Risk and Rebel

53: MEANWHILE, IMITATE AND DESMOND

[ DIFFERENT THIRD PERSON POV: BEFORE RISK AND REBEL'S ENTRANCE ]

Imitate was dressed to the nines, with one arm loosely grasping Desmond's arm. Desmond felt laughably underdressed as the two of them approached the building the UN meeting was taking place in. He was doing his best not to open his mouth and say anything that would draw too much attention their way, especially since he already stood out like a sore thumb.

"You're doing fine," Imitate said as they approached the throngs of people, her cool gaze sharp as she surveyed the world leaders who were exiting their vehicles. "Just stay relaxed," she urged, gently steering him toward one man in particular.

Desmond couldn't really make out distinctive features, but whatever Imitate had seen of the man had clearly been enough for her to decide he would be the one utilized to get into the building. Technically, they were supposed to be as covert as possible. They were the first ones on the ground, as Risk had put it, and she really didn't want to have to ride into a situation where bullets were already flying.

That was a lot of pressure for an untrained teenage boy, but Imitate was continuously reassuring him that everything would be fine. He was inclined to believe her; what experience he didn't have, she made up for in spades.

Desmond had just become acutely aware of their proximity to the police officers when Imitate called out to the man whom they were approaching. He didn't quite catch the name she'd spoken — he was a little too busy trying not to shrink under the gaze of the giant cop who looked like he was considering manhandling he and Imitate — but once the man turned and spotted Imitate, he actually broke into a smile. Desmond did his best to contain his shock when the well-dressed leader waved the officer off, urging Imitate and himself through the blockade.

Imitate released Desmond's arm and surged forward to embrace the man lightly, allowing Desmond to take a better look at him. He was older, looked to be in his fifties, and from what Desmond could tell, was probably from the Middle East. He didn't know where ... this really wasn't his forte.

"And your friend—?" Desmond heard then, his focus shooting back to Imitate and the man.

She flashed a charming smile. "He actually has some business to attend to inside. I'm afraid we failed to arrive early enough for him to do so ... would you mind if I joined you in the meantime?" she asked, smile still in place. Desmond didn't notice the strategic touch to the man's upper arm, nor did it really register in his mind, the way her posture shifted as she leaned.

Imitate was in her element. Powerful men of all brands may have liked to think themselves above manipulation and control, but she knew better. Relationships in their world were a game — one that Imitate knew well. And so far, she was the uncontested champion.

This instance was no exception. The Afghani head of state smiled fondly at Imitate and nodded his consent, making a side comment to the man who had accompanied him to this meeting, and gesturing at Imitate simultaneously.

Desmond watched all of this with suppressed amazement. When Imitate walked away with the man, it took him a few seconds to remember that he had a job in this situation, too. That memory spurred him back into action, sending him quickly after the duo. He was relieved that, now that he was on this side of the blockade, no one was paying him any special attention. He didn't dwell on that for long, though — instead he ducked into the building and veered off to the left as Imitate moved straight ahead, toward the elevator at the back of the room.

No one tried to stop him.

He tugged his phone out of his pocket, bringing up the map that he'd found when they were hammering out the plan. He followed it carefully, looking up from the screen only a few times before he found himself in front of the appropriate door. Rebel's warning echoed in his ears, the reminder that he needed to move as quickly and efficiently as possible.