High-Caliber Concealer (38 page)

“Hey, I just asked you to help rescue your
father. I didn’t say you had to jump out of plane without a
parachute,” said Val. “That was your idea.”

“Coming up on the drop point,” yelled the
co-pilot coming into the cabin, and yanking open the exterior door.
Nikki shuffled to the door, her wingsuit dragging behind her. The
co-pilot checked his watch and held up three fingers, counting
down. Val pulled her goggles down on her face.

“Yeah, but—“ Whatever Nikki had been about
to say was deliberately cut off as Val pushed past her and dove out
of the plane.

Nikki rolled her eyes and checked her watch,
marking the time. “Drama queen,” she muttered. She pulled down her
goggles and glanced at the co-pilot who gave her a thumbs up. Still
shaking her head, Nikki stepped from the plane.

For a moment there was the delicious
sensation of pure speed, unhampered by anything so mundane as a
vehicle. Freedom, for Nikki, was going fast. All too soon, her
watch flashed and with reluctance, Nikki widened her arms and
spread her legs so that the fabric webbing between them could catch
the air like sails. Val was below her already angling her body for
the decent. Nikki squinted in the dim light trying to match her
approach.

Nikki was buffeted by a gust of wind and
found herself slipping off target. Battling back, Nikki corrected
course, and blinked back tears from the cold air that blew in
around the edge of her goggles. It was true; there were easier ways
to get into the farm where her father was being held. But all of
them would leave a footprint of some kind. Abandoned vehicles,
changes of clothes, traces of hacking. Nikki wanted to drop in,
collect Philippe Lanier from whatever hellhole he had been confined
and disappear into the night. After that—Well, Nikki couldn’t think
about after that. Because after that meant thinking about what to
do about Val and her… aliveness. Not to mention what to do about
her job, the one she had unexpectedly quit, or her boyfriend, CIA
Agent Z’ev Coralles, who she had left sitting in her grandmother’s
living room with no explanation. The “after that” list on this
mission was extensive and scary. Nikki avoided the thought and
concentrated on not falling out of the sky like a rock.

The lights of the farmhouse, if you could
call a sixteen bedroom mansion, with on-call chef, and a rooftop
infinity swimming pool, a farmhouse, were ahead of them, forming a
distinctive pattern in the darkness. The house, possibly in a nod
to the Dutch owners, or possibly because even architects sometimes
take drugs, was three stories, built in two long strips like a
V
. At the point of the
V
was a windmill. Their goal
was the right wing of the house, which had a long narrow pool on
the roof.

Nikki had chosen this approach for the
simple fact that it was the only entrance to the house that wasn’t
under video surveillance. The owner of the farm, a thirty-year-old,
dark-haired Dutchman named Maaravi Meise, had more security on his
flower farm than a drug cartel. Nikki assumed this was because,
even though there were flowers in the fields, Meise was not
actually in the flower business. At best, he was
also
in the
flower business. Nikki chose not to investigate – she didn’t
actually care. She just wanted to get her dad and get the hell out
of the country.

However, her chosen entry method, wingsuits,
were meant to be deployed in conjunction with parachutes. But
parachutes were unwieldy and too easy to spot from the ground.
Instead, Nikki had chosen to use an alternative method to soften
their landing—the pool. Nikki watched as Val angled her body up,
slowing her descent even further. Too much angle and she’d become
vertical and gravity would take over. Not enough angle and she’d
hit the rooftop at fifty miles an hour and bounce off the water
with leg breaking intensity like a skipped stone.

Nikki swung onto her approach vector. From
the air things were always so much clearer. The roof was lined with
lights focused on the grounds below and ambient light and altitude
illuminated the roof clearly. But once she touched down, she knew
there would be a period of darkness as her eyes adjusted to being
behind the lights. That was the moment of danger. She and Val had
debated bringing night-vision goggles. Nikki had been reluctant to
pack a giant, clunky, standard issue army pair, which was all they
could afford on the black-market, and Val seemed to think
night-vision was for sissies. Either way it had seemed sort of
silly when it was only going to be for this one moment. But now, as
the moment approached, Nikki wondered if maybe they had made the
wrong decision. But then, all of her decisions since leaving her
teammates, family, and boyfriend seemed worthy of being
questioned.

Val disappeared into the darkness beyond the
row of roof lights. Nikki checked her watch. If she had timed the
jump properly she should be thirty seconds behind Val. Time enough
for Val to make the landing and get clear. Nikki angled, spreading
her arms and legs, slowing down as much as possible. The roof still
seemed to be approaching far too quickly.

Slow. Slow. Slow. Nikki lifted her chin, and
clenched her tongue carefully inside her teeth, hoping for a
graceful bellyflop that would glide her into the shallow end of the
pool. There was a heart stopping moment of impact and the rush of
water. She was going to make it. Son of—it’s a pool noodle! Ducky!
Ducky! It’s a ducky. Nikki took the long piece of wet foam and
bobbing rubber duck to the face, before feeling them bump over her
hair and down her back.

She felt her momentum lessen and she reached
for the zippers on her suit. Arriving safely only to drown in the
pool would be the definition of a failed plan. She floundered
briefly and then found her feet. There was a dim light near the
stairs. She sloshed over to them and hauled herself out – stripping
out of her suit as she went. Her eyes, not yet adjusted, saw only
indistinct blobs of white deck furniture. No alarms seemed to have
been triggered. No running feet. Also, no Val.

“Val?” she whispered. There was an annoyed
grunt from ahead of her. “Val?”

“Over here,” said Val, her voice filled with
resignation. “I’m stuck.”

“Stuck how?” Nikki inched forward. Hampered
by the dragging fabric of her suit.

“I’m not entirely sure,” said Val. “I think
it’s a hammock.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bethany Maines , a native of Tacoma
WA, is the author of the Carrie Mae Mystery series and An Unseen
Current. When she’s not traveling to exotic lands, or kicking some
serious butt with her fourth degree black belt in karate, she can
be found chasing after her daughter, or glued to the computer
working on her next novel.

OTHER WORKS BY BETHANY
MAINES

BULLETPROOF MASCARA: A CARRIE MAE MYSTERY from
Atria

COMPACT WITH THE DEVIL: A CARRIE MAE MYSTERY from
Atria

SUPPORTING THE GIRLS: A CARRIE MAE MINI-MYSTERY

POWER OF ATTORNEY: A CARRIE MAE MINI-MYSTERY

Tales from the City of Destiny

An Unseen Current

Find out more at:

BethanyMaines.com