“How long after you left the boat did it blow?” Edith asked.
“Well,” I thought back, “I left the boat and walked up the dock.”
Edith waved her hand. “Plenty of time for Malcolm to slip off the boat and onto a small dingy for this getaway. Trust me.”
I slumped back onto the couch. It was an act? Malcolm had faked his own death? Without telling me? The realization sank in. He’d ask me to run away again. He said he had a plan in motion. I was the one who said no and slipped away after he’d rescued me. That must’ve told him I didn’t care. That I was never going to run. I’d pushed him too far.
I was relieved he was alive and breathing, but the searing grief transformed into a numb disbelief.
As the next couple days passed, mainly in silence, my disbelief transformed into a quiet rage. When I obsessed about Malcolm ditching me and taking the easy way out, the dents in my bedroom wall and my aching hand suffered for it. I still had a ton of questions, but for the first time, the whole family avoided me. I tried to catch Edith alone by hanging out by the lemon bars, hoping she’d come out for a midnight snack, but she never did. Janelle would scurry away to scrub the upstairs toilet. Bartholomew would disappear into his office. And Will was rarely home.
I decided Edith was my best bet.
On the third night, out of frustration, I crept out to the kitchen and sat at the counter. The clock ticked and my temptation grew. My fingers twitched and tapped the granite. I traced the outside of the plate, itching to remove the plastic. I fiddled with the edge of the plastic wrap, slowly peeling it off, ready to drown my frustration in sugary goodness, even against my better judgment, and with the lingering memories that this family knew everything.
Whap!
Edith’s cane, with the blade out, slapped against the counter, inches from my fingers. Her eyes were like cold balls of steel.
“I believe those are mine.”
Twenty-six
I pretended to straighten the plastic wrap over the dish. “Just tightening. Wouldn’t want them to go stale.”
“Hmm.” She pulled herself up onto the barstool. Her gaze drilled into me. “We don’t quite trust you yet.”
I didn’t back down. “Then maybe I should leave because there’s nothing more I can do.”
She ran her fingers down the length of her cane and tapped the blade with her nails, trying to unnerve me. “Before we send you into the mission we brought you on board for, we need to know everything you know.”
“But what if I don’t know anything?” I glanced back to my bedroom and then at the front door.
“You could run. Go ahead.” Edith nodded at the door. “But as soon as you step outside your life is free game, truce over.”
Cold sweat prickled my neck.
She picked her cane off the counter and lay it on her lap, the blade still out. “You stole into the secret room and left prints all over a certain file. Betrayal just doesn’t sit well with us.”
I sighed. The past couple days, alone with my thoughts had worn me down, sucked the fight right out of me. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“What do you know about Constance Gerald?” she asked.
“Seriously? Aren’t we a little past that?” She rubbed her fingers over her cane again and I answered. “He’s my mom’s friend and he loves birds. Not much to tell.” My voice shook. Technically it wasn’t everything I knew but it was the truth.
Edith whacked the cane against the counter again. “No half-truths.”
“I know he’s a slime ball. He loves birds. I read in your files that he’s recently come into a lot of money and that he had problems with Robert Yertsky.” I stopped and racked my brain. Should I know more than that?
“Are you sure that’s all?”
I decided to spit out the obvious. “You guys are planning to kill him. Robert hired you. My mom wants to protect him. I’m caught in the middle and praying to God my final mission isn’t to assassinate him because I’m really not good when it comes to killing people.”
“Hmm.” She contemplated my answer while I sat on pins and needles. She shifted on the barstool. “What do you know about our families being life-time enemies?”
My confidence grew. The answer came immediately. “I learned in Paris that your family kills, I mean, takes care of important people heading into positions of powers where they might make bad decisions.”
As the words left my mouth, they felt wrong. Constance Gerald was not a person of influence and not headed anywhere in life except maybe Argentina for a little bird watching. So why would he be on their hit list? Why were they taking paid jobs?
She huffed. “Continue.”
“And my family believes in the sanctity of life and protects these people. You set up Jolie in Paris to draw my mom out and then set me up to see if I would follow in her footsteps. But the only reason I did was to find my mom and protect my friends.”
“First,” Edith said, “you deserve the truth so you can form opinions based on fact, not legend. Our “taking care” of certain individuals based on their position of power ended years ago. We were hired out by top government agencies in the 90s.” She peeled back the plastic wrap and focused on the lemon bars. “But budget cuts left us in the cold. No real skills because we’d all been trained from birth for this career path. Janelle did a little accounting but it couldn’t keep us afloat. So we’ve had to take personal jobs in the last few years or so, which we feel terrible about.”
I sat with my spine rigid. A bit more prepared this time. “I understand you’ve all fooled yourself into thinking that taking a life is okay if they deserve it instead of going out and finding honest work.”
“That’s the answer I expected.” Edith picked a lemon bar from the middle of the plate and took a bite. She chewed slowly, tormenting me. “One more question. What do you know about the monastery and the brethren of monks?”
I babbled for a bit, stalling, but the glint in her eye sharpened, so I answered. “That they’re even more insane than all of you. They want to finish off both our families and we should probably work together and fight against them rather than fighting each other because this is about something bigger. I just have no clue what.”
“You’re right,” she said. “It’s about a lot more. Do you really want to know?”
I stood on the brink of knowledge, a breakthrough that would clear up any confusion. I couldn’t fight back without knowledge and I couldn’t rely on Malcolm’s family or Adamos to protect my family forever. What if they weren’t there?
“Yes, I want to know.” My voice was strong and sure.
Edith took her time. She wiggled her fingers over the lemon bars again as if looking for the perfect one. They all looked perfect to me. Finally she chose one from the center and carefully rewrapped them. I wiped the drool from the corners of my mouth. She brought it to her mouth, then paused. I thought for sure she’d realized her grievous mistake and offer me one too.
“You know about our history. My family. Your family. But maybe you don’t understand how far back our timeline runs.” She sank her teeth into the bar, white powder dusting her lips.
“A couple hundred years?” I gazed longingly at the lemony goodness.
“Wrong.” Except it sounded more like a muffled “wong”. “Think farther, longer. Think bible times. Ancient Rome.”
“Noah’s ark?” I asked.
She huffed. “I’m not sure about that. But it goes back far enough that none of us know exactly when or how it started. Somewhere along the line, the secret information about our history disappeared.”
I still didn’t get it, and that must’ve been clear by the expression on my face.
“Meaning, that somewhere out there is a list. A family history.”
“Like a scrapbook of your ancestry?” I asked.
“Almost. Except this information reveals everything. Names. Places. Dates. Targets. The government agencies involved. Behind-the-scene information that would roc
k the general public if it was to be revealed. Scandal would erupt. Basically, we’d be screwed and have to go into hiding or face prison time.”
“Oh.” Her words brought me back to the catacombs under Paris, to Adamos, before I knew his name, when he was still a prisoner. He’d been desperate to share information with me, his vision, of me. There was a fire, unbearable heat, and a list.
“We believe the monks have the list.”
“But why would they try to kill us over it?” I tried to keep my fingers from creeping closer to the plate. “And why are they after my family? We haven’t killed anyone.”
“Ha!” She pointed her crooked finger at me. “Not always, honey. You and your mom might be squeaky clean but I remember the stories my great grandmother told.”
“What?”
“That’s right.” She hmpfed with satisfaction.
I took a few seconds to soak that in. Somewhere in the past, my family, my great, great grandparents were on the wrong side of the law? Or they worked for secret government agencies? Did Mom know any of this? It kinda made sense that the monks were trying to destroy us because of our line of work. But were they really trying to kill us? We were missing something, some clue, some aspect of this that would reveal everything.
Edith spoke. “Robert hired Constance to sneak into the monastery, find their secret room and steal scrolls. Constance received a lot of money upfront and didn’t follow through with his responsibilities. At some point, his conscience caught up to him and he refused to continue.”
“So Robert hired you guys,” I said. “Seems like a lot for a bunch of old scrolls.”
Edith shrugged. “There’s probably a lot more to it. But that’s all I can tell you.”
“Great, thanks.” And in our moment of bonding, I reached for a lemon bar.
Edith gently slapped my hand. She pushed off the stool and grabbed her cane. Her tongue flicked out to catch the remaining powdered sugar on her lips.
“Oh, and by the way. Your last mission is tomorrow night.”
Twenty-seven
Early the next morning, I whipped off my covers. My feet itched to feel the pavement and the morning run always helped clear my mind. Will had been in and out of the house and without Malcolm I’d been left to keep up with training.
After slipping into my clothes and my running sneakers, I walked straight past the lemon bars and outside into the crisp morning air. I breathed it in and stretched. Then I was off, finding my way through the dark, the slap of my sneakers echoing in the stillness. The roads twisted and turned and I found myself at the crest of a hill, sweaty and running on high.
I stretched my arms above my head. The marketplace lay before me like a blanket of twinkling jewels. Lights in the windows flickered and came on one by one as people woke for the day. Even farther lay the Mediterranean Sea and beyond that the monastery. And deep inside the stone walls, maybe locked away in a crypt or secret room was the list. All the information that threatened the lives of two families.
I took off running again, but as I got closer, my feet led me in another direction. The docks. Back to the sea and Malcolm. My legs felt like rubber but recovered quickly as I walked down the wooden slats and stopped where Malcolm’s boat had been. The darkened sea was quiet this morning, whispering against the other boats and sliding onto the rocky shore.
I stared into the depths of the water, wishing for the answers to rise from its murky depths. I thought about our last time together, sleeping, cuddling, the whispered words, the kisses. My chest ached. I missed him, his touch, his smile, the sound of his voice, always reassuring, always encouraging. The water splashed against a boat with more force, the spray wetting my feet, as if telling me to leave this alone. Not to go there.
With or without Malcolm I had to do this last mission tonight for Malcolm’s family. Prove to myself that I could protect my family. When this mission was done I’d confront Mom, tell her I was leaving to go find Dad and tell him the truth. And that she was welcome to come with me or stay.
The day passed quickly. Way too quickly. I stood in front of my dresser mirror, not recognizing the girl, the woman looking back at me. A green silk dress clung to every curve of my body with a line of jewels running across my collar bone and stretching up and over the shoulder strap. The material shimmered. Janelle’s make-up job transformed me. Beautiful. Me?
I walked into the kitchen, the dress swishing around my legs, the heels clicking on the floor. Low whistles greeted me.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Janelle,” Bartholomew said. “No wonder Malcolm fell for you, the foolish boy.”
Edith nodded her approval, and Janelle hovered by the door with her hands clasped.
“No time to waste. The masque started an hour ago.” Janelle motioned me forward.
“Where’s Will?” I asked, tentative. Wouldn’t he be the one to explain my mission?
Janelle smiled and winked.
“Right here.” Will came down the stairs, strode over, and tucked his arm into mine.
I tried not to flush at how beautiful he looked. Chiseled. Like some Greek God visiting earth. But the grim smile told me he was all business. I wished I were standing next to his brother.
Janelle kissed my cheek then whispered in my ear. “Good luck, dear. We’re rooting for you.”
Edith rapped her cane. “Oh, stop with the mushiness, Janelle. That was always your weak point.”
“Don’t listen to her.” Janelle patted my hand.
Then Will whisked me out the door to the waiting car with tinted windows. On the road, the wealthy neighborhood flashed by in a blur of lights and shadows. I clutched the matching green purse, my finger running over and over the silky material.
“You look way too nervous and guilty to pull this off. Relax,” Will said. “You’re going to burn a hole in your purse.”
I dug my fingers into the purse and stayed calm. “Maybe I’d relax if you told me what I had to do.”
“Do you really want to know? That might be worse.”
I pried my clenched teeth apart. “Yes. I need to know.”
Will cleared his throat and closed the window separating the driver and the backseat. He took hold of my hand and pulled me close as if we were lovers and he was whispering sweet nothings. His words tickled my ear and sent shivers racing down my back.
“You’ll arrive alone at the masque. The woman of mystery. You will talk to no one but glide about the party from group to group as if you were mingling.”
“But what about you?”
“We’ll circle around and I’ll arrive a few minutes after you. No one will know we’re together but I’ll be there, keeping an eye on you.”
For some reason that didn’t comfort me.
Will continued, “As soon as you can, find Constance. Follow him at a distance. At some point after he’s had his fill of wine and women, he’ll head out to the gardens for a cigar. He does this every party he throws.”
What? “Whoa. You mean Constance is throwing this gig?” That meant Mom might be there. And Adamos. I didn’t know if that was good or not. Probably not.
“After Constance leaves for the garden, you’ll slip out of the main party room. Use the bathroom first just in case you’re being watched. Find his study, his office. It won’t be your typical office. You’ll probably find lots of birdcages. They won’t be making much noise because it’s night and the shades on their cages will be pulled.”
Yeah, I was familiar with the room.
He pulled me even closer, his lips brushing my skin. “In his desk, he keeps a flask of brandy. Open the flask and pour in the contents of the vial you will find in your purse. Stash it back in the same place and leave the party. The car will be waiting.” He laughed as if we shared an intimate moment then pulled away.
“Wait a second,” I yanked him back, “I said I wouldn’t kill anyone!”
“Shh.” He put a finger to his lips and glanced at the driver. “You’re not. It’s a drug. He’ll fall aslee
p. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“You’re going to kill him? Tonight? I can’t be a part of that. You promised to stay away from him.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a man of my word. When I leave tonight, he’ll still be alive. As you know, we like to know the whole story before taking action and there are still some missing pieces.”
“Why do you need me?” I smoothed my hair as if that could smooth away my nerves too.
“If someone catches you wandering about, you can bat your eyes and claim to be lost. I can’t get away with that. And he knows you. If anything goes wrong, he won’t hurt you because of his relationship with your mother.”
Oh, crap. “Will my mother be there?”
Will shrugged. “That we don’t know. Be prepared for anything.”
“What if she sees me?” She’d drag me out like a two year old.
Will placed a gift on my lap. A mask made of green silk. Diamonds bejeweled the outlines of the eyes and green and red feathers plumed out from the top and the sides. I ran my fingers over the tiny studded nubs.
“Feel better?” Will asked.
“Not really.”
We rode the rest of the way in silence. The growing pit of terror in my stomach made me want to stop the car and puke. Too many things could go wrong with this night. Right before the car stopped, Will leaned over. He fitted the mask over my eyes and dug small combs into the back of my hair to keep the mask in place.
He traced a finger down my arm and kissed my cheek. “You look stunning by the way. Go get ‘em, killer.”
I stepped out of the car. Alone. He was so not funny.
Twenty-eight
The car pulled away, and I stood frozen at the start of the path leading to the front door. Music spilled from the window and lanterns swung in the breeze. Every flowering bush seemed to be in perfect bloom and the lawn meticulously landscaped, just like I remembered. Except, last time, I was an uninvited guest and failed my mission.
Another car pulled up to the curb, so I scooted up the path, my hands clutching my purse like it was a life preserver. I couldn’t keep my mind off the vial with the sleeping drug. It pulsed through the silk against my fingers reminding that I was an almost assassin. And I didn’t like it.
Heart of an Assassin (Circle of Spies) Page 12
