True Deceptions (True Lies) (15 page)

Damn
.

The waiter set a new glass on the table, pouring Dane too generous an amount for a person who was about to be evicted.

He raised his glass in a toast to Cassie. “To amazing pizza and beautiful women to share it with.”

Simon took a sip of his wine in order to keep from punching Dane in the face. His timing, as always, provided the maximum disruption in Simon’s evening.

The eyes that had nearly stopped Simon’s heart a minute ago now focused exclusively on Dane. “I haven’t had a good pizza since leaving the States.”

Dane gave a mock show of surprise. “Where have you been living, under a rock?”

“She’s been living with me. Don’t you have someone to meet with tonight?”

“Nope. I was hoping to enjoy the company of a surly Englishman and a beautiful blonde. Where were you before finding yourself stuck with such a stick in the mud?”

“California.”

“So am I. I have a place in San Francisco.”

“I grew up in San Diego.” She beamed at Dane as though she’d been introduced to a long lost relative.

“We’re practically neighbors. I’ve been down to San Diego for work. Where did you live?” Dane leaned on the table, all elbows and bad manners, but Cassie didn’t seem to mind.

“Solana Beach. Just a small condo, but two blocks from the ocean.” Memories of her home must be flooding her mind, because she appeared dewy-eyed. San Diego was one part of her fabricated history that held a link to Catherine Wallace.

“A great place. Less crowded beaches, good restaurants. We should travel there together sometime.”

“Dane,” Simon growled a warning.

The worm grinned and continued his pursuit of Simon’s date, as he’d done with many of Simon’s companions in the past. He pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “If you ever want to get together, call me.”

She took it.

Mission accomplished, Dane downed the rest of his wine, paid for by Simon, clasped Cassie’s hand, and kissed her good-bye on the cheek. Cassie stared after him, her smile still lingering. Simon tightened his hand into a fist and took a long slow breath. He required Dane’s assistance to finish this job…and then he could kill him.

Chapter Eleven

T
he next morning, Simon met with a few suppliers he’d used in the past. Cassie was less than enthusiastic to return to the ex
hibition site. He tried to include her in some of the more benign conversations, but most of his contacts didn’t trust anyone they hadn’t known for years.

Her fidgeting hands never rested, tapping at her leg and pulling at the edge of her blazer. She had to be bored. She wanted more responsibility. Her role, however, would be more effective if she didn’t give away her background. At least, not yet. Her eyes shifted to the clock in one of the displays. Perhaps this was for the best. He needed to get rid of her for an hour or so in order to meet with Dane in private. The less she knew about certain players in this world, the safer she’d be later on.

“Cassie, would you run over to the Omnicore Explosive Site? I need the price for thirty-five pounds of gray smokeless powder. They have a special exhibition price list that offers discounts if I order the supplies while the conference is in session.”

“What about lunch?”

“You can grab something on your way there. It’s in Hall C. I have a fairly long meeting to attend. We’ll reconvene in two hours by the Raytheon platform.”

“Have a good meeting.” She strode off, catching the attention of several nearby men, who grinned at her hasty exit. She’d caught the attention of the entire conference. Many of his associates had asked about her status. He was firm in saying she was off-limits to everyone, especially to Dane. In another lifetime, she’d be free to find someone else. As long as she worked with Simon, however, she’d remain his companion and, hopefully, his bedmate.

He walked over to one of the more exclusive private dining spots in SOFEX and met up with his old rival.

Clasping Dane on the shoulders with more of a punch than an embrace, Simon focused his thoughts back on business. “What the hell are you doing on this side of the world?”

They walked through flowing silk curtains into a room filled with dark wood tables and chairs and were seated at a table covered with crystal glasses, silver pieces, and red linen napkins.

“I’m selling drones, and it appears you’re buying. How interesting.”

“Are you trying, but failing, to be undercover at Pelican, or did you lose your position at the agency?” Simon asked, ignoring his questions.

Dane, an embedded CIA agent who monitored the world of arms deals as carefully as Simon participated in it, refused to answer, which told Simon exactly what he needed to know.

A waiter brought them to a private table.

Simon focused on the waiter without a glance toward Dane. “We’ll have the
mansaf
.”

“You remember my love of lamb.” Dane smiled and placed an order for wine as well. The waiter nodded and left them alone.

“You’re entirely predictable, which is why I’m always a step ahead of you,” Simon said with a laugh.

“Someday, you may be stuck at a desk job, a mere speck of who you once were.” Dane, leaning back in his chair with a smirk, seemed amused by the prospect.

“I’ll be retired before then.”

“Actually, I thought you
had
retired. Last I heard, you’d flown the coop and found a few island girls to hide out with. Facebook never lies.”

“Perhaps I planted those photos. My life is an open book. Currently my love of technology trumps my need for beaches and bikinis.”
Except for one extra long beach body with a love of robotics.

“Interesting. And you want my drones?”

“Maybe. I need prices and availability.”

Dane tapped his fingers on the table. “About twenty thousand a piece. Also, I have people who can arm them for remote detonation for a price.”

“Not necessary.”

His brows lifted. “Interesting. Even more interesting is your new female friend. You always had fantastic taste in women, although she seems a bit out of your league.”

“Stay away from her.” Simon recognized Dane’s hormones reacting to a potential conquest. They’d often competed for the same women. Dane tended to gain an upper hand with his pretty boy face and easygoing attitude. Although Simon trusted Dane with his life, he wouldn’t trust him with any female over the age of twenty.

Dane laughed. “You never did like to share, did you? Remember lovely Valeriya? She chose my refinement over your depraved self-importance. Pissed you off to no end.”

Simon’s serious facade cracked, and he felt a smile emerge. “You bribed her away from me with a bottle of red wine and some asshole singing in Italian. You’re welcome to any woman willing to leave for that fluff. Besides, your endgame was a bit more sinister than mine. I just wanted to move Tucker out of Russia.”

Dane’s face hardened. “Can’t go back, so I move forward.”

Tucker, a brand new operative posing as a student in Moscow, had become swept up in the local culture, including a sexy coed named Valeriya. After they’d moved in together, she created an international incident when she’d stolen laptops from two low-level American diplomats and had turned them over to the FSB. It had all been caught on tape. Tucker refused to believe her guilt. He’d been fucked over by love and was probably still in denial today that he’d done anything wrong.

Dane and Simon had been sent in to cleanup the mess, neither government trusting the other to get the job done. SIS directed Simon to expose her and remove Tucker before he was arrested for spying. Dane’s job was to eliminate her… permanently. It was his last documented role as an assassin.

Dane completed his task, but not before Tucker learned his identity. Furious that the American had killed an
innocent
woman, Tucker contacted the Russian authorities to have him arrested. Before Simon could shut Tucker down, the git was arrested and questioned. He sang like a bird on crack to the Russian authorities. He’d not only revealed Dane’s link to the CIA, but he’d also hinted at several other students who might be working with MI6. He was sent home in an embarrassing spy swap.

After claiming PTSD and begging for a second chance, Tucker was permanently removed from the field and placed in a rather boring office building away from Vauxhall. Being a mid level bureaucrat suited him.

The waiter returned with a large platter of lamb in a plate of rice, almonds, and pine nuts, and covered in a fermented yogurt sauce. A plate of flatbread accompanied it. A perfect way to shift the mood at the table.

Dane scooped up some of the meat in the bread and moaned as he chewed. “This is almost to die for. How is old Tucker these days?”

“He’s no longer allowed to come out and play. And he probably hates you more than he hates me.”

“The world is a safer place since his reassignment.”

They clinked their wineglasses in agreement and laughed. Simon dug into the meal. The chefs had outdone themselves.

Leaning back in his chair, Dane smirked. “The shithead gave away everything he knew because he didn’t want to spend the night in a Russian jail. His dick must be less than a half-inch long. He should never have been allowed in the field. You English need better recruitment techniques.”

And Dane should be back out in the world doing what he did best instead of hiding from the past.

A
food court had been set up in the northernmost area of the main conference center. Cassie had some tea and a falafel while she people-watched. It was not r
elaxing. Crowds caused her more tension than just about anything else, even guns and spiders. But once she exited the building to walk over to Hall C, and her tension lifted. Despite the heat, Jordan was beautiful, and the people had been nothing but nice to her. Perhaps she could return someday without the restrictions placed on her by Simon and her assignment.

A mere hundred yards from the massive crowds in the main area, Hall C was a calmer, quieter place. She strolled past the displays of some companies that didn’t have the clout of the ones in the Main Hall. Massive HD screens with cinema quality videos broadcasted demonstrations of the awesome power contained in these weapons. She stopped at a manufacturer of gas masks and noticed a few samples small enough to fit an infant. She pictured a family huddled up together, praying for salvation with their masks on. The falafel she’d eaten turned into a lead weight in her gut. War stunk. Cassie, however, could make a difference. If she performed her job to the best of her ability, she could avert war around the world. And where she couldn’t, she could try to minimize casualties. That was her goal.

Omnicore Explosive was located in the furthest corner from the entrance. Huge posters showing detonations and fireballs covered the back wall of the booth. Not a warm and fuzzy marketing approach. In addition, the salespeople had proven to be as obnoxious as all the other people Cassie had to deal with.

They wanted to know why she needed the explosives. She had no clue. They wanted to know the grade, the preferred place of origin, and preferred packaging of the product. No clue, no clue, and no clue. She did know that Simon had requested thirty-five pounds. That’s all he’d told her. Nice.

She took a price sheet from them and started back to the Raytheon exhibit to find Simon. So what if she was an errand girl right now. Last week, she’d been a vital part of the team when she’d taught Simon some fundamental information on drones. He asked the right questions and listened to her explanations with interest.

Her steps lightened. She couldn’t wait to go back to London and have Simon’s attention focused again on her, even for only a few hours a day, even if it wasn’t permanent.

Back outside, she turned her head to avoid the bright glare from the windshields of the parked cars. Her stress evaporated as she walked past some storage areas. The silence, marred by an occasional helicopter or distant car, soothed her nerves. The heat sizzled on everything in sight, yet she slowed her pace in order to embrace the hot dry air. When she turned a corner, a breeze kicked sand into her face, and she squinted as she tried to protect herself. The sand burned. She pulled sunglasses from her pocketbook and tucked herself between some buildings until the wind died down. The sound of strangled cries, like those of a baby, echoed from a place farther into the alleyway.

The picture of the gas mask for the infant was still fresh in her mind. Her goal of protecting the vulnerable of the world could start here and now. She walked closer to the noise.

Situated behind a Dumpster, a man dressed in long black and white robes with a white Arab headdress tied with a black leather strap held a woman on the ground. One hand covered her mouth, and the other crushed her windpipe. The woman’s eyes bulged in desperation. She tried to pull the man’s hands away, but he held her on the ground. Her long black robe had a few rips in it and dust faded the color to gray in spots.

Two other men dressed in similar outfits stood nearby watching, without helping either the man or the woman. A chill ran through Cassie. She should run to get help, but despite her instincts prodding her in the opposite direction, she moved closer. The woman’s face reddened.

“What are you doing? You could kill her.” Her heart battered her chest as though telegraphing her a warning to turn away, but she ignored it. She pushed at the man harming the woman and started shaking his shoulders. “Stop. Please stop.”

One of the other men grabbed her arms and pulled her away from the man assaulting the woman. Someone took Cassie’s cell phone and her purse. She struggled and screamed. A thick, strong hand covered her mouth. She couldn’t break free. The other woman faded into unconsciousness.

Two Jordanian soldiers arrived, but neither spoke English. The man who beat the woman yelled and pointed at both the slowing waking woman and Cassie. The woman shook her head, tears rolling over her cheeks.

How could someone be treated so poorly? What had she done?

A soldier pulled her to her feet. They secured the defeated woman’s arms behind her back with handcuffs.