Seven-Sided Spy

by Hannah Carmack

  Roderick sighed and took a sip. “Water already. You must think I’m about to cry.”

  “I know this situation hasn’t been easy on you.” Sergei talked with a low voice, careful not to speak loud enough for Nikola to hear the two of them. “But if you truly want out, there is still time, but not much. All you have to do is put a call out to your commander back home. Nikola and I can escape before they get here. You can go back to Nottingham. It is not too late.”

  Roderick sighed and flopped back on the bed, not bothering to finish his water. “I’m not going anywhere, Sergei. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “I am more worried that you’re staying.” Sergei took Roderick’s hand as he sat beside him on the hotel bed. They held each other’s gaze steadily. “Something is wrong.”

  “Everything is wrong.”

  Sergei grimaced. “Now is no time for melodrama. Everything is wrong all the time. You get up and go on.”

  Roderick lay there, focusing in on the hazy lighting. “You’re damn right.” A hint of a smile crossed Roderick’s face for a moment only to quickly vanish. “We’re in trouble.”

  “You don’t have to be.” Sergei shook his head. “You should have never stayed this long in the first place. If I hadn’t been here, you would have been gone a long time ago.”

  “Quiet down, or she’ll hear you,” Roderick huffed. “She hears everything now.” He began scratching at the collar of his sweater. “The fibers on this thing are like steel wool.”

  Sergei was having none of his diversion. “Why aren’t you going?”

  “This isn’t just about us, Sergei. I stayed for other reasons.”

  “Like what?” Sergei lay back next to Roderick. “The glamorous living arrangements? The constant state of fear of being outed? The stern yet benevolent team captain?”

  “It’s more than that.” Roderick shook his head, turning so he was face to face with Sergei.

  “Roderick, there’s no need to lie. I will not be hurt if you go. I will hurt, but I will not be hurt. I’d rather die knowing you’re safe than have you follow us out onto that field this time around. These other agents aren’t going to be merciful.”

  “Of course not. They want us dead, and they just might get it.”

  “Then go, Roderick.” Sergei ran his thumb over the top of Roderick’s hand. “I love you, but I know that it’s your time.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Roderick smiled and any warmth left in him was gone. There was something hollow about that grin, something secretly eating him away, and even though he could try and fool Sergei into not seeing that, it was clear; Sergei always knew.

  “What is this?” Sergei asked. “You need to go.”

  Roderick shook his head. His stomach turned. “I love you. Isn’t that enough?” Roderick stood, the bed creaking as he got up. “I’m not going anywhere because I love you.” He switched subjects. “Is there more scotch in the minibar?” Rather than wait for an answer. He bent down and pulled out another full bottle.

  Sergei sat up and any playfulness, any curiosity, was gone. There was nothing but concern plaguing him. “You should be running. Why aren’t you running?”

  Roderick considered the bottle in his hand. After a minute or two of silent staring, he unscrewed the top and sucked down three big gulps before Sergei cut him off, gently placing a hand on the bottle and pulling it away from Roderick’s lips.

  “You are going to be a riot when that hits your gut.” Sergei was deadpan, but there was still an intense sense of concern in the way he grabbed Roderick’s hand and sat him back down on the bed. “Why aren’t you running, Roderick?”

  The truth came like a bad aftertaste, all at once and not the least bit welcomed. “Because I defected from the UK four months ago.”

  They sat there and let the minutes stretch on forever. The words were still sinking in, finally, and Sergei let out a long breath.

  “Why would you do that?” There was a distress to him he didn’t often like to show. “Why?”

  “Do you remember what they said to us when we first started this mission?” Roderick pulled his knees in on himself, curling tightly on the edge of the bed. “They said fame. They said fortune. They said super squad, the greatest spy team the world has ever seen. The goddess and the protégé working together again. It was going to be great, and we were going to be a part of it. Why would I miss out?”

  It didn’t hit Sergei so much as wash over him. “So I had nothing to do with it?”

  “Ha.” Roderick let out a long, exasperated breath. “I wish I could say I did it for love, but no, it had nothing to do with you. I did it all for me.”

  Sergei let out a long breath, releasing an anxiety he’d been holding onto since the moment he and Roderick first kissed. “So, I’m not to blame?”

  “No.” Roderick lay back on the bed and cuddled in next to Sergei, a frown on his face. “You were never going to be to blame for whatever ends up happening to me, for better or worse.”

  “So…let’s say, at the end of this mission, you happen upon world domination. Do I still get mentioned in your address?”

  “Sergei.” Roderick sat up, his body now guarded from Sergei’s arms. “This isn’t a joke. We’re going to die tomorrow.”

  “Thursday. We don’t die till Thursday.”

  “Stop,” Roderick croaked.

  “Roderick.” Sergei sat up. “We’re going to be fine. Look at me.” Sergei took his partner’s hands and held them. “We are going to be fine. I will not let you die.” He paused. “Now, was that a lie?”

  Roderick smiled weakly, but he did smile. “No.”

  “It’s not a lie because it is true. I will not let you die, and neither will Nikola. You are there to make sure we are not bested on a mental field, and we are there to make sure we’re not bested on a physical field. We will all take care of each other. No one is dying.”

  Roderick’s tears were already drying. “This unyielding optimism is unlike you, but comforting.”

  Sergei smiled. “Only for you, Roderick. No one else can know.”

  “Oh, of course.” He giggled and leaned forward for a kiss.

  Belly Up

  DECEMBER 12, 1963

  “You’ll be getting out of here soon enough.” Ruby lay on the grass across from Rigan, a fire roaring between them in the camp’s small shelter. For the moment, it was just the two of them. Da Vinci had started to see minor improvements in his health and had been venturing back out into the woods with Tim and Diana’s assistance. “What do you think you’ll do first?”

  She’s beautiful, even buried under a silly winter hat and layers of scarves, Rigan thought, not yet ready to talk and ruin the moment.

  “Post-cure and everything. Should have been more specific.” Ruby tilted her head as she looked at her scaly friend on the other side of the flames.

  “Shower.” Rigan didn’t even hesitate.

  Ruby rolled her eyes to the back of her head. “Ugh, Rigan, post boring stuff like shower, check my bank account, hunt down the agents who did this to me.”

  “Hunt the agents down who did this to me?” Rigan snorted. “I take it you asked Tim what his post-cure plans were.”

  “He’s very determined. He does not like the blonde one at all. He’s determined to kill her. It’s scary, but makes for an interesting conversation. I’m just glad I’m not on his bad side, ya know?”

  Rigan redirected his attention to the question at hand. “Post-cure.” He sighed. “I try not to think about it. What if it doesn’t happen?”

  “That’s no attitude to have.” Ruby flattened her arms and pretended to smack the ground with her face. “You’ve killed me with your lack of imagination. See what you’ve done?” Her voice was muffled, but her words were audible enough for a good laugh.

  “How about get out of the spy business?” Rigan asked.

  “That’s still boring. Here, listen to what I have planned for you after your grand escape and then answer.” She
cleared her throat. “One, get pancakes from the small place off 12th. Two, catch up on The Twilight Zone, because Talky Tina was amazing. Three, listen to the whole Ruby and the Romantics vinyl, not just “Our Day Will Come.” Four—”

  “Take you dancing.” Rigan shrugged at the thought. “If we ever get out of this place and I’m acceptable to go out in public. I’ll take you dancing—” He paused. “—in Morocco.”

  “Morocco?” The grin on Ruby’s face went from ear to ear. “That’s like halfway around the world.”

  Rigan already regretted the words. “This is a dangerous game.” It felt as though his world stopped spinning. “I can’t go getting invested in this possibility of escape. We don’t even know if Adams will come.”

  Ruby groaned. “One step forward, two steps back. You guys all need to have some optimism. Positive thinking will lead us into a new era, ya dig?” Ruby pushed off the ground and sat straight up, now clearly able to see Rigan’s face over the top of the flames. “No one wants to even entertain the idea that you guys might get out of here. You have to understand. Kennedy’s assassination investigation is all wrapped up. Your guy could come any day now.” She grumbled a little bit more but then let out a sudden laugh that surprised Rigan. “Assassination investigation. What a tongue twister.”

  “Or he could never come,” Rigan countered. “We would have heard something from him if he was on his way. There’s just a way the CIA does things. We plan everything.”

  “So four, take Ruby dancing.”

  Rigan smirked, the tips of his jagged teeth peeking out despite his insecurity about them. “All right, if there’s an escape and a cure, I will take you dancing.”

  “In Morocco,” Ruby added. “I’m holding you to it.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. Things don’t always work out like in the pictures, Ruby.” Rigan leaned his head against the damp wood holding the fort up. Tim and Diana were excellent builders. They were designed for this kind of survival.

  “I bet you’ve been in situations worse than this and you’ve made a great escape. You were an international spy, for goodness sake. You’re lying if you tell me you haven’t pulled off a few great escapes.”

  He was miles away now, a smile on his face. For a moment, he forgot, and he was happy. “I do have a story for you. If you care to listen.”

  Ruby lazily smiled. “Tell me.”

  *

  Getting on the boat was the hard part. That’s what Da Vinci told him. The Albatross was a mammoth of a ship, populated with true world leaders, from the cleanest of the clean, to black-market organizers, high crime bosses, and defected spies of unmatched notoriety. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to get intel, and the CIA had trusted none other than the nation’s best agents—Adams and Diana. But, because they were both mysteriously unavailable, Da Vinci and his protégé would have to do. Far from the best but impressive up-and-coming rookies. It was their audition to truly enter the world’s stage for intelligence work.

  “You’re sure we’re going to get in?” Rigan whispered to Da Vinci as the two approached the cruise liner on the shore of Paris.

  “We’re the help, Rigan. Yes, we’re going to get on.” Da Vinci adjusted the ruffles on the front of his shirt. His normally subdued Italian accent was now over the top and being played up with purpose. The two were dressed in server attire. “Like I said, talk in the most broken English you can muster up. We’ll be fine. Prejudice has never been so convenient.”

  Rigan rolled his eyes and did as he was told. They approached the two beefy, sharp-dressed men watching the boat’s ramp. After a few intentionally strained exchanges, they were let on. Rigan was disgusted by how they got there but thankful to be on the boat. Now, they could get to work. Rigan was meant to look in the rooms for intel. Da Vinci was supposed to scan the boat for Demeter, a recent CIA defect. It was his job to make sure she didn’t divulge any information to the other members of the cruise. Once he had her in his sights, he needed to take her down. A task he felt grossly unready for.

  The two walked back toward the liner’s staff kitchen, the blueprints practically branded into their brains from months of prep. They snuck in without trouble and switched out of their stiff suits to more comfortable cook’s clothes. Once finished, it was time to split up. Rigan went to the rooms, and Da Vinci headed for the banquet hall.

  The dock was plastered in a slew of suits and gowns, tall men, short women, hoity-toity conversations about corporate finance and supermodels. They were all so wrapped up in themselves, it was easy for Rigan to slip by them and walk into his assigned rooms. And by god, the CIA was right. Rigan found himself with illegal weaponry trade documents, proof of companies’ toxic dumping, and most importantly, after hours of searching rooms, he’d found the files Demeter stole when she defected from the CIA. Everything was going as planned until Da Vinci went flying by the door. He screamed something completely unintelligible as he ran by, and for a moment, Rigan just sat there dumbfounded. But as Demeter sprinted past the door at full speed, dress now torn up the side and brown hair flying wild, Rigan knew what had happened. Chaos was about to erupt.

  Rigan shoved the files he’d found into his bag and stormed out of the room. He headed the opposite direction of the wild chase happening between two seasoned agents, slipping in between passageways and ballrooms until he got to his target point. Da Vinci needed Rigan. There was no exception. Rigan knew the layout of this boat better than anyone else. It was up to him to get the two of them out of there safely.

  “Come on, old man,” Rigan shouted, grabbing his partner’s arm and pulling him into a small, concealed passageway. It was used for staff to get from one place to another. It’d take Demeter all of five seconds to figure out where it was, so this gave them just that to get ahead. “What happened?” Rigan swung doors open and dragged Da Vinci through the kitchen and back through the banquet hall. They snaked through giant groups of people, trying to blend in and get lost in the crowd.

  Da Vinci huffed, trying to keep up with Rigan’s impressive pace. “So, I thought Demeter didn’t know who I was. For a hot second, it even seemed that way. Things were going smooth right up until she recognized me. Apparently, I was wrong about having not met before. We have met, numerous times, I was probably drunk. So we’re now officially found out.”

  Rigan opened his mouth to speak but instead gasped and lost his balance and stumbled as the boat lurched from port. “Why are we leaving? They’re not scheduled to depart for another two hours.”

  “Dammit, she must be doing t—” Da Vinci was cut off by the sound of Demeter plowing through the crowd of banqueters and shouting orders. “Run,” Da Vinci squawked.

  Da Vinci and Rigan turned to leave, but a barrage of Russian diplomats blocked the door. They were tall, brooding, everything Rigan and Da Vinci were not equipped to handle.

  “Comrades.” Da Vinci spoke in quick Russian. “Please, if we may.”

  “Don’t bother.” Demeter’s voice was that of a queen, well-spoken and authoritative. She’d always been an intimidating negotiator. “Take care of them.” She crossed her arms and watched from a distance as the diplomats began circling in on them.

  “What’s our plan?” Rigan asked through gritted teeth. One, two, three, four, five. Five to two. They were in deep.

  Da Vinci cracked his neck and then his knuckles. “We’re just gonna have to fight our way out of it.” Da Vinci pulled from the back of his jeans a small handgun. Rigan did the same. They were both quickly reamed from behind. Not from the Russian’s but a staggeringly tall beast of a Taiwanese man.

  “Shit.” Rigan grabbed Da Vinci and forced him down. The two ducked just in time to dodge one long, hard swing from the man.

  “Who is that?” Da Vinci hissed.

  “My old boss.” Rigan’s heart started thudding louder than the ship’s engine. “What do we do?”

  “Your old boss. Holy shit, kid. No wonder you didn’t want to talk. I’d be scared of him, too.” Da Vinci wheez
ed. “So we got no guns. We’re gonna have to—” Da Vinci and Rigan were yanked up by the scruffs of their necks and then dropped. They landed on their feet, slightly disoriented.

  “There!” Rigan stared at a large glass case filled with old pirate-like swords and a giant harpoon. The only issue was the diplomats and mob goons and goddess between them and the weaponry.

  “Smart thinking. Go for it and don’t worry about me,” Da Vinci ordered. “I can get a few of ’em down, no problem.” Da Vinci and Rigan moved like clockwork, dodging whatever was thrown at them. “You get outta here the second they’re down, all right?”

  Rigan grunted in acknowledgement and Da Vinci was off. The first brute got a hit to the stomach, the second bashed in the face with a ricocheting elbow. They both swung in retaliation but Da Vinci was quick to dodge. They sparred for only a moment longer, because as soon as one of them went down, Rigan was out and crashing into the glass display case, not even considering the bottleneck of people around it. There were gasps, shock, awe, but before anyone could call for more help, a sword was in Rigan’s hand. He threw it, and it landed in Da Vinci’s grasp with grace.

  One of the grunts plowed toward Rigan. Rigan thought quick and grabbed a second sword and slung the harpoon over his shoulder. But before the grunt could flail himself, Demeter stepped in and grabbed Rigan from behind.

  To make matters worse, her minions picked up the few spare swords from the broken case, as well. Rigan was cornered. Quickly, he thrashed, spun, and got one swing against Demeter. She retaliated by slamming her fist straight into his face. She hit with the strength of a freight train, then picked a blade from the glass remnants of the case, and like that, they were belaying and clashing swords until finally, through sheer luck, Rigan found himself back to back again with Da Vinci.

  “It was smart thinking, but we’re outnumbered,” Da Vinci mused. “Feel like going a second round?”

  “Am I supposed to answer that?” Rigan continued, attempting to thwart their enemy.