by Cindy Dees
He opened his mouth to speak, but rather than let him start complaining, she led him through a makeshift sitting room to a long hallway with monks’ cells off either side of it. The first two had been sparsely furnished into bedrooms.
After they deposited their bags on the beds, Amanda showed Taylor the outbuildings by lantern light. When they stepped inside the cookhouse, which was still in surprisingly good shape, Taylor stared in surprise. Supplies for several weeks were stacked neatly on shelves along the wall.
He looked sharply at her. “When did you arrange all this? Surely the padre didn’t pull all of this together today.”
“Tins is the contingency I mentioned last night. I made some phone calls two days ago before we were flown out of Mexico. I figured you’d want to continue with the case, and I knew you’d need the additional training.”
Taylor frowned. “Am I really that predictable?”
She grinned. “Don’t knock it. I have a special appreciation for orderly minds.” After her father in his final years, Taylor could have no idea just how fervently she meant that. She headed back for the living quarters. “How about if I show you the rest tomorrow? I’m beat.”
“Great idea,” he agreed.
Amanda waded across the dew-covered courtyard, and headed directly for bed. The windowless cell cum bedroom was pitch black and only the faint sound of chirping crickets reached her. She lay there, completely relaxed, and was not aware that she had fallen asleep until she woke many hours later to a loud creaking noise accompanied by cursing. Curious, she got up, dressed, and stepped out into the main courtyard. Bright sunlight assaulted her eyes, but squinting hard, she made out Taylor working on a large, rusty well pump. The handle was moving ever so slowly, each down stroke accompanied by an enormous squeak of protest from the ancient well. She strolled over to observe the epic struggle between man and pump.
Taylor straightened and wiped perspiration off his forehead. “Well, don’t just stand there. Grab on and help me!”
Amanda grasped the handle above his hands, and between them the accumulated rust slowly relinquished its hold. It felt good to be out in the morning sunshine, watching it glint off the sable highlights in his hair. Their combined effort was eventually rewarded with a trickle of rusty water into the stone basin beside the well. Several minutes more of vigorous pumping finally saw a clear, cold stream of water pouring forth.
Amanda had just put a bucket under the spout when a golden streak came tearing out of one of the buildings toward them. She dropped to the ground, rolled, and captured the racing creature in a single blur of motion.
A furious, yowling cat struggled in her arms. Scratches sprung up all over her arms before she got the blasted creature by the scruff of the neck. She glared up at Taylor over the feline’s squirming head. “In the first place, help me subdue this damned beast before he mauls me to death. And in the second place, why in the bloody hell didn’t you react to the threat when he came tearing at us? At a minimum you should have assumed some sort of defensive stance. Didn’t you say you had some martial arts training?”
“It was a cat,” Taylor stated flatly. “I didn’t perceive it as a threat—therefore, I didn’t react as if it was one.”
She stood up, holding the furious animal well away from her body. Carefully, she let it go. It took off in a baleful streak of yellow lightning. “Bad guys disguise threats all the time. You’ve got to learn to react to the attack itself, not to what the weapon looks like. I’ve seen pencils that were poison dart guns and fountain pens that were pistols.”
Taylor scowled. “I’ve seen my share of spy movies. I’m fully aware that all kinds of nasties can be disguised as innocent-looking stuff.”
“This isn’t Hollywood. Our necks are on the line here.”
“I get it already,” he grumbled. “Next time, I nail the cat. Can we move on to something else?”
She scowled. “By all means. Follow me.”
Thus began three miserable weeks for both of them. Amanda drove Taylor from the minute they woke up in the morning until he collapsed of exhaustion each night. She pummeled him in hand-to-hand combat, hiked him up and down mountainsides blindfolded, made him fire rifles until she thought she’d permanently go deaf—even with ear protection—and made him learn so much information it felt as if she was pointing a fire hose at him and demanding he drink from it. She rode him constantly to pay attention to the details, anticipate possible complications and to think, think, think.
And all the while, his charismatic presence bombarded her.
All that sweaty brawn couldn’t help but have its effect on Amanda. But it was his mind that drew her in. He was smart. Really smart. A quick learner with a ready sense of humor and a way of cutting straight to the heart of a matter. He had a basic decency about him, an honesty that went soul-deep. He was a good person. So unlike most of the people she came across in her line of work. The insidious attraction she’d had for him since the beginning wormed its way even deeper into her psyche until it became an act of conscious effort to maintain a professional distance from him. She probably drove the poor guy even harder because of it. But good sport that he was, he bucked up under it all and came through like a champ.
And after a couple weeks of sheer misery and grinding frustration for them both, it all started to come together. He started to hold his own when they fought, his shots formed tight clusters on the targets and she started to nod in approval rather than critique his every move. One night after a late supper, she said quietly, “Let’s take a walk.”
Taylor groaned and stood up.
Amanda laughed and retorted, “Not that kind of walk. I’m talking about a stroll. For pleasure. To see the stars.”
“Ah.” He grinned. “Well, in that case, I’d love to.”
The sky glittered with so many points of light that they defied counting. An entire universe was displayed before them. It made her feel infinitesimally small and as vast as the night at the same time. She shivered and was startled when Taylor looped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to his warmth. Even though she’d driven him mercilessly the past few weeks, a real camaraderie had developed between them as he came to understand her world and became a part of it.
“You’re ready,” Amanda announced quietly.
Taylor froze. “As in ready to go catch us a diamond smuggler?”
“Well, I thought we’d start with something a little less ambitious than that. My father would have called it giving you your sea legs.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Before we left Mexico, Harry Trumpman gave me a manila envelope. Made a show of doing it in front of the federal agents.”
“Ah, yes. Now that you mention it, I remember it.”
She explained, “Devereaux gave you and me another assignment, no doubt to convince Uncle Sam that you and I were off the diamond case. It’s straightforward—a small-time drug dealer needs to be shut down. He’s supplying the son of an influential businessmen, and Devereaux’s repaying a favor. I thought we could do the job together.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Taylor remarked.
After the crazy stuff she’d taught him about explosives and assassinations and international espionage, stopping a small time thug probably did sound like a piece of cake. “Great,” she said brightly. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning. Oh, and there’s one other thing.”
He grimaced as if he knew he wasn’t going to like whatever came next. “What’s that?” he asked cautiously.
She took a deep breath and plunged in. “From here on out, I think we’d be better off keeping our relationship strictly professional. It’s going to get pretty hairy over the next few weeks, and I think we both need to keep our minds focused strictly on the case.”
“No deal,” he responded bluntly.
She froze in turn. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said no deal. We’re allowed to define our relationship however we see fit, and I choose to leave o
pen the possibility of there being more than work to it.”
“But,” she sputtered, “but, we’re going to be together around the clock!”
He grinned. “Yup. Lots of opportunity for us to get to know each other even better.”
“But the distraction…”
“Darlin’, I’ve wanted to go to bed with you bad for the last month, and I’d lay odds the same thing’s been on your mind. But it hasn’t stopped us from training like maniacs or concentrating when it was required, now, has it?”
Amanda spluttered, too speechless to even form words. Finally, belatedly, she found her voice. “Taylor!” She threw up her hands. “Why can’t you just be happy with what we have now?”
He answered her question succinctly. “Because I want more. I want it all. With you.”
Twelve
Amanda was waiting at the table when Taylor joined her for breakfast the next morning. No matter what he said, she was determined to keep their relationship strictly professional. Staying emotionally detached had kept her alive this long and she wasn’t about to change her ways at this late date. He’d just have to deal with it.
She watched him pick up the manila envelope by his plate and turn it over. He opened the flap and pulled out a dozen photographs of a Caucasian man. The envelope also included a single sheet of typed paper. She’d already memorized the terse summary of aliases the target used, his address, the license plate numbers on all three of his late-model luxury cars and several favorite hangouts where he practiced his main occupations of drug dealing and pimping, with the occasional mugging-for-hire thrown in.
Taylor looked up from the page. “All the instructions say is to stop him. What exactly are we supposed to do? Apprehend this guy and turn him over to the Mexican police?”
“This guy would likely be able to buy off someone in the legal system and go back to his old ways. Our task is to stop him from selling any more drugs. Ever. What do you think would be an effective means to that end?”
Taylor snorted. “We could always kill him.”
She answered calmly, “True. Is that what you suggest we do?”
“What?” Taylor lurched in his seat. He scowled at her and growled, “Don’t mess around with me like that. You about gave me heart failure.”
“What makes you think I’m messing around?”
His gaze snapped to hers.
“Look, Taylor. Our instructions are to stop this guy. If that’s the only way you can come up with to do it, then that’s what we’ll have to do.”
“Ah.” Understanding dawned in his expression. “I need to think outside the box.”
God, he was a quick study. She sat back while the wheels turned in his formidable brain.
“I’ve got it,” he announced. “We’ll leave him a message. Literally.”
She listened with amusement as he outlined his plan. It was clever, unexpected and definitely could work. “Okay. What supplies will we need?”
He rattled off a list of items, all of which they had on hand.
“Contingencies?” she quizzed next. “What could go wrong?”
Taylor came up with a number of ways his plan could go off track and how to combat each. He finished with, “Worst-case scenario, we get into some sort of shoot-out with him and any security types he has and we end up killing him.”
“Are you okay with that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Based on the information here, this guy would get life in prison if the Mexican courts got ahold of him. Death isn’t a whole lot worse sentence than that from what I hear. If he attacks us and we have to defend ourselves, so be it.”
Much better. Taylor was infinitely more decisive on the subject of violence than he had been a few short weeks ago. They might just stand a chance of staying alive if he kept this sharp edge in the field. “Let’s do it, then,” she said simply.
During the trip to Mexico City, where the target lived, they worked out the details of the surveillance they’d set up and the gear they’d need to secure. Fortunately, she had already procured a veritable arsenal of weapons for Taylor’s training, so that wasn’t an issue.
They stopped at the first tourist information center they found in Mexico City, and she purchased a map. The target’s home turned out to be a high-rise apartment building in a decent neighborhood near the business district.
Taylor parked the Land Rover across the street from the entrance and they watched it for a while. Well-dressed residents passed through the glass doors, held for them by a solicitous doorman. That guy might pose a problem. Taylor came up with several ways to get past the doorman.
After getting a feel for the guy’s home, they found a clean but moderately priced hotel nearby. The kind of place where a pair of American tourists wouldn’t stick out. She stood back while Taylor checked in, using one of his new passports. He sailed through passing off his false identification to the desk clerk. Nicely done.
As suppertime approached, they strolled back to the target’s neighborhood. They ate dinner in a cafe, eavesdropping on conversations and watching traffic patterns out the window. Amanda watched Taylor absorb the feel of the city, the smells and sounds, the way people carried themselves, the way status was differentiated between classes of citizens, how people addressed strangers, anything that might help him to act and think like a native.
By the time they left the restaurant, Amanda was startled to see that he’d already blended himself into the landscape. Either she was an amazing teacher or he was a phenomenal student.
They took a taxi back to the hotel and changed into dark clothing. She and Taylor spent the night camped out in the Land Rover waiting for their target to make an appearance coming or going from his home. It was grindingly dull. So much for the glory and sex appeal of being spies.
They settled down to watching the building daily, learning the routine of the place, the rhythms and habits of its residents. They rented a new car every day or two and soon were able to recognize dozens of the building’s tenants.
One man in particular was interesting. The guy was almost Taylor’s height and of similar build, and he always entered and left the building alone. He came home from work each evening near the end of the day watchman’s shift. The man usually wore a distinctive raincoat and never failed to wear a hat. With a little makeup and similar clothing, Taylor could pass for the guy at a glance.
A week into the project, Amanda quizzed Taylor over breakfast on what they knew.
He listed off the salient facts. “Security is tighter than meets the naked eye. A camera looks down on the entrance to the building. After midnight, a uniformed security guard strolls through the lobby exactly once every hour and talks briefly with the doorman, who sits inside the locked lobby and reads all night. No napping on the job for him.”
She nodded. “Any adjustments required to our plan?”
“We may have to change the timing a bit, but that’s about it.”
“Are we ready to go, then?” Amanda asked.
Taylor nodded. “We just need to get the van and we’re all set.” He’d already found and bought a raincoat and hat that matched those of the resident who looked like him.
Their eyes met in silent understanding as she returned the nod. And a realization hit her. They’d become a team.
Taylor was too nervous to sleep, but he did stretch out on his bed for a few hours while Amanda caught a nap. How she could be so calm about tonight, he had no idea. Too wired to lie still any longer, he got up and stuffed the pockets of his raincoat with all the gear he’d need. Next, he went to work with stage makeup to turn himself into the resident they’d picked. There. He was ready to go.
From here on out it would be a waiting game. Their target brought prostitutes home with him about half the time. He’d brought girls home with him the past three nights in a row, so maybe they’d get lucky tonight and he’d be alone. A guy had to get a little sleep, after all. If not, they’d try again tomorrow night or the next night or the next.
She smiled, amused. “Sorry. This isn’t dangerous enough to spike my adrenaline. Besides, it’s your show. I’m just along for the ride.” To bail him out if he got in over his head.
This was Taylor’s final exam and they both knew it. They’d worked their tails off for the past three weeks to bring him up to speed on covert ops, and tonight was the culmination of it all. He could do this, dammit.
He drove to the target’s apartment building and parked their rented delivery van around back. Taylor pulled on the coat and hat that completed his disguise. Amanda adjusted her brunette wig and nodded to him. She looked like a reasonably respectable woman, the kind that the guy Taylor was impersonating might bring home with him. The night was muggy, uncomfortably warm. Sweat rolled down his back, and he prayed his makeup wasn’t running down his face in similar fashion.
“Is my face still in place?” he murmured to Amanda.
She glanced over at him critically. “Yup. Looks fine.”
“How do women do this makeup thing all the time? Don’t you live in constant fear of it coming off?” Taylor groused.
Amanda grinned completely without sympathy. “Welcome to my world, big guy.”
They walked around the block, approaching the building from the same direction the tall resident usually did. Taylor strode up to the entrance confidently, and the doorman got up drowsily to murmur a greeting and let him in. Taylor tilted his head so his hat would throw a deep shadow across his face and stepped into the lobby. Holding his breath that the doorman wouldn’t remark on Amanda, they waited for an elevator. Thankfully, the guy was discreet.
It they’d timed it right, the night watchman ought to be a couple minutes from beginning his rounds. The digital floor elevator to their left indicated that the lift had just been called to the basement. That would be the security guard coming up now. Damn. He was running a few minutes early. Come on, come on. Where was their elevator? It ought to be here by now.
