by Gini Koch
Woke up yet again. This time, there was no reason, other than, you know, a nightmare and a Fugly Advice Session. Got out of bed quietly and checked on everyone, just in case. All sleeping soundly. Stripes woke up and came with me to investigate.
Sure, we were supposedly in a secure facility, but things were turned upside down here. Slipped my jeans and Converse back on, grabbed the hoodie, and slunk to the door. Stripes came with me. “You don’t want to go fast with me. I’ll be right back, promise,” I whispered to him. Then I carefully opened the door and stepped out of the room.
Nothing and no one in the hallway. Zipped off at hyperspeed and checked on the others. Everyone was fine. Checked out the entire embassy, what I could access anyway. All fine, most asleep, some on guard duty, but I moved past them at hyperspeed so they didn’t see me.
Got back to our room in less than thirty seconds. Stripes wasn’t at the door, though. He was sitting in my purse.
The problem with this safety check was that I was wide awake. Wide awake, revved up, and contemplating what my nightmare had told me. Looked at Stripes. He blinked slowly, got out of my purse, and trotted to his food.
While he ate, I wrote Chuckie a quick note so that he wouldn’t panic if he got up before I was back. Double-checked that the Glock with its single clip was in my purse. Hadn’t had the brains to grab more clips, but if I thought about what Chuckie had said earlier and Mephistopheles had said in my dream, I was a superhero. I was Wonder Woman. Well, really, still Wolverine with Boobs. But either way, I could kick butt and take names in a way that no one else on this Earth could. I didn’t need backup or the cavalry. I was the cavalry.
Made sure I had hair spray in here, because, hey, you never could tell. Took the iPod, too, and happily found that Other Me carried portable speakers, just like I did. Tossed whatever else had worked in the past in there, because why not?
Stripes finished when I did and sauntered over to the purse and jumped in. He was taking the role of Approved Mascot, thank you very much. Decided not to argue—cats could yowl to wake the dead and I knew without asking that Stripes was going to raise hell if I didn’t take him with me.
Kissed Chuckie on his forehead, did the same with the three kids, and then Stripes and I slipped out of the room again.
Hyperspeed meant I was able to get in and out of a door so fast that it wouldn’t trip an alarm system. The downside of doing this was that I couldn’t take one of the cars—they were in the underground garage and I couldn’t access it or get a car out without waking the entire embassy.
My original plan had been to figure out where Cliff was headquartered and use Raul’s car to take us there, giving us the potential of camouflage and surprise. Since the house had been blown up, it was clear that wasn’t going to work. Any of us driving up in Raul’s car would just indicate it was time to shoot to kill.
No worries. I was used to discarding plans, after all, and if it was just me, I didn’t actually need a car. And per Mephistopheles, it needed to be just me. And, frankly, I’d do anything to avoid seeing my latest nightmare come true.
But that meant I was going to have to use hyperspeed for everything. Again, no worries. So many people I loved were dead here, it was easy to get the rage going. It was an impotent rage, focused generally, but it was enough. Did a running jump and cleared the fencing easily. Go me.
Stripes meowed softly as we trotted off down the street. He felt he was superhero material and that he could take the hyperspeed. And if he did toss his kibble, he’d do it outside of the purse.
“You rock, Stripes. Plenty of barfing area where we’re headed.”
Fortunately, I knew these parts of D.C. well enough to not get lost as I headed us to the Lincoln Memorial. Got there fast—not as fast as Jeff, definitely not as fast as Christopher, but darned well up to Top Field Agent status.
Would have gone to the bushes first, but things were so different that I wanted to check something. Went up to the Memorial itself and stopped running. Stripes showed that he was the Cat of the Ages because he only hacked a little and really didn’t throw up. And he’d just eaten, too. I was impressed.
Happily, the Memorial looked the same—same words, same sad, tired Lincoln looking down on me. I was about to leave and go handle what I’d come here to do, when I heard a man’s voice, talking softly.
“I just don’t know, sir. They say you’re a hero if you’re the only one who survives, but I don’t feel heroic. I feel sad and tired and useless. And this new assignment . . . it’s not what a hero does, sir. It’s . . . cushy and a reward. But it’s a reward I don’t want. And it’s a reward I don’t trust, either.”
Crept around to see who was talking to whom. The guy talking wasn’t speaking to anyone I could spot. Then I realized he was talking to the Memorial, to Lincoln.
The speaker was a slender guy a little younger than me with strawberry blond hair, dressed in Navy dress whites. He wasn’t smiling, but I knew who he was. Gave an involuntary gasp.
He heard me gasp and spun. “Who’s there?” His hand was on his gun, but he hadn’t pulled it yet.
“Just me.” I stepped out, hands up in front of me. “I heard you talking and just wanted to know who else was here.”
“Ah.” He relaxed. And now looked embarrassed. “I was just . . . I needed to talk to someone who would . . . understand.”
“I hear you. And I feel exactly the same way.” Sat down on the top step.
He came and sat with me. “What brings you out to visit our nation’s greatest president, ma’am?”
“I just discovered . . . many people I care about are dead or gone or very different. I’m normally a pretty cheerful person, but discovering people I love are gone, some long ago now, just . . . hurts.”
“I understand.”
“Yeah, I think you do.” Mephistopheles had said I’d been given an opportunity he’d taken away. Now I knew what he meant. And, as they said, nothing ventured, no one to say you were totally mental, right?
“Have we met, ma’am?” he asked.
“Sort of. It’s a long story. Something of an unbelievable story.”
He chuckled. “I don’t report to my new duty until oh-nine-hundred, ma’am.”
“Call me Kitty. And, tell me, do you prefer to be called William, Will, or Bill, or should I go for formal and call you Lieutenant Cox?”
CHAPTER 48
I HADN’T BEEN IN PARIS for a while. I loved this city, and a part of me wished we could stay here longer. However, we had a mission, and it needed to be completed as soon as possible so that Jamie woke up with her parents there with her.
Martini caught up to me. “We can do this via hyperspeed if you want. You can lead, I provide the speed.”
“Okay, that makes sense.”
Richard took hold of Charles and Malcolm and nodded to us. “Lead on, just remember that we don’t need to go at supersonic speed, Jeffrey.”
“Wouldn’t want you straining, Uncle Richard, don’t worry.” With that, we zipped off.
We were still going fast, but it was, somehow, slower than the other times Martini had used hyperspeed. We ran through the entire area a couple of times and I had to stop. “I’m sorry. I can handle going that fast now, thanks to whatever pill you gave me. But I can’t see at that speed, not clearly enough to spot something I’m pulling up from memory. But I think I spotted where to start.”
“Then it was worth it,” Martini said. He kept hold of my hand. We were out in public, and that meant there was always a chance for photographers, so this was smart.
We wandered a little bit, but while I spotted some shops that were familiar, and some that were clearly new in the last couple of years, I wasn’t finding the specific shop I needed. And we needed it, because if Singh had already checked everywhere online, then we only had this one shot.
“You sure it’s this one item that’s
the key?” Martini asked me as we wound through some tiny side streets.
“Yes. I can’t tell you why so much, other than that, in my world, Margie loved it. It was truly a one-of-a-kind item.”
“From eight years ago. It’s either been reproduced or it could be gone, you know.”
“Reproduced it hasn’t been. Per Raj, who did a thorough search. Gone? Yes, it could be, but I’m not willing to give up without trying.”
He squeezed my hand. “That’s my girl.”
We rounded a corner when I heard something—a woman singing, not in French but in English. Her voice was familiar and I headed us toward the sound. As we got closer I recognized the tune and the lyrics. She was singing the Psychedelic Furs’ “Heartbreak Beat.” And I was positive I recognized her voice.
We ended up at a small café that was, for whatever reason, inside a tiny courtyard off the main street. The woman singing was handing plates of food to customers. She was slender and had a heart-shaped face I knew well. Her curly brown hair was pulled back, she was in a black dress with a white apron, and it wasn’t clear if she was the owner or the waitress, but she was definitely working at this café.
“Why are we here?” Martini asked quietly. “And why are you so excited?”
“Hush.” Waited until she finished. The patrons clapped and so did I. Then I went up to her. “Amadhia, what are you doing working here?”
She gave me a very pleasant smile, but looked confused. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve mixed me up with someone else. My name is Emily.”
“Yes, but your stage name is Amadhia.”
She shook her head. “You must indeed have me confused with someone else. I’m not on stage. Would you like to have breakfast? You’re tourists from America, yes?”
“Yes, we are. And, I’m sorry, you just remind me of someone I know. And, uh, sure, let’s have some breakfast.”
She led us to a table while the men with me gave me looks that said they thought I was both crazy and wasting time. Once we were seated and looking at menus, Martini leaned over. “I know who you think she is, but she doesn’t think she’s that person. We need to find what you’re looking for, not ‘discover’ a new vocal talent.”
“Okay, but she’s local and may know the shop I’m looking for. Besides, I’m hungry, and I’ll bet the rest of you are, too.”
“I confess to being a bit peckish, Jeffrey,” Richard said. “Besides, my partner tends to be correct.”
Martini sighed. “Women’s intuition. Right.” He smiled at me. “Yours is rarely wrong. So, fine, I’m hungry, too.”
We ordered and ate. The food was delicious and Amadhia was an excellent waitress. She might say she was Emily, and she was, but to me she was always going to be Amadhia—I’d spent too long thinking of her that way to change now.
She also continued to sing when she delivered meals and bussed tables. I didn’t recognize the song she was singing as she cleared our plates, but I was pretty sure she was singing in Catalan and I asked her about it.
“It’s ‘El Cant dels Ocells,’ ‘The Song of the Birds’ in English,” she explained.
“It was lovely. Do you own this restaurant?”
“My grandparents do. They’d immigrated to America just before World War Two, but missed France and came back here. My parents stayed in America, but after college I came to visit and stayed.”
“Can’t blame you. When did they come back, recently?”
“Oh no,” she said with a tinkling laugh. “Once my father had married my mother and they had to move to California for work, my grandparents came home. They’ve been here for thirty years.”
“Here, in this location?”
“Oh yes. We live above the café.”
Meaning that if the shop I was looking for existed, Amadhia’s grandparents would be likely to know. “Would you or they know of a shop that was here around eight years ago?”
“Possibly.” She went off, singing a different song. “Ave Maria” in French, if I was going to guess.
“That was abrupt,” Charles said.
“She’ll be back.”
Sure enough, Amadhia returned shortly with an older woman, also dressed in black with a white apron. Same curly hair, though the older woman’s was white, same slim figure, same heart-shaped face. “My grandmother, Marie, might be able to help.”
Marie nodded. “What shop are you looking for, my dear?”
“I can’t remember the name, or even where it was, other than somewhere in this area. It was a little gift shop that had very unusual pieces, all done by local artists. The proprietor was a woman about your age, but her hair was dark brown and she was more plump than you are. I think the shop was in an enclosed block, but I haven’t been able to find it. I can just remember that the block had a sort of Art Deco feel.”
Marie looked thoughtful. “It could be you’re looking for Celeste. Her shop was in Le passage du Prado, but she moved a few years ago because the Prado was in disrepair.”
Disappointment washed over me. “Oh.” Despite what I’d said to the political bigwigs, I didn’t have a Plan B. And now I’d dragged everyone on a wild goose chase for no good reason.
Marie patted my shoulder. “Don’t look so sad, my dear. Celeste moved, but she’s still in this neighborhood. But that’s why you can’t find her shop—her shop doesn’t look the same and it’s not in the same place.” She looked around. The last of the breakfast crowd had left so we were the only patrons at the moment. “Emily, take them to Celeste’s. They’ll get lost, otherwise.”
“Happy to, grandmamma.” Amadhia kissed her grandmother’s cheek as Richard paid the bill and left a generous tip. Both women beamed at him and he gave them the Silver Fox Smile in return. Richard was absolutely a ladies’ man of the highest order.
He offered his arm to Amadhia. “If I may escort your granddaughter?” he asked Marie.
She laughed. “Absolutely.” She smiled at all of the men with me, then gave me a wink. “Such handsome men you journey with. You’re obviously a woman of good taste, which is why you remember Celeste’s shop. She only carries one-of-a-kind items.”
“I hope the item I’m looking for is still there.” Tried not to sound worried. Failed, if Marie’s expression of commiseration was any clue.
Marie took my hand and patted it. “If not, you will find something else just perfect. I promise.”
Didn’t think about it, just hugged her. “Thank you. And thank you for lending us your granddaughter for a little while.”
“Oh, she’s young and should have an adventure now and then.”
With that we left, Richard and Amadhia leading the way. Which was a very twisty, turny way.
“Who considers shopping an adventure?” Martini asked quietly.
“Many people,” Charles said with a laugh.
Malcolm shook his head. “There’s something . . . odd going on.”
“Odd dangerous?” Martini sounded on guard and protective.
“We’ll find out,” Malcolm replied.
We wandered some more, turning here and there, going down some steps and up some others. Couldn’t speak for the others, but there was no way I was going to be able to find the café again, let alone figure out where in Paris we actually were.
“Are we going to end up in Narnia, Oz, or Hogwarts?” I asked.
Amadhia heard me and smiled at me over her shoulder. “Maybe.” We turned down a tiny alleyway and she stopped in front of three doors—one at the end of the alley, and two facing each other on either side. “Or perhaps we’re going somewhere even more magical.” She opened the door at the end of the alley and went inside.
The men all looked at me. “Think it’s safe?” Charles asked.
“I think we came a long way to find out. And what’s life without a little risk or excitement?” So saying, I followed Amadhi
a inside.
CHAPTER 49
THE SHOP WASN’T WELL LIT, and even though we’d been blocked from direct sunlight most of the way here, it still took a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust.
I could hear Amadhia speaking to someone in French and as the men joined me I was able to take a look around. Relief flooded me—this was the right place.
The shop looked almost as it had eight years ago, when we’d found it on our honeymoon. The structure was different, of course, but the merchandise wasn’t. There were paintings and artworks of all kinds everywhere—on the walls, on the ground, and hanging from the ceiling. Glass cases held jewelry and breakable collectibles. The shop was chock-full but somehow didn’t seem ridiculously crowded.
When we’d visited before we’d wanted to buy the entire shop, but Charles had limited us to three things, one of which I’d given to Margie. Of the other two, one was in our home in Australia and the other in our home in D.C. Grabbed Charles. “Remember this place? I wanted to buy the entire shop but you managed to stop me.”
He removed my hand gently. “No, Kitty, I don’t.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry. Got swept back to the past for a moment.”
Amadhia brought a woman I recognized over. She was older than when we’d first met, but she was definitely the proprietress who had helped us before. Managed to remind myself that she wouldn’t remember me any more than the Charles here would remember her.
“I hear you were searching for me,” Celeste said. “But I don’t remember you.”
“I was in your former location and it was a long time ago.”
“I pride myself on remembering all my customers.” Celeste sounded just slightly suspicious.
Richard stepped in and gave her a shot of the Silver Fox Smile. “The passage of time changes the young far more than the rest of us, madame.”
