“Who does that, really?” scoffed Elliot. “I mean, he’s wanted in some 60 countries for various crimes against humanity, and he can’t even bother to hide his buildings.”
“He’s a super-villain,” explained Anthony, as if this was a perfectly logical explanation.
“Uh-huh. Getting to Bulgaria on our own will be impossible. But if we can reach the base—”
“We can get there on Cicero’s dime instead,” said Anthony slowly. “This base—what’s their primary function?”
Elliot frowned, clearly trying to remember. “Research and development. The only thing they actually produce is Cicero’s office supplies.”
“Perfect. We can jump aboard one of his deliveries to Bulgaria—you know how he likes his swag bags, he’ll definitely be making a delivery soon. And Cicero himself will end up taking us exactly where we want to go. Elliot, that’s amazingly clever for you, I’m very impressed.”
“That’s... not... I mean...” stammered Elliot. “I was talking about hacking into their computer system to stop the launch, not stealing a ride!”
“Cicero has terrible physical security, hacking into his computer system won’t be necessary,” said Anthony, warming to the idea. Elliot was more useful every second. “Do you know how many times I’ve successfully broken into his bases?”
“Every time, and we beg for you to hack into his computers—”
“Piece of cake,” Anthony reassured Elliot, who somehow did not look reassured. He slapped Elliot’s back anyway. “Now, how to get there?”
A light illuminated somewhere behind Elliot, as clear as a lightbulb turning on above his head.
Probably because it was a lightbulb, attached to the building just down the road.
It shone on a sign that was helpfully, handily, written in both English and Arabic:
ATVs and Motorcycles
“Bingo,” said Anthony. He stood up and reached for Elliot’s hand, pleased when Elliot took it. “Come on. I know how we’re getting to Cicero’s base.”
Chapter Six
Twenty-four hours previously, Elliot thought there was nothing scarier than riding an ATV at break-neck speed in the middle of the night with no lights whatsoever.
That was before his airplane was shot out of the sky, leaving him to jump while carrying an extra body and only one parachute.
Driving an ATV into the desert was still terrifying. But Elliot had perspective now. On a scale of one to ten—with exploding airplanes being a ten—the ATV ride was a six. Piece of comparative cake.
“How much farther?” Elliot yelled to Anthony, who rode the ATV next to him. They’d donned the leather bomber jackets and helmets found in the ATV rental shack. Naturally, Anthony’s were a super cool-looking black leather, paired with a shiny black helmet, not a single scratch or dent or design to take away from its mystique.
Elliot wore a pink pleather jacket with a Bedazzled unicorn on the back, and his helmet was fluorescent orange. The single word on the back said “Oops!”
Anthony glanced at the watch on his wrist before answering. “About two klicks!”
Two klicks was two kilometers was just over half a mile. Elliot could survive anything for half a mile. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Of course, that still left the problem of breaking into the base, hacking into Cicero’s network—which Elliot had every intention of doing, Anthony be damned—and getting to Bulgaria to stop whatever scheme Cicero was plotting.
Maybe even look at his other schemes, too, thought Elliot longingly. Even Anthony should see the merit in that, since he’s the one who would have to stop them!
The base came into view just as they crested the next dune; it twinkled merrily in the dark night, and the picture of a large, mean-faced clown with the jester’s hat that Cicero used as his symbol was proudly lit up on nearly every flat surface. An inability to stay under the radar was a terrible trait for a supervillain.
Anthony paused on the top of the dune. He pulled a pair of binoculars out to look at the base. Elliot wasn’t sure why they stopped there; if they could see the base, anyone in the base could also see them.
But Elliot was exhausted and thirsty and desperately had to pee, so he wasn’t about to complain too much.
Plus, seeing Anthony look through the binoculars, the frown on his face with the stars sparkling above and the base sparkling on the horizon—it was exactly like the frame from a spy movie.
Anthony’s whole life is a spy movie, thought Elliot, gulping the water from the bottle he’d grabbed from the ATV store. His bladder complained; his throat did not. And he’s survived this long.
Elliot stole another glance at Anthony. He still looked impressive and debonair and entirely in control of the situation. Elliot still felt woozy from the ATV ride.
He had a panic attack on his second assignment, Elliot reminded himself. It wasn’t as though Elliot needed confirmation of Anthony’s humanity—but all the same, it was nice knowing it. And he didn’t laugh when I told him I joined the DVM to show up an ex-boyfriend.
Okay, maybe he doesn’t think I’m all that useful. I’m not, particularly. Well. Daria’s alive, because of me. And I knew about Cicero’s base being nearby. Of course, I’m pretty sure I caught Anthony looking at my ass when I got on the ATV...
“The watch is on a ten-minute rotation,” announced Anthony. “Let’s go.”
“How do you know that?” asked Elliot.
“The guard just finished his walk, and I saw him set the timer as he finished,” explained Anthony, replacing the binoculars.
“How good are those binoculars, anyway?” asked Elliot, mystified.
Anthony’s answer was to start the engine on his ATV again, driving it just far enough that the dunes would hide it from sight. He fixed the backpack and his sunglasses—and then pulled a thin, plastic roll from one of the ATV’s saddlebags.
“What’s that?” asked Elliot, who’d parked his ATV next to Anthony’s.
“Our ride. Quickest way down the dunes.” Anthony gave the plastic a snap; it instantly unrolled into something the size of a yoga mat. As soon as it was fully extended, it hardened into a toboggan. Anthony sat down as primly and smoothly as if he was taking a seat on a private jet before turning to Elliot. “Are you coming?”
“Of course I am. Where’s mine?”
“You don’t have one,” said Anthony slowly. “This is big enough for two.”
Anthony patted the space between his legs. Elliot tried not to gape, but the back of his neck was already warm at the thought of sitting in between Anthony’s legs.
He’d fit, oh yes. Probably much, much too well.
Elliot swallowed hard, hoping his discomfort wasn’t visible on his face. “That thing cannot possibly support us both without sinking into the sand.”
“Of course it can. DVM standard-issue, it can support up to 600 pounds of weight. I admit my muscle mass is far greater than the average man my size, but you can’t weigh more than—”
“Okay!” yelped Elliot. “That’s enough!”
This is a terrible idea. I can’t sit in between his legs like that! There is a distinct lack of personal space!