by Strauss, Lee
“But why do you need Marlow?” I said. “Why not use someone else?”
“Because Marlow actually does have something no one else has. Knowledge about you.”
“That’s impossible. I barely know Marlow. We had our first conversation today.”
“Tell her Marlow.”
Marlow gagged. “Can I get a glass of water?”
“Are you stalking me or something?” Heat stirred in my gut. “If I checked your phone, would there be pictures of me on it?”
“No!” Marlow said. “Well, not many. Not like what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, my God!” I turned to Black. “What exactly does he know?”
“He knows about the strength of your character. What you’re capable of in a crisis.”
“How do you know about that?” Marlow demanded. “How could you possibly know that?”
“We know that you had your eyes lasered in another dimension.”
“How!?”
“Doesn’t matter how. Just that we do.”
Marlow lifted his chin as he turned back to Black. “I don’t see how this info is useful now, and I still don’t understand why you need me. Besides giving Nigel Weigh an ego boost, that is.”
“We need Sage to trust who she works with, Marlow. And she trusts you.”
Marlow’s eyes cut to mine and despite this newly revealed information I found that I did trust him. I wasn’t sure why. Just a gut feeling.
He was the only one in this room I did trust.
7
Marlow
I couldn’t believe I had agreed to this.
Here we were standing in the glamorous hallway of a tall brick and concrete building in the middle of a gentrified neighborhood; Sage dressed to kill and me ready to kill.
Well, that was a figure of speech, since I was a hundred and sixty pounds soaking wet, and unarmed. The black dress pants and vest I wore made me look more like a waiter than the supposedly wealthy boyfriend to the gorgeous woman beside me.
Sage carried herself elegantly, her full lips luscious with red lipstick, her wavy dark hair tied up tantalizingly around the base of her silky neck. She wore a really hot red dress that sparkled when she moved. I felt like I’d just walked the princess to the top of the volcano with instructions to push her in.
“You ready?” I asked.
She nodded, a motion that sent a whiff of her expensive perfume my way. I stared hard at the door in front of us. Focus, Henry. Nigel Weigh was a rebel operative with no conscience. He could as easily kill us as offer us a drink.
Sage stood directly in front of the peephole and rang the doorbell. I took in her profile. Despite the danger, she was incredibly calm. Like we were actually about to attend an upscale party and not come face to face with the man who had recently tried to kill her.
I nervously pushed up on my glasses, only to find they weren’t there. A unanimous decision made by CISUE’s costume department.
The door cracked open and Nigel Weigh stared down on us. I was considered tall at six feet, but this guy was even taller. And built. And carrying. His right-hand rested casually on the pistol on his hip.
He grinned like a cobra that had just opened the door to a hare. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Sage giggled into her fingers. “Mars, did we get the date wrong?”
I blinked at the pet name, but answered as coolly as I could. “The invitation said Friday the Thirteenth.” I stared back at Nigel. “That’s today, right? And this is the Tubman building, isn’t it?”
“Yes and yes, but I’m sorry, there’s no party here.”
Sage drew her shoulders back. “Damn. And after spending so much time getting ready.” She ran red-tipped fingers over her hips for emphasis.
Nigel’s grin widened as he leaned against the doorframe. “It would be a shame to let all that effort go to waste. Why don’t you and your bodyguard come in for a drink anyway?”
Bodyguard? Probably a better ploy than me as her boyfriend. Sage didn’t miss a beat and I followed her inside, keeping my distance, channeling every bodyguard character I’d seen on TV. Stood straight, legs wide, hands clasped in front of me. I hoped Nigel assumed I was armed. As it was, I only had wires strapped to my chest, and a button on my jacket that served as a camera. The faux diamond earring in Sage’s left earlobe did the same. She was careful to keep her hair tucked behind it.
Nigel’s eyes were a light blue, freaky-looking. Definitely a snake. They followed Sage as we moved further into his pit.
Pretty decent pit.
Three white leather love seats were arranged in a horseshoe around a glass coffee table decorated with a small stone statue of an owl, and faced a large decorative gas fireplace framed with artisan stonework. The ceilings were high, at least eight feet, with track lighting along exposed wood beams. The outside walls were original red brick stuck together with slapped on mortar which had hardened as it oozed out. Clearly the original bricklayers had every intention of covering up their work. But like so many things nowadays, what was once utilitarian was now retro-cool.
Nigel picked up a remote, pointed it at something, and the room filled with the mellow sounds of jazz. “Since I’d hate to disappoint a beautiful woman,”—his eyes locked with Sage’s and he altered his voice to what I imagine was meant to be sultry—“I’ll provide a cocktail party for two.”
“Three,” I said. He meant to make me feel like I was invisible, but I wasn’t playing. “It’s a party for three.”
His grin hardened. “Of course. My mistake.”
Sage frowned at my outburst. This wasn’t a real cocktail party. We were here to gain information. To make him feel comfortable enough to talk. To Sage. I was supposed to be invisible to Nigel.
There was a bar in the corner of Nigel’s living room. “I have whiskey, bourbon and gin.” He winked a snake eye at Sage. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve stocked up with ladies drinks.”
“I’m happy with a shot of bourbon,” Sage said.
“Neat or on the rocks?”
“On the rocks, thank you.”
“I’ll have whiskey,” I said after a few moments, pretty sure Nigel wasn’t going to offer. “Neat.”
Nigel handed Sage her drink, and led her to the love seat closest to the fireplace. He left my drink on the bar. I collected it but stayed in position there, standing, close enough to see and hear everything going on between Sage and Nigel. Only two steps away if there was trouble. Not that I knew what I’d do if there was, but I was there.
I sipped the whiskey, enjoying the first schluck, then I held the glass close to my chest, like I was just standing around a stranger’s living room, enjoying a drink, minding my own business.
Sage raised a brow and I let my glass fall to the dark hardwood floor. Nigel sprung to his feet and whisked paper towels out from under the bar. “Idiot!”
“So sorry, man,” I said. “Butter fingers.”
It was enough of a distraction to give Sage a moment to slip the pill into Nigel’s drink.
I crouched beside Nigel. “Let me do that. It’s my mess. I’ll clean it.”
Nigel cut me a scathing look, but then collected himself by breathing deeply and tugging on his shirt. He turned back to Sage replacing his scowl with a smile.
Sage handed him his glass. “Here. A drink will make you feel better.”
Nigel accepted the glass. I held my breath waiting for him to drink it. Maybe he suspected us? Suspected CISUE?
But then he lifted his glass toward Sage and took a drink.
I admired Sage’s ability to engage in small talk banter. I’d been a fan of hers for long enough to know she was gifted at flirtation and making men melt like butter. Nigel Weigh was no different. She trimmed her tales with laughter, lightly touching him on the arm.
I hated that part.
Finally she got to the meat of the matter.
“So, what do you do for a living?” she said. “Do you work for someone in town?
“Ha. I’m afraid I can’t say.”
Why couldn’t he say? Dr. Drey said the pill would make him tell the truth. Unless Nigel really didn’t know? Or maybe he just needed to drink more of it.
“Firewall?” Sage pressed.
Nigel’s cocky smile disappeared. “I knew you were getting close.”
“Who’s getting close?”
“You know it’s part of the game? You know I’m going to kill you.”
Sage swallowed, her bravado waning. “You’re not going to kill me, Nigel. Firewall wants me alive.”
“Does he?” He stroked her hair, pressing loose strands behind her ear, the one with the camera in the earring. Sage reached for the lobe. “Oh, no,” she said. “My earring fell out.”
She dug through the cracks of the loveseat. Nigel stepped away and I turned my back to him as I moved toward Sage offering to help. Dumb, rookie mistake.
We froze at the cocking of a gun.
Time seemed to stop.
Nigel fired at Sage.
I leapt in front of her, mimicking my action from the afternoon, except this time the bullet missed me by a fraction of an inch and hit Sage squarely in the stomach.
No!
She and I fell to the hardwood floor at the same moment, two crumpled dolls. She pressed palm to her stomach, blood filling the lines between her fingers. Nigel turned confidently, and smirked. He lifted his glass, as if to toast me.
Sage’s glass.
It lay tumbled on its side on the floor. I reached for it, then pitched it at Nigel’s face. I hit the target dead on.
Nigel stumbled, dropping the gun. His lip bled and he glared at me before bending down to grab his weapon.
In a split second the stone owl was in my hand. I threw it with unbelievable force and expertise—in the back of my mind I was wondering when I’d got so good at throwing stuff—and the bird hit the back of Nigel’s head with a thwack. His neck snapped sideways, his knees buckled, and his head crashed into the corner of the stereo unit. With a sickening thud his body hit the floor.
I wrenched myself around, frantically reaching out for Sage, when the SWAT team finally burst through the door.
“Where the hell were you?” I shouted.
I stared at Sage, hot tears welling up behind my eyes. “Sage?”
She moaned and my pulse surged with hope. She was alive! “Sage?”
Carefully I moved her hand from the wound, then squinted. It wasn’t blood I had seen, just the reflection of the sparkles in Sage’s dress.
“Your dress is made from the same stuff as your jacket,” I said.
Sage moaned again, “I felt this one, damn it. It hurt!”
That made sense. Close-range shot.
Agent Black rushed in after the SWAT team, took one look at us, then swiveled to Nigel’s body on the floor. One of the SWAT team members had his fingers along Nigel’s neck. He shook his head.
Black glared at me. “You killed him before we got the name!”
8
Sage
I was lying, half-upright, on a cot in a quiet room in the CISUE building. My abs throbbed and it hurt to sit up, but the shot Dr. Turner had given me seemed to work. No internal damage, just muscular bruising. I had to say, I was loving my new red wardrobe.
Everyone circled around my bed: Agents Black and Seaway, Drs. Turner and Drey and Kato. Marlow sat in the chair next to me.
“Why are we still here?” Marlow asked. “Since we already brought down Nigel Weigh?”
“Except that you killed him,” Black said with a hint of disgust. “It’s tough to question a corpse, even for the brains at CISUE.”
Marlow slapped his knee. “Sorry. I’m such an amateur.”
“Calm down, everyone,” Dr. Drey said. “Sometimes operations don’t go as planned.”
“They never seem to go as planned,” Dr. Turner said. “Firewall is always a step ahead of us.”
The room stilled at his implication. Someone was feeding Firewall information. Maybe someone in this room? I let out a tired sigh.
Dr. Turner noticed. “Let’s give Sage and Marlow some time to rest. They’ve been through a lot already today.”
The room felt a lot bigger when they left, taking their unspoken tension with them.
Marlow stared out the window, shoulders slumping. I’d never been responsible for another person’s death, and even if it was self-defense, I couldn’t image how Marlow must be feeling. I rested a hand on Marlow’s thigh. “I didn’t have a chance to say thank-you,” I said quietly. “For taking a bullet for me.”
His eyes zeroed in on my hand resting on his leg. He sat stiffly, not glancing at my face even once. I didn’t think he even heard what I said. I removed my hand. “Marlow?”
“Um, yes, uh, sorry…” he stammered. A flush of red blossomed on his neck. His obvious discomfort was kind of cute. I made a mental note to keep my hands to myself where Marlow was concerned.
“I was just saying thank-you.”
His knees jiggled again as he folded his arms over his chest. “Yeah, it’s fine. Any day. I mean, not any day in that I hope you’ll get shot at again, just…” He finally caught my eye. “You’re welcome.”
I couldn’t forget how Marlow had leapt in front of me. He hadn’t known about my high-tech dress. Or that Nigel would miss him and hit me.
“Why did Nigel take a shot?” I said. “I hadn’t done or said anything threatening. Besides, I thought Firewall wanted me alive?”
“Maybe someone at CISUE has gone rogue,” Marlow said. “Maybe Firewall isn’t calling the shots anymore.”
9
Marlow
My circuits were blowing. Sage had no idea what her touch did to me—every nerve ending in my body fired off—blood rushed to my groin, my head flushed with heat—an overall, internal volcano going on. All the moisture in my throat dried up and I struggled to swallow.
My mind raced to keep ahead of my body’s juvenile interference to make sense of Sage’s words. The pill hadn’t work. Someone had given Nigel new orders: shoot to kill.
We couldn’t be the first to come to this conclusion. Black and Seaway, Drs. Drey and Turner, they must all be suspicious of each other. Who was the mole?
Agent Black and the SWAT team had been suspiciously slow. On the other hand, it was Kato’s idea to send Sage directly into the arms of the enemy.
Sage and I were in danger, I didn’t have any doubt about that. I just didn’t know if there’d be another whiskey glass around if we needed it. Or if I’d be able to pull off another miraculous pitch. Athletics wasn’t my strong suit.
There was a rap on the door as Agent Black entered. “Are you ready to go?”
“Go where?” I said.
“To the lab, to get your brains washed. Lucky you. You guys get to forget this day ever happened.”
“How do we know for sure that we’ll even wake up from this?” I said. “That you won’t just kill us instead?”
Black shook his head like he was tired of working with newbies. “If we wanted to take you out, you’d be gone without a trace. Your mother wouldn’t even miss you.”
This time Sage got to ride in the company wheelchair. I stayed closed to her as Black pushed, close enough that my hand brushed against her arm. She reached for it, lacing her fingers through mine.
I risked a peek at her face. She smiled weakly, as if she and I had been thinking the same thing. We were in this together. And at least for today, it was the two of us against the world.
Black took us through a maze of white halls and up the elevator to the fifth floor, and then the private elevator from there to the sixth where we headed down another white hallway, and into a room empty of everything but Sage’s red jacket and dress, and the black vest they’d given me to wear. These items lay across a long rectangular table.
Black pushed Sage inside—I had to let go of her hand—and stepped back into the hall. I followed her into the room, and the door behind us clicked shut. We wer
e alone.
Sage crooked her finger, beckoning me to come close, and cupped my ear with her palm. “I’m sure they’re watching and listening.”
I whispered back, “Yes. But why? What do they want from us now?”
Her eyes moved to the items on the table. “Maybe they want us to examine the clothing?”
I shrugged, curious, and picked up the vest. “It feels about the same weight, maybe a little heavier, but that just makes it feel expensive, instead of sweat shop.”
Sage tried to stand, but grimaced, her arm clinging to her abs.
“Let me help,” I said. “You just need to work the cramp out.”
She held onto my good arm as she pushed the chair away, then braced herself against the table. After a moment she ran her fingers along the fabric of the dress, stopping midway where the bullet left an indentation. “It’s surprisingly soft.”
The door opened and Dr. Turner entered the room. “It’s DiTi. Diamond-Titanium.”
They had been watching us.
“You mean, this stuff is a blend of diamonds and titanium?” I said. Kevlar vests were typically made from super strong plastic, tightly knit synthetic fibers.
Dr. Turner nodded. “We developed it here at CISUE.” He smiled. “For your eyes only.”
“Cool!”
“If it’s so top-secret,” Sage said, “how did the jacket get in my room?”
“I put it there.”
“You?”
“Yes. For your protection. I suspected that we had a mole who would probably tip Nigel off about who you are.”
She frowned, looking bewildered. “Who I am?”
I thought I knew a lot about Sage Farrell, but I was getting the impression there was more to her. “Who is she?” I asked.
“I wish I could tell you,” Dr. Turner said.
Sage propped her hands onto her hips. “I’m really tired of these games.”
“I understand, but the walls have ears.”
Sage’s words reminded me of something Dr. Drey said. It’s all part of the game. Nigel also mentioned the game. To someone not in this room, we were all just pawns on a chess board.
