Licensed To Thrill

by Gemma Brocato

  I slowly put away the tube of cream and swiveled around to face the newcomer, hand at the small of my back, ready to pull out the Walther if needed. Surprise and relief barreled through me. I faced a much younger version of Viktor Koszlov. Since I’d never seen him before, I could only hope he’d never seen a picture of me. I wrapped my fingers around the butt of the Walther just in case.

  A pleasant smile molded the man’s features but didn’t warm his eyes as he extended his hand my direction. “I’m Gregorie Koszlov. Welcome to Rapa Nui.”

  God, I didn’t want to release my grip on the butt of my gun, but I couldn’t leave Viktor’s son hanging. That would be just plain rude and suspicious.

  His hand was cold as ice when I grasped it. The shock helped me recover enough to reply. “How do you do? Jayne Bellows, UNESCO geologist.” I tipped my head toward Bax and snuck my hand behind my hip again. “My associates, Baxter Turner and Lucien Delgado.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder.

  Lucien dropped his level and jogged toward our position.

  “Marvelous to have you here,” Gregorie replied, the sun glinting off golden highlights in his brown hair. “We love the moai here and are pleased to see UNESCO wishes to preserve them.

  His eyes belied the sentiment of his words. Cold, flat, and unwelcoming discs of arctic blue, they were. The eyes of a bully, a torturer, or worse—a cold-blooded killer. I stiffened my back to keep my fangs and talons in place and to hold in the shiver determined to ripple down my spine. I’d learned a long time ago to never let a villain see you sweat. Smart hoodlums always took advantage of fear.

  I forced a smile. “We have lost so many icons to religious wars over the year, we simply couldn’t ignore the risk to these monoliths. Our ongoing goal is to preserve the world’s heritage and history.”

  “Yes, yes, very important. How long will you be on the island?” The question seemed innocent enough, but I knew just how loaded it was.

  “We’re only here overnight. Some of our more specialized equipment hasn’t arrived on Pitcairn yet. We’ll take basic measurements today, but will need to return in a few days’ time to finish.”

  Gregorie spread his hands wide. “Well, then. You must accept our offer of hospitality and join my father and I for dinner at our home, Haven Valparaiso. Tonight?”

  Viktor was on the island? Dashed bad luck that. Lucien and Bax might be unknown to him, but the doctor had personally supervised my torture. I’d had one scare already with Gregorie and just barely dodged that bullet. Viktor would recognize me in a heartbeat.

  I glanced at Lucien, who gave an slight shake of his head. Keeping my gaze trained on Gregorie’s chest and off the sky where Viktor’s satellites might be lurking with their facial recognition software, I replied, “I don’t believe that will be possible. There are over eight hundred moai on the island. To reach our goal of recording the positions of the one hundred most significant statues, we’ll work through the night.”

  Suspicion glinted in Koszlov’s eyes for an instant before he smiled tightly. “Perhaps another time. The hospitality of my father’s home is always open to scientists. He has a particular interest in things of scientific nature.”

  Something I knew firsthand. The scar on my belly burned, a token of Viktor’s interest in science. “Another time for sure,” I agreed.

  “I will leave you then. But please, should you have any questions, I wish you to call me.” He handed over a small scrap of card stock, embossed with his contact details and the Atlantis Cargo logo.

  I tucked the paper in my shirt pocket. “Of course. We appreciate the offer.”

  So bloody untrue, it was a marvel my nose didn’t grow a few inches.

  7

  Mission Night 3

  Rapa Nui

  Gregorie pulled Yuri, the helo pilot, aside and treated him like a long-lost mate, laughing it up, backslapping, and casting a lot of side-eye stares our direction. The pilot kept his head bowed, looking a tad too deferential for my tastes. Keeping to the pretext of measuring the moai was going to be a difficulty if Yuri was being instructed to observe and report our every move. I hated being spied on.

  “Do you think they’re really friends?” Baxtard dropped the level on the ground with a thud.

  “Careful with that, probie. A real scientist would never ill-use their equipment. Show some respect for the profession.” I picked up the auto-level attached to a long rod and dusted it off.

  The guppy had the temerity to arch an eyebrow at me. “You know we’re just pretend scientists, right?”

  “Wasn’t born this century, you know,” I retorted with an exaggerated hair flip. Then I answered his original question. “I doubt they’re friends. Looks more like lackey to master behavior to me.”

  With a jaunty wave and a tight smile our direction, Gregorie called out, “Are you sure you can’t join us for dinner?”

  I shook my head and kept working.

  Gregorie strode to where he’d left the ginormous black Hummer running and climbed in. The island wasn’t huge, but I’d wager they spent hundreds of pounds in petrol each week. The Russian gunned the engine, and loose dirt crunched under the tires as he drove off.

  I finished my inspection of the tool, determining there was no damage—not like I’d really know—and handed it back to Baxter.

  Yuri laid a heavy stare on me and I rubbed my chin, as if to remove the dirt that surely must be evident to cause such a look. A huge frown dragged the guy’s brows together, creating a thick dark slash. He crept closer, head turned slightly as though straining to hear our conversation.

  That wasn’t happening.

  I winked at him and cast a glamour by imagining his head was covered with cotton batting.

  Drawing to a halt, Yuri dug a finger deep in his ear canal and wiggled it about.

  “It does look as though Junior Koszlov ordered the pilot to keep tabs on us.” I picked up a tape measure and pulled the metal tab, drawing it out a couple inches from the plastic housing.

  Lucien took the tab from me. “Can you glamour him so he sees us working?” He stretched the tape across the surface of the moai we were meant to be measuring. His voice rose when he called out, “Twenty-two point four.”

  I rolled my eyes. Hopefully the pilot didn’t have a clue that the monolith was likely closer to seventy-four inches. And that I held the plastic housing in my hand, while the end Lucien held would always read one inch.

  “Yes, Lucien. But I can’t keep it up all night.” A glamour of that nature, even on only one person, required a lot of concentration. “I’m a multi-tasking goliath, but if the effort lasts too long, it would drain my reserves.” To replenish my energy after a glamour of that length, I’d have to blood feed right away. And my options were Bax or the pilot. Neither seemed desirable. “I might need you to run interference for me.”

  My mentee squatted and rooted through the equipment bag. “We only need to keep him distracted until dinner. I have some sleeping pills in my backpack. We can spike his drink.” He rose, a stubby pencil clenched in his fingers, and took up a clipboard, looking at me expectantly while jotting a note.

  “Why, Baxter! You’re turning into a decent spy.” Lucien’s deep chuckle rumbled in the quiet. The tape rattled and hissed as he let it retract.

  “We should at least look the part until he’s incapacitated.” I rubbed my palms together. “I noticed a man-made protrusion on the surface about two klicks to the north. Lucien, where’s the fancy bit of tech the VIA sent for mapping?”

  Lucien locked one of the tripod’s legs into place and began adjusting the other. He patted the camera atop the apparatus. “Right here. I’ll have it ready for action in two shakes.”

  “Bax, we’ll try your sleeping pills. The diagram we need could take hours. Paying the kind of attention necessary to make adjustments on our end won’t look anything like we’re meant to be doing, measuring the moai. The work would definitely make Yuri suspicious.” With a curt nod, I grasped Bax’s elbow. “T
ake the level to the third moai over and stand there. You may feel a brush of air when Lucien activates the mapping function.”

  “Got it.” He tripped on his own feet, caught himself, then trotted off in the direction I’d indicated.

  A fast glance at Yuri confirmed he continued to watch us with a frown.

  I walked back to Lucien’s side. “We’ll be ready as soon as Bax is in place.”

  He shoved the last lock into place and fiddled with the camera. “One more adjustment.” He tinkered some more. “Do you trust your partner?”

  The question came from so far out of left field I blinked a couple times before responding. “Do you have reason not to trust him?” I countered.

  “He’s a puzzle to me. He’s smart, but bumbling. I’m wondering if his behavior is an act. How much do you actually know about him?”

  To be fair, I’d deliberately steered clear of learning anything about him. I hadn’t planned on him lasting this long before I ditched him. Three days on, and he was still hanging about like gum on the sole of my shoe. “Not much, I admit. But he’s a new agent. He’s bound to make mistakes and have a few stumbles.”

  “Think about it, Jayne. No one is that awkward.” Lucien stared at Bax, who picked the exact moment to trip again.

  “Well he doesn’t have a ballerina’s grace, but I don’t think he’s particularly athletic. I gathered his skillset so far has more to do with finance and accounting, rather than field work.”

  “I think he’s trying to sell us on his trainee status. Something about him is just too calculating.”

  I stared at the man in question, pondering Lucien’s suspicions. I sensed Yuri struggling against the supernatural mental block I’d woven around him. With a deep breath, I corrected the slipping glamour.

  “The guppy is ready.” I redirected the conversation by pointing to where Tamsyn stood, level gripped in his right hand, left fist propped on his hip, his heart thumping a bit with the exertion. Yep—not so athletic. “How long will this take?”

  “Um…” Lucien glanced at the horizon where the sun slowly sank. The sky was just taking on that pink-yellow hue only found at dawn and dusk. The shadows of the moai lengthened. “We’ll set it to do a straight line schematic from this position to the structure you spied. Then we’ll reset for higher detail. That should take most of the night.”

  “Thank goodness a vamp doesn’t require a lot of sleep.”

  Lucien grinned. “We’ll be making up for Tamsyn’s human need to sleep. Here, can you take this to him? Set it on the ground and dig it in a little.” He handed me four flat metal discs, about two inches wide and three inches in diameter. A miniscule red diode glowed on the bottom.

  “What’s this?”

  “The DIA’s version of a Wi-Fi booster. Planted at intervals along the route we designate, they’ll help provide a crystal clear picture. Otherwise, the final drawings could be skewed. Eight-hundred meters down is a lot of rock to ‘see’ through.”

  “A very cool toy.”

  I shoved the discs in the utility pocket of my shorts and sauntered toward Bax. Taking a moment to pretend to adjust the position on the level, I used my heel to hollow out a bit of the ground.

  “Hold this steady, Bax.”

  I moved his hand a bit higher, then made a show of picking the rod up. I moved it a small distance to the right, then glancing over my shoulder at Lucien and jabbed my thumb up. Lucien shot us an okay sign.

  “Now, we’ll pretend to discuss the positioning,” I instructed Bax. “I want you to point to the next statue over and then act like we’re arguing. Make it believable.”

  Bax did as he was told like a good trainee. He waved his hand wildly. “Like this? Our pilot friend is still pulling on his ear.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair then pointed toward the moai.

  “Because the glamour is still in place. And it will stay there for a while.” Even though my stomach felt hollow thanks to the energy drain. Keeping my back to Yuri, I cocked my head. “Why would you have sleeping pills on a mission? Lesson forty-five—deep dream sleep isn’t allowed while on assignment. You must be prepared at all times to respond or react to a problem.”

  He darted his eyes to the left. “I don’t like flying. So on the long trips, I’ll take one to help me survive the flight. They’re always in my travel bag.”

  Good God, his tell was like a giant neon sign: I’m lying like a rug. Perhaps Lucien was right to be suspicious of him.

  “You’re lying, but I’ll let it pass because they will be useful. This time.”

  “What? Why would you think I’m lying? Don’t you trust me, Solo?”

  “Don’t take it personally, Duet.”

  “But you trust Lucien. He’s a demon.”

  I looked back at Lucien and repositioned the level again, this time pulling a disc from my pocket. I took a knee, pretending to tie my bootlace, and planted the disc in the hollow I’d plowed out with my heel. An instant later, I had it covered with loose earth and packed it lightly. For show, I tugged my laces, stood, and brushed off my knees.

  I turned and moved away from him, but spun back around. “For the record, I don’t trust anyone. It’s how I’ve managed to survive for so long. People like us develop a sixth sense over time, and it’s quite useful when ferreting out who’s lying and who isn’t. You’ll find that everyone lies.”

  “I don’t.”

  I winked at him. “Of course you do, Tamsyn. And so do I.”

  The sun had disappeared into the sea four hours ago. Yuri had been snoring in his tent, set up fifty feet distant from the rest of us, for three of those hours. While Bax had prepared the evening meal, which included lacing Yuri’s portion with the sleep aid, I’d engaged Yuri in a conversation about vintage cars. Seemed we both were gearheads.

  Oh, the man could wax poetic on the subject. He leaned over and confessed that Depression era cars made him horny. As soon as he learned I’d been in a 1936 Talbot Lago, he could barely contain his enthusiasm. Understandable, since the teardrop shape of the car made it a rolling piece of art. I whispered back to him that it kind of made me a tad horny as well.

  Baxter’s sleeping pills had done the trick. The excellent bottle of Jameson’s Lucien had shared around after a hasty meal hadn’t hurt the situation.

  By the glow of Lucien and Tamsyn’s laptops and a bank of powerful LED construction lights, we continued to map the subsurface structure. Lucien had dashed through the darkness and planted three additional booster discs to create a fully detailed square grid.

  He sprinted back into our camp, not even winded. “Okay, we should be in business now.”

  As we watched, data filled one screen, numbers and letters flashing by so fast the human eye couldn’t keep up. This was why Bax studied the other screen. Lines formed on the display, stretching out vertically and horizontally, like an Etch-A-Sketch.

  He clicked a couple keys and then let out a low whistle as the drawing converted to 3-D. “This installation is massive. Not even close to the plans Bligh gave us. And much bigger than our own schematics indicated.”

  I stood quietly behind the men, my eyes tracking every line as they appeared. I might not be an architect, but I knew enough about mechanical drawings to locate ventilation shafts and possible points of entry.

  “There!” I pointed to an irregularity in the blueprint. “That’s where we’ll get in.”

  Lucien scooted over for a closer look. “Jayne, that’s…” His finger traced the line. “That tunnel originates underwater.”

  “It’s our best option to avoid detection. With scuba equipment, we’ll infiltrate from offshore. They’ll never see us coming.”

  “The drawing isn’t finished yet. Let it keep working. There has to be another option,” Baxter whinged.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re afraid of scuba diving.” I held onto my patience with determination. Quite a feat considering said patience was about the width of a fingernail.

  “That’s not what I said
. I’m suggesting we don’t jump the gun.”

  “The schematic is nearly complete. It should only take another hour or so,” Lucien pointed out in a helpful way.

  We were interrupted by the sound of a powerful motor gunning toward us fast.

  The sixth sense I’d been explaining to the guppy earlier kicked into gear, rocking and rolling vengefully through my system. My fight or flight instincts skyrocketed to the surface. We were getting company, and the only person I could think of who’d be speeding toward us at this rate would be Gregorie.

  Or his fucked-up daddy.

  “Lucien?” I pivoted toward the noise. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “That possibly you should hide? What are the chances it’s Viktor?”

  “Fifty-fifty, I’d say. But he’d recognize me. I can’t jeopardize the mission.”

  Baxter leapt from his camp chair. “You’ve met him before?”

  Hmm. I’d thought we’d covered this before. “Not much of a spy if all your digging into my past as a way to curry favor didn’t reveal the torture I suffered at Viktor Koszlov’s hands.”

  I raced to the computers and launched the decoy programs that headquarters had provided in case of emergency. We wanted to look like we were using a UNESCO program to map the moai, not Koszlov’s underground city.

  “We can argue this point when the need to get Jayne out of sight isn’t quite so urgent,” Lucien argued. “Jayne, get in the tent and bury yourself in the sleeping bag. We’ll come up with something to explain why you aren’t working.”

  The glow from the vehicle’s headlamps grew in size over a hilly area. I didn’t have much time. I flew to the tent and ducked through the flaps, pausing long enough to run the zipper down. After quickly stripping off my boots, I peeled off the thick socks, then set them aside. The light from the headlamps intensified, glowing through the walls of the tent. The growl of the powerful engine penetrated the otherwise quiet night. Not the same engine noise I’d heard from the Hummer. It appeared someone other than Gregorie was coming to call.