by R T Green
I swallowed hard, starting to feel out of my depth before a single word had passed between us. I told myself I was here to do a job, nothing more. Telling yourself that is fine, but you’ve got to believe it to make it work. I watched her, hoping she didn’t know, and made sure my drink was finished the same time she sipped the last of her martini.
Then I turned to my mark, tipped the glass towards her. 'May I...?'
She turned her head slowly, green eyes throwing out a look of total distain. 'Not interested.'
'I only…'
'Just get lost, ok?'
Chapter 2
I turned back to the bar without a word, feeling like I’d just been told off by teacher. It wasn't quite the reaction I'd expected. Ok, I hadn't known what to expect, but that sure wasn’t it.
Now I didn't know what to do.
The bartender handed me another drink. I sank far too big a gulp, and then hoped the girl sitting to my left hadn't noticed the growing panic. That really would have meant failure.
I tried to think; Zana's rebuke wasn't making that so easy. If I approached her again now, it would be seen as pathetic and desperate. Endgame.
I emptied the glass, much too quickly, still undecided on the next move. Was there even a next move? There was one option, something I really needed right then. I felt around the side of the Rolex for the little button that would call my backup, headed for the washroom foyer.
A man sitting quietly in one corner of the bar gave it a minute, and then followed her. He found her pacing the small room, looking like she was in the middle of a panic attack. Ryland Cooper, DIAL agent of six years standing, had spoken out against enlisting her as soon as it was first suggested. And when he’d read her file, objected even more forcefully.
He was well aware being a cold, heartless bitch was an advantage for the task she’d been given, but it was also the one thing that worried the hell out of him.
When it came to judgement calls, sometimes a little heart helps to make the right decision.
But high up the DIAL ranks as he was, it wasn’t high enough to influence the choice of agent. Duncan Scott made the call, and now he was stuck with her.
I could see the second he walked through the foyer door he wasn’t exactly amused. 'What the hell, deWinter? She's only been here ten minutes, and you're pressing the panic button?'
I glared angrily at the burly Jamaican-born man who spat out the words. 'Did you hear what she said?'
'Course I heard. So what's the problem?'
'Come on Coop, am I supposed to just ignore being told to fuck off?’
He smiled sarcastically as he put his hand on the door to the gents. 'Well well, now I've heard it all. Madeline deWinter, never fails an assignment, queen of all she surveys, fallen on her pretty face in the dirt of the first hurdle. You a tiger or a pussycat?'
'This is different.'
'How different, deWinter? ‘Cause you gotta be nice to someone?'
I narrowed my eyes, about to retort. But he was right, so instead I looked away. ‘Maybe.’
He put an arm around me, realising I was struggling to cope with the unfamiliar territory I’d dived head-first into. His tone softened.
'Get yourself back in there, Maddie. Best thing you can do… let her come to you. If she don't, well there's always tomorrow.' He turned away, headed for the washroom. 'And wipe that sweat off your brow, it ain't doin' you any favours.'
'Hey, Coop.' The big man, already through the door, poked his head back around the frame.
'Don't call me Maddie, ok?'
In the washroom, I pulled a towel from the dispenser, and did as I was told. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. No one would ever believe what I did for a living. Despite my upbringing, my features were soft, feminine. Inside was the exact opposite, but most of humanity didn’t get to see that. To my marks, I looked like I wouldn’t hurt a fly, maybe another reason I was so good at my job.
I gave myself a half-convincing killer smile, told my head I was far too good to fail a simple operation like this, and walked back into the bar.
I almost froze to the spot, managed just in time to keep my cool.
Zana was gone.
I sat back on the stool, ordered another drink. Four huge red letters seemed to be blocking out any other vision.
F.A.I.L.
As first contacts go, this was a total disaster.
I was so preoccupied with my perceived incompetence I didn't notice at first, until she spoke. 'You know what I like about you, Miss..?'
I looked to my left, startled away from the depression. Zana was back on her stool, a very slight smile on her face. I took a moment to steady my voice.
'It's Madeline.'
Her eyes narrowed, glanced down to my left hand. 'Miss…?' she asked again.
'deWinter.'
'What I like about you, Miss deWinter…' She spun a little on the stool to face me. 'Is that I knocked you back, and you took it on the chin.'
'Sorry?'
'I watched you. I didn't faze you; you just turned away and left me alone.'
'They say god loves a tryer though.'
She laughed, a husky sexy laugh that made me think about running to the washroom for another towel. 'But you see Miss deWinter, there are tryers and then there are infuriating little children who annoy the hell out of me.'
'I left you alone. That makes me neither of those.'
She slipped effortlessly off the stool, and back onto the one next to mine. 'Oh, I got the feeling you hadn't finished with me.'
I looked at her, a flawless beauty even more perfect now she was close up and personal. Somehow she was intimidating, intoxicating. I found a few words, relieved that my voice was steady. 'But you decided to step in first.'
'I like being in control.'
Zana’s eyes dropped to my wrist, slender fingers pulling back the sleeve of the jacket so she could get a better look at the Rolex. 'So what line of work are you in, Miss deWinter?'
'Human resources.'
She raised her eyebrows, scanned the expensive dress. 'You must be at the very top of your profession. Do you specialise?'
I smiled, confidence suddenly growing. 'Oh, slave-trafficking, a little sideline in illegal immigrants, that kind of thing.'
For a moment her eyes narrowed, she bore a stare into me that smacked straight into my brain.
'I like a woman with a sense of humour.' She slipped off the high bar stool, hitching the Armani bag across her shoulder.
'See you around, Madeline.'
She took me by surprise, halfway to the door before I could utter a syllable. For a moment I thought about following, and then remembered her words, knew I was being tested.
Running after her would ruin everything.
There was always tomorrow.
Chapter 3
The bed felt good. Laying there uncovered, hands behind my head, a kind of satisfied half-smile crept over my face.
The smile was painted on, covering up a lot of more confusing issues.
I'd been close to pickup suicide, but I'd seen it through and come out the other side. And considering the adversary I was matched against, that was an achievement in itself.
That was the good bit.
I didn’t dwell on the near-panic I'd experienced, the sweat I'd had to wipe from my brow, and the intimidated way Zana had made me feel.
That was the confusing bit.
Madeline deWinter didn’t get intimidated, not by anyone. There was nothing left of me to get intimidated. So why now? That was easy to explain. I’d been asked to make friends with my mark, gain her confidence in the desperate hope she would give something away. Friends weren’t exactly high on my to-do list, so right off the bat I was at a disadvantage.
So just stop worrying.
I forced my thoughts back to the end result, and to tomorrow evening when I knew we would meet again. That brought up another mental image I didn’t want right then. The smile Zana gave me as she left.
&
nbsp; The smile.
A nervous uncertain feeling tightened my stomach again. Fuck this... there was no reason for it. And it was making sleep impossible. Another ten minutes did nothing but make everything worse, so I slipped out of bed, poured a brandy, and opened the blinds to gaze through the full-length windows at the London skyline.
The apartment, temporarily-acquired by the department, was on the twelfth floor. It offered a panoramic view of what were mostly low-rise buildings below. That made me feel a little better, standing there glass in hand, knowing no one was close enough to see my nakedness as I surveyed my kingdom.
The fantasy didn't last long.
DIAL had deliberately chosen the place because it was in close proximity to Zana's. She occupied the top floor of a six-storey luxury apartment block.
In a straight line, six hundred metres from where I stood.
I tried, forced my eyes to look at anything except the block, standing taller than the buildings immediately around it. Not a chance.
My eyes were drawn to the top floor, and the feeling of nervous dread hit me like a sledgehammer. Zana’s windows were tinted, but I could tell low lights were on. The drapes hadn’t been closed.
She was awake.
I glanced at the Rolex, the only thing I was wearing because I couldn’t bring myself to take it off. Three in the morning. What was she doing?
I stood there an age, transfixed. No thoughts ran through my mind - not logical ones anyway - just a great big nothingness as I stared at the tinted windows, unable to look away. I'd long since emptied the glass, yet still I held it between my breasts, the coolness of the glass strangely comforting.
Something weird was going on, something I couldn't understand. The department had warned me to be careful, said Zana might possess special abilities. Surely they couldn't be at work already?
As the first light of dawn filtered through the jagged London skyline, I finally turned away. I had to try get some sleep.
Tonight the coliseum was my destiny once more.
To face the greatest foe I'd ever known.
Chapter 4
I played it a little differently that evening, left it a half-hour after Zana’s arrival so she might start to think I wouldn’t show. That wouldn’t faze her in the slightest, but even so I wasn’t going to be the one to do the waiting.
A spotter had already told me the precise minute she’d arrived. I walked confidently through the heavy mahogany door, saw her sitting at the bar, cursed myself as the nervous gripes wafted through me yet again, and switched on the smile.
'This time I insist,' I said, making sure I spoke before she saw me.
It was like she knew I was there. Nothing moved other than her head, turning deliberately slowly. 'This time you may,' she replied quietly.
I sat on the next stool, beckoned to the bartended as I pulled a wad of notes from a leather purse. I glanced to Zana, just one second enough to take everything in. Tonight the ponytail was gone, and silky highlighted blonde hair framed her face, just the faintest of curl shimmering in the lights from the bar as it fell below her shoulders.
She wore a simple red dress, perfectly clinging around her curves, the hemline just below the knee. The red shoes I would come to know so well were again matched precisely. Her flawless skin was so olive it almost had a tinge of green. A large silver pendant hung around her neck; there were no rings on her fingers.
She wasn’t looking at me, seemed lost in thought. I slid the glass with the martini inside along the bar top in front of her; she looked at it and finally smiled. 'You are very observant, Miss deWinter.'
'I make it my business to know what my friends like.' I cringed inside. That wasn't the best line ever uttered. Zana didn't seem impressed either.
'Don't patronize me, Madeline. You only know what I like to drink because you spent last night watching my every move out of the corner of your eye.'
'If you know that, you must have been doing the same.'
'Maybe I was.' She took a sip of the martini, steered the conversation away. 'You are a little later tonight. Had trouble with a consignment of immigrants?'
'No, I wanted you to arrive first.'
She smiled, the words hitting her sweet spot. She looked at me, sudden warmth in her eyes. 'I see I am important enough for you to bother to formulate a master-plan.'
'If I told you I was doing that at three this morning, would you think of me as pathetic and desperate?'
'Not at all. I would say you had good taste.'
'Then you also possess good observational skills.'
She spun round so we were facing each other, our knees almost touching, and pierced an unfaltering stare into me. 'So what do you intend doing with me, Miss deWinter?'
She'd floored me, again. Nobody was ever that blunt. One sentence and I knew for sure I’d met my match. And I knew the blood was pulsing through my veins so hard I could hear it like a drum in my ears.
Somehow I held her stare, didn't answer straight away. Things were forming in my mind, words I couldn’t believe I was about to say. What the hell was happening here? Were these crazy thoughts about to get me a slap in the face, when I suddenly blurted it all out? Zana seemed to like the blunt honest approach. So to hell with it, that’s what I'd give back.
'My immaculately-formed master-plan has three elements. Firstly, find out your name. Second, lavish my well-honed feminine charm on you, until you realise how totally irresistible I am. Third, make you come so hard you scream for mercy.'
For a second or two I thought it was a step too far. My mouth went dry, the letters F.A.I.L formed magically in front of my eyes once again. Zana stared back, her eyes emotionless.
Then she slipped off the barstool, stood sideways to me, her body just touching mine. A delicate finger drifted through my hair, gently hooking it behind my ear. I could feel her warm breath on the side of my face, our heads so close. Still her expression gave nothing away, as she spoke in a low husky voice. 'Stage one will be easy for you, Madeline.'
I swallowed as hard as I dare without it being noticed, the closeness of her almost too much to bear. For some God-forsaken reason I wanted to reach out, touch her. My arms wouldn't work.
It wasn't me who did the touching.
Soft full lips pressed against mine, tasted so sweet, just for the tiniest of moments before they were pulled away. 'You can call me Zana. But be careful what else you wish for.'
I closed my eyes, so wanting the touch of her lips again.
When I opened them, she was gone.
Chapter 5
I love this BMW. Shame its only mine for the gig... however long that is. It almost drove itself as I turned off Albert Embankment and headed down the steeply-sloping concrete drive to the barrier at the entrance of the car park underneath the MI6 building. I swiped the pass, couldn’t help a smile creasing my face as I floored the throttle and the tyres squealed in the echoing void of the big low-ceilinged basement.
A few seconds in the lift, and I stepped slowly through the four-sided electronic security screen into the big open-plan operations room that was DIAL's domain. A young technician saw me arrive, I groaned silently as he smiled, almost like we were best friends. 'Hi Madeline,' he said, expecting me to stop and chat. Last week, in a moment of out-of-character weakness, I’d agreed to go for drinks with him. He’d probably thought it was a date. And by the look in his eyes right then, the pathetic fool was likely thinking I was about to arrange a second one.
'Oh hi… hi,' I said, trying not to look at him as I walked by. I couldn’t remember his name.
I never remembered their names.
I ran the steps to the director's office, set higher off the floor so he could watch over his hi-tech empire through the big glass windows. There were three people in the room.
'Ah, glad you could finally make it, deWinter.'
Duncan Scott looked up from the papers he was studying, narrowed his piggy-eyes at me, and spoke in a curt tone. A small balding man, he was dressed
as always in a finely-tailored black suit, white shirt and red bowtie. Gold half-round spectacles gave him a slightly caricatured look, but those who crossed him knew only too well there was nothing amusing about DIAL's commander-in-chief.
My eyes focused on the bowtie, I couldn't help it. What the hell is it with red just lately? 'Sorry sir, traffic was crap.'
'And do you consider that an excuse, agent?'
The voice was spooky; there was no better word to describe it. After our first meeting four weeks ago, it crossed my mind the chief was in the wrong job. With an eerie voice like that he could easily have been an A-list movie star. But somehow it was a voice that numbed me into submission, and the only words I could find were a timid, 'No sir.'
'Perhaps then, it is a good job you're only on temporary assignment to my department, deWinter.' The eerie voice was cold, stark. Again I felt like a naughty schoolgirl brought up in front of the headmaster. 'Coop tells me you made… um, second contact last night.'
Ryland Cooper, sitting in a chair on the far side of the room, laughed out loud. 'Perhaps I should have said sir, it was more Zana who made contact.'
I threw him an angry look. 'You get off on being a voyeur, Coop?'
'Think yourself lucky, deWinter,' he sent back. 'Someone had to pick your credibility off the floor the previous night, and shove it back up your dress.'
I couldn't stop a wry smile, although I would have liked to. 'Give you that one, Coop.'
'Would someone like to tell me exactly what went on?' The chill-inducing voice forced both of our attentions back to the big silver metal desk, which made the little man sitting behind it look even smaller.
'There's not much to tell, sir,' I offered, wondering if my homework would please teacher. 'We made second contact last night. It went well, I will take things further this evening, with a view to meeting her away from the bar.'
Duncan Scott's little round eyes peered over the top of the half-spectacles. 'So what did Coop mean by, “Zana made contact”?'
