He clasped his hands together and stopped talking but it was too late. The emotion crackled in his words and the mist pooled in his eyes. He had a past. He knew heartbreak, and I had a feeling it was a lot worse than mine.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wishing I could take away his pain even if I couldn’t understand it. It didn’t seem the right time to ask about Mom’s spy life or why the two of them seemed to have a history I knew nothing about. At the same time, I didn’t often have Adamos so close and vulnerable. “How did you and my mom meet?”
“Ah. That is not my story to tell. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait on your mother for that one. Let’s just say, we’ve known each other for several years, before Paris.”
He nodded, indicating that was all he’d share. We sat in silence, both reliving our memories. Finally he found his words and his fingers found the edge of the white box. The wax paper crinkled, the noise evoking memories of my past life with French pastries.
“Any troubles in my life brought me to you, to my real purpose in life, to protect you. But I had to travel the tough roads to get here.”
“Do you have any regrets?” Of course he did. Following around a teenage girl?
He lifted the lid of the box and the smell of cinnamon wafted up. “That is the wrong question and only leads to trouble.”
I tried again, my eyes darting from the box to his face and back to the box. “You really believe in all that fate stuff?”
“I didn’t at first.” He closed the box and pulled my hand into his. “Not too many years ago I lost my sister. She was your age.” His voice clouded with emotion. “You remind me of her, your dark hair and eyes.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I studied his olive skin, chocolate eyes, and the way his dark hair curled over his ears. He was maybe five years older than me? My heart wrenched. He lost his sister and got me in return? How could I ever live up to a memory?
“Never refuse a gift or feel guilty for it. You saved my life in Paris. Let me help you.”
“Will I ever know the truth about my mom’s past?” I blurted out. “Will she ever tell me?”
“Be patient with your mother,” he said. “Everything she does is for you, for your safety. Even when her choices are a puzzle, remember you’re not seeing the entire picture. Be happy for what she has offered, not what she hasn’t.” He opened the box all the way and pulled aside the wax paper. “As soon as you’ve finished and have cleaned up, we’ll be ready to go.”
I sat, unmoving, wide-eyed, taking in the sight of the apple turnover topped with a clear gaze dotted with cinnamon and dripping off the sides in chunks. I closed my eyes and cherished every bite like a monk does his nightly prayers. The mixed flavors of apple, cinnamon and sugar melted in my mouth. It disappeared fast and sitting alone, with the taste of turnover still on my tongue, the truth hit me. No more watching boring tourists in the market place or twiddling my thumbs in my bedroom. I leaned over and put my head between my knees and puffed in and out as a terrified thrill rose in my chest.
My first mission.
Half an hour later, Adamos motioned to follow him through the gardens, until we found the perfect spot to view the house between a rhododendron bush and a bust of a naked woman, just outside the reach of any outside lights if they were to flick on suddenly. We crouched in the shrubbery, deep in the garden, close enough to observe, but far enough away not to be seen. Landscaped bushes surrounded the house like a moat. Grape vines crawled and twisted along a wooden overhang, and paved walkways wound through gardens littered with statues. The last of the setting sun painted the sky in glorious colors of pink and orange and shadowed the garden creating this incredibly romantic atmosphere.
In other words, nothing suspicious.
As I surveyed the house, and searched for any kind of disturbance, the upper story windows seemed to wink at me as if they were all in on some kind of silent joke. Was Mom just keeping me busy? The pristine white washed walls were crawling with ivy, and perfectly pruned hedges lined the outside of an outdoor patio. Maybe that was why Malcolm’s family was out to get him. Maybe with laundered money, Constance supported the wrong cause that could set off a global crisis or something.
With Adamos right next to me, I kneeled with one foot up, ready to sprint back through the gardens if there was a sign of anyone or anything. But slowly, as the minutes passed, my excitement waned, as we sat and sat and sat. I chased away a cricket and watched a large spider spin her web, and I built a temple of small pebbles from the walkway.
Every time I asked Adamos a question, he put a finger to his lips and pointed at the house. So I sat and sat and sat while studying the house and gardens for any signs of Malcolm’s family. A chip of paint might’ve fallen off the window trim. A bird—possibly the Great Tit—flew into a birdhouse, and the petals of small red flowers on the trellis moved in the breeze.
Nothing spectacular until a dark shadow flickered to the left of me. When I whipped my head around to get a better look, it was gone. I imagined the lean form of an intruder moving with stealth upon the unsuspecting house.
My mission just made a one eighty turn.
Six
“Hey!” I hissed. “Did you see that?”
Adamos shook his head no and motioned to keep watching. I bit my lip and studied the dark places, the hidden spots. Anywhere intruders would most likely be. Seconds passed and I saw nothing. I sighed, about to accept that I’d imagined it, my desperation for excitement reaching new pathetic levels, when the figure approached a window and seconds later jimmied the lock and entered the house.
I gasped and with a flailing of my arms tried to get Adamos’s attention, but he remained calm, sitting cross-legged with his hands folded under his chin in a very meditative position. Finally I was able to speak.
“There!” I pointed. “Did you see that?”
He pointed to my knapsack. “Observe and record but do not take action.”
I was a spy. I could not sit on my lazy butt and twiddle my thumbs. I studied the house, the hard angles of the roof and the turret windows, and imagined the man sliding across floors, entering and unlocking safes. What if Constance owned valuable jewels? Or what if he stowed his entire life savings under his mattress and it was all he had to his name?
This one robbery could put him out on the street and then Mom would ask why I hadn’t done something to stop it. She’d say it takes instinct to know when to break the rules and she’d shake her head and refuse to work with me. My instinct came in the form of a burning sensation in my heart and an itch in my feet, urging me to follow him.
“We’ve got to go and see what he’s doing. Take pictures! Observe.” I added in some more enthusiastic arm gestures to convince him. “I promise I won’t do anything. I’ll watch and take pictures with my trusty phone, then I’ll report back here.”
He narrowed his eyes.
I pulled out the only ammo I had left. “Mom sent me here expecting absolutely nothing to happen. We’d sit here. I’d get bored and then stop bugging her. If she learns someone broke in and we did nothing? She’ll be furious.” I flashed him a sly smile. “But, if I chase away the intruder, I might earn her trust. Right?”
He pursed his lips and gazed at the house. Finally he nodded. “Do what you must to get a closer look while staying hidden. Then return back here. I’ll be watching.”
After almost knocking Adamos over with a giant hug, I sprinted through the gardens until I reached the house. I pressed my back to the outside wall to catch my breath. Then I heard the tinkling high pitch of my mom’s fake laughter probably at Constance cracking lame bird jokes. The front door opened and shut. They were inside. Mom’s arrival changed everything. I had no choice but to enter. I would approach with the expertise of a professional spy. Mom’s safety and the wellbeing of her companion were at stake. They’d need someone on the inside. They needed me.
With my fingers under the top of window, I tugged to see if it was still unlocked. It lifted no prob
lem and I was inside. My first official break-in in Greece, and it felt good. Okay, I won’t mention the long and painful scrape across my stomach when I gracefully wormed my way in, or the scratches on my leg when I used one of the perfectly pruned bushes as a footstool.
The shadows became my friends and I snaked through hallways and up the stairs as if I were invisible. My feet were so light on the ground I was more like a butterfly. That could be my future code name: The Butterfly. Sounded rather intimidating in an ironic sort of way. My mom laughed a few rooms away so I crept in the opposite direction through a humongous room that must be for grand parties.
The mutterings of a thief echoed from the upstairs, as he possibly plundered jewels or stacks of money. My heart skipped a few beats. After scaling the stairs, I grabbed a porcelain vase off a side table and crept toward the room at the end of the hall.
I stopped and listened but the desire to catch a glimpse of the intruder’s face pushed me forward, inch by inch, until I peeked around the corner.
Most of the room lay in darkness, but the guy’s flashlight flicked back and forth on the desk, revealing opened drawers that took on the appearance of a row of crooked teeth. Papers were scattered on the floor, the chair, the desk. My instinct went into full non-stop action.
With the vase lifted above my head, I burst into the room and aimed for the intruder. I brought my arms down and broke the vase on what I thought was the man’s head, with only the slightest tickle of guilt in the back of my mind for the vase. The man ducked out of the way and the vase cracked against the hard corners of a desk instead of the soft skull of a man’s head.
Ugly squawking and shrill whistles of warning blasted my ears and I stumbled back at the sudden onslaught of noise. I searched the room, seeing the flash of metal bird cages, but before I could get a look at the guy’s face, his hands landed on my chest and he shoved me to the floor.
“You bitch,” he said, his ugly tone of voice sending creepy shivers through my body.
And then he ran.
“What?” I muttered. “Afraid of a teenage girl?”
Minutes passed as I picked my way through the pottery shards. I wondered if I could brush them under a rug. While I was in the middle of scooping the pieces up with a magazine to dump them into a desk drawer, footsteps thundered in the hallway. Seconds later, Mom, Constance, and Adamos turned on the light and crashed into the room. I cringed at the scattered mess, very aware of my somewhat failed mission. I’d wanted to play the role of glorious victor and have the guy bound and gagged on the floor with my foot on top of him.
Constance dropped to his knees and tried to puzzle some of the shards together. “Oh, my Ming vase!”
But his attention didn’t stay on the broken vase as the birds continued their loud complaints at the bright light and commotion. His hands flew to his cheeks in horror as he rushed from cage to cage throughout the room, mumbling words of solace. I hadn’t dared look at Mom yet, but I didn’t need to. I could feel her disapproving glare drilling through me. I sensed a very long lecture in my near future.
“My poor babies.” Constance fluttered his hands by his sides as if he were a bird himself. “Please! Please, leave, all of you. I must calm them down.” He immediately started cooing and handing out tidbits of birdseed.
Mom grabbed my arm, yanked me to my feet and led me out into the hallway. Her rage was palpable in her tone of voice and the fact that my fingers were going numb from her grip. “What happened to just observing and recording?”
“I was observing on the inside because an intruder had sneaked past us in the garden and entered the house. Like any good spy, I followed my instinct to save whatever treasures were stored in the house. And to protect you.” My words trailed off and I realized how amateurish I sounded in the wake of the catastrophe. “At least I chased off the intruder.”
She pulled Adamos to the side, their muttered conversation low enough so I couldn’t hear. She faced me, her lips pressed together in grim determination and I saw my chances, my hopes, my dream of working with her fade away.
“Return home with Adamos, and I’ll see if Constance will even let me near him again. This whole mission could be compromised.” She turned and strode back to birdman.
“But, um, we’re still a team, right?” I asked.
She whipped around at the doorway. “Team members follow directions, and you did not.”
I’d failed. Completely and utterly failed.
I wandered the streets, Adamos following in the shadows. My feet followed the natural path they always found and led me to the shoreline. In no certain words, I’d told Adamos that I’d needed some air before we went home. I wasn’t happy with my spoiled brat moment but my whole life had fallen into pieces on my first real mission. The rocky sand shifted under my feet and I found a spot to plop down and feel sorry for myself.
The waves licked the rocks and a cool breeze whipped off the sea. I shivered and rubbed my arms. The sun had disappeared completely. I grabbed a nearby stick and dug at the sand, something, anything not to think about my life. Both Mom and Adamos wanted to keep me safe. That was the justification behind all their decisions. On the wake of this last disaster, I could never talk with Mom about Malcolm. Kissing him and succumbing to his charms—and his lips—was like playing with the devil. At any time the heat could turn dangerous. Was his family connected to the break in at Constance’s house? Maybe they were looking for hard, cold facts before slitting his throat over a bowl of granola.
I was so consumed in and enjoying my pity party, that I didn’t even hear the footsteps behind me. So when a hand touched my shoulder, I screamed and jumped away.
Seven
“Holy crap! Way to sneak up on a girl.” Then I was thankful the night hid my blush. Of course, he was nearby.
I expected a lecture, or one of his famous riddles, but instead Adamos dropped a stack of kindling in front of me. He piled the pieces of wood up in a circle of bigger rocks and within minutes a fire warmed me. His silence wasn’t abnormal. I mean the guy wasn’t much of a social butterfly. Darkness shadowed his face so I couldn’t even tell what he was thinking. He’d want to know why I’d fraternized with the family who had held him hostage. I could explain about Malcolm and the connection we formed in Paris. I could tell him that Malcolm had plans. My heart fluttered. Or I could tell him I didn’t realize how strong my feelings were for Malcolm until I saw him again.
When he spoke, his voice cut through the dark.
“There is much we do not know for I left the brethren and the monastery too early, before learning the whole truth.” He poked at the fire and I wasn’t sure if he was talking more to himself or me. “If I’d known that pulling your mother from the ocean that day would mean my life would change forever I would’ve dug around for the truth a little earlier.”
Holy moly—hold the phone. He slipped. He totally slipped. He pulled Mom from the ocean? “Say that again?”
A smile carved his face and I knew he wouldn’t leak any more secrets.
“The whole time in Paris is dark for me,” he said. “I remember talking to you but I can’t recall the details of my abduction.”
I tucked my knees close to my chest. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been trying to forget the whole experience.”
“Do you remember anything?” he prodded.
His words were soft, but they did the job and brought the memories to the surface. My experience in the catacombs of Paris might be a blur, but certain conversations were branded into my brain forever. I couldn’t help but glance right and left into the darkness, trying to see an invisible enemy.
“Something about monks trying to kill off two ancient societies, meaning my family and Malcolm’s,” I said, studying the fire. The flames constantly morphed but stayed the same too, consuming the air, out of control but in control at the same time.
“Yes. Monks I once respected and called brothers.” He gazed across the Mediterranean. “I’m afraid we’ll never know the myster
y behind their actions.”
I followed his gaze. “Yeah, but they’re holed away up on some mountaintop, right?”
He pointed across the sea. “They are on an island not too far from here. That is why I’ve been so protective and wish your Mom would move you to another country. Anywhere but here in Greece.”
Crap. It was worse than I thought. My imagined fears weren’t so imaginary. “She’ll never leave her new “mission” A.K.A operation save birdman.”
The words left a bitter taste in my mouth, but it was the truth. Mom loved me. I knew that. But she’d become a mystery with most of her focus on her current mission. As we sat, both lost in our thoughts of regret, the flames slowly withered and died.
“There are certain precautions you can take to protect yourself.”
He didn’t have to say anymore. I knew exactly whom he referred to. “But you don’t understand—”
“That might be true but I fear this boy will never be able to leave his roots, his family, or who he’s been molded to be. He might’ve spared your life once but there’s no guarantee that any notions of romance will save your life the second time.”
There it was. The hard cold truth. Pressure built in my chest, the argument hot on my tongue. I wanted to blurt out that he was wrong, that Malcolm had a plan for us, but the last of the fire spit out its warmth and just coals remained. The dark swallowed any remaining light. Adamos seemed deep in thought, battling something inside.
“What? Go ahead you might as well say whatever it is you’re thinking.”
He smiled, but it quickly disappeared. “We should not stay in Greece much longer.”
“What do you mean? Leave?” The moment Mom took on another mission, any option to leave Greece behind was snuffed out. I scoffed silently. “Good luck with that.” It would never happen. Mom would never leave. And I wouldn’t leave either.
Heart of an Assassin (Circle of Spies) Page 3
