Houseboat on the Nile

Chapter 1-4

“Well, give a shout if you need any help from my techs,” Cooper said.

“Will do, DB. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” The music stopped. “Let me get this drink to Susan; I’ll leave you two to discuss business.”

“I appreciate it. Oh, and Happy New Year.”

“Same to you, Quinn. Flint.” He nodded curtly. What bug crawled up his ass and died? Oh, wait. Did he have a thing for Mann?

“Happy New Year.” This time I gave him a saccharine smile and batted my eyes. I’d have kicked his ass, but Kane Flint wouldn’t.

Cooper stalked off, and Mann smiled at me. “Shall we?”

I handed off my drink to a passing waiter, and we left the ballroom.

* * * *

All the tables had been cleared off and replaced with fountains of white, milk, and dark chocolate surrounded by strawberries, pineapple chunks, banana slices, and marshmallows. Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry ice cream was offered, as well as yogurt for the diet-conscious. There was a make-your-own-sundae station with mounds of whipped cream, nuts, cookie crumbles, M&Ms, chocolate and rainbow sprinkles, more pineapple, and hot fudge, mango, and caramel toppings, as well as all manner of cakes, cookies, and pastries.

And of course there was coffee.

“Might I tempt you with something?” Mann’s voice sounded sultry.

Was it my imagination? Or, Jesus, was he coming on to me? And if he was….

How much had he had to drink? I didn’t like my partners incapacitated; I wanted them sober enough to appreciate what I was doing to them.

This could be an ideal opportunity to get him in bed and then in the morning have him face the fact that he’d spent the night with the most notorious agent the WBIS had ever produced. It would destroy his standing in the CIA, in DC. In his own mind.

I remembered the look on his face while he’d gripped the briefcase in that warehouse, willing to keep it even if it cost him his life.

He brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead and regarded me with a question in his eyes.

No, I wasn’t going to do that.

“The tiramisu looks good.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Plates were set up with slices already on them, and he selected one and held it out to me, along with a dessert fork.

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s not a problem, Kane. There’s plenty. Now take it, please.”

“All right. Thanks. What are you going to have?”

“The tiramisu.” He smiled again and helped himself to a plate and a dessert fork, then nodded toward the coffee.

“Sure. This is on me, though.”

He laughed, and the sound curled around my c**k.

I cleared my throat. “How do you take it?”

“Regular.”

“Regular?”

“You know. Cream and sugar.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t going to tell him taking coffee that way was for wusses; I took mine black.

We got our coffees and strolled to the far end of the room, where there was a free table, and sat down.

I grinned at him. “So. Are we going to talk about the Scarlet Chamber?”

“Hardly. Although I understand they discovered the body of the Abbot at the base of the Grossglockner.”

“The Archbishop’s second in command? Yes, I’d heard that also.”

“Perhaps that will give the remainder of the insurgents pause.”

I swallowed a smile. That was a classy way of saying the CIA hoped the shitheads would wake up and smell the coffee.

“And I think we’ve given them enough of our attention,” Mann murmured. “Tell me more about yourself.”

I went on alert. “What did you want to know?”

“Oh, for instance, how long have you been in the Vienna office?”

“For the past five years.” Was he trying to snare me on this?

“Really? I’m interested in hearing what you think of the Figlmüller Wollzeile.”

I recognized the name of the small, classy restaurant on Wollzeile in Vienna, and as a matter of fact had had dinner there once with Pete. “Their boiled beef with chive sauce, horseradish sauce, and roasted potatoes is as delicious as ever.”

“It’s been some time since I’ve been there. As I mentioned, I’ll be in Europe for the next few weeks. If…if I should manage to visit Vienna when my mission is completed, would you consider joining me for dinner there?” He cut off a piece of the tiramisu with the edge of his fork, and my mouth went dry as his lips closed over the tidy bite and he began to chew.

His lips…. Jesus, I—

I raised my cup to my mouth and took a gulp, burning my tongue and throat. s**t. I put the cup down and made a show of studying my watch. “Damn. I’m afraid I have to leave.”

“Must you?”

“Yes. Actually, I should have left twenty minutes ago. I’ve got an early flight out of National.”

“I’m sorry I delayed you.”

“Don’t be. It was a pleasure talking to you.” Meeting you, when you had no idea who I was.

“I enjoyed it myself. Kane, you never answered. May we have dinner when I’m in Austria?”

“Of course. I’ll look forward to it.” What else could I say?

“I’ll call you then.” He waited expectantly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a business card with me.” I did, but the phone number was one that would be routed straight to a service that answered for the WBIS. He’d recognize it as a local number.

And even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t look good if he called wanting to set up a…Jesus, a date.

“In that case, take mine.”

“Thanks.” The card was gray, with subtle swirls of black and white in the background making it look like marble.

“It was nice meeting you, Kane.”

“Same here, Quinn.” I signaled a waiter and handed him my plate, fork, and cup. There was no way I’d leave anything with my DNA lying around in CIA territory.

It might come across as paranoid, but as I’d told Cooper, I was still alive.

“Let me walk out with you.”

“Is that a good idea?”

He studied my eyes for a long minute, then gave a lopsided smile. “No, I imagine not, but let’s anyway.”

We left the room and took the elevator down to the lobby.

“I enjoyed talking with you,” Mann said, but I knew it was Kane Flint he meant. He’d probably have headed for the hills if he’d known I was Mark Vincent.

We shook hands, and I walked toward the revolving doors. I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me every step of the way, which was flat-out stupid. First off, why would he? He had friends and his date waiting for him upstairs. And second off—

In spite of my best intentions, I turned around. He was watching me. He grinned and gave a small salute.

I smiled back at him, hoping it didn’t look like the grimace it felt like, and returned the salute, then got the f**k out of Dodge.

* * * *

The evening was over.

I headed down the street to where I’d parked my car, taking time to get the gauze rolls out of my cheeks and storing them in my pockets until I got home.

There was a bite in the air, and I cursed myself for not bringing an overcoat. The Dodge was a good car, but it would take about ten minutes for the heater to kick in.

What the f**k was the matter with me? I’d had the perfect opportunity to f**k with Mann’s mind, and I’d let it pass me by.

And was Mann actually attracted to me, or had he penetrated my cover? Was he playing mind games with me?

I pressed the remote on my key ring and unlocked the door.

Okay, obviously I needed to get more information about him. I had plenty about his professional life—that was there for the taking—but I’d been too busy to get more than superficial details about his family.

I’d start looking into his private life.

He said he was going out of town for a few weeks. I had an operation too, but I’d be back by the seventh. That left me plenty of time to come up with a plan and put it into effect before he got home.

His old lady lived in Great Falls; I’d figure out a reason to see her and get the skinny on her son.

I put the key in the ignition and listened as the engine turned over, humming smoothly. A sudden thought hit me, and I began to swear.

Stupid, Vincent. f*****g, f*****g stupid. A perfectly good persona shot to s**t. I’d have to do something about Kane Flint. If—when—if Mann showed up at the Vienna office, Flint couldn’t be there.

I chewed on my inner cheek. Maybe I’d have him fall down the same mountain where the Abbot had been found. A long fall would do serious damage to a body, to a face.

Now where to come up with a suitable body? Femme, the woman who ran the interrogation sector of Pete’s organization, had some bodies on ice. She was the one woman I trusted, and I knew she’d be willing to do me a favor.

And if she didn’t have a body that was six three and a buck eighty-five, she’d find one for me.

Yeah, that would work.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, and I took it out and flipped it open. It was a text message from The Boss. My operation had been pushed up. I was to fly out to South Korea first thing in the morning. I checked my watch. That meant I’d have to catch a flight that was leaving in about three hours. Park Jung-su, a supposedly low-ranking member of The Third Building, North Korea’s secret service, had been invited to Moscow. The Boss didn’t want him to get there, and it would be my job to make sure he didn’t.

I put the car into drive and headed home. It was going to be a busy week.

I’d e-mail Femme and dispose of Kane Flint. Then I’d deal with Park, and when I returned, I’d find out all I could about Mann’s personal life. And then….

Well, then we’d just see.