Elegant AF.
Issuing multiple apologies in each of the three languages she knew, Eva backed away from the stunned businessmen. Not watching where she was going, she tumbled into an elderly couple sharing a rather large cocktail at another table. The sprawling table dance and profuse apologies played out all over again.
The entire bar must have thought she was drunk. The shock on Isabella’s face mirrored the appalled expression on those of the guests. Worried hotel staff rushed over, pretending to be concerned for Eva’s welfare, anxious to stop the crazy lady from bumping into their patrons.
Eva raised her arms, claiming to be fine, but as she did so, she bumpted into a third lot of people on her way out of the bar. The scathing glares burned her back as she stumbled away. Isabella stared at her in stunned silence. Eva ignored the gaze, flicked her hair and motioned for Isabella to follow her out of the bar.
When they reached the far end of the foyer Isabella appraised her partner with grave concern. “Are you… Are you alright?”
Eva ignored the question. “We’re going to search the room.”
Isabella gave a slight shake of her head, clearly confused. “Did you not ’ear the manager? We are not authorised.”
Eva tilted her head. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person to seek permission, Isabella. Didn’t you say rules are for the unimaginative? You’re not all talk, are you? Is it possible I’ve misjudged you?”
“Now who is teasing?” Isabella smirked. “But ’ow would we do this? We have no key.”
Eva winked at her companion and called a number in her phone. It was answered almost instantly. “Hey Trev, got a job for you. Check my phone, I’ve scanned several… yep that’s the one. Hotel RFID keys… Can you… yep. Room, 513… Thanks. Text me when you’re done. You’re a champ, cheers.”
She rang off, enjoying the confusion on Isabella’s face. Eva couldn’t help smiling. Isabella must have thought she was clumsy and unprofessional, colliding with hotel guests. In fact, she was the complete opposite.
Eva had researched the hotel on the taxi ride over. The online reviews raved about the convenience of the RFID room keys, which gave guests the option of using their cell phone as a key.
Eva explained to Isabella that she’d turned her phone into a RFID scanner. Each time she’d bumped into a guest, she’d skimmed their room key information. She’d have at least five codes. Trev, the IT boffin at MI6, was currently pulling apart the data so he could provide Eva with a range of codes to find the one able to break into Mustafa’s room.
Isabella’s admiration was clear on her face. “Impressive.”
“You should see what I can do with a pencil.”
“I would very much like to see what you could do with a pencil. I feel I would find it, stimulating, no?”
“Don't flirt with me, I’m working here.”
“Oh, I'm not flirting.” Isabella raised an eyebrow. “If I flirt with you, you will know it.”
Eva’s phone vibrated in her pocket. Trevor had already cracked the codes. He had a range of frequencies; all Eva had to do was hold the phone up to the door and she’d be in.
They got in a lift and Eva hit the button for the fifth floor. As they ascended, her mind wandered. Why had the terrorist been in Vienna? He was a French citizen, why would he need to come to Austria? And why an expensive five-star hotel? Why would he want to stand out? Where did he get the money to pay for three weeks in advance?
The name “suicide bomber” tended to indicate he wasn’t planning a sleep in and an à la carte breakfast. So why book the room for so long?
So many questions. It was time Eva found some answers.
The elevator pinged and the doors opened. The cream wooden panelling and gilded edging of the fifth floor screamed opulence. At a thousand Euros a night, you’d hope so.
Another thought pushed its way into Eva’s mind. Why did Isabella seem less eager to search the room? Didn’t she think they would find anything? If so, why come all the way to Vienna? Why give up so easily when faced with a prissy hotel manager? Eva decided that was a question for another time.
Room 513 had a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door. Eva held her phone to the touchpad and waited for it to cycle through various frequencies. She was disappointed she couldn’t show off her lock-picking skills, but technology moved fast, and she had to move with it.
A tiny beep on her phone was followed by a click of the door. Success.
The door opened silently and the two spies drew their guns. The suite was large. Ridiculously so—you could fly a few zeppelins around and still have room left over. Several doors led off the main room, indicating multiple bedrooms. Large glass doors opened to a balcony at the far end.
With her gun ready, Isabella nodded to the nearest door and motioned for Eva to follow. They cautiously entered the room, covering one another, scanning for any threat. There were none.
The smell of stale food permeated the room. Discarded chocolate bar wrappers and empty condom packets littered the floor. Someone had been having a good time.
Isabella placed her gun on the bedside table and began opening drawers. They were stuffed haphazardly with clothes. Why would a suicide bomber leave clothes behind? It didn’t add up.
Eva was about to mention this to Isabella when she heard a click behind her. It wasn’t any old click. It was quite specific. It was the metallic click of a pistol. They weren’t alone.
Eva turned to see a person of short stature in the doorway. He couldn’t have been more than five foot. He wore a stylish grey suit and vest, and his facial hair was trimmed and neat. Eva would have considered him rather dapper if he hadn’t been holding a gun on them.
Two guns against one would have been far better odds, but with Isabella’s gun out of reach on the bedside table, their chances were less favourable. Plus, the man had his gun trained on Eva and hers at the floor. He had a considerable advantage. Talk was the better option.
“Hi there,” Eva said cheerily. “You’re just in time!”
The man raised a curious eyebrow, but said nothing.
“Yes,” Eva continued, realising she had no idea where this was going. “Uh, just in time to help us, ah…”
Eva glanced to Isabella for aid, but the DGSE agent just gazed at her, confused. She had no idea what Eva was on about. That made three of them. The man ignored Eva’s floundering and stepped forward.
“Good afternoon, ladies, my name is Herr Ludger Volmer,” he said in heavily accented English. “I work for the Bundesamt für Verfassungsschutz und Terrorismusbekämpfung.”
Eva shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask you to repeat that.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” The slightest hint of delight crossed his lips. “You may call it BVT for short. It is the Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution and Counterterrorism, similar to your FBI or MI5.”
“Well, that’s lucky, we’re from—”
“I am aware of your employers,” Volmer said, cutting Eva off. “But I do not think you are authorised to enter this suite, Fräulein Destruction and Fräulein Beart?”
“I assume the hotel manager told you we were coming?” Eva tucked the gun into the back of her jeans.
The man shrugged, then nodded, acknowledging Eva’s gesture, and lowered his own weapon. “That’s a nice girl. You ought to go careful in Vienna. Everybody ought to go careful in a city like this.”
With a heft of an eyebrow, Eva said, “Did you just quote The Third Man? That’s impressive.”
The man’s face lit up with a genuine grin. “You know that movie? This is excellent. I use that line often and no one understands that it is from the film. You are my new best friend. Now, as my new best friend, tell me, are you Isabella or Eva?”
“Eva.”
“Ah, exceptional. I am most pleased to meet you.” He extended his hand and they shook. “I assumed the manager would not be able to dissuade you from coming here.”
He nodded
to Isabella, but did not offer her his hand.
Volmer continued. “I gave her explicit instructions not to allow any other law enforcement up here, local police included. One cannot set a trap if too many people are trampling it, yes?”
“Trap?” Eva asked. “For what?”
As if on cue, the front door clicked. The short man moved like lightning. Through rapid hand gestures, he motioned for the other two to hide, their weapons at the ready. It was doubtful it would be hotel staff. Another agency was possible, but so was another member of Mustafa’s team. There had to be a reason the room had been booked so far in advance. That reason may have just walked in.
Though the newcomer couldn’t be seen, the footsteps seemed cautious, tentative. This was not the stride of someone who worked at the hotel or had booked the room with nothing to hide. The footsteps went past the room they were in, down the hall to another.
Volmer motioned for them to follow and put a finger to his lips. He peeked through the crack in the door. Nodding to indicate the coast was clear, he tiptoed around the door, pistol raised. Isabella and Eva followed, adopting a similar stance.
Edging forward, the three entered the hall. Eva controlled her breathing, finger on the trigger. She remembered her training. She also remembered her mistake back in Lyon. There was no room for slip-ups now. Whoever had entered the suite could be their only lead. They couldn’t lose this suspect.
Creeping forward as silently as possible, the three stalked towards the sound of movement. Without warning, a young man emerged from one of the bedrooms, his back to them. He was of a similar age and complexion to Mustafa. Under one arm he carried a pile of clothes. The sleeve of his bright red shirt was pulled over his other hand, and he wiped the hotel desk with it as he headed towards the kitchen. In his mouth was a half-eaten muesli bar.
Given the circumstances, Eva thought her cough was extremely polite. The young man spun on the spot, panic smeared across his features. When he saw the three guns trained on him, he jumped backwards and dropped the bundle from his arm. The muesli bar stayed put.
His hands shot up in the air and his eyes darted to a small machine pistol Eva could see laying on the bed. Like Isabella minutes before, he’d been caught off-guard and unarmed. Diddums.
As he took in the scene before him, his mouth gaped and the muesli bar tumbled from it. Eva could understand his reaction. With two sexy spies and a person of short stature, they must look like the cast of a 70s TV show.
It was Volmer who spoke first. “We apologise for startling you, Herr…”
The newcomer seemed disinclined to supply his name. His gaze flitted between the three of them and the front door, the only means of escape. His options were limited. A cornered man was a desperate man, and desperate men made stupid decisions. Eva kept her gun trained on his chest, her finger never straying from the trigger.
The kid stood stiff, tense, then moved backwards to rest against the couch, trying to look casual. He attempted an air of tranquillity, but it was a façade. He must have accepted there was no way out. He pointed at the muesli bar and raised his eyebrows, as if asking if he could pick it up. Volmer gave a slight nod.
The kid returned the nod and slowly reached down for it, keeping his eyes on the three of them. His shoulders relaxed slightly.
He took a bite of the bar. “So what is this,” he said, waving the muesli bar at them. “You look like an improv comedy troupe of some description.”
Eva preferred the 70s TV show analogy. His English was heavily accented with a French inflection. He knew what a comedy troupe was. The casual manner was forced, the sharpness in his eyes betrayed him. The guy was panicked but smart. His eyes kept darting to Isabella, probably because she was the main obstacle between him and the door.
Eva said, “Perhaps you could tell us your name?”
The young man smirked. “Justin Bieber.”
“Look, dude,” Eva used what she hoped was a soothing tone, “if you don’t want me to shoot you, you’re off to a terrible start.”
The kid gave a slight chuckle, but said nothing further.
“Okay, Justin,” Eva said. “Maybe you could tell us why you’re in this suite?”
“I am robbing it.”
“I see,” Eva said calmly. “So you came all the way from France to break into a hotel room in Vienna. Sounds like a pretty inefficient thief if you ask me.”
“My methods are not your concern.”
“No,” Eva conceded, “but your welfare is. As you’ve probably figured out by now, you’re outnumbered and outgunned. And this one here,” Eva nodded to Isabella, “has an itchy trigger finger.”
“Yes, they call me Itchy,” Isabella said, her voice dripping with contempt.
Eva eyed Isabella. “No, you don’t want people to call you Itchy.”
“Why not?” The DGSE agent appeared confused.
Eva gave a slight shake of her head. “You just don’t. Trust me.”
“What’s his name?” Justin nodded to Volmer. “Mini Me?”
“Being shot in the kneecaps is just as painful as being shot anywhere else, sir.” Volmer aimed his pistol at Justin’s crotch. “But for you, I can always aim slightly higher.”
Eva was losing control of the situation. “I think everyone needs to calm the fuck down, okay?”
In a slow, deliberate movement, Eva took her gun and tucked it into the back of her jeans, then raised her empty palms. The kid was too valuable to have this many weapons trained on him. She gestured for the others to do the same. Reluctantly, her comrades followed her lead.
Justin’s shoulders relaxed, but his eyes remained vigilant, searching for any escape. He had to know there wasn’t any. Cornered by representatives from three separate governments, his options were limited.
“So,” Eva said nonchalantly, “how do you know Mustafa Khoury?”
The sudden jolt of his head said far more than any verbal answer could. He knew Mustafa, and was shocked Eva knew his name.
“I… I don’t know anyone by that name,” Justin said, his voice cracking.
Under his breath, Volmer said, “I think our friend here needs to attend some of those improv classes. He lies like a cheap Chinese watch.”
“You’ve been caught clearing out the rooms of suspected terrorists.” Eva planted her fists on her hips. “I think you’ll find working with us will mean—”
Justin scoffed, interrupting her. “A war is coming to this place. Nothing you do here will halt the oncoming tempest.”
There was that word again. Tempest.
Eva was about to ask more when there was a noise from behind her: the distinct click of the suite door being opened. All three spies pulled their guns and aimed them at the new threat.
The door opened slowly. The prissy hotel manager gawped at them in shock. She flung her hands in the air and the tray she’d been balancing went flying. As it clattered to the floor, Eva turned to see Justin flip backwards over the couch.
He rolled across the floor then broke into a sprint, headed directly for the balcony. In seconds Isabella had her gun trained on him and fired two shots. The balcony door shattered. The hotel manager screamed.
Eva shoved Isabella’s gun upward. “Don’t shoot him!”
They needed him alive. A bullet in the back would make getting answers slightly problematic.
Without breaking stride, Justin leapt through the shattered glass door and out onto the balcony, his three pursuers close behind.
Volmer raised his gun as he ran. “Where does he think he’s going? He is five floors up, it’s not like he will…”
He stopped mid-sentence as Justin leapt over the balcony railing. The jump was perfectly aimed and he landed on another balcony, diagonally across and one floor down. He rolled away, out of sight and out of range.
“Merde!” Isabella spat.
Her angry glare drilled into Eva, who ignored her rage. Arguing about not shooting Justin, their only live lead, could wait. Catching him couldn’t.
Eva was fit and limber, but parkour was not her bag. Neither was breaking her neck. But she wasn’t willing to let their only lead disappear.
She took several steps back and leaned into a crouch, sucking in deep breaths as if she were about to dive into the sea. Except there was no water to break her fall.
Volmer was wide-eyed. “Are you mad?”
Eva winked and leapt into the void.
Chapter Four
She landed on the balcony with a sickening thud.
At least she landed. More accurately, at least she landed before hitting the unforgiving concrete below. There’d been a good chance of missing the small balcony altogether, but she’d made it, with no small amount of luck.
In a move that would make a paratrooper proud, Eva controlled her roll and was on her feet in seconds. She would have congratulated herself, but then she saw Justin’s face. He was in the hotel suite, having jimmied open the balcony door. His stunned expression was all the congratulations she needed. Clearly he hadn’t thought anyone would be insane enough to follow him.
He didn’t know Eva Destruction.
Recovering quickly, Justin stumbled through the hotel room, heading for the door. As he went, he flicked furniture behind him, creating an obstacle course.
“Fräulein Eva!”
Eva glanced up to see Volmer standing on the edge of the balcony above. He threw a cell phone and she caught it.
“Isabella is on her way down to the ground floor. I cannot keep up. I will call you on that. Go!”
She didn’t need to be told twice. Eva ran, hurdling the ornate chairs and lamps strewn across her path. The heavy hotel door hadn’t fully closed by the time she reached it. She wrenched it open and bounded into the hallway just in time to see Justin slip into the stairwell at the end of the hall.
The screech of an alarm assaulted her ears. She saw why. On his way to the stairwell Justin must have punched the fire alarm. The glass had been smashed, and the red metal lever was down. Clever boy. Confused and panicked people milling in the lobby would only aid his disappearance. But he had to get there first.
The Rookie?s Guide to Espionage: An Eva Destruction Espresso Shot Page 4
