Agents, Agreements and Aggravations: In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service™ Book Three

by Anderle, Michael

  Jennie shrugged. “I wanted to clear the house.”

  Baxter laughed and unclipped his seatbelt. He mumbled, “I don’t even know why I have this on,” before turning in his seat to get a better look at Jennie.

  Despite the lack of sleep she’d had over the past few days, she looked as awake and healthy as anyone he had ever met. Her eyebrows were knitted together in thought, and her eyes locked on the road. “It was a pretty cool house.”

  “That’s what I’m saying!” Jennie declared. “Can you imagine what we could do from there as a base of operations? There are enough rooms to accommodate both the mortals and the specters on our team, the basement would make a great storage facility. We could add more lights—of course, we’d have to sort out the electricity and get some wi-fi running through there. No point being an intelligence organization without sufficient network and data entry points—and the location?” Jennie gave a heaving sigh. “Located on a hilltop above the city, overlooking everything, yet overlooked by none. It’s perfect.”

  “There’ll be other properties.”

  Jennie signaled right and abruptly swung the Mustang into a rest area. She slammed on the brakes, and Baxter had to cling on to stop himself flying through the front of the car. “I want that house.”

  Baxter ran a hand down his face. “It belongs to someone else. Why do you want it so badly?”

  Jennie rested her head against the leather seat and ignored the fading honks of an angry vehicle she had cut off in her sudden, erratic maneuver. “Because the souls inside are broken.” Her words were soft, contemplative. “I’d want the house with or without the specters, but after seeing that display of power, I can’t stop thinking about the spectral couple.”

  “You know you can just say ‘couple,’ right? It’s me, remember?”

  Jennie laughed, the sound cutting through the tension of the car. “Sorry, I default to speaking to mortals, still. A habit it’ll take a while to break from.” Her face straightened. “That house is more than just a potential property investment. It’s a place that has captured tortured souls. They’re hurting, Bax. They don’t even realize that they are hurting, but they are. Specters can only begin to absorb the presence of those within the house after hundreds of painful years. To make a house yield and obey like they did, that’s the work of dark power. Pain and hate and anger can contort a specter’s abilities and create something…”

  “Bad?” Baxter suggested.

  Jennie wrinkled her nose. “Is that the best you could come up with?”

  “I’m not a wordsmith.”

  “But…‘bad?’ Even Sandra could come up with a better synonym than that.”

  Baxter rolled his eyes. “Well, what were you going to say, then?”

  Jennie searched her brain. “Dark?”

  “You’ve already used ‘dark.’ You can’t repeat it.”

  “When did I use dark?”

  “You said, ‘that’s the work of dark power.’”

  Jennie laughed and bounced her fists on her thighs. “Fine. How about ‘twisted?’ It creates something twisted?”

  Baxter pinched his chin. “Better, I guess. What was your point, anyway?”

  Jennie shook her head and laughed. “My point is that the house needs healing, and I like to consider myself something of a spectral physician.”

  It was Baxter’s turn to laugh. “Of all the things I’ve heard you be called, or thought of calling you myself, I’ve never once considered you as a physician.”

  Jennie mimed putting on latex gloves and winked. “Well, then. Prepare to be impressed. That house is wounded, and the doctor is going to find a way to heal it.”

  She eased the car into drive and left the rest area, quickly accelerating back to her steady ninety miles per hour. As she slalomed past the sparse traffic and caught up with the cars that had overtaken her in their pause, she chewed her lip and mused.

  Baxter sighed, a knowing smile on his face. “You’ve already bought the house, haven’t you?”

  Washington DC, USA

  The SIA had expanded noticeably in the weeks following the showdown in Alexandria. Agents scurried through the halls with iPads in hand, barely lifting their heads to nod at their colleagues. The headquarters had seemed an adequate size to conduct their affairs before, now it felt cramped with so many agents roaming the halls and meeting rooms. Issues were coming in thick and fast from the surrounding states as the net of their intelligence was cast wider, and resources were poured into monitoring spectral activity.

  The President had put some urgency on the growth of the department after he had been debriefed. His primary concern had shifted from the realm of mortal terrorism as the reality of the spectral world came to light.

  Many of the President’s closest advisors didn’t understand the sudden shift in resources and the secrecy behind it all, but their elected leader understood that secrecy was the only way that this should operate. The fewer people who knew, the better. The world wasn’t ready for this kind of revelation.

  Jennie pulled into the SIA parking lot in the early hours of the morning. She glanced around the lot at the near-identical black saloon cars that filled every available space.

  Every available space but one.

  Jennie had been smart enough to negotiate her own parking space at the SIA HQ. Having seen the kind of growth successful government departments could undertake in short time periods, she had accounted for every eventuality.

  Only on one occasion did she have to track down an SIA agent who thought he could park in her spot. He wasn’t difficult to find, either. His “Wave Hello for Joe,” tag hung from his wing mirror, with the word “Perkins,” scribbled beneath it. Jennie narrowed her eyes and found Joe Perkins in the break room. With a little “gentle” convincing, he moved his car, and never again returned to that spot.

  Jennie had actually not seen him since. Maybe it was the threat of sending specters to his bedside to ensure he never slept a wink again…

  She slipped her car into her space, thumbed off the ignition, and headed inside.

  One of the main upgrades the SIA had installed in recent weeks was the introduction of the Rec Room. This was located in a walled-off section of the basement that had previously been nothing more than a space set aside for large gatherings. The room had since been fitted with table tennis and pool tables, dartboards, a video game corner, and a matted section for agents to utilize for meditation and yoga.

  This was where Jennie found her compadres.

  Tanya was the first to spot Jennie across the room. She rushed her with a hug, leaving Sandra and Lupe sitting on the couch playing their video game.

  “You’re back!” Tanya exclaimed excitedly.

  “Looks that way.” Jennie nodded at the others. “Lupe getting any better yet?”

  Tanya laughed. “Nope. You’d think a man who was raised during the technological revolution would have a better grasp on NBA 2K19 than a girl who had been trapped in rock for centuries, but apparently not.”

  Baxter squinted at the TV screen. “What’s the score?”

  “One-nineteen to seventeen.”

  Jennie crossed the room. “That doesn’t sound too bad.” She examined the score. “Oh, I thought you meant one-nineteen to one-seventeen. Not one-nineteen to literally seventeen.”

  Lupe strained his neck but kept his eyes on the screen. “Don’t mock! Kids are just better at video games, okay? They pick things up more easily.”

  “Maybe millennials.” Baxter chuckled. “I’m sorry, this is ridiculous.”

  Lupe slammed his controller down on the couch. “Fine! You try and do better, see how that goes.”

  A handful of agents who were playing table tennis nearby stopped and stared their way, sensing the brewing competition. Their SI goggles had recently had a makeover, thanks to Hendrick and his new team. Instead of the dark-lensed swimming goggles with green LEDs, around the rims, they were now sleek black sunglasses, with the LEDs set along the bridge.


  Baxter hopped over the back of the couch and took the controller. “Okay, let’s see what we’re working with here. Three minutes to go. This button does…okay! That’s good. Yep. Pass it over. Woah! Nice. Final pass, then. What’s shoot— Oh! Okay, that’s a dunk!”

  Sandra giggled and looked over her shoulder at Lupe. “Beginner’s luck?”

  Lupe grumbled as the rest of them laughed.

  The final score was 127–39, Baxter had closed the gap impressively, but it would never have been enough in the time left. When they were done, Jennie invited them back to her quarters where it would be a little quieter and they could discuss the events of the last few days.

  Jennie made quick work of preparing Tanya and Lupe’s drinks, surprising them with cocktails of their favorite blends. Tanya had shown an affinity to gins, and so Jennie had cycled through the classics—Tom Collins, Perfect Spritz, French 75, and Gin Fizz, and had been forced to stretch her creations with some lesser-known concoctions like the Gin Sours, the Fitzgerald, an Aviation, and a Casino. This time, she served Tanya a…

  “Gimlet.”

  Tanya looked at Jennie as though she were mad. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a Gimlet. Super simple to make, but rarely ever concocted these days. Try it. Let me know what you think.”

  Tanya took a sip and raised her eyebrows in delight. “Sweet.”

  “And for my dear Lupe…” She carefully took a tall glass filled near the brim with a deep yellow liquid. “A Canelazo. One of the greatest Latin cocktails I’ve had the fortune to try.”

  Lupe furrowed his brow. “Which Latin country did you source this from?”

  Jennie coughed into her hand and muttered something indistinguishable.

  “Excuse me?” Lupe asked.

  “Ecuador,” Jennie answered.

  Lupe tsked. “It’s not Mexican, though, is it?”

  Baxter rolled his eyes. “Neither are you anymore, hombre. You live in the U-S-of-A, now. Get used to it. She’s doing you a solid.”

  “It’s an insult to my Latin heritage,” Lupe protested.

  Jennie picked up her own tumbler, half-filled with a cocktail the color of cloudy mahogany—the Sazerac—and gestured at Lupe. “I’m sorry, okay. Outside of the Mexican Sunset, Mexico’s hardly known for its copious wealth of cocktail recipes. I’ve had to source from the Latin cousins, so sue me.”

  “I may just do that.” Lupe begrudgingly sipped from his glass, doing his best to hide his surprise at the sweetness of his drink. He sighed. “It’s not that bad.”

  “What a compliment!” Tanya called.

  Jennie waved a hand. “That’s the closest I’ll ever get to a thanks.” She raised her glass. “You’re welcome, Lupe.”

  When Jennie finally took a seat on her couch, Tanya rested her elbow on the back and leaned closer to Jennie. “Well?”

  “Well, what?” Jennie asked, looking up at her.

  Tanya sighed in exasperation. “Are you going to tell us about your big adventure? Come on, we were all curious why you and Baxter had to disappear on a secret mission, just the two of you. It felt a little bit like being the witness to a parent’s divorce. Lupe was weeping every second that you were gone.”

  Lupe spluttered. “I was not!”

  Jennie, Baxter, Tanya, and Sandra exploded in laughter. When they were finished, Tanya added, “Well?”

  Baxter half-shrugged. “You said it yourself, it was a secret mission.”

  “Yeah, but…” Tanya bounced her eyebrows. “Nothing’s secret between us, right? We know everything that’s going on here. Right down to Jennie’s ongoing plans to emancipate from the SIA and establish her own thing.”

  Jennie raised her eyebrows.

  “What?” Tanya protested. “Like it’s some big secret? Dude, the Summer Court has been a work in progress for ages. When are we going to get the goddamn show on the road?”

  Jennie turned to Baxter. “Since when has she been this vocal? I thought she was all about protecting the little ones and living a quiet life.”

  Tanya rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. These last few weeks have been boring as hell for me and Sandra. The agents are getting all the missions, and there’s nothing to do when you’re off gallivanting with Baxter. Come on, Jennie, tell us we’re heading off on a grand adventure soon and you need the whole party by your side? Please?”

  Lupe chuckled, then slurped the rest of his drink. It was gone in seconds, and his straw gurgled the final dregs loudly.

  Jennie sipped her drink, then crossed her legs. “If things are so boring around here, then where’s Carolyn and Feng Mian? They’re off on a mission of their own, helping the agents. You know that you could be doing that, too, if you didn’t have such a resistance to instruction.”

  Jennie looked out from over her glasses, a mischievous grin on her face.

  “I don’t have a problem with instruction, I have a problem with authority.” Tanya returned the grin and looped an arm around Sandra’s shoulders. The young specter stared at the floor, clearly bored by the conversation. “I pledged my life to you, Jennie. I’ll follow you to the end. I won’t follow some obnoxious twenty-something agent who acts like he’s Bill Murray on the hunt for ghosts just because he’s been inducted into the SIA. I won’t do it. I’m better than that.”

  Baxter and Jennie exchanged a glance.

  “What?” Tanya asked.

  “Nothing,” Jennie replied. “That was a lot of pent up pressure just let out through a tiny hole right there.”

  “Innuendo,” Baxter quipped.

  “Anyway,” Jennie segued back to the subject at hand. “I hate to tell you you’re right, but there is something I need your help with. I won’t go into it until we’ve got all the gang here. You know how much I hate repeating myself.”

  “What?” Baxter asked.

  “I said, you know how much I hate…” Jennie sighed. “Very funny. Point is, you’ll have to wait until Feng Mian and Carolyn are back. I’m not doing this without them.”

  “You might be waiting a while.” Lupe was slumped in his chair, trying to get the last few drops of his drink from the glass. “Feng Mian’s gone out with the SIA to deal with a rising situation in Chinatown, New York. Apparently, the Dragon is back, and this time he’s got backup.”

  “Shit,” Jennie muttered. “I thought he died?”

  Lupe shrugged. “I didn’t see a specter rise from his body. He must have survived somehow.”

  Jennie considered this, then asked, “Where are Feng Mian’s parents? Are they with him?”

  Tanya answered. “They left! The pair of them just disappeared one day. When Feng Mian went looking for them, they’d left him a note saying they were going to reconnect by traveling across the world, something they’d been meaning to do for years but had never gotten around to.”

  Baxter’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding. How did Feng Mian take it?”

  Tanya looked at Baxter as though he should already know the answer. “How do you think? He’s in Chinatown with the SIA, for God’s sake.”

  “Who have they sent out with him?” Jennie asked.

  “Not sure of their names. A group of the new recruits,” Tanya replied. “To be honest, I’m not privy to that much stuff anymore. They’re keeping me out of the loop on a lot of things. I think they see me as a glorified babysitter to Sandra.”

  Jennie’s face turned serious as she straightened in her chair. “This was my exact worry when we took to embedding ourselves in the SIA. If we’re to be the representatives of King’s Court, we need to be treated as such. We need a top-level overview of what’s going on in the organization, not to be used as pawns to achieve whatever it is they’re after.”

  Baxter raised an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I think I need to have a word with the Special Agent in Charge. Re-establish our agreement.”

  Lupe toasted his empty glass. “Good luck, Rogue. You’ll need it.”

  Chapter Five
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br />   Washington DC, USA

  The corridor leading to Agent Kurt Rogers’ office was one of the quietest areas of the HQ. Agents and analysts talked as they passed each other at the intersection of the corridor some fifty feet back, but they quieted in the presence of the head of the SIA.

  Jennie, however, was unperturbed.

  Her footsteps echoed loudly in the hall. She knocked three times on the door and announced herself. After a second’s pause, the entry pad flashed green, and the door unlocked.

  Jennie marched in. “Rogers, we need to talk.”

  “You might want to check who exactly you’re talking to before you storm into a room,” a voice that wasn’t Kurt Rogers’ replied.

  Tom Hopkins was sitting behind the desk, illuminated only by a desk lamp as he struggled to process a heaping pile of paperwork. The computer screen was almost buried, and the table contained a slew of stained coffee mugs. He looked at Jennie as though he had forgotten she even existed.

  “You’re not Kurt,” Jennie observed.

  Tom nodded, reclining in his chair and resting an elbow over the back. He looked exhausted. The light accentuated the heavy bags that hung from his eyes, and he sported a healthy measure of unshaven stubble on his cheeks.

  Tom gave a half-assed grin. “You’re correct. Can’t beat you for your observational abilities.”

  Jennie cocked an eyebrow and scanned him. He wore the same black fatigues that he had worn during the battle in Alexandria, although in his death, they had turned strangely opalescent.

  “What is it you need, Jennie? In case you haven’t noticed, things are a little hectic around here.”

  Jennie hesitated, then took the seat on the other side of the desk. She moved a stack of papers as well as Rogers’ coat to make room for herself. “I need to talk to Rogers.”

  “He’s not here,” Hopkins told her.

  “I can see that,” Jennie replied acidly. “When will he be back?”

  Tom exploded with laughter. “That’s the million-dollar question!” He slammed both hands on the desk, but his spectral form made no noise. “In case you haven’t noticed, things have ramped up around here. We’ve got recruiting drives coming out of the wazoo. We’ve got cases coming in left, right, and center, and we’ve got a Special Agent in Charge who is stuck in so many meetings that he’s been forced to take on an assistant in the absence of him and his own assistant so that the wheels can keep turning around here.”