“You’re mistaken,” I said, somewhat mildly.
But the gears in my head started squeaking like a rusty hamster wheel. What else had he dug up on me? And why would he be digging into my background?
“Okay, I lied. I researched you when I found out I’d be assigned to you as a trainee. I… To be honest, I was hoping to know enough about your likes and dislikes to earn some brownie points. I’m so lucky to work with you, and this assignment is important. I don’t want to fail.”
His eyes shifted away from me. A blind person would know he was lying. But why? The guppy had secrets, and I might have to make it my business to find them out.
Room service knocked on the door at the same time Bax’s mobile pinged. I filed away my suspicions in favor of actually getting a coffee. “Would you get that, Tamsyn?”
I sashayed into the bath, slamming the door soundly.
After moisturizing, an essential part of the undead beauty regimen, I dressed in wide-legged navy trousers and belted a frilly pirate blouse around my waist. Hair dried, I tucked the Walther in my handbag alongside the tin of breath mints I always carried. Once again…a vital element of the undead routine.
High-heeled sandals dangling from my fingers, I rejoined Baxtard in the lounge area of my suite. “Lucien texted he’d meet us there. He’s been summoned to an emergency meeting with Lucifer. Apparently, the King of Evil is getting skittish over Koszlov’s proximity to the underworld’s portal. He’s demanding to know what we’re doing to stop him.”
Baxtard handed me a delicate china cup filled to the brim with brew darker than Satan’s soul. He might have been too thorough in his research.
I sipped the hot nirvana. “I see you know I like it strong.” When he glanced to the left again, I knew I was smart to be concerned. “We’re like an old married couple, Tamsyn, except you know all my secrets, and I know none of yours. There’s no magic in our relationship.”
He darted his gaze back to me and squared those wide shoulders. “I’m an open book, Solo. Ask me anything.”
Open book, my fat auntie. “I’m really not interested in knowing a single thing about you, Duet. But a word of warning, stay out of my private business. This is a mission. You only need to know what I tell you.” I took another sip, eyeing him over the rim.
A fine sheen of sweat coated his upper lip, and his heart rate accelerated as he broke eye contact. I spun and carried my cup to the window, pretending to check out the view. In reality, I was being pleasant about giving the scumbag liar a minute to collect himself. The last thing I needed was to worry about the probie digging into my background while on a mission to end Koszlov’s existence.
God, humans were messed up.
I watched wave after wave crash onto the shore, tossing up shells and kelp and leaving a foamy residue on the hard-packed sand.
Behind me, Bax slurped his own coffee, setting my teeth on edge.
“Lesson, Tamsyn. Listen up because this doesn’t come from the VIS handbook. This one is straight from Jayne’s Rules of Social Niceties.” I arched a look over my shoulder. Baxtard had a deer in the headlamps look. “One does not slurp hot beverages. If the coffee is too hot to drink, one should make polite small talk until it cools enough to sip delicately.”
This was something my governess had drummed into me as a small child at the beginning of the last century. I might work for a living, but I came from a privileged background.
“Yes ma’am.” The cup rattled on the saucer as he hastily set it down.
“Jayne will suffice.” I took a final sip. Without a noise, I deposited the cup on the tray. “Time to leave. Lucien should be on his way.”
Twenty minutes later, after a thrilling ride in the sexy Aston Martin, we were escorted into Camios Bligh’s office. Lucien was already seated across from the junior demon, and upon our entry, rose from his chair.
He pressed a kiss to my cheek and nodded at Baxtard before making introductions.
I took a moment to assess the Director of Permits. Camios’s eyes were an unnatural shade of blue. Flecks of topaz and copper glowed in the depths. They were certainly not human eyes. His skin was a pale tawny color, and he had a tuft of a beard on his chin. His wide cheekbones accentuated his resemblance to a goat. He was dressed like a typical islander, a white shirt with decorative gussets on each side, the hem left loose from his black surf-length trousers. Beat up sandals on his feet exposed his grody toes. The nails were yellowish, long and pointy, resembling claws. Thank goodness they weren’t cloven.
Once we were all acquainted, we took our seats, and negotiations began.
“Can I ask why you want plans of Easter Island?” Camios rubbed his palms together and then rested his narrow frame against the back of his throne-like chair. Definitely compensating for something.
“I’m a geologist for UNESCO. I’ve been sent to study the moai.” Passing him my falsified business card, I stuck with my cover of being an expert sent to investigate the sinking of the gigantic monoliths that had dotted Rapa Nui for nearly three thousand years. If Viktor was behind the scheme, I couldn’t risk him becoming aware of my presence. “We’ve noticed the moai are a good five millimeters lower than on our previous trip one year ago. UNESCO has been keeping careful measurements on the positions. Our scientists theorize that subterranean building has caused this shift. We’re worried about ongoing subsidence. If the island’s surface is collapsing, it would spell catastrophe for these stones. They weigh over a dozen tons.”
Camios’s smile was tight. “There is nothing to fear on that issue. The tunnels built by Dr. Koszlov do not extend under the moai.”
But he’d inadvertently confirmed we were on the right trail. Our quarry was most certainly Koszlov. My breath shortened, knowing I was closing in on stopping his terrifying ways.
“Are you a geologist, sir? Because I can tell you the substrata in the area is quite fragile.” I rolled out my most posh tones, edging each syllable in an entirely British manner. In other words…haughty as hell. “Why, even the tiniest disturbance could cause fissures beneath the surface. Also, recently, seismologists detected increased tectonic activity. Without knowing the exact location of the tunnels, the statues are at risk.”
“Bligh, this is a direct request from Lucifer. Some of the monoliths were formed in his likeness.” Lucien’s voice held the supercilious note he typically wielded when he wished to sway someone to his way of thinking. “It’s vital we have this information. Our employer would be unhappy if those statues toppled and were ruined. Or if Mr. Koszlov dug a little too close to his domain. Lucifer specifically requested Jayne’s involvement.”
The underlying command got Camios’s attention, and name-dropping Lucifer so casually sealed the deal.
Bligh leaned forward and slapped his palms on the desk. “You should have mentioned this sooner. As a special favor, I’m happy to comply. I’m certain you’ll share the story of my cooperation with our master.”
Lucien smiled benignly at the wanna-be power player as the bloke shot out of his chair. His sandals slapped his heels as he traipsed across to a metal filing cabinet. I averted my gaze from his disgusting feet.
From the middle file drawer, he pulled out a battered accordion file. I looked over to Lucien and shrugged. Baxtard leaned forward himself, mouth opened as if to speak. At Lucien’s pointed stare, the guppy appeared to think better of it and snapped his jaws together.
Camios withdrew a small thumb drive from the confines of the file then shut the drawer with his belly. His unusual eyes held a supernatural glow as he crossed back to us. I couldn’t put my finger on what disturbed me, but my innate sense of mistrust screamed awake.
The junior demon sat and set the USB stick on the desk then held it in place under his forefinger. When Baxtard reached for the drive, Camios shifted the memory stick away, like he was playing a game of Ouija and the devil had just shoved the oculus to NO.
“I must ask, what’s in this for me?”
Lucien’s expr
ession didn’t change. “The master will be pleased with your cooperation. This information’s important to him.”
Camios inclined his head toward me and Baxtard. “And their purpose?”
I started to speak, but Lucien rested a palm on my arm. It was clear he wanted the lead in these circumstances, and I was okay with him being in control. At least on this. He was the only demon I truly liked talking to. “They’re here on behalf of the British government. Jayne is, as she said, a world-renowned geologist. UNESCO issued an unusual request for their assistance.”
“If she is such an exalted researcher, why haven’t I heard of her before?” Camios countered.
Time to pull out my handy neuro-linguistic skills. I leaned forward and touched Camios’s hand, all the while mentally persuading him to drop his questions and just hand over the plans. “Surely you’ve read my paper on the substratum lying under the diamond fields in Rwanda? It was highly acclaimed.” I infused my voice with incredulity, as if I truly couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard of Jayne the geologist.
“Oh, now I remember. You wrote that paper?” Camios beamed an impressed smile at me, but his eyes muddied up in confusion. He passed the drive to me. “If your associate has a laptop, you may copy the contents.”
I tossed the bit of plastic to Bax, who struggled to get his computer out of his satchel. Suave was not his middle name. Neither were dashing or debonair. The corner clunked as he dropped his machine. Lucien scowled but Camios’s eyes cleared, thanks to the distraction.
With all eyes on him, the tips of Baxtard’s ears pinked up.
I considered turning him into a vamp just to put an end to his ridiculous blushes.
He finally managed to put the computer on the desk and open it. Of course, he bobbled the drive, attempting to insert it into the correct slot. I took it from him and shoved it in, then positioned the mouse over the proper icon.
“Can you copy that, newbie, or do you need me to do it for you?” I muttered.
“I—I’ve got it.” At least his fingers moved confidently over the keys.
While he worked, Camios made small talk. “Are you enjoying your visit to Pitcairn? Have you had a chance to visit the site of the Bounty wreck?”
“We only arrived yesterday. I hope to squeeze in a scuba adventure while here. All work and no play makes Jayne a dull girl,” I fibbed. “But work is our priority. Perhaps you could recommend a company to charter a plane or helicopter.” I’d prefer to rent a plane and fly to Rapa myself, but my cover didn’t include the fact that the geologist was also a pilot. I’d need to have words with Penn when I returned to London. He should have planned for every eventuality.
Camios beamed. “Certainly. In fact, Dr. Koszlov has a helicopter in port. I imagine you can bum a ride with him.”
Um, I’d be taking a hard pass on getting within ten miles of him. I wouldn’t get on a magic carpet owned by Viktor Koszlov. “We wouldn’t want to take advantage. Our schedule’s a little unsettled right now because…” Blast it, drawing a blank on an excuse was not a good idea. I cast a panicked glance to Lucien.
“We’re still waiting on some seismology equipment. We want to get a definitive reading on any activity as we’re working,” Bax interjected, coming to the rescue.
I exhaled hard. “Right. Can’t start the job without the proper equipment. Perhaps there’s another charter company? One that can handle a bit of cargo as well.”
Without a word, Camios pulled a card from the old-fashioned Rolodex on his desk and jotted a number using a pen with a chewed-up cap. Thank goodness he hadn’t offered me the pen. I’m undead and not likely to catch anything from something so small, but germs had been a phobia of mine since I was human. I accepted the paper, doing my level best to touch only the smallest corner possible.
Lucien cast an indulgent smile my way, but held his thoughts. Smart demon.
An awkward silence fell, during which Camios eyed me purposefully, as if he knew something I didn’t know. I didn’t like it. I was about to unleash a little more NLP action on him when Bax plunked his finger down on the return key and ejected the drive. My phone pinged in my purse.
He slid the bit of tech back over the surface of the desk then shut down his laptop. “Got everything I need. We’re good to go. I’ve emailed the plans to you both.”
He stroked the laptop with a pleased smile, as though the hunk of metal and circuits had just given him a giant hummer.
I rose, adjusting the wide patent leather belt around my waist. “Thank you for your time today, Mr. Bligh. We do appreciate the assistance.”
Bligh scrambled to his feet as well. He extended his hand, making it impossible for me not to shake it. His palm was indescribably warm, like most demons. Hopefully, the heat killed his cooties rather than incubated them. I freed my hand as soon as could be considered polite.
Camios directed his attention to Lucien, those otherworldly eyes glowing bright. “I trust you will mention my cooperation to the master.”
Waving his hand negligently, Lucien nodded. “In due time.”
Holding my shoulders rigid, I led our small group back out into the bright mid-morning sun. I dug in my oversize handbag for my phone, which was buried under the Walther. “Well done, us. I’ll meet you boys back at the resort. There’s something I’d like to do.”
Baxtard quietly growled. “Solo, if you think for a minute I’m letting you outta my sight, you can just guess again.”
It’s like he was along to keep tabs on me. Something else to add to my worry about it later list. For now, I had other leads I wanted to chase down.
But first, I had to get rid of my shadow. “Well, fine. But I’m planning an afternoon of shopping. There’re at least twenty lovely shops on the high street.” Pitcairn actually had a lovely shopping district. “I plan to visit every one of them. You can carry the bags.”
Horror swept across his features. He held up his hand, surrendering. “I’ll just grab a cab back to the hotel and review these plans.” He patted his laptop bag.
“Sounds like a great idea. I’ll see you back there for dinner. Toodle-loo.”
I spun on my heels and began striding toward the shops. Behind me, Lucien chuckled.
He caught up and gripped my elbow. “You aren’t really going in search of retail therapy, are you?”
“Pfft. Don’t be daft. Pitcairn’s high street isn’t anything like Bond Street.” The upscale avenue in London had the best shops, including Louis Vuitton and Stella McCartney. Chances of finding anything comparable in the island’s tiny shopping district were unlikely.
Didn’t matter. I was after a bit of recon on this tropical isle. First stop…checking out Koszlov’s hanger at the airport. It was as good a place as any to ferret out some good leads. And for this excursion, I didn’t need a demon along for the ride. Or my bumbling, still wet-behind-the-ears human sidekick.
“I’ll catch up with you later, Lucien.”
He stared at me for a long moment before nodding. He pressed a fast kiss to my lips, then wandered away, whistling a catchy tune.
Deciding the Aston Martin was a tad too conspicuous, I strolled around the corner from the Foreign Office, then hailed a cab. I instructed the driver to cruise the shopping district and pulled out my compact. Under the guise of checking my lipstick, I surveyed the road behind me for a tail. The driver pulled over to a corner when I asked and agreed to stay put after I folded a fifty-pound note into his hand.
After ducking into the closest shop, more of a tourist trap, I paused by the window and studied passing traffic, groping blindly for the first trinket available. Relief swam close to the surface when I determined I wasn’t under surveillance. No sign of Pete and Re-Pete. Clutching the single item I’d grabbed, I bustled to the counter.
“That will be two hundred American dollars, please.” The clerk’s sing-song voice was heavily accented, like most of Pitcairn’s indigenous citizens.
A bit shocked by the price, I cast a hurried glance at the t
chotchke I’d tossed on the counter. I couldn’t suppress a chuckle, drawing the clerk’s gaze from the cash register. Naturally, I’d picked up a crystal-encrusted copper crucifix. Thank goodness the thing hadn’t been blessed. Had that been the case, I’d have screamed in pain the second I’d laid my hands on the piece. There were no vampire restrictions on looking at or touching a cross, but once it was sprinkled in holy water and blessed by a clergyman, it became a lethal weapon against the undead.
After handing over my credit card, I casually turned my focus back to the street. When she nudged a bag into my hands, I absently nodded at the woman and slipped from the shop.
Keeping one eye on the street and another on the look-out for a trash bin to toss the cross, I skirted the moderate midday traffic and returned to the cab. “I’d like to go to the airport, please. The corporate jets area.”
Following an uneventful ride, the driver careened around a corner and cruised down a narrow alley between dull gray Quonset huts that doubled as hangars and storage facilities. My head lurched forward when he jerked to a stop.
“Any charter company in particular you wished to see, madam?”
“Right here will be fine.”
According to the map on my phone, Koszlov’s helicopter shared storage space with Atlantis Cargo. I could see the distinctive black sign with the hammer and sickle of the former Soviet Union. Figures Koszlov would continue to identify with communists. They were a party for power, regardless of their protestations they were for the people. Like any other governing body, it was always about who wielded the most influence. Who had it…who wanted it, and how to make the bodies disappear.
After slipping off my shoes, I tossed several bills at the driver. “I don’t suppose you could lurk in the car park for…say, thirty minutes or so?” I added another bill.
His broad grin exposed yellowed teeth, the front two chipped into a pointed vee. “Yes, madam. I’m happy to stay.” He tucked the cash into his shirt pocket, then pulled a raggedy looking card from the console. “My mobile is on there.”
Licensed To Thrill Page 5
