria, Evelyn, and the girls were leaving the room, and I scrambled to join them.

  "Stay with a crowd," I whispered as I caught up to Maria. I told her about Baby Ito in the next room. She nodded, concern played out on her face. Very gingerly, she reached out and squeezed my elbow. Then she herded the girls and moved them along. In any other situation, I'd have had her take the girls and get out of here. But my guess was that Ito had guys in the gift shop waiting for us. In which case, we were trapped.

  No. Way. I spotted something I thought would be useful and made for it. Overhead was a large duct system inviting me to crawl through it to spy on other people in the museum. I ran up the stairs and dove in, following the ductwork to the room where I'd seen Ito. How convenient for them to have this here! Who knew the International Spy Museum would
actually be a location for real spy activities?

  Baby Ito was still in the last room, but her eyes were trained on the doorway my troop had just gone through. She was dressed casually in capri pants, a black T-shirt, and ballet flats. But it was her alright. I didn't doubt it for a moment.

  Things were escalating if she was personally involved. And that wasn't good. Not good at all. We might've been beyond the point of no return, making it too late to alert the Agency. If she was doing the actual legwork, she was getting ready to strike.

  Two men in business suits joined her, and I gasped. They were the two men at the Jefferson and Lincoln memorials yesterday. I'd been right about them. I leaned closer to the vent to hear what she was telling them, but she was too quiet.

  The men nodded and headed back toward the entrance to the museum. They were going to catch us in the gift shop at the end. Damn. If I ever found Riley and he was still alive, I was going to kill him. Now my girls really were caught up in an international incident. I crawled back to the beginning of the duct and rejoined my group as Ito entered the room.

  "Two guys," I said softly to Maria. "Waiting for us in the gift shop."

  "What do you want to do?" she asked, scanning the room. Her eyes stopped when they landed on Ito Jr., and she quickly looked away before being detected.

  "You and Evelyn stay with the girls. Try to slow them down. I'm going straight to the end. If they want me, they can have me. Then they should leave you and the girls alone."

  "That sounds a bit suicidal to me," Maria said.

  I nodded. "Who has more fun than me?" I pretended to take out my cell to check for messages and activated the Find Your Phone app, tuning it in to Maria in the contacts list. She watched me and nodded. I knew she'd take good care of the girls. I was just about to return the phone to my pocket when it rang. Perfect. That would be my excuse to leave.

  "I've got to take this," I said a little loudly. "I'll double back later."

  Maria nodded as I put the phone to my ear and exited the hall.

  "Merry?" Rex's voice made me feel a little better.

  "Hey," I said as I kept walking steadily toward the exit.

  "Is everything alright?" he asked.

  Uh-oh. Did he know?

  "Why do you ask?" I said, never breaking my stride. I couldn't risk looking behind me to see if Ito was following me. That would be too obvious.

  "Robert called. Kelly's in labor, and in between cursing, she called you a few names for putting the girls in danger."

  On the one hand, I was flattered that my best friend even mentioned me during what had to be the most painful moment of her life. On the other hand, now my boyfriend knew something was wrong.

  I passed through another room, this one displaying the art of disguise. I could use that right now. What should I tell Rex? He was halfway across the country. He'd feel helpless. However, if I was kidnapped and never saw him again, I didn't want my last words to be a lie. Oh sure, I was really good at it, and it would certainly be useful in this situation, but I still didn't want to lie to him.

  The beginning of our relationship had been based on a lie when he was investigating me and didn't know I was a former spy. I'd been trying to make that up to him ever since. If I lied now, it could be the end of our relationship. I really didn't want that to happen.

  "Merry," Rex said again. "Are you in trouble?"

  "Right now, actually," I said in a normal voice. "It's a problem, but the company is working on it."

  Okay—that was a lie. I'd intended to call the CIA this morning, and if I had, maybe I wouldn't be in this situation, but I was pretty sure Maria was on the phone to them now. So they would soon be involved. Hopefully that wasn't a big lie.

  "I can be there in three hours," Rex's voice hardened. Awww! He wanted to ride to my rescue!

  "It's okay." It wasn't. "Don't worry about me." He totally should've.

  The main exit was coming up. A couple of tourists ahead of me opened the door to the gift shop, and I spotted the two suits standing there, waiting. Okay, so I kind of got the idea of rectal knives now.

  "I'm not going to stay here and wait to hear that something horrible has happened to you!" Rex sounded angry.

  "Just sit tight. I'm heading to the gift shop in the International Spy Museum. I'll meet them there. Call my Dad." I hung up but kept the phone to my ear. Rex was smart. He'd figure out what I was trying to tell him and call my father. I'd left their number in case of emergencies. Hopefully, between Maria tracking me and calling in the CIA and Rex letting Dad know that I was about to be kidnapped, someone would come to my rescue.

  The cell vibrated against my face, but I ignored it as I opened the door to the gift shop.

  "Thanks for checking. I owe you one. Bye." I pretended to hang up and marched straight up to the first suit.

  "So what happens now?" I asked him in Japanese as he struggled to keep a blank expression.

  I felt something hard pressing into the small of my back.

  "Now," the clipped voice of Leiko Ito said behind me, "you go for a little ride with us."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It felt like a gun in my back, but I wasn't sure. No point in taking unnecessary chances. For now, I'd pretend it was.

  "Okay," I said, turning to face her. She was, after all, the boss. If I was going to talk to anyone, it would be her. I looked down. Yup. A gun. I hated being right.

  "On one condition or you'll have to kill me here," I said, folding my arms over my chest.

  Her face hardened. "You are not in a position to negotiate anything."

  "Yes, I am. I will go with you three quietly as long as you leave my troop alone. They know nothing about any of this. Only me. Deal?" I wore my best all-business face. This had better work.

  Ito considered it for a moment. "What about your friend in there? The Latina? She works for your Agency."

  I shook my head. "Just a desk jockey. She's just a friend who took vacation time to help me with the kids. She knows nothing and has never been in the field."

  The door opened behind Leiko, and two tourists came into the shop. I heard my girls talking in the distance. I had to get this deal done before they showed up.

  "You are sure she knows nothing?" Ito looked skeptical, but I could see her weighing the merits of me leaving quietly with her and her goons.

  "Nothing. Do we have a deal? Or do you gun me down in public without getting the information you want?" My heart was pounding in spite of my cool demeanor.

  I looked down at the gun again. It was a small .22 caliber pistol. At this extremely close range it would rip into my stomach and intestines. It wouldn't make sense for Ito to shoot me here. It would cause too much of a scene, and they'd have to run off before the ambulance showed up.

  But I was sick of all this cat and mouse crap. It needed to end, and it needed to end now. Hopefully, they'd take me to Riley, and somehow we could convince them that we knew nothing about Midori's murder. They'd probably still kill us. The Japanese syndicate wasn't exactly subtle in racking up a body count.

  "Fine." Ito nodded to the two men and indicated that I was to follow them to the door. I noticed she shoved her gun into her purse before I turned around. "Let's go. Quietly."

  I scanned the shop as I turned around and saw what I needed. Moving slowly, I timed my path to cross with another tourist and crashed into him. The two of us went down, and I reached out to steady my fall as I crashed into a display and palmed a small package of bobby pins that had big, plastic I (heart) Spies buttons on them. I tore off one bobby pin and the plastic piece before anyone could spot me. At least I could pick handcuffs now.

  Quickly, I jumped up and helped the man I'd knocked over up. A clerk came over to see what happened.

  "Sorry!" I apologized. "I tripped." I looked at the startled tourist. "Are you alright?"

  The man nodded. "Sorry. I wasn't watching where I walked." The clerk glared at me as I left with my captors, probably pissed off about the mess I'd made. Tha
t made me memorable. That was good.

  Once outside, one man held the door to a black SUV while the other shoved me into the backseat. Ito sat in the back with me, and the two men were up front. Ito's gun made an appearance again, and she trained it on me.

  "What did you think of the museum?" I asked Ito, trying to sound casual.

  She rolled her eyes. "Typical Americans—always bragging about yourselves."

  "Well, when you're good at what you do…" I shrugged. I wondered if they would blindfold me or knock me out.

  Ito said nothing but kept the gun trained on me.

  "So, where are we going?" I asked as the car snaked through the streets.

  No one spoke, but the man in front of me turned around, armed with a hypodermic needle. Great. I hated being knocked out chemically. It was worse than coming to after a punch. Depending on the chemical used, I'd have one hell of a headache when I came to.

  I didn't move as they injected me. There wasn't any point. Ito would have no qualms about shooting me inside of a speeding car, and I didn't want her doubling back to grab a couple of girls.

  Within seconds, everything went blurry. Another few and I was out cold.

  Something was off. I'd missed something important. What was it? My memory swirled like a violent storm. I'd never heard anything more about Chlotilde. Wait. That wasn't quite right. In fact, that was completely wrong. I knew exactly what happened to her. For some reason, I'd suppressed that information. But why? It didn't make any sense—but a nagging inner voice told me I needed to remember…

  I read in the paper a few days later that a female employee of the German Embassy had accidentally fallen on the train tracks exactly when a train was zinging through. Chlotilde was dead. I shrugged it off. I couldn't do anything about it, and I didn't push her.

  Riley acted strangely after he heard the news. Maybe he was worried she'd committed suicide because he dumped her. That would be just like him. Arrogant bastard. Jealousy reared up inside me. Forget about it. It doesn't matter anymore.