Agent (CENTURIES series: Book #3)

10

Howard thought long and hard, hands folded by his chin. "It's thin, Rya. There are a lot of gaping holes here."

"Maybe, but if I've learned anything from Vince these last few days, it's that he has no inhibitions. AISE knows he has the information, but also knows he's acquired it illegally. We've reported it to their government that one of their agents has stolen information from us, and all they've done is apologize on their country's behalf. Don't you see? As long as they pretend they don't know about the steal, they're making sure we don't start a war with them. I'll bet you anything that they assigned Vince to steal that information and smuggle it back illegally; The Italian Mob is the way to go."

Howard looked at me again, narrowing his eyes in close consideration of my words. Finally, he stood up and buttoned his suit. "Very well, agent Wilkins. Set it up. Do you really think you can nail him on this one?"

I straightened my face. Define 'nail', please. "If he shows up to that club, we got him. He'll have to bring the USB. I doubt he'll just leave it somewhere random."

"Then let's finish this, shall we?" Howard smiled and walked around his desk. "This Vince is beginning to grow me some headache."

"You're telling me," I grunted. Maybe he hadn't given me a headache, but he had given me a different kind of ache.

~~~

The Trojan Horse reeked of Cuban cigars and played caddy old burlesque music through their speakers. Besides from that, The Trojan Horse was an upscale place with glass, marble, golden chandeliers and a great big stage where diplomatic wives could flaunt their stuff.

Shady men in hats and coats puffed on their cigs and drank golden liquids in expensive leather chairs while they discussed their business and looked at the masked ladies. The attention-starved wives flocked around them or sat on their laps, giggling and toying with them. They all wore something akin to lingerie that showed off more or less everything they were born with. And not born with.

Their husbands really had to be boring if they came to places like this to get their grind, I thought to myself as I gazed out to into the club. But eh, who cared? Girls just wanted to have fun.

And I had a feeling tonight would be very fun.

"Remember now," A voice in my ear said. Monroe's. "You are the slutty wife of a Romanian diplomat, so just act natural and you'll be fine."

Aaand there went my buzz. "Thanks, got it."

"Do you remember the codeword if anything goes sideways?"

"'Can I finish your drink?'" I recited flatly. "Monroe I got this. It's not my first covert OP."

"Right. And remind me how that last one went again?"

I gritted my teeth. "It's not too late for me to walk out of this club and shoot you in the crotch, Monroe."

"But then you'd miss seeing your Italian fucktoy again, and you don't want that, do you? I heard about the steamy kiss you shared in the extraction room, by the way. Is it true you used tongue?"

"Shut up," I had to fight to keep my temper down. I couldn't afford to lose it now. "We have a mission at hand, so let's pretend to be professionals for one evening and get it done, alright? Then if you're still alive by then, we can take it to the alley and work it out rationally." With my gun and your head.