Chapter One
Owen
“I will need the financial forecast for the next quarter,” Robert Laurent said to me. He tapped his fingers against my desk. “By tomorrow.”
Fucker.
I rubbed my eyes. One year down. How many more to go? I put a neutral expression on my face, which wasn’t my strong suit. “I’ll have them ready today,” I said.
He tapped his fingers once more before moving away. “I am glad you always prioritize your work, Owen.”
No shit. I had no personal life here for a reason. I had no friends, no family, and no dating life. I wasn’t going to risk getting involved with a woman here, when I knew I’d be leaving. Hopefully, sooner rather than later. But I couldn’t complain.
I was the one who’d jumped at the chance to go after this bastard. I was the one who agreed to pose undercover as an accountant. I knew going in I was looking at a lot of dull, repetitive office work. Which was exactly the reason I’d never wanted a desk job.
My last undercover job? I’d posed as a heroin dealer. That was more my speed, but I majored in forensic accounting, and for fun, got a minor in finance. Which led to me being able to impersonate a corporate accountant, all so I could crunch numbers for a French criminal who’d made his new home in Santiago.
Restless energy consumed me. I stood and paced back and forth in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. At least the view was good. The skyline was all mountains, a sharp contrast against the shiny line of highrises.
When I was working undercover as a heroin addict, I had a view of a shitty hovel in Rio, and I’d spent six months wearing grimy clothes and sleeping in a bug-infested bed. At least now I wore a suit every day. Laurent had even handed me a fancy apartment on a silver platter.
I forced myself back to my computer. I still had several hours’ worth of analysis to do.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Laurent said. “I would like for you to join us tomorrow night for dinner at our villa. My wife made the suggestion.”
This type of invitation was what I’d been waiting on. If Laurent was anything like the other thugs I’d known, him inviting me to his home meant he trusted me, at least a little. He might not have looked like a thug or sounded like one, but at heart, he was a vile, piece-of-shit thug.
I sighed. I really had to clean up my language. It had gotten way too rough in Rio, and now I was going to be around his wife and kid.
“Sounds great,” I responded.
“I will send a car for you. Be ready at seven p.m.”
When civilians think about CIA jobs, they imagine excitement and danger. And those things happen for field agents, sometimes a lot. But not all the time.
Some of the work was dull. Like piecing together all the connections between a crime boss, and his underlings, which was what I was doing right now.
Over a year ago, the CIA had identified Laurent as a suspect. And not just any old suspect. A suspect who was potentially involved in a terrorist plot that could cause large-scale damage to any city or town.
I’d been quick to volunteer for the job. And as I worked in Santiago as Laurent’s accountant, I’d gained his acceptance, if not his trust. And in that time, I’d learned that Laurent wasn’t a terrorist, at least not directly. He didn’t believe in any cause. He didn’t really care about hurting anyone or making anyone pay. He didn’t even want revenge. He just wanted to line his wallet. And he was willing to do that in one of the most fucked-up ways imaginable.
He was planning to sell some chemical weapons to the highest bidder.
Chemical weapons that would kill thousands of people. All because he wanted even more money than he already had.
I hated him as much as I’d ever hated anyone, and I bet I’d met some real scum in my work.
So, in the effort to pin Laurent down for his crimes, I needed some backup, beyond the local assets I’d gotten to know and rely upon. Every now and then, I needed contact with someone who was a part of my real life, and not part of the fake one I’d constructed.
There was one other CIA agent in Santiago that I knew of, and he was working on a different case. We served as a sort of informal backup system for each other. He knew most of the details in my case, and the nature of his assignment meant he could do background checks and research without worrying about getting murdered for it. I had permission from my supervisor to lean on him when I needed his help, as long as it wasn’t excessive. So far, he hadn’t needed my help, but that could change.
I hadn’t talked to him in six weeks, so it was about time to check in.
When I needed to contact him, I always made use of a cell phone I kept in a safe at the bank. I sure couldn’t have a burner phone in my apartment, in case Laurent ever sent someone to snoop through it. And I certainly couldn't carry it around with me, because when I first started working for Laurent, one of his henchmen had searched me every time I walked in the office building.
That had stopped, but Laurent didn’t really trust anyone, not completely.
I was meeting the other agent today, at the bus stop for one of those tourist rides. Cliche, right? I didn’t give a fuck at this point. We would wait in line for the tour to Valparaíso, shuffling along with the crowds who were ready for their ten-hour day. I’d even brought a backpack so I’d blend in with all the people messing with their tubes of sunscreen and refillable water bottles.
I didn’t even know the other agent’s real name. The name he’d given me was Jack. Just Jack, no last name. Of course, Owen Baxley wasn’t my name either. Even my supervisor used Owen right now, just in case someone was listening to our phone conversations.
I’d met him before, but he’d be blending in too, playing the role of wide-eyed visitor from Liverpool.
There he was. I slid into the line next to him, right behind an older couple who seemed to have about ten grandchildren tagging along with them.
“What’s up?” he said.
“I’m probably going to need some digging soon,” I replied.
“I’m all ears,” he told me, popping a piece of gum into his mouth.
“I’m going to the target’s house for dinner tomorrow night,” I said, fiddling with my backpack straps and adjusting my hat. All the people in line were so fidgety. If we stared straight ahead and spoke, we’d stand out. “So I’ll either come back with a list of names to research, or I’ll end up at the bottom of the ocean.”
He put a pair of cheap sunglasses on. They had little Peruvian flags all over them.“So, if I don’t hear from you in a week, should I assume the worst?” he asked.
“Yep.” We were joking, but we both knew someone taking me out was a real possibility. It was part of the job when you were undercover. I knew that, and I accepted it.
Now I just had to get focused, and find out as much as I could tomorrow night at Laurent’s house.
Chapter Two
Kate
“What do you think about the flamingos? Are they pretty?” I asked Gabriel as I crouched by his stroller. I felt a little odd speaking so formally to a ten-month-old sometimes, but I knew it was good for him.