OOPS! I'M A SECRET AGENT (Romance) (6 page)

BOOK: OOPS! I'M A SECRET AGENT (Romance)
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As we drove the fairly short distance across the city, I gazed
out the window. Flakes of snow were falling and I admired the Christmas lights
and decorations illuminating the streets.

‘It feels like Christmas,’ I said, resigning myself to
forgoing it this year in favour of working as a secret agent. Would my life
ever be the same again? Would this job end up broken like the others in my
past? I glanced at the people, the couples in the street, huddled up against
the cold but happily together. Maybe they weren’t as content as they looked,
though they seemed happy. In the last few months if anyone had seen me out with
Rupert it would’ve been obvious we weren’t happy.

Now here I was, dressed in expensive clothes, pretending to
be the fiancee of this handsome man. And heading to a party where there was a
traitor in our midst.

 

 

 

Christmas decorations adorned the
elegant function room of the hotel where around two hundreds guests were
enjoying the evening. A large Christmas tree sparkled in the corner, and a live
band played great music interspersed with festive favourites.

The hotel was upmarket, all plush carpeting, chandeliers,
white linen and silver service. Everyone, including the band, was dressed to
impress in evening wear.

Guests were being seated at their respective tables, and the
dance floor waited to be filled with couples after the meal was finished.

I stood beside the Christmas tree and waited for Montpelier to come back with our drinks. Or so he said. I suspected he was up to something
else. My guess was that he was dealing with the other agents, including
Alexavier, before everyone was seated. The scent of the real Christmas tree
filled the air around me, as did the feeling that I was being watched.

I glanced around at all the people who were mingling near
the bars. My senses were on red alert. Who was watching me? I scanned the faces
and saw Alexavier at the far corner. Our eyes connected. No reaction from
either of us. A hidden acknowledgment. Seeing him there made the butterflies in
my stomach calm a little, but when our gaze disconnected, the feeling of being
watched didn’t go away. In fact, it intensified.

I turned towards the tree, pretending to admire the baubles,
though I was really turning my back to see if I could sense which direction the
watcher’s eyes were homing in on me.

A warning shiver rippled up my back. Whoever had me in their
sights was located on the opposite side of the room to Alexavier, probably
nearer the other bar. I went to turn slowly, trying not to arouse suspicion,
when I saw the figure of a man approaching me reflected in one of the large
gold baubles. The curve of the bauble obscured the figure, like that of a
fairground mirror that distorts someone’s size and frame. But as he got nearer
I saw that he was tall and sturdy, with a drink in his hand, and the other hand
in his jacket pocket. My immediate thought was — does he have a gun?

I took a deep breath, not realising I’d been holding it, and
prepared to run if necessary rather than stand there like a static target.
Jenkins’ words from my training flashed through my mind. ‘The top form of
defence is not to be in the situation in the first place. If you are, your next
line of defence is to run. Run like blazes, Neve. If you cannot run, your next
line is to turn and face them, keeping your back secure against a wall, an
object. But whatever you do, never back yourself into a corner you cannot get
out of.’

I turned and kept the tree at my back.

The man was closing in. Dinner suit, glass of champagne,
full, untouched, to make him appear part of the party scene while being no part
of the happy atmosphere at all. The cold look in his eyes chilled me to the
core. I’d never had any man look at me as if he would kill me without a second
thought. Panic burned the back of my throat.

‘Neve!’ Montpelier’s voice rescued me from the man’s clutches.

The man stopped and changed direction, and disappeared in
the melee of people heading to the tables.

‘Smile,’ Montpelier said to me. ‘Deep breath. Smile, Neve.’

My lips forced a smile and I did my damndest to look
genuine.

Montpelier gave me a kiss on the tip of my nose, a sign of
affection, playing his part. Then supposedly whispering sweet nothings in my
ear, he told me that the man was one of their targets and Alexavier would deal
with him and I need not worry further.

My smile eased towards the genuine level it needed to be.

I nuzzled into Montpelier’s ear, on tip–toes, compensating
for the height difference between us even with my high heels on.

He leaned down a tad to listen as I whispered in his ear,
‘Was he going to kill me?’

‘He certainly didn’t have your best interests at heart.’

We pulled away and smiled at each other. Our acting skills
were being stretched to their limits. I felt slightly sick.

He handed me a glass of champagne. ‘Take a sip of your
drink.’

‘I’d prefer to keep a clear head.’

‘It’s sparkling mineral water with a dash of ginger ale.’ He
smiled at me, and even I would’ve been fooled by his smile as he relayed this
information.

I sipped my drink. Yep, mineral and ginger ale. Refreshing.

He had a glass of the faux champagne and joined me in having
a drink.

‘Has our cover been blown?’ I never thought I’d actually ask
that question for real. Ever.

‘Not to those who matter.’

I frowned.

‘We didn’t have time to brief you on everything, Neve. This
assignment, as we’ve said, has been ongoing for months. It’s a complicated web.
We have a few enemies in our midst. One of them suspects me of double dealing.
Until earlier we weren’t sure whether he’d try to lure me to his side or put a
knife in my back. Now we know it’s the latter.’

He said this with a smile. It seemed genuine.

‘You’re saying this is what you wanted?’

‘It’s always easier to deal with a straightforward enemy
than one who uses guile to make you trust them. Now we know what his intention
is, he’ll be swept out of the game as we say.’

My eyes widened.

‘He’ll be arrested, not taken out.’

I nodded.

‘Why did he suspect you of double dealing?’

‘I couldn’t let any of them know my real objective, and
someone became suspicious, so I had to let them think I was a twisted rat,
capable of selling anyone down the river for money.’

‘Ah.’

‘But that’s not our objective this evening. We’re after the
traitor.’

‘And that’s a different part of the game?’

‘Yes. The man who approached you isn’t directly involved
with the traitorous strand of this whole messy business. He’s not an agent, a
spy, traitor or any type of informant. He’s a professional arm twister hired to
wield power over so–called deviants like me. A blackmailer of sorts. He targets
rich businessmen, and that’s what they think I am.’

‘But Alexavier and the other agents will take care of him?’

‘Yes. He homed in on you because he saw us arrive together.
He’d assume you were my girlfriend. He was probably going to use you as a
weakener against me.’

‘A weakener?’

‘He could’ve captured you and threatened to do you harm if I
didn’t cooperate.’

‘But he’s not part of these government men you mentioned?’

‘No, but we’ve many things to deal with in the department.
Tonight our focus is the traitor.’

‘If you know he’s one of three men, can’t you bring them all
in for questioning and find out the truth?’

‘It’s not like you see in the movies, Neve. We can’t go
around making accusations to high ranking government people without proof. Two
of them are clean. We have to use other methods, spying methods, tradecraft
they call it.’

Tradecraft. I committed this to memory, trying to learn
everything I could.

A shiver, like icy fingers, trailed across my shoulders and
down my back. ‘Someone’s watching me,’ I said, and took a sip of my drink.

‘Where are they?’

‘Over near the bar in the corner.’

Montpelier surreptitiously looked for them, but we were
interrupted by a member of the waiting staff.

‘Your table is ready, Sir.’

‘Excellent,’ Montpelier said, escorting me to a table where
ten others were already seated. Only two women were there, accompanying their
husbands. The others included two of the suspected traitors.

My heart rate increased and I hoped to play my part without
giving the game away. Montpelier squeezed my hand and then kissed it. A couple
of the men smiled, believing we were a happy couple.

I sat between Montpelier and another man. Montpelier’s eyes
signalled that one of our targets was sitting right next to me. In his mid
forties, he had warmth and friendliness in his eyes. Had I not known he was one
of the three suspects, I’d have let my guard down and considered him to be a
fairly good looking, if slightly rotund, dinner guest.

‘Would you care to order?’ a waiter said to me as I skimmed
the menu.

I hesitated. I was reading the selection and yet my mind
wasn’t taking it in.

‘I can recommend the Scottish salmon,’ the man next to me
said in a smooth, deep, Scottish voice.

‘I think I’ll take your recommendation.’ I smiled at the man
who introduced himself as Mr Brown.

‘Only my enemies call me John.’ He laughed lightly, sounding
as if he was making a joke.

‘Neve.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Neve. I’m one of those stuffy
government chappies but I won’t be boring you with politics or anything like
that tonight.’ Mr Brown glanced around at the people. ‘I think this is going to
be a wonderful evening.’

The band began playing a traditional Christmas song, putting
everyone in the mood for a fun evening ahead, and giving us a taste of the
festive season that had already started in late November. Now that it was
December, and the weather had helpfully supplied a few flakes of snow, or at
least sleet, it didn’t seem too early to start celebrating the holiday season.

‘Maybe you’ll give me a dance later,’ said Mr Brown. ‘If
your fiance doesn’t mind.’ He looked over at Montpelier.

The word fiance jarred me. The way he said it, with a hint
of knowing.

‘I saw that dazzling ring on your finger, Neve,’ he said.

Damn! He’d read my expression. I had to do better to hide my
thoughts from a man like him. A shrewd type.

I wasn’t experienced in this sort of work, but I’d been in
enough jobs to have come across men like him before. Maybe not politicians, but
businessmen, men who had money and power. I’d worked for men like that. I
wasn’t particularly streetwise, but I could suss a chancer, a devious charmer,
when I met them.

‘Yes, of course. I’d be pleased to dance with you later, Mr
Brown,’ I said, intending to keep my guard up against John.

 

 

 

‘Fair warning,’ Mr Brown said to Montpelier as we enjoyed our dinner, ‘I intend to steal this lovely young lady of yours
this evening.’

Montpelier squeezed my hand under the table and smiled
confidently at Mr Brown. ‘And fair warning to you, as you have no idea what
you’re letting yourself in for.’

Mr Brown laughed heartily. ‘Ah, a bit of a handful, is she?’

‘She keeps fit by shopping. Shops for hours on end.’

‘I like a woman who keeps herself fit,’ he said. ‘And I
think my wallet could just manage to accommodate her tastes.’

All of this was said in light hearted quips, but had an
underlying quality of parry and riposte.

‘Can I have the pleasure of this dance?’ A man said over my
shoulder.

I turned to see Alexavier standing there. No smile, no
warmth, nothing in his expression. Unreadable. Except for one thing. Something
only I would sense — peril. I was in danger from Mr Brown. A traitor or not, I
was in jeopardy and Alexavier put himself between us as a shield.

‘Certainly.’ I put my napkin down, smiled sweetly at Montpelier, and took Alexavier’s hand.

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