10. Tales from the Spy Side
CHAPTER 10
TALES FROM THE SPY SIDE
ZOE
“ H
ave you ever disarmed a bomb in a moving vehicle?” I ask Ledger .
He nods. “ On the Autobahn in a sports car. The bomb’s timer was linked to the speedometer, so I had to keep it above one hundred kilometers per hour while figuring out how to disarm it. You ?”
I nod, too. “ On the Tokyo Bullet Train , weaving through passengers while deciphering a foreign language manual.”
“ That was you?” Ledger asks with enough awe in his voice that it makes me smile.
Maybe I was in need of sleep last night, too, because I definitely woke up this morning in a better mood than I went to bed. I was still annoyed that Ledger went for a run first thing when we had a mission to plan, though. But I did take the opportunity to pound out a couple of miles on the hotel’s treadmill while he was gone and still got showered and ready to go before he returned.
From the research we got from both of our agencies and our own brainstorming, we decide that getting ourselves onto the guest list is going to be nearly impossible.
So instead, we decide that we need to find an employee of Savovi?’s who we can turn into an asset. And then we need to get that asset to do one of two things: either shut off the security system long enough for us to place a tracker on the sculpture, or get us a copy of who’s on that guest list already so we can schedule a private showing in their name before they arrive in Belgrade . Either way, we need to turn an employee.
The place is a fortress, though, so we are currently sitting in the car that Damjan got for us, staking out the back entrance where the day shift employees are likely to exit from, trying to pass the time.
From the backseat, Damjan says, “ I’ve got one I bet neither of you have done. Have you ever posed as a circus performer to surveil a target?”
Ledger grins. “ I juggled fire in Rio’s Carnival while keeping tabs on a diplomat.”
Okay , that’s pretty good. I’m smiling, too, but inside, I’m smiling way bigger. “ I went undercover in Cirque du Soleil in Vegas .”
“ You’ve got to be lying,” Damjan says. “ There’s no way.”
I shake my head. “ Very much not lying. I had to plant listening devices, and because of an incident at a craps table between a Spiderman from a superhero convention and a Klingon from a Star Trek convention that turned into an all-out brawl, I couldn’t get there before the show started. So I dressed in costume, then tightrope-walked and swung across the stage and audience while planting the bugs. Not a soul suspected the high-flying operative among them.”
“ Is there anything you two haven’t done?” Damjan asks. “ Oh ! I’ve got it. How about swimming through shark-infested waters to complete a mission?”
“ Off the coast of Cuba ,” Ledger says.
“ I’m calling bull,” Damjan says. And I have to admit, I’m pretty impressed, too. “ Aren’t there tons of sharks in those waters?”
“ Nearly twenty percent of the world’s shark species,” I say. “ How did you stay safe?”
“ Who says I stayed safe?” Ledger chuckles. “ But I did have homemade shark repellent and a flare gun for company.”
In the rearview mirror, I can see Damjan’s eyes narrow. “ Homemade repellent?”
“ From Julia Childs herself, before she became a culinary icon.”
“ You’re making this up,” Damjan says.
But I’m intrigued. “ Copper acetate mixed with black dye, right?” I ask.
Ledger looks surprised and maybe a bit impressed that I know. He nods.
“ Did it work?”
He shrugs. “ Maybe . And you?”
“ I swam the English Channel , in winter , mostly avoiding not just the sharks but hypothermia, and still managed to deliver the documents I had acquired.”
This time, it’s not Damjan who’s looking skeptical— it’s Ledger . “ There aren’t sharks in the English Channel .”
“ There are.” I pull up my skirt enough to show the shark teeth scar on my thigh. “ It was a toke shark that did this. It wasn’t any longer than me, but it still had a nasty bite.”
“ Ouch !” Damjan says.
Ledger lifts his shirt and shows me a similar scar on his torso, and I just can’t stop staring at the silverish-white scars on his very muscular abdomen. “ It was a smaller shark, too— a seven-foot blacktip— that got me.”
“ So the repellent didn’t work?” I finally ask, with my eyes still on the scar. And his abs.
He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “ Maybe it was what saved me from a much bigger Hammerhead or Great White .”
He lowers his shirt, and it’s the only thing that gets my eyes to go from his abs back to his face. For a long moment, I just look at him. Staring at his gray-blue eyes while he stares back at me. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m suddenly having thoughts I shouldn’t allow myself to have and wondering if maybe we have more in common than I thought.
Ledger is looking like he’s having some of those same thoughts. I’m catching things in his look that I don’t get from others. Things that go beyond checking me out and liking what they see.
But why? Why would Ledger be looking at me like he is attracted to more of me than what’s on the surface? I’ve seen that look between couples before, but I’ve never had it directed at me. Ledger is a very skilled operative, but I’m still impressed at how good he is at manipulating his body language. He’s master-level good. I just can’t guess his motive behind showing me that he’s interested in me.
And fake or not, the fireworks show currently going on in my chest and my gut feels real.
After a moment— I’m not even sure how long— Damjan says, “ Whoo is it getting hot in here! Say , have you two ever…” And then he points back and forth between us, raising a meaningful eyebrow.
Oh , we are so not taking the conversation in that direction. And I can’t even think in that direction again. I mean, what was I doing letting my mind go there? It isn’t like a person can judge whether or not they have a lot in common with someone based on whether or not they have matching shark bite scars.
Besides , what does having something in common have to do with anything? Two parallel rivers can still clash when they merge. Two alpha wolves in the same pack would definitely clash. And that’s what we are. Two alpha wolves.
I look toward the mansion and say in a very obvious subject change— for both the conversation going on in the car and the one going on in my head— “ Hey , Ledger , did you catch a vibe between our directors at our briefing?”
Ledger looks at me warily. “ I mean, they know each other. They worked together back when my mom was an agent in the CIA . They’re colleagues and counterparts. ”
I shake my head. “ I think there was something more between them.”
“ Hey ,” Ledger says, his voice rising, “that’s my mom you’re talking about. You know, the woman who was married to my dad until he died? ”
I had poked Ledger to get him fired up and get my mind off thoughts of his abs. I hadn’t guessed it would further endear him to me to see him get all fired up in defense of his mom. My plan has maybe failed a bit. But still, I push, because surely he’s thought of this. “ What ? Just because your parents were married until one passed away, your mom can’t ever date again? She might want someone by her side as she eventually becomes a grandma and grows old.”
And maybe seeing something happen between our directors is just hopefulness on my part. I would love it if Sully and Evelyn Lancaster fell in love and got married. Especially if it meant that she would stop by his work every now and then and come to our holiday party. Then I could ask her all the questions I want. Maybe she would even take me under her wing and tell me all her secrets.
Ledger doesn’t say a word for a moment, and I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want to respond, or if he just really hasn’t imagined his mom ever dating again. Finally , he says, “ No . She can date people. But it’s not like the Director of the Clandestine Services Agency and the Director of Field Operations for the Global Intelligence Division of the CIA can just submit the proper paperwork about their intention to date.”
“ Yeah , I can’t really see that getting approved,” I say and try to not make my sigh audible as I squint toward the back gate where I see movement. “ I think the employees are leaving.”
All three of us sit up straighter. The gate opens, and five women walk out together, laughing and bumping into one another like they know each other well and are probably friends. It’s just after five p.m., so the sun isn’t even close to setting yet, making it easy to see them. They all look fairly young, maybe lower- to mid-twenties. Two are wearing light blue uniforms with aprons and sensible shoes— maids if I have to guess. One is wearing dark slacks and a pink blouse with a satchel over her shoulder. One is in a black cotton shirt and black pants, and another is in a colorful dress.
We’d decided against placing a listening device and we are too far away to hear, so I narrate what is going on based on the women’s body language so Ledger and Damjan can keep their heads down and not appear as suspicious. We are just parked on the side of the road a bit away from the gate and near the place where the few employees who own cars park them.
“ Okay , Woman in Black is pulling out car keys. The other four are heading for the street, so I’m guessing it’s public transportation for them. Okay , the car owner is holding her keys up, shaking them while she’s saying something. I’m pretty sure she’s asking the others if they want to join her maybe to go get dinner or go to a bar?
“ Oh ! Both maids and Colorful Dress are all very much in. That took zero persuasion. The professional one in the pink shirt is telling them no as she keeps walking away, but her feet and torso are saying she wants to go with them. She must have other responsibilities pulling at her.
“ And ,” I say, dragging out the word as I watch, “the others sense her desire to join them, and they are gathering around her and— oh! Looks like they were persuasive enough. Pink Shirt is joining them.”
Ledger starts the car and drives about a block down the street before making a U -turn so that he’s headed in the same direction as the woman’s car when they pull out of the parking lot just in front of him.
They’re headed toward the waterfront where preparations for the Belgrade Waterfront Summer Fest are in full swing. Banners and flags line the streets, and off to our left, we can see parts of the waterfront area where workers are stringing lights and putting up illuminating art installations, stages, interactive displays, tents, and pavilions. A few street vendors seem to already be selling merchandise, too.
The woman’s car pulls into a parking spot by a pub, and we park along the street nearby, then we all put in our earpieces. Instead of connecting to our tech ops, though, Damjan is our tech op for this mission. Ledger hands him the car keys, and Damjan says he’s going to get us items that we need.
Once we are inside the pub, we are seated at a round table with four chairs. We take the two seats facing the pool table, where the five women are all standing, chatting, and playing. The place is loud, though.
The walls of the pub are decorated with signs, and Ledger gets up and meanders near the women under the guise of seeing one of the signs more closely. When he sits back down, he says, “ They’re all speaking Serbian . I heard Savovi?’s name, so I’m sure they’re talking about work. Maybe we can ask for a closer table, and then Damjan can translate for us.”
I shake my head. “ We can figure out who might be willing and able to get us that list without knowing what they’re saying. Sometimes words can get in the way of reading actions. Always trust the body language over the words.”
Ledger’s body language right now says that he doesn’t believe that even a little bit. “ Just watch them,” I say. Then I snap a picture of the menu and send it to Damjan , asking if anything on the menu has cheese. With missions like these, you never know when you’re going to suddenly be leaving, so it’s best to get cheese as soon as possible. Besides , if we’re not eating or drinking, we’re going to look suspicious, so really, the cheese is for authenticity.
Ten minutes later, I am savoring a cheese platter with fruits, nuts, and breads, along with Pirot cheese, which is hard and sharp, and Trappista cheese, which is smooth and mild and absolutely delicious. Ledger is trying out ?evapi , which are small, grilled minced meat sausages that he, of course, loves. It continually amazes me how much food this guy can eat.
“ So what’s the deal with you and cheese?” he asks, our eyes as inconspicuously on the women as possible. “ Is that the only thing you eat?”
“ Nah , but I do get it wherever I go. It’s a food that nearly every country has, so trying it everywhere showcases how different each country’s is.” I spear a cube of Trappista with a toothpick and hold it up, studying it. “ Cheese is like a story passed down through generations in an area. It gives me a connection to the people and helps me understand where I am, beyond the sights and sounds. Like I’m using another sense— taste— to connect in a way that’s universal.”
I believe what I said fully, but I’m laying it on thicker than I normally would, allowing Ledger to make fun of it so I can push back. Instead of pushing back, though, he looks thoughtful and then nods. “ I feel the same way about joining in a sport with locals in a park or street or court. It connects me with the people and place.”
I realize that my mouth has dropped open in surprise at his understanding, so I stick a piece of cheese in it so Ledger won’t notice.
When I finish chewing and swallowing, I say, “ Come in for a selfie.”
Ledger scoots his chair closer to me and puts his arm around the back of my chair. For some stupid reason, it makes my heart rate kick up and some kind of fluttering thing happens in my gut. I even get goosebumps spreading along the back of my neck at his touch.
Stop it , I tell myself. Just because he understood about the cheese is a ridiculous excuse for letting my body react.
We lean our faces closer and smile at my phone, but I haven’t turned the camera toward us— I aim it at the women playing pool and eating appetizers, getting a picture of each of them when they’re facing the camera. Part of me itches, though, to flip the camera toward us and take a picture. Not that I want one. Just because I’m curious as to how the two of us look side by side.
I don’t, though. Aragundi is poised to pass along his empire to the men trying to steal the art piece from Savovi? — assuming their thieving is successful— so he can ensure that chaos and devastation can be spread across the world by an all-new generation. And I can’t let that happen.
So instead, I send each of the pictures to Packston and ask him to run a search on them. We can’t try to turn anyone into an asset without knowing if they have any reason to be in our database first. Then I say to Ledger , “ So , which woman do you think we should try to turn into an asset?”
He looks back at the five of them. “ Pink Shirt — she’s dressed like she might be in a position to have access to a lot of things, but doesn’t hold herself like she has power. A personal assistant, maybe? She might be a little too timid to do something like sneak us information, though. Or maybe the maid with the top half of her hair in a bun— maids have access to a lot. But I’d probably choose the woman in the pink shirt.”
“ I agree about Pink Shirt . Not about Bun Maid .”
“ Why not the maid? They both seem disgruntled and therefore easy to turn.”
“ Tell me,” I say, “why did you say you’d choose Pink Shirt over Bun Maid ?”
“ I don’t know. My gut just said she is the one.”
I nod. “ Bun Maid’s body language doesn’t match her face when she’s complaining, and the face is the easiest part of the body to consciously manipulate when it comes to showing emotion. When Pink Shirt complains about work, her shoulders sag. Like she is re-living it just by telling it, and it exhausts her. She also does a lot of behaviors that are meant to comfort her— touching the base of her neck, playing with her hair, holding her upper arm with her other hand, like she’s giving herself a hug.
“ When Bun Maid complains about work, she still has happy feet. Her arms still move a lot, instead of being more rigid at her sides. The more the others buy the story she is telling, she becomes proud of herself for pulling it off so well. So a smile leaks through at a time when it shouldn’t, or she’ll put her hands on the side of the pool table, spread wide, in a show of confidence. Did you see how she put her tongue between her front teeth a couple of times, the tip of it sticking out a bit? That means she feels like she pulled one over on them.”
“ So , she doesn’t hate her job?”
I shake my head. “ She likes their sympathy. I suspect that the reason she’s working so hard at convincing them is not for the sympathy, though— it’s because she’s hiding a secret.”
Ledger’s attention whips back to Bun Maid . “ She’s sleeping with someone.”
I nod. “ My guess is her boss. Maybe Savovi? himself.”
His eyes go wide, like it’s hitting him how bad it would be if we approached her to try to make her an asset. Her loyalty is likely with Savovi? , so it would’ve backfired and possibly compromised the whole mission.
I decide to throw the guy a bone. “ Your gut instincts have always been good, Ledger . Just like how they told you that Pink Shirt is the right choice. Listen to what your instincts say— they’ll tell you what your brain missed.”
“ Did you just give me a compliment?”
“ Well , I did also say that your brain missed it.”
“ How’d you get so good at body language?”
“ That’s need-to-know.”
Ledger rolls his eyes just as a text comes in.
Packston: All five are clear.
Hearing from Packston makes me realize that we haven’t heard much from Damjan . For as chatty as the guy is in person, I figured he’d be non-stop talking in our ears the whole time. But since he told us what to order, we haven’t heard a peep. Pink Shirt is clearly saying goodbye to everyone, and while she’s saying something, she hikes a thumb toward the restroom before hugging another of her friends.
“ I’m going to go talk to her in the restroom,” I tell Ledger as I put my napkin on the table.
“ How ? She speaks Serbian .”
“ Most young people here also speak English , so I’m crossing my fingers that she does.”
I make it to the restroom before Pink Shirt does. It’s always good to make it seem like they’re following you, not the other way around. As soon as I hear the door opening, I say, “ Ugg ! Not right now!” I’m standing at a sink, leaning my hip against it, looking down at my phone, my other hand on my forehead.
Pink Shirt hesitates a moment, then asks, “ Are you okay?” Her accent is very thick, but she speaks English well.
“ Yeah ,” I say. “ My boss is just the worst. He thinks he can ask me to do anything anytime, and doesn’t even care that I’m on a date.”
“ You , too, ay?”
Score one for me on reading her body language well as she was complaining to her friends. “ Let me guess— you are a personal assistant, too?”
Pink Shirt nods. I hold out my hand. “ Hi , I’m Shauna .”
The woman shakes my hand. “ Milena . But people call me Mila .” She looks younger up close. If I had to guess her age, I’d guess twenty-one or twenty-two.
“ Does your boss make you do seventy-five percent of the work, too?”
“ Da ,” my new friend, Mila says. “ I come up with the best ideas, but she takes credit. She knows this job is important to me, so she threatens it to make me do all the work.”
“ It sounds like your boss is in finance like mine is.”
“ My boss, Petra , is over…” Mila pauses for a moment like she’s trying to recall the right word, “events for a man who deals with art. And probably more things, but art is what he wants people to know about him.”
“ Ugh ,” I say. “ I’ve been to plenty of art events with my bosses— art people are every bit as snooty as finance people.”
“ They’re the worst! We are planning an event for even more snooty art people, so I will be surrounded by them.”
I sympathize with Mila and we chat a bit more, all while I’m silently cheering that we found the perfect asset. Then I say “ Sorry , I just need to get an Uber on its way so I can go help my boss,” loving that Uber is virtually everywhere.
I look like I’m going into an app, but really, I’m counting on Damjan to do the Uber scheduling for me. In my earpiece, he says, “ I’m on it!”
“ Oh !” Mila says. “ I forgot I’m in a hurry!” She looks down at her watch, and then pulls out her phone and starts tapping on it as she says, “ I live with my sister. She works at our house, but she doesn’t start until I’m there to watch my niece and nephew. I’m supposed to be there already, and…” Her shoulders drop. “ I just missed a bus, so now I have to wait another twenty minutes for the next one. My sister will be so mad.”
“ What direction are you headed?” I ask.
“ We live in Zemun , not too far from Gardo? Tower .”
“ Oh , I am headed to that same area— maybe half a kilometer past the tower! My Uber will be here soon—”
“ Six minutes,” Damjan says in my earpiece.
“—so you should just ride with me. I can drop you off on my way. It’ll be faster than the bus, and you won’t have to wait the extra twenty minutes, either.”
The woman looks so grateful that I could probably ask her for anything and she’d say yes. But I know enough about turning an asset who works for the opposition into one who secretly works for us to know that within a few minutes of meeting them isn’t the time to make big asks unless you have no other choice. So we both head out of the restroom, and I go over to say goodbye to my “date.”