High-Caliber Concealer (7 page)

“The evidence on that is… it’s not
definitive. They killed a Canadian police officer!”

“The skeletons in his basement are pretty
definitive. What you really mean is that I embarrassed you in front
of your Canadian friend,” said Ellen, through clenched teeth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded
Darla.

“It was pretty clear you were real cozy with
the Alberta Branch leader,” said Jenny. “Of course you’d cover up
for her.”

“You’re the ones with something to cover
up,” bellowed Darla. “Maybe if you’d actually filed a report or
followed the chain of command, I could have done something, but no…
you’re Nikki’s team, you don’t have to follow the rules!” She threw
up her hands in outrage, and sat breathing heavily into the silence
that followed.

“I did file a report,” said Ellen icily.
“You buried it.”

“I did no such thing!” Darla’s eyes widened
in outrage. “I do not bury reports.” She stabbed a finger into the
desk with each word.

“Somebody did,” said Ellen, glaring.

“Well, it wasn’t me,” Darla shot back.

“Actually,” said Jane, clearing her throat
nervously. “There might be a way to check that.”

“Talk to me, Jane,” said Nikki.

“Well, every time a report is generated it’s
given a unique file number. Even if the file is deleted that file
number is never repeated. Sometimes files get deleted for perfectly
legit reasons, but the person who deletes it has to put in their ID
number. That number and the ID number of the report originator get
stored in a computer somewhere. They’re still retrievable.”

“I filed it when I was in Canada,” said
Ellen, looking worried. “The first time I saw Officer Pearson, when
I was in the middle of that other mission, I came back and I filed
a report, but no one did anything. Can you access Canadian
files?”

“I don’t have clearance,” said Jane. The
unspoken thought clear on her face was that she could probably hack
into the Canadian system, but a nervous glance at Darla showed that
she didn’t want to say it.

“But I do,” said Darla waking up the
computer. “How do I do it?”

Jane dropped her phone and moved to the
other side of the desk. Talking quickly, she walked Darla through
the process. Nikki watched as Jane’s jet-black head bobbed next to
Darla’s cinnamon-colored one. Darla was right about one thing, as
long as Nikki and her team were in LA, the branch was never going
to follow Darla. Darla ought to be able to have support from the
women in her command. This incident would never have gotten this
far if everyone had been talking to each other. For the good of the
company, she was probably going to have to do something. The
question was, what?

“That bitch!” growled Darla, slamming her
palm down on the desk, then looking at Nikki. “I sent your team to
Alberta as a personal favor—and this is how she repays me? I knew I
couldn’t trust her.”

“I thought you and the Alberta Branch leader
were friends,” said Ellen, exchanging looks of confusion with
Jenny.

“She saved my life once,” said Darla shaking
her head. “I owed her. She said she needed a sniper, and I figured
if I sent you we’d be square. She’s the one who deleted your
report.”

“Oh,” said Ellen. “I thought it was weird
for you to be friends considering that she was such a racist and
you seem fine with…” Ellen paused and blushed.

“And I’m married to a black guy?” finished
Darla. “Yeah, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to get clear of
the debt I owed her. I don’t like being around her.”

“Check this out,” said Jane, pointing at the
screen. “Ellen’s report isn’t the only one she deleted.”

“I’m going to file a formal complaint,” said
Darla, her eyes sparkling. “Threaten me, will she? Can you print
out a report on this?” she asked Jane, pointing at the screen, and
Jane nodded. “And then I need you to start tracking down the agents
who originated the reports. I need more ammunition.”

“Give me a minute,” said Jane, already
reaching for the desk phone.

“It won’t be enough,” said Nikki, perching
on the windowsill, and leaning back against the glass, warm in the
afternoon sunshine.

“What do you mean?” asked Darla, looking as
if she’d just remembered Nikki were in the room.

“It’s an international incident, right? If
it had stayed between you and what’s-her-name in Alberta, it’d be
fine. But she’s already filed a formal complaint against us, hasn’t
she? It’s going before the Council.” The Council was the
international ruling body of Carrie Mae. From there the
organization forked into smaller and smaller units: divisions,
branches, units, teams, and finally the lowly agent.

“It doesn’t matter. Not with this
information. I can fight back.” Darla’s eyes sparkled with the
prospect of holy battle.

“We’ll still be a liability,” said Nikki. “I
told you. We’ve got to think about the future.”

“I’m not going to fire you. That cop was
killing girls and one of our own people ignored it.”

“The Council is old school,” said Nikki,
shaking her head. “They already think Mrs. M and ‘her girls’ are
troublemakers.”

“Do they?” asked Jenny, looking surprised.
“You never told us that.”

Nikki shrugged. “Mrs. M never considered
you, or your actions, a liability. She didn’t want you to behave
any differently.”

“I can put you on two weeks unpaid leave,”
said Darla slowly. “That way I’m punishing you—addressing the
infraction in-house—but during the course of my investigation into
your actions I’ve discovered several breaches in protocol on the
part of the Alberta Branch. Breaches that The Council should
address. It’ll change the focus of the investigation.” She sat back
in her chair, and eyed Nikki. “I should have come to you before
now. I misinterpreted your intentions.”

Nikki shrugged. “I don’t really want the
job.”

“I don’t know why not. The big chair is kind
of cushy.” She bounced up and down for emphasis, and Nikki
laughed.

“Too cushy. It sucks you in.”

“I’ve got the girls running down the missing
reports,” said Jane, hanging up the phone. “It may be that we can
find duplicate copies that weren’t deleted because they weren’t
connected to the same server. We’re also looking for the agents who
filed the reports. Once we’ve got a list of names I can send some
people out on interviews.”

“Good. Make sure you update someone on the
case before you leave.”

“I’m leaving?” Jane looked at Nikki, panic
stricken.

“You’re not fired,” said Nikki, and Jane
sighed in relief. “We’re on unpaid leave.”

“And you should probably leave the state,”
said Darla matter-of-factly.

Jane looked horrified. “No, no, no. Remember
what happened last time you tried to make me take time off?”

“I remember you disobeyed orders, hacked
into the computer of an international arms dealer, and got stuck in
a German hotel eating sausages,” said Jenny. “You obviously don’t
know how to vacation, and require my assistance.”

“Do I really have to go on vacation with
Jenny?” demanded Jane, turning back to Darla.

“Frankly, I don’t really care,” said Darla.
“But I want you out of reach of any council investigators. Outside
of Nikki, you’re not exactly political animals. I can’t trust you
to say the right thing. Leave town, and stay out of sight for at
least two weeks. I’ll call you if I need it to be longer.”

“Sweet,” said Jenny.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the girls. And
didn’t you say your mother’s been bugging you to come visit?” asked
Ellen, turning to Nikki. Nikki made a face. She didn’t need
reminding.

“But,” said Jane, looking distressed. “I
can’t leave the state. My computers… my research… my giant
crossword puzzle…” Her eyes bounced to each of her teammates in
turn, looking for help.

“Honey,” said Jenny, standing up. “You
clearly need Cancun more than I do. Come on, Nikki, help me get her
outta here before she chains herself to the desk in protest.”

“Hey,” said Nikki, picking up the phone as
she fumbled for her keys.

“How’d it go?” asked Mr. M.

“We’re on unpaid leave for two weeks while
she handles the political stuff. Does your wife know you’re asking
about her work?”

“I’m asking about my friend’s life. It’s a
clear distinction,” said Mr. M primly. “I can’t help it if your
life happens to involve her work.”

“You argue like a lawyer,” she said
affectionately.

“How fortunate that I am one,” he said, and
she could hear his smile over the phone. “Look, it’s not my fault
that the two of you have decided to work for an international
corporation who take its motto, ‘helping women everywhere’ a little
too seriously. If you would just work for the CIA like I did, we
wouldn’t have this problem.”

Nikki laughed. “Actually, I was thinking
about your wife’s edict to avoid anything stressful.” She climbed
the stairs to her apartment, pausing to check the mail.

“I don’t find you stressful,” said Mr. M.
“What I don’t understand is why she’s not checking in on you
herself.”

“She called while I was in the car,” said
Nikki.

“Ah! That explains her mysterious, sudden
trip to the grocery store.”

“I think it’s taking all she has not to call
Darla and meddle,” said Nikki.

“I really wouldn’t mind if she worked,” said
Mr. M. “She doesn’t have to be home every minute to take care of
me. I had surgery. I’m not incapacitated.”

“You had open heart surgery,” said Nikki.
“With complications. And let’s face it, left to your own devices,
you’d probably be chowing down on bacon and trying to run a 5k or
something.”

“I would not,” said Mr. M. “I dislike
running.”

“I notice you didn’t comment on the
bacon.”

“I try not to lie,” he said, as she unlocked
the door, letting it swing open with a bang, waiting for a
welcoming yell from further inside. “Any word from Z’ev?” he asked
as if anticipating her next thoughts. The apartment remained
echoingly empty.

“No,” said Nikki. “I got a letter last week.
Forwarded from work, which meant it had half the letter blacked
out. I suppose it’s better than nothing. At least I know he’s
alive.”

“Still thinking of breaking up with
him?”

When Nikki thought of her boyfriend the last
thing she wanted to think about was breaking up. On the other hand,
it was becoming increasingly difficult to lie to him about what she
really did for a living.

“Mr. M, you’ve got to stop bringing this up.
I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to pester
you. I just think it’s a shame to throw away a good
relationship.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m pretty
sure your wife, my boss, thinks I should break up with him.”

“Miranda is not as romantic as I am,” he
said matter-of-factly. “She doesn’t trust Z’ev not to expose Carrie
Mae to the CIA and I, as a romantic, think that you should take the
risk.”

“If it were just me, I’d probably chance
it,” said Nikki with a sigh. “But it’s not just me. A lot of women
could be arrested, or worse, if Carrie Mae gets exposed. The CIA
doesn’t take too kindly to others playing in their sandbox. At
best, they’d probably call what we do ‘industrial espionage,’ at
worst they’d call us traitors. And what about all the women we
help? I’d be risking a lot on the chance that Z’ev loves me enough
not to blab.”

“I fully understand what’s at stake,” said
Mr. M. “But as someone who was in the CIA and loves a Carrie Mae
agent, I think that maybe Z’ev could be trusted and that breaking
up with him seems unnecessary.”

Nikki sighed. She didn’t want to have this
argument again. She didn’t want to point out that Mr. M had been
retired from the CIA by the time he’d married Miranda. And she
didn’t want to point out that he was assuming an awful lot about
how much Z’ev cared about her. “Well, don’t worry, I’m not throwing
anything away. And seriously, he has to be home for more than
forty-eight hours before I think we can consider it a
relationship—good or otherwise.”

“I see your point,” said Mr. M. “What are
you going to do with your time off?”

“I was thinking about going to see my
grandma. Mom’s been pestering me about going, which means Grandma’s
been pestering her.”

“I thought you got along with your
grandma?”

“I do! I’ve been meaning to go. It’s just
that all the holidays end up being with my mom too, and you know my
mom.”

“Drives you nuttier than a Christmas
fruitcake,” agreed Mr. M.

“And getting vacation time hasn’t exactly
been easy. Clearly, I should have thought of unpaid leave
earlier.”

“And how would you have arranged that?”

“I would have told Jane she had to go on
vacation, which would obviously have resulted in a fistfight in the
front lobby.”

Mr. M laughed. “Obviously.” There was a
tiny, far away noise from Mr. M’s side of the call. “OK, that
sounds like Miranda. I’d better go pretend I’ve been in the
recliner the whole time.”

“Mr. M! You should be in the recliner.”

“Miranda took my phone,” he protested. “I
had to go get a burner out of the garage. Gotta go, bye.”

Nikki set down her phone and purse and
looked around the kitchen. There had been a time, between college
and this job, when she had lived with her mother and an empty house
sounded like heaven. Now, she missed having someone to talk to. She
thought about calling her mother, realized that she wasn’t that
lonely, and dialed her grandmother while reaching up into the back
of the freezer for some ice cream.

“Connelly residence,” said her grandmother
on the third ring.

“Hi, Grandma. It’s Nikki.”

“Ah, Nikki, my favorite grandchild.”