His Spy at Night (Spy Games Book 3) (3 page)

She might not need to do so after Harry had John alone. She’d definitely picked up on a vibe that said he didn’t want her working with him. She suspected he was going to try and talk John into handing this assignment to another intelligence officer, most likely a man. In retaliation, she’d had to poke him a little by teasing him about his sober personality.

Get with the times, Mr. Jordan. Women work in espionage too. In fact, they’ve done so for centuries.

He stood with her, all gentlemanly politeness. At five foot ten, or maybe an inch more, he was around the same height as she. He wasn’t heavy or thin, handsome or homely. He had nice brown eyes with lashes almost as long as a girl’s, tipping the man-meter scales to attractive. He wore his brown hair military-cut short. So far, there were no touches of gray or hints of male pattern baldness. His suit and shoes screamed understated but expensive, and fit him very well. It was obvious he kept in good physical condition. Lies decided that, even though vanity was the more powerful motivator for most people, Harry worked out to fend off stress. He wasn’t the most Zen person she’d ever met.

And yet he didn’t give the impression of a man who made many mistakes. He also knew how to keep his cards close to his chest, evading any questions she’d posed that he’d deemed too personal when it came to either him, his staff, or his business associates. She itched to find out what he was hiding. His personal secrets wouldn’t be deep and dark—he practically glowed with integrity—but she suspected they might prove interesting, because Harry had something deeper going for him. He was charismatic in a quiet way that had encouraged a woman who’d been jilted by a lover to entrust him with a secret that could cost her life. Arms dealing and money laundering—for that was what Vanderloord was doing—weren’t things nice people did, no matter how they tried to dress it up. Lies had personal experience.

The pain of loss and humiliation, still fresh, squeezed her heart. She wasn’t ready to take on another assignment where she was expected to get close to a man. That was the real reason she’d helped sabotage herself by poking fun at Harry. He’d be presenting his case against her the second she walked out the door and a part of her hoped for his success. Mind games were one thing. Games of the heart quite another, and hers was still fragile.

He extended his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Lies.”

He had a nice grip—longer than indifference, but not so long as to become off-putting to women. He didn’t say he’d see her at the airport, or in The Hague, or that he looked forward to working with her, confirming her suspicions that he planned to have her replaced. She murmured something equally polite, nodded to John who was watching their interaction and not missing a nuance, and slipped out of the office, closing the door behind her with a soft snick.

A clock on the cream-colored wall of the outer office shouted that it was already almost time for a coffee break, and so far this morning, she hadn’t even made it as far as her desk.

She spoke a few words to John’s assistant Penny as she passed her desk, then, out in the common area of the department, worked her way through the maze of cubicles to her own. She dropped the file in her top desk drawer, grabbed her empty coffee cup, and went to fill it in the break room before returning to her workspace for a few hours of light reading.

Before she was completely resettled, a tiny paper Canadian flag mounted on a wooden stick popped up over one wall of her cubicle, followed by a head.

Dan, her team leader. He came around the partition and made himself at home in the tiny plastic visitor’s chair.

“Truce?” he asked.

“That depends on if you brought chocolate.”

He passed her a small white bag from a nearby specialty store. “I wouldn’t do this kissing up for just anyone, you know.”

Of course not. Most of his team members were men smart enough not to sleep with their targets. Granted, that was because most of their targets were also men. Plus, Dan had sold her out. She hadn’t forgotten that part, no matter how good he believed his reason for it to be. There was a double standard at play here.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t taking his chocolate. At the end of the day, double standard or not, Lies was the one who’d made the mistake. How Dan chose to address it was his prerogative. She loved her job and she wanted to keep it.

“Thank you,” she said, opening the bag and peeking inside. “I’m not sharing it with you.”

“I know you think I treated you differently, and maybe I did,” Dan began, diving right in. “But there’s a lot at stake on this assignment. I don’t want anyone’s overpaid lawyer calling your integrity into question.”

So Dan knew about the defense minister’s involvement, even if she wouldn’t be reporting to him.

Did she really want to take on the Minister of National Defence?

She popped a milk chocolate, hazelnut praline into her mouth, mulling his words over. No one’s lawyer would have any reason to come gunning for her. She gathered information which CSIS then passed on to the appropriate authorities. It wasn’t up to CSIS, a civilian organization, to prove the value of her information in court. That was a problem for law enforcement officers.

And the Minister of National Defence wasn’t above the law.

A rush of adrenaline swept through her. She could do this.

“Your kissing up is accepted,” she mumbled around a mouthful of sweet, gooey goodness, hoping Harry lost his argument with John after all.

Chapter Two

The airport lounge was quiet this evening.

Harry, seated alone at the bar, stared into his beer. He’d bumped Lies’s ticket to business class so she’d be seated with him for the journey—since for all intents and purposes she was now his PA—and then left a message for her to meet him here. They had to make a short domestic hop to Toronto to meet their connecting flight to Amsterdam and a quick check of his watch said she was cutting it close. He’d hoped to establish certain boundaries before they reached Amsterdam and had to put on a show. The confined cabin of an aircraft wasn’t the place for that discussion.

John had refused to reconsider assigning her to his office. “She’s the best person for you, Harry. Trust me. She’ll get the job done. You’re telling me he has a weakness for young, beautiful women. He’s also been trying to work his way into your office. Lies will get him a foot in the door without you having to do an about-face that might make him suspicious.”

That last was true enough. Something about Vanderloord had rubbed Harry the wrong way from the first, and the incident with Alcine had sealed his opinion. He made it a personal policy to avoid doing business with anyone he didn’t believe he could trust and he’d turned down several meeting requests from Vanderloord already. Lies, new to the staff and inexperienced, could accept the next one on his behalf.

She slid onto the stool beside him.

She wore a pair of tight-fitting tan leggings and a lightweight white blazer. Her shoes were beige canvas flats and matched the bag she was carrying. Her short mass of blond ringlets had been drawn back from her face and tamed by a white hairband. She looked exactly like a fresh-faced young professional on a business trip, casual but not careless about her appearance, so he couldn’t say why he had this sense of impending disaster. He had no basis for his belief she’d never be able to pull this off. He knew nothing about her other than that she was a spy.

Maybe he really was all doom and gloom—another one of Alcine’s complaints about him when they’d ended their relationship.

Lies’s knee kissed his thigh as she got comfortable on the stool. All his nerve endings cried danger. He shifted his leg away, trying not to be obvious, uncertain as to whether the intimate contact was deliberate or not. She was a flirt who enjoyed playing games and he found her far too attractive to best her at this one.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I had extra bags to check and it was a bit of a production. Airlines are ruthless.”

Of course she’d have a lot of luggage. He should have arranged for them to arrive at the airport together so he could help her with it. He carried an overnight bag because he was only in Canada for a few days, but she’d had to pack for an indeterminate stay in The Hague.

He drained the last of his beer and signaled the bartender for another. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll have a cola.”

The bartender brought them their drinks and Harry paid his tab. He picked up his glass, looked around the empty room, then reached for the overnight bag and laptop on the floor at his feet. “Let’s move to a table where we can talk.”

He tucked his belongings under the table out of their way and held Lies’s chair for her before seating himself.

“I wanted to go over a few of your duties with you,” he began.

“I’ll be an awesome personal assistant, Harry,” she assured him with a level of confidence he had to admire. “You won’t regret hiring me. Nobody expects someone new to a position to hit the ground running, and I’m not afraid to ask questions.”

That was a large part of the problem. He didn’t want her interrogating his staff and associates. He knew exactly how much intelligence someone could gather by feigning ignorance. She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and he was turning her loose on an unsuspecting flock. So when he said duties, he really meant boundaries.

He’d already figured out she’d have little respect for his authority. John Carmichael was her real boss, not him.

“I’m not worried about day to day operations.” He took a swig of his beer. He didn’t plan to give her free access to embassy files. CSIS didn’t need to have its nose in all his affairs. “A big part of my job involves social functions and dinners, and you should accompany me. It’s the easiest way for you to get to know the right people. You won’t have much free time in the evenings.”

“In my last position I was on call pretty much twenty-four seven. I’m used to long hours.” She looked at the drink in her hand. It trembled a little and she set it down with too much precision. Harry wondered what that was about. Maybe she wasn’t as confident with this assignment as she’d have him believe. She ran one finger up and down the sweating glass. Her eyebrows rose, drawing his gaze to her eyes, and once again he was caught up in how blue they were. “Who would you normally take to dinner?”

Again he had to wonder if she was flirting with him, and if so, what her purpose for it might be. If it was to unsettle him, mission accomplished.

He had an urge, no doubt bolstered by the beer, to shake all that feminine confidence. “My girlfriend recently ended our relationship. No one will think it odd for me to bring my young, very attractive, new personal assistant with me.”

Lies’s expression changed. Compassion filtered into her eyes and she leaned toward him, ever so slightly, before drawing back as if changing her mind about whatever she’d been about to say or do. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was overdue.” Alcine had always been more interested in the lifestyle than him. Her interest in Vanderloord, however, had been the final straw. He pushed his unfinished beer away. He’d had enough to drink, especially since he had to watch what he said around Lies.

She was studying him. A slight frown tugged at her finely-arched brows. He knew what she saw—a dull, middle-aged businessman of passing good looks. The most exciting thing about him was his career and that could hardly impress a CSIS intelligence officer. She leaned on her forearms, bringing her head closer to his from across the small table.

“In order to do my job, I need to know where I fit in your life,” Lies said. “Am I someone you overlook because you see me as unimportant, or do I have a position of power with you? Do you confide in me or do I carry your bags? Do I know every detail of your life, both personal and professional, or do I know nothing about you at all beyond your work schedule?”

He hadn’t thought that far ahead and didn’t like to make quick decisions. “Does it matter? Do we need to know that right now?”

“It does and we do.” She placed her hand over his, adding another layer of intimacy to the discussion, as if they were well acquainted already. She leaned closer still until their noses were scant inches apart. “Crime bosses go for the top of the food chain or the bottom. The middle’s not worth their time.” She stroked the tip of one finger across the back of his wrist. Whether the gesture was absent-minded or calculated, he couldn’t tell. He did know it was distracting. “Why do you suppose the ambassador’s wife was a target? And she was, Harry. He got more than a good time from her. She probably knows it too, but is afraid to admit it. That makes me very curious about the information she gave you. If it’s accurate, why did he underestimate her so badly? Is it possible she told you things he meant for you to hear?”

She posed very good questions.

“Dita isn’t exactly what one would describe as sophisticated,” Harry explained carefully. “She’s a former model and quite attractive. She’s also only twenty-three years old compared to her husband’s sixty-seven. It’s possible she wasn’t the target in this case, but doing some targeting herself, and got more than she expected.”

A smile of enlightenment curled Lies’s pink-tinted lips. “So you’re suggesting she’s working her way out of Albania… Let me guess. The story she gave you came with a plea for protection and an offer you couldn’t resist.” Her smile brightened, a hint of laughter lurking in her eyes. “Although I’d bet money you did.”