Expelled (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 1)

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  Fred looked up again from his comm. “You can do that?”

  “Fred, is it just me or does your friend have a lot of questions today?” When Fred didn’t respond she continued. “I think I can crack it in the next couple hours. I just have to take it bit by bit, no pun intended.”

  Vlad chuckled.

  Jayne rubbed her feet. They still hurt from the night before, but she felt re-energized. Despite the plan coming together, there was a gnawing feeling in the back of her head. “Something’s missing…”

  Fred looked genuinely confused. “I thought we hit all the major points you brought up.”

  Jayne nodded. “Yeah, I think we did, but… I don’t know. There’s something we left out.”

  “Like what?”

  Jayne sat so her feet were elevated and wiggled her toes. “The intel the poker guy gave…”

  Merry raised an eyebrow. “Seemed helpful to me. Why? Is there something else we should know that we’re not already researching?”

  “That’s just it. I feel like we’re looking at all angles we were given—and then some—but I just wonder about the ones we don’t see.”

  Vlad clasped his hands on his lap. “Okay. Where do you suppose these unseen angles are coming from?”

  Merry shook her head in disgust or disbelief. Maybe both. “If she could see the angles, then she would have talked about their origin. Sheesh!”

  “I was just being theoretical, Ms. Winterbourne.”

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious. I didn’t pick up on that one at all.”

  Jayne watched Merry and Vlad bicker and felt oddly comforted. She glanced over at Fred, who was frustratedly texting on his comm. They had a plan. They had the means to carry it out. They had intel. This grain farm in New Bavaria was probably the place. She began to wonder idly how many of these facilities there could possibly be.

  “Jayne? Jayne…?”

  Her head felt light years away from the scene, like it was chasing the gnawing feeling.

  Jayne heard Merry’s voice, but it may as well have been underwater. She silently reviewed the intel to herself. Jayne scrolled through her tablet, feeling restless as her mind wandered.

  She felt Merry’s hand on her arm. “What would you like us to do, Oyabun?”

  “Huh?”

  “Oyabun,” Merry explained, “is Japanese for boss. Language files help me focus sometimes.”

  Vlad scoffed from across the room. “You just get weirder and weirder, Ms. Winterbourne.”

  The girls whipped around to face the speaker. “Shut up, Vlad!” they ordered in unison.

  “But seriously,” Merry continued, “what do you want us to do?”

  “Right,” Jayne said, her thoughts growing clearer. “I like the plan we came up with so far. Vlad, call your shuttle contact. Fred, get on the Talon-R—”

  “Merry, hack the prison,” Merry said, imitating Jayne’s instructional tone. Then her face dropped. “Do you think there’s more than one facility?”

  Jayne put on her shoes and started gathering her stuff. “You’ll have to find that out. I’ve got to go.”

  Merry looked stunned. “What now? Where? Why?”

  Jayne was half out the door before responding. “To make another deal,” she called back. And then she was gone, leaving the three to their specific tasks.

  Jayne’s thoughts ran at a million miles an hour in about five hundred directions. It wasn’t until she was halfway across the walkway that she realized what was nagging at her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Aces High Skyscraper, L75, Theron Techcropolis, Armaros

  The building was decorated in the same art deco style as the hotel where she’d thought she’d beat Fauchery at his own game. It was impressively taller than the two neighboring buildings, with a chic deli on the left and a snooty gastro pub on the right.

  Jayne approached the frosted glass doors, but stopped just before the doorman saw her. She noticed a group of people heading in the direction of the doors from the street, and saw an opportunity.

  She leaned against the smooth concrete building, waiting for the group of well-dressed couples to get near enough for her to join the herd. She sandwiched herself between two of the taller couples, the smell of vanilla and leather essence cologne making her eyes water.

  The doorman looked at the two men with recognition and smiled at the ladies. “Have a good day, sirs.”

  Jayne traveled in the middle of the herd of free-range socialites for as long as she could stand, then veered off to the mailboxes. She touched each mailbox to reveal the name. No Fauchery to be had. Jayne traipsed to the front desk.

  She caught the eye of the AI and the human behind the counter. They were wearing matching black blazers and white collared shirts. Jayne made note of the female AI’s size, which appeared similar to her own. “Excuse me, ladies? Hi. Um, I’m visiting my uncle from out of town and totally forgot his apartment number. It’s so stupid, but I didn’t program it into my comm. Would you be able to…?”

  The human briefly contorted her mouth and widened her eyes regretfully. Her tone was business casual and polite. “No, sorry. We can’t disclose that information. Our tenants’ information is completely private. Would you like me to call him?”

  Jayne exaggerated the disappointment in her tone. “No, that’s okay. I wanted to surprise him. I could call my mom and get it.”

  Jayne slowly walked away, opening her comm. She turned on the camera and flipped the lens so she could keep tabs on the AI. “Hey, Mom…”

  The AI clerk appeared to be working on a spreadsheet behind the glass and faux wood desk. Her larger human counterpart turned to her. “What time are you taking your break?”

  “About 10 minutes. Why?”

  Jayne continued to watch the clerks on her phone camera. “…yeah. I’m at Uncle Bart’s apartment building, but I totally forgot his apartment number.”

  “Ohhhh, no reason.”

  The AI looked at the human with confounded innocence. “Does this have anything to do with needing to call Jack?”

  The human blushed and tossed her hair. “What gave you that idea?”

  A delivery man brushed Jayne’s shoulder on his way to the desk. “Hey, I got a package here for Fuckery…”

  The human giggled. The AI clerk cocked her head to the side. “I think you mean Fauchery,” she corrected.

  Jayne perked up and briskly approached the delivery man. “Oh! I’ll take it. Bartholomew’s my uncle and I was on my way up to see him anyway.”

  Before either clerk could object, Jayne took the package out of the delivery man’s hands and skipped towards the chrome and faux wood elevator. It arrived and she stepped casually inside. She read the tag and instructed the elevator. “Floor 29 please.”

  After several seconds, the angelic robot voice announced, “Floor 29. Have a pleasant day.”

  Mere seconds later, Jayne stepped off the elevator and looked around to catch a pattern to the numbers. The entire floor was covered in shiny black and white tile in a checker and compass pattern. The wallpaper was an embossed light blue monochromatic theme that echoed the calla lily pattern on the elevator doors. Jayne instinctively touched the raised flowers.

  She turned left and headed down the corridor looking for Apartment 2975, reading off the numbers of the left and right as she went.

  Apartment 2975. Jayne rang the opulent, brass doorbell. She could hear the latest swing-revival band playing on Bartholomew’s in-home comm system.

  “Yes, yes. One moment.”

  A moment later the doors slid open. She walked in with the package under her arm. Bartholomew was dressed for bed in a gray t-shirt and black pants that looked to be made of some expensive material and a matching black silk robe. His eyes widened with astonishment. “You!”

  Jayne smiled triumphantly as she waltzed through the door. “That’s my name.”

  He stared at her as she nonchalantly tossed the package at him. “How did you find me?”

&n
bsp; “Really? That’s your question?”

  “Okay, how about why did you find me?”

  Jayne looked around, lost in the scene. Bartholomew’s living room was a giant panorama of polished synthetic wood, brass sculptures, and an antique-looking globe that opened to reveal a mini bar. Two black and white fanned chairs with elegant, swooping lines sat on each side of a black damask couch. The piece that truly caught Jayne’s eye was a large cabinet with three vertical doors; each door had the silhouette of an elegant flapper inlaid in various woods and mother of pearl.

  Jayne touched the smooth cabinet top, admiring the shine and grain. “Just thinking about that file you gave me.”

  Bartholomew looked concerned. “What about it? I gave you every last detail about Burrett.”

  Jayne looked at the expansive penthouse windows, framing his back wall. They were punctuated with green damask curtains, drawn open to showcase the mid-morning skyline. “Every last detail, except for something I could use. There was nothing actionable in that intel, Bartholomew. There was nothing there about finding him or getting into the facility. Still need that.”

  Bartholomew folded his arms and shook his head. “I thought you could manage something yourself. Besides, I told you, for all intents and purposes he doesn’t exist anymore.”

  She held his gaze.

  He paused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “That will cost extra.”

  Jayne sat on his couch and stared him right in the eyes. “Nope. It should be included in the original price.”

  “How about we say you owe me another one, if I can get your info.”

  “Owe you what? Another card game? A booze run? The movie rights to my story?”

  Bartholomew hovered over the globe mini bar and shrugged. “If that’s what it takes. I’ll set the price when the time comes.”

  “I don’t get you, Fauchery. I thought you were here to help.”

  Bartholomew removed the stopper from a crystal decanter and poured himself a drink. He dropped four ice cubes into the crystal glass with a pair of tongs. “You have a lot to learn about espionage, my dear lady. There are a few lessons the Academy doesn’t put on their tests.”

  Jayne picked up a book about art from Bartholomew’s oval coffee table. “True. But avoiding bullshit deals does get mentioned here and there.”

  Bartholomew swirled his drink before gulping half. “Good to know you went to class, Austin. Look, I don’t know if I even should have given you as much as I did. Burrett is a rather dangerous man.”

  “And yet in the next breath, you were telling me that all spies gamble. Which is it, Fauchery? Do I avoid the bad men, or do I gamble? Fold or raise?”

  “I’m afraid analogies only go so far.” Bartholomew set his glass down firmly. There was a calm anger in his eyes. “What you do, my dear, is learn to recognize when you are in over your head. I know for a fact the Academy covered that lesson. Hell, I wish I had remembered it back in my day.”

  Jayne put the book down, still open to the page she was reading. “So be my lifeline here. Tell me what I need to know.”

  “Bluntly, you haven’t been a spy long enough to handle Burrett.”

  “Meanwhile,” Jayne started accusingly, “you have been a spy long enough to handle him but won’t help the new kid. Why’s that, Fauchery? I thought agents stuck together.”

  “Jayne, I don’t know what you think I owe you. Or why, for that matter.”

  “You owe me what I won playing by your rules.”

  “But I don’t think you have anything to gain by talking to Burrett. Leave him where he is. There’s no putting that genie back in the bottle.”

  “He has intel on Chamberlain.”

  “So? If Chamberlain blackmailed two people, he’s blackmailed three.”

  Jayne heard herself almost shouting, “I don’t have time to find them, Bartholomew. We need Burrett.”

  Bartholomew started to pour himself more alcohol and gestured to ask Jayne whether she wanted some.

  She waved her hand. “Too early, thanks.”

  Bartholomew smirked as he took another swig. “Not if this is your bedtime.”

  Jayne shook her head and continued looking around Bartholomew’s apartment. The tiger skin rug under the couch was obviously a fake, as tigers had been extinct over five hundred years. But then again, Fauchery seemed to have a taste for antiques. “What kind of espionage did you do to get this place?”

  He leered at her for a moment. “NOJB, I’m afraid.”

  “What’s NOJB?”

  “None of Jayne’s Business.” He smiled, and crossed one leg over the other knee.

  “Just wondering how I could get a piece of the action, sir.” She maintained the non-hostile, directness that she had been taught to use in confrontational situations where you didn’t want to give away your power.

  Bartholomew laughed his throaty laugh. “Sir is my father. Anyway, that phrase sounds like spying is a damn pie and you’re trying to get access to the grown-up table.”

  Jayne felt her jaw stiffen.

  Bartholomew laughed again, pointing at Jayne with the glass in his hand. “Looks like I hit a nerve.”

  Jayne looked away.

  Bartholomew sat on the other end of the couch and sighed. “You’ve got moxie, kid. I’ll give you that. But you can’t think that you’re owed a piece of the action. Spies that stay in the game the longest are the ones who bake their own pies, like Chamberlain.”

  “And you, I suppose?”

  He nodded in agreement. “You could say that…”

  “And Burrett?”

  Bartholomew studied his drink and frowned. “He’s a different matter entirely.”

  “Tell me what I need to know.”

  “I already did. You’re in way over your head.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Stubborn, stubborn girl…”

  Jayne weighed her options for a moment. As she saw it, she could either walk away now and pray Merry’s intel was good, and that she would be able to hack the system when they got there. This would at least help her to avoid potentially selling her soul to a mercurial old spy. Or she could agree to pay whatever price this elegant opportunist could name and still potentially not get the intel she needed. Still, the nagging feeling was back. “Okay, Fauchery. You win. I’ll owe you one.”

  “You understand that I might not get your intel?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I set the terms of your repayment?”

  “I do indeed.” She was beginning to regret making deals with the devil.

  A cool smile spread across Bartholomew’s lips. He extended his hand to shake hers. “You’re a stubborn girl, Jayne Austin, but I like your style.”

  Jayne shook his hand firmly. “Thanks. You’re not so bad for a poker shark.”

  “I’ll work on that intel today.”

  Jayne made her way to the door. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, Jayne?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t ever come back here.”

  She shut the door.

  +++

  Liberty Library, Tesla University, Theron Techcropolis, Armaros

  Fred’s foot tapped uncontrollably under the tech table. He’d surrounded himself with several book files and had propped his tablet on top of a literally ancient copy of The Confederacy of Dunces as he was instructed. He could feel his comm vibrate in his pocket.

  It was a message.

  U THERE?

  Fred mumbled the message as he typed.

  YEAH. RIGHT WHERE YOU SAID.

  Fred looked around sheepishly before opening the e-book. The five PhinnGage 9000 phasers, 20 paralysis mines, and 40 kilos of explosives that his contact requested “for security” were in the usual warehouse about three blocks south, but it would be bad form to make the location of these less-than-legal weapons known. He’d dealt with this guy before today. Fred didn’t anticipate any surprises, but when was the last time so much was hangin
g in the balance?

  “Excuse me?”

  Fred let out a scream when he jumped. A librarian who looked like the yellowing pages of a book turned to Fred and nastily hissed, “Shhhh!”

  He whispered, “Sorry…” at her and reoriented himself. The speaker was a young girl, probably a freshman at most. She pointed to the chair across from Fred. “Are you using this?”

  Fred shook his head and turned back to his vibrating comm. “Take it.”

  He looked down at his comm.

  RIGHT BEHIND U.

  Fred felt hands over his eyes. He detected a lavender smell on the rough hands. “Peek-a-boo!”

  “Jeez, dude!”

  The librarian glowered from behind a stack of files. “Shhhhh!”

  Fred’s contact exaggeratedly bugged out his eyes, put his index finger to his pursed lips, and hissed back at the librarian. He then waved his hand dismissively and sat backwards on his chair.

  “You sure know how to make an entrance, Rafe.”

  Rafe shoved a piece of gum in his mouth and chomped loudly. “That was nothing. You should see me at the opera.”

  Fred exhaled anxiously. “Anyway…”

  “Ah, yes. Our arrangement.”

  “God, when you put it that way it sounds like we’re spicing up our marriage by seeing other people…”

  Fred saw the librarian’s face grow more attentive in their direction when he said it. She pretended to organize e-book cartridges by ISBN.

  Rafe’s smile was broad and mischievous. “But we ARE in a relationship, Bagpipes. It’s a very transactional one…”

  The librarian inched closer.

  Rafe slithered towards Fred, training his bright blue eyes on him, “…based on mutual instant gratification…”

  Despite Rafe’s intimidation tactics, Fred couldn’t take his eyes off the librarian. She slowly leaned a chair back to hear Rafe more clearly.

  Rafe put a hand on Fred’s knee.

  Fred pushed him away. “Knock it off, man!”

  The librarian’s chair wobbled backwards. Rafe caught her chair by the back before she fell and set her upright. “I know, I know. Shhhhh!”