Heart of an Assassin (Circle of Spies)

by Laura Pauling

  “Hey, we’re here.” Will gently tugged on my arm.

  “What?” I glanced at the adorable little restaurant in front of us. I couldn’t even begin to pronounce the name, but I instantly fell in love with the outdoor patio, the red geraniums in potted holders along the deck, the simple white tables and wooden chairs. Nothing fancy but very welcoming. “Wow.”

  Will smiled for maybe the second time. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?” I sneaked a sideways glance at him.

  “That this would cheer you up. It might not be pizza but no one can stay sad for long in this place. Just wait and see.”

  Sad? I forced a smile and reprimanded myself about playing the role. “What’re you talking about?”

  “I’m pretty smart and can read people well. It’s a gift. It’s what makes me good at my job.” He paused in front of the menu written on a whiteboard and read over the items. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to offer a therapy or handholding session. I’m not that kind of guy. We’re here on business, right?”

  I coughed, hiding my surprise at his candor. “Right.”

  We walked up the stairs and he ushered me to a table on the deck. About one minute after we sat and I struggled to say something impressive, two male waiters each with a white apron tied at the waist approached with a humongous tray filled with a gazillion plates of hot meals. Talk about service. Mom didn’t know what she was missing just eating salads and stir-fry. Will pointed out the dishes with names like Fried Brinjals, Taskonikes, and Saganaki Cheese.

  I shrugged and motioned for Will to order first. I went with a safe chicken dish with feta cheese, spinach and olives. And then we were eating. Just like that.

  “Fast service,” I offered up for conversation as I played with the napkin in my lap, twisting it into a rope.

  “Yes, but I’d wait longer for this food.” He picked up his fork and ate with a refined style, the way he sat straight and plucked carrot slivers off his plate, like he belonged at a grand party.

  I pushed my chicken around, not in the mood to eat and slightly paranoid about getting a piece of spinach stuck between my teeth. The gap seemed to be widening between us. The fun and easy chatter we managed at the shore that morning disappeared. Why was I even considering cozying up to Will? It wouldn’t work. He was too talented, too observant. My short stint as a spy in Paris had obviously been a fluke. I floundered through the rest of the meal with bits and pieces of random trivia and half-started conversations.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Will said, and finished up his last bite. “Let’s get out of here. Obviously my advanced sense of reading people was off tonight. This place was supposed to cheer you up.” He rubbed his chin and studied me. “We’ll try something else.” He dumped a bunch of bills on the table, stood, and offered his arm as if I was royalty.

  He bought us hot drinks in to-go cups, and we trekked up the hill toward the Parthenon, past old churches and the ancient Supreme Court, then climbed stone-cut stairs. I shivered a bit after a few couples passed us. Would we be alone?

  Small animals rustled in the landscaping, chasing after prey. The warning hoot of an owl pierced the night and echoed through the trees. Every few seconds, I peered into the shadows, hoping to see a flicker of movement, signaling that Adamos was nearby. I rubbed the goose bumps from my arm.

  He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

  Ten

  Finally, we stood at the Acropolis overlooking the city. I tried to hide the sheen of sweat on my forehead from the climb, and I ignored the ache in my calf muscles. The giant pillars of the Parthenon towered behind us, and wild flowers pushed through every crack and crevice at our feet. In the distance, the moon hovered over the distant Mediterranean waters and lights twinkled from restaurants and homes, almost as if mocking me with their dimpled smiles. Was I a fool?

  Will tapped my shoulder with his trigger finger. “Is this better?”

  “It’s lovely.” I shivered at his light touch and sipped my latte, soaking in the silence that evening brought to such a tourist attraction. Clean air, untouched by the cooking smells wafting up from restaurants, washed over me with the breeze. I sighed. In that brief moment, peace swirled, holding me in her gracious arms. She stroked my hair, massaged my shoulders, and whispered gentle words.

  “Let me guess.” Will’s mouth twitched as if he were holding back a laugh. “You figured out I run on the beach with Prince and decided to set up an accidental meeting in hopes of gleaning secret information from me as our friendship naturally developed.”

  My jaw dropped a bit, but I quickly recovered and faked a yawn. I scrambled for a comeback after he’d effectively taken a knife to my plans and ripped them open to reveal all my secrets, which were obviously terrible if he’d guessed them the first try. So there would be no stealth and mystery of an undercover operation. I’d have to be more upfront, like Will. He clearly loved the shock factor. I’d have to take a play from his book.

  “Hardly. I already know all about you,” I said, my voice shaky at first. “I know about your family. And I know we’re mortal enemies and you’re most likely plotting to kill me.” The last few words came out in a whoosh. Hopefully, he’d take the bait.

  Will withdrew his hand from my arm as he choked on his coffee.

  Bingo. But hell. Why stop there? What better place to make decisions than with the Parthenon behind me? Big places were meant for big decisions. “I know you were in Paris and set up Jolie to find my mom. I know you shot at me and Malcolm and tried to kill me when I jumped on Jolie.” My hand instinctively went to rub my leg where the bullet had been. I turned to him. “Why don’t we be honest and stop the act. I know you’re not this flirty fun loving care free guy and you probably can’t stand the fact that your hair is in your face.”

  Will pressed his lips together and placed his coffee on the cracked pavement. His chest heaved and I thought for sure he was having heart failure at my stupidity. But instead he laughed again, like he did at the beach. A hearty laugh. After a couple minutes he wiped his eyes.

  “You know what, Savvy Bent? Want to know the truth?” The moon revealed his chiseled features.

  “What?”

  “I like you.”

  “Okay.” I drew the word out, not sure how to respond, not sure if he was counteracting my bluntness with a compliment.

  “And I understand why my foolish brother fell head over heels for you.”

  I sucked in my breath at the mention of Malcolm. Head over heels?

  Then his phone chirped from his pocket. He held up a finger. “I have to get this.”

  He opened his phone and stepped away a few paces. I wanted to claw my eyes out at my stupid impulses. But I couldn’t stand any more lies and games. I wanted truth. I needed truth. And at that point, I’d do anything to get it.

  Will returned a couple minutes later. He slipped his phone into his pocket. “We have to head back. You know, the family business calls.” He winked and laughed again. “As I was saying, I like you. You’re honest and brave. I have an offer for you.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.” An offer? Adrenaline raced through my veins at what he might say.

  “Let’s get back to the car first.” With a light hand on my back, he guided us forward.

  We headed back down the hill, through the narrow streets of the market places and back to his car. After about ten minutes of driving he finally talked.

  He rubbed his chin. “I have a deal for you, Savvy Bent. You can take it or leave. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to decide and then it’s off the table.”

  I stared, needles prickling along my shoulders at what he might say. “What is it?”

  “I’ll offer you complete safety, no more hiding out and living in fear. That includes your mom, and your dad. But you need to live with my parents, my grandmother and me. I’ll train you. Teach you the secrets of self-defense.”

  I gripped the sides of the leather seat and stared at him in shock. No more hiding out or living
in fear? Safety? I was definitely interested.

  “I know. I rather surprised myself too. But, like I said, this is a one-time offer.”

  This was what I wanted. This was what I’d worked so hard for in Paris. But then the realization hit that he’d want something in return. “What’s the catch?”

  “Nothing comes without a price. I get the extreme satisfaction of keeping a close eye on my enemy, and we might need you to do some work for us on the side. Nothing major.”

  The twinkle in his eyes made me think he didn’t mean sweeping the kitchen floor. I stared out the car window and imagined Malcolm sitting in his boat playing solitaire or sharpening his knives. Whatever assassins do in their spare time. What would he think?

  “I won’t kill anyone.”

  He smiled. “No problem.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How do I know this isn’t a trick to lure me into your house and slit my throat in my sleep?”

  He burst out with a deep, belly laugh. “Sweet thing, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have to lure you into my house.” He lost any humor and turned threatening. “Regardless of what you and your mother might think, we don’t kill for fun or without purpose. We work and live above the emotion. The people that lose their lives from the blade of my knife deserve it.”

  I shivered and clamped my teeth together to keep them from rattling. I needed to tack on one more addendum. “I also want the complete protection of one Constance Gerald.”

  He blinked away the annoyance that flashed across his face. “Fine. You’ve got it. I’ll need your answer by tomorrow night before sundown.”

  I spent the rest of the drive lost in my thoughts and the ludicrousness of his idea that I was contemplating.

  We drove through familiar streets. “I have to cut the evening short. Duty calls. Do you want me to swing you by your house?”

  “You can drop me off a little down the street.” From there I’d head down to the shore. I couldn’t go home. But I couldn’t just go straight to his house either. I needed to think.

  Not far from my house, he slowed the car to a stop. With a quick salute, he said, “I hope to see you by tomorrow night.” He held out a phone. “Don’t worry it’s a cheap extra. Our residence here in Greece is programmed into the GPS system.”

  We said good-bye. After his taillights disappeared, I headed to the sea to air out my thoughts. The cool breeze and briny smell welcomed me. I waited a bit, then said, “You can come out now.”

  Adamos appeared from the darkness as usual. “We need to talk.”

  I flashed him a wry grin. No kidding.

  Eleven

  Adamos approached, his dark clothing perfect for sneaking around in the night. His arms were stiff at his sides. No trace of a smile crossed his face, and his eyes had lost the normal glint of pride and protection he felt toward me.

  I sighed and rubbed a chill from my arms. “You don’t have to tell me what’s at stake here. I know.”

  He stood next to me, with his arms crossed and stared out over the sea, his jaw firm, his forehead creased. “Tell me then.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me exactly what’s at stake.” His soft voice weakened my defenses.

  I refrained from calling my mom’s new friend Birdman or the Blob and sighed. “Constance is a target and it’s our duty to protect him and that’s what my mom’s been doing, putting her work first, putting his safety and protection first, following through with the supposed calling on our family. I get it. Okay?” I stood and headed toward home.

  Adamos matched me stride for stride. “You never asked to be thrust into the middle of this ancient battle. I understand.” He left his thoughts dangling, filled with the unspoken conclusion that I’d made the wrong decision.

  Adamos always made quiet suggestions, and left me to piece together the wisdom. But this time, I’d made up my mind. Nothing would change that but it was my turn to leave him with my cryptic thoughts.

  “I have to do my part but that doesn’t include hiding in my room because Mom wants to be the sacrificial parent. I’m not going to help by spending all my time watching birds and keeping company with a total slime ball.”

  Adamos nodded, soaking in the realization that I wasn’t going to sit back anymore begging for crumbs of attention or information from Mom.

  “I proved in Paris that I can make my own decisions and I can here too.” My arms trembled with the adrenaline surge that came with risky choices, but I meant every word. I’d do this my way, even if all I wanted to do was run away with Malcolm. I’d go home and after Mom went to bed, I’d pack and slip out the window.

  He was slow to answer on the trip back. We walked side-by-side, in silence, drifting through the streets as shops closed for the day and the nightlife kick started. Close to home, he finally stopped.

  “I’m not in the position to warn you on the risks of what you’re considering.” His carefully guarded emotions peeled back to reveal the soft underside of my Greek bodyguard. Past regrets and mistakes lingered in his expression as he talked. “I left my faith, my brethren, for what I felt was a new calling that I couldn’t ignore. My brothers laughed at my visions and scoffed at my emerging beliefs in what they meant. Eventually, I stopped sharing with them and formed plans.” He paused and glanced toward the lights in my home, the silhouette of Mom in the window. “I will never play God with you. But think carefully before you live with your enemy. Make sure it is your only choice.”

  With that, he squeezed my hand and then faded into the shadows surrounding my house. Was this my only choice? No. I could run away with Malcolm, which when I allowed myself to fantasize about that, a thrill of anticipation ran through me. But I didn’t want to run away. I could continue to hang out with Mom and wait for a chance to prove myself. But that could take years.

  After another ten minutes of debating, I decided to talk with Mom one last time, beg her to include me and answer my questions. I strode up the tiny stone walkway and entered through the front door.

  “Good evening, Savvy.”

  Mom sat on the couch, a suitcase at her feet. She smiled but it wasn’t the kind of smile that said welcome home. More like she’d made a decision and knew I wouldn’t like it. A cold anger strained her face: her eyelids twitched and her nostrils flared every few seconds. She clasped her hands tight in her lap, her fingers a dull white from the pressure. She’d obviously checked my room and figured out I’d rebelled and left without her permission.

  Any thoughts of asking and begging faded. A fresh stubbornness emerged, stronger than ever, and I gained a new confidence behind my decision.

  “Going away for an overnight with Constance?” I asked, playing a dangerous game.

  “No, Savvy.” She didn’t try to hide the hurt in her eyes at my barb.

  I clapped my hands with fake glee. “Are we visiting Dad?” When she shook her head no, I said, “I know we’re not leaving Athens because you’d never leave a job unfinished. So please, tell me, I can’t bear the suspense.”

  She spoke in her quiet but stern mom voice. “I’ve contacted a friend in England who owes me a favor. He’s agreed to take you in until this ordeal is over and I can meet you there.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but she cut me off.

  “You will be perfectly safe. I made a foolish mistake by bringing you here, thinking I could shelter you from everything. But,” her voice softened, “I wanted to spend time with you, even if it hasn’t been much.” She cleared her throat as if emotion had nothing to do with this. “There will be no debate. Your plane leaves within the hour.”

  While I gathered my last few items and shoved them in a backpack, Mom didn’t leave my side. I was surprised my window wasn’t boarded up with plywood. The only alone time I managed was when Mom used the bathroom right before we left. I sprinted to the counter and rummaged through her purse. Sweat prickled my armpits with the heat of possibly getting caught as I scrolled through her recent emails. My eyes darted across the messages until I f
ound the right one. Quickly, my fingers flew over the keypad. The toilet flushed and the water ran in the sink. I had seconds.

  The door squeaked open on its hinges. I pressed send, deleted the correspondence, then powered down the phone and dropped it in her purse. When she walked into the room and picked up her purse and keys, I pretended to fumble with the straps of my backpack and flashed her a weak smile.

  We said nothing in the cab ride to the airport. I could’ve thrown a fit, stomped my feet, screamed, refused to go, but I had a plan. Throngs of people crowded the lobby of the airport, their laughter and cries of good-bye only digging at my heart. When my flight number blared over the intercom, we briefly hugged. She ran down the list of shallow regrets and encouraged me to be on my best behavior. We decided it was best to communicate through email so as not to drum up an expensive phone bill. I agreed.

  I turned to the gate, inching along, waiting for her to leave.

  My heart beat loud and fast, daring me to follow through with my plans, to rebel in the worst way. A smirk tugged at my lips as I thought back to the email I’d sent to the kind Mr. Rottingham of England from my mom. In the message, Mom profusely apologized for the inconvenience, but her plans had changed and I would not be visiting him. She hoped at some point in the future they could all visit and drink tea together while watching a game of Polo.

  I left the airport and hailed the first cab that drove by.

  An hour later, I stood on the docks watching Malcolm’s boat move with the waves. Moonlight reflected off the Mediterranean. Boats rocked. Sails gently flapped on the ocean breeze. I’d made a decision on the hillside near the mighty Parthenon and I was going with my plan, with my own special style, for better or worse.