Owl and the City of Angels (9 page)

Damn it, I hate organization. They’d know in a matter of seconds I was back on the run. Nadya swore. “Come on, we need to get to the docks.”

“Wait.” I crouched down and rifled through the woman’s pockets. Now, if I was an evil agent, where would I keep a covert walkie-talkie?

“Alix! I agree with principle, but we don’t have time to rob her right now—come on.”

“Just a second. Trust me, this’ll be worth it.” My fingers brushed against something. “Found it,” I said, and held up my prize as a woman repeated her request for team four to respond. Catching on, Nadya nodded. A heads-up might help us.

By chance the agent’s wallet was in the same pocket, so I lifted that as well. Not for cash, though; out of principle, I’d put any I found towards beer and cat food, but it was also useful for tracking. There were wonders you could do with someone’s name and credit card if you knew the right people in low places.

Nadya glanced at her watch and swore in Russian. “Now, Alix!”

I jumped back up, closed the door on the unconscious agent, and raced after Nadya towards the docks.

It wasn’t until we reached the street across from the cruise terminal that she came to a halt. We were so close I could taste the oil in the air. . . .

But Nadya just kept watching the road. Over the radio, the IAA was reorganizing. It wouldn’t be long before they drifted this way. “Let’s get going while the going is good—”

“Shhh.” She covered my mouth and pointed towards the docks. “Be quiet, they’re watching for you.”

“I don’t see anything except vendors and tourists . . .” I trailed off as I picked out two vendors who weren’t quite belligerent or desperate enough as they hounded the stream of tourists filtering by. I watched as one of them answered a cell phone, then nodded to the other.

Son of a bitch. Plainclothes agents.

A cold pit formed in my stomach as I realized the cruise-ship dock wasn’t completely off course of my escape-plan repertoire. Hostels, crowded train and subway stations, even blending in with the other grad students on digs—hiding in plain sight was one of my talents. God knows that’s how I’ve made my way around more cities and dig sites than I care to count. They’d guessed correctly that once I was this close to a crowded escape route, I’d be inclined to bolt for it. If it hadn’t been for Nadya, I would have. In fact, come to think of the whole sting operation, they’d bet a lot that I’d play to my strengths to get lost in the crowd.

Meaning someone in the IAA had bothered to do their homework. Worse, they apparently knew my habits better than I did.

“Nadya, someone at the IAA is changing the game,” I said, and related to her my guess on how they were tracking me, including what Benji had related about changed protocols, particularly since Bali. Nadya cursed under her breath.

“What?”

“Maybe nothing, Alix. I just heard something about changes from people I used to know in Russia—new security clamping down on students and PIs, but I thought it was just chatter, complaining about regulations like they always do.”

“Yeah, well, we can worry about it once we’re the hell out of here.” I nodded at the plainclothesmen. “We’ve got those two to worry about, and we can assume they’re looking for me trying to blend in.”

Nadya chewed her lip in thought, then shook her head. “Maybe not. I have an idea that will make my plan work. They are looking for you to blend in, no?”

I nodded.

A slow smile spread across Nadya’s face as she pulled out her pocket laptop and began to type. “I came up with a backup plan in Algiers in case you got caught. It’s risky, but I think it will help us and throw them off.”

“How?”

Nadya’s smile spread. “Easy. We do what any good Tokyo hostess would do. Give the client exactly what they want.”

We watched as six tour busses pulled up to the terminal and a couple hundred people piled out and milled around the vendors.

Instead of making a run to slip in, we waited until Nadya’s phone chimed with a new message. “Now,” she said, and under the cover of a seventh tour bus we bolted across the road and into the throng of tourists.

I swore as I lost my footing on a badly tended pothole; I was more concerned with watching out for IAA than where I was going. “What about the plainclothesmen?”

“Not a problem. My backup plan is taking care of them,” she said as we reached the now crowded cruise terminal courtyard, with more tourists than common sense dictated packed into a tight space; probably because of the riots. The cruise companies didn’t want to risk losing passengers out in the wild city.

No one paid us any mind as we raced for the customs house—hopefully that went for the plainclothesmen too. But instead of getting in line, Nadya veered us to a service door. She kicked open the door to what had to be a janitor’s closet and shoved me inside. There was a duffel bag tucked in the corner, hidden behind the floor bucket. Nadya had it open in two seconds, revealing two smaller, brown-paper-wrapped packages.

“Here, put these on,” she said, handing me one and taking the other for herself.

Inside I found a long-sleeved white shirt, bright blue tank top, oversized sunglasses, designer jeans, and a pair of sandals—all overtly designer, and not in a subtle, well-put-together-look way but more like an “Oh my God, who exploded the label gun over your outfit” kind of way.

Nadya was already out of her own khaki jacket and halfway into a pair of shorts covered in CC letters . . . well, everywhere.

I held my cruisewear up. “OK, I suck at fashion on a good day, but even I know these are over the top—”

Nadya glanced at me as she slid on one of a pair of stiletto sandals. I’d gotten flats instead. At least some practical thought went into this . . .

“Just put them on—now! We don’t have much time.”

Great, my ass was about to turn into a walking advertisement for Chanel. Fantastic, just what I always wanted . . . I changed into the clothes.

“And here, put Captain in this,” Nadya said, and held out the last item in the duffel—a designer leather pet carrier, complete with logos. I had to hand it to her; when she picked a theme, she saw it through. I opened the new carrier and held it open for Captain. After a careful sniff, he chirped at me.

“You heard Nadya,” I told him. “It’s this or face her.” Captain decided the new bag would be just fine.

No sooner was he inside than Nadya threw the closet door back open.

The nearest cruise ship, the one with brightly colored lettering and ribbons everywhere, had begun loading.

I lowered my dark sunglasses to get a better look. Two IAA agents in suits were waiting beside the customs booth.

Shit. “It’s a no go,” I said, “they’re already there.”

But she only grabbed my hand and dragged me behind her. “I swear to God, if you don’t keep walking and pretend like you belong in first class . . . Put those sunglasses back on and stand up straight,” she scolded as she continued straight on past the line and up the stairs. I glanced at the agents. They were looking at us now . . . along with everyone else at the cruise terminal, and not just because of the spectacle Nadya had dressed us in. We’d completely bypassed the line.

“They’re looking straight at us—”

“Just keep
walking
! And smile,” Nadya hissed out of the corner of her mouth, her smile fixed as we climbed the stairs.

Two Egyptian officials were waiting at the top, accompanied by a cruise ship official holding a sign with
KUROSAWA HOLDINGS
scrawled across the side in red and gold letters.

Nadya saw her too. Nadya jumped and began waving her hat, revealing her natural brown hair—normally she wore a neon red wig. That was beside the point—if people hadn’t been looking at our spectacle before, they sure as hell were now . . . even the IAA agents were tracking us visually if not physically.

There went my comfort zone. “All right, I’m all for hiding in plain sight, but there’s supposed to be a goddamned element of
hide
in there—
oomph
!”

Nadya jabbed me in the side with a well-placed elbow. “If you mess this up, so help me.”

“This is the worst plan ever.” I noted a fishing boat off to the side. If we ran now, pushed a few people over, we might make it . . .

“For God’s sake
, smile
—and let me do the talking,” Nadya said.

“Mrs. Voldynova?” the cruise woman said, fidgeting with what looked like passports in her hand.

Nadya extended her hand and turned her full-wattage hostess smile on the Egyptian customs officers.

“We’re so sorry to be late. We got caught behind the crowd while walking the museum,” Nadya said, laying her Russian accent on thicker than usual.

Relieved, the woman handed the Egyptian officials the two passports. Passports with our photos inside.

“I would love to know how the hell you pulled that off,” I whispered.

Nadya didn’t even glance at me, a pleasant but bored expression fixed on her face.

The cruise ship woman spoke in a hushed voice to the Egyptians, but I made out the important point. VIP.

How the hell had Nadya accomplished this in such a short frame of time?

As Egyptian customs checked our faked passports, Nadya whispered, “I picked up spare passports after you almost lost yours last month. I had Lady Siyu arrange the cruise ship in case things went poorly.” Brilliant, really; passports were always kept on cruise ships. I’d have to remember that one for later.

“That’s not even the best part. Wait until you see the finale,” she said.

I tilted my sunglasses down and stole a sideways glance back at the IAA agents. They were already pushing people aside on their way up the steps. “Well, whatever else you have cooked up, it’d better be fast.”

“Relax and watch the show.”

Shouting erupted just outside the customs line, attracting just about everyone’s collective attention.

A figure emerged from inside the building, racing ahead of Egyptian security in a spectacular show of disorganized chaos. It was a woman of about five three or so, wearing a hooded, loose khaki jacket—the kind I was fond of—and a canvas dig bag over her shoulder.

More Egyptian customs mobilized, pushing their way into the crowd after the woman. The crowd was working in her favor though—she was agile enough to weave in and out, knocking fewer people over than the guards following them. She was headed straight for the boarding cruise ship.

The hood fell back, and a dirty-blond ponytail trailed out the back of a red flames baseball cap.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

I caught Nadya smile. “Like I said, they wanted an Owl to chase after, and there she is. Authentic looking, isn’t she?”

I watched my decoy double turn and swear in Arabic at the customs agents chasing after her before flashing them the finger and leaping onto the cruise ship platform, pushing past the cruise employees, who were shocked into inaction.

“OK, I do
not
act like that,” I said.

Nadya arched her eyebrow.

Regardless of what I thought of the show, the agents coming up the stairs decided she fit the part better than I did. They doubled back through the crowd to join the chase on the ship. My double was now on the deck, and I watched as she grabbed something off a table and launched it at the pair of suited IAA.

It missed them and shattered on the pavement below.

A beer bottle.

I swore. “OK, that’s just mean,” I said to Nadya. I had no doubt the weaponized beer bottle was an illusion to a Corona I’d launched at Rynn a few months back. I’d had my reasons, and they’d involved finding out he was an incubus . . . through a third party, after I’d already slept with him . . .

Not my proudest moment, a bit of an overreaction, but you got to admit I’d had a point.

“Like I said. Authentic,” Nadya replied.

I was fixated on the decoy to see what the hell else Nadya had told her to do, so I missed customs handing back our passports and waving us through. Apparently we didn’t look like a threat, and the commotion on the cruise ship was incentive to get everyone boarding faster. The cruise representative steered us past security. Craning my neck, I caught the IAA plainclothesmen push their way up the plank in pursuit of the decoy.

“Nadya, it’s not an escape plan if we all end up on the same boat. These guys aren’t like regular suits. They’re smart.”

Nadya shook her head as we speed-walked to keep up with our cruise hostess. “Not them, whoever is pulling the strings. Besides, we’re not getting on that cruise ship.”

“It’s the only one in the harbor.”

“That’s because the one we’re on has already left,” she said.

For not having a goddamn ship to walk onto, Nadya didn’t seem nearly as perplexed as she should have been. Screw appearances. I spun her around. “I think we should be a hell of a lot more concerned about not having a ship.”

She pursed her lips and grabbed my hand again, pulling me after her before the hostess noticed we’d stopped. “We’re VIP-class passengers. We don’t worry about silly things like departure times. We have helicopters. So look like you care a hell of a lot less before you screw this up. I plan on spending tonight on a six-star luxury cruise ship, not in an Egyptian jail!”

We turned the corner, and sure enough, there was a helicopter with the cruise ship logo waiting for us.

I readjusted my sunglasses as the two of us settled in. “Have I mentioned lately how frighteningly good you are at espionage?”

“No, but I’ll take it as a compliment. And thank Rynn, he gave me the idea of using a decoy a while back.”

Yeah . . . thank Rynn, for going behind my back and discussing my work strategies with Nadya. I had a sinking suspicion Rynn and I were headed for “off” again at warp speed.

It wasn’t until we touched down on the cruise ship deck that I gave my nerves a break. The ship was already well out of port, so I doubted the IAA would search for me on the open seas when they eventually clued in to the fact that the decoy wasn’t me.

Something occurred to me that a better person would have asked much earlier. “What happens if the IAA gets hold of her?”