Houseboat on the Nile

Chapter 1-2

“Not you, sir.” I wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole.

“You’ll be on the clock.” He handed me an envelope. Inside was a ticket granting admittance to the New Year’s Eve event to K. Flint. That was a name I used if I was going undercover as a spook. Anyone looking into it would find I’d been recruited out of Cornell, and both the CIA and Cornell would have the records to back it up.

“What am I looking for?” Flint appeared to be stationed in Austria this time around.

“Director of Counter Intelligence Edward Holmes. It seems he’s becoming very cozy with a certain senator from the Midwest.”

“The same senator who’s on the Appropriations Committee?” He’d been giving us a pain in the ass, and because it was happening within the country, it was Sperling’s job to straighten it out.

“The very one.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Holmes.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Do I have time for prosthetics?” R&D down in the basement had the raw materials. I’d need to bake them and then let them cool, but if I had the time—

“If you’re fast enough. I don’t want you there later than eight.”

I shook my head. “I have nothing made up in my apartment, although I can tack my ears back. It’s amazing what a difference that can make.” They were prominent, but no one called me Dumbo. Not more than once.

“I trust you. This is a last-minute assignment, and I’m sorry for that, but something came up, and the director I was going to send will be unable to attend.”

Shit. I hoped this didn’t mean he was planning on grooming me for a desk job. I’d been in the field longer than any other agent, and only part of that was due to the fact that the date of birth listed in my file shaved five years off my real age—I was just that f*****g good.

I worried my inner cheek. I wouldn’t let the fact that the WBIS believed in mandatory retirement from the field at the age of thirty-five bother me now. “Ms. Parker is going to be there.”

“Yes. That’s why I asked to speak to her. I informed her of your attendance and that if she should see you, she’s not to recognize you.”

“Okay.” She was good, and I could trust her not to blow my cover. “I’ll shut down my computer and get going.”

“Excellent. Report to me in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In the morning” would be New Year’s Day, but I didn’t have any plans, and if The Boss was going to be here at headquarters, then so would I.

* * * *

It was after 9:00 p.m. when I walked into the Dolley Madison Room. It was crowded with spooks and the men and women who were married to or dated them.

In spite of what The Boss had said, I’d taken the time not only to tack back my ears, but to plump up my cheeks with gauze rolls so they appeared rounder and less angular, and to glue the ugliest mole I could find high on my cheekbone. That was guaranteed to draw attention, and everyone would be so fixated on it they wouldn’t take much notice of anything else about me.

I’d also taken some time to bone up on the officers who worked out of the CIA’s Vienna office.

“Champagne, sir?” A waiter stood at my elbow.

“Not right now, thanks.” There was that reaction I had to champagne; I didn’t see anyone at this party I’d f**k with a borrowed d**k, even if The Boss pushed and Holmes got blamed for it. “Where’s the open bar?”

“Just at the end of the room. And the buffet is next door.”

“Thanks.” He went off, and I made my way to the bar. It would look suspicious if I didn’t have a drink in my hand, so I ordered a club soda with a twist, telling the bartender to open a new bottle. Anyone who was curious would assume I had a vodka and club.

I circled the room, listening in on random conversations while I looked for Holmes. The man was a f*****g asshole, but that was about par for the quality of officers the C-f*****g-I-f*****g-A recruited.

He was also nowhere to be seen. I put down my glass of soda and headed for the room that was set up for the buffet.

I was willing to give the CIA one thing: whoever had hired this caterer had done a bang-up job. There were hot and cold hors d’hoeuvres, including escargots, platters of vegetables and fruits, baskets of rolls, baguettes, and sliced bread—whole wheat, rye, multi-grain. A white-jacketed chef was busy slicing a standing rib roast at one station while another at a second station carved thick slices of turkey breast. A third offered up Cornish game hens.

I helped myself to a little of everything. Well, except the snails. I’d had to survive on them once, and I’d developed such an aversion that just the sight of those suckers in their shells turned my stomach.

The rib roast was so tender and tasty that I went back a couple of times, and I’d have helped myself to even more, but I didn’t want to get logy from eating too much.

I finished the last of my veggies, not because this was something my old lady had insisted on—she wouldn’t have cared if I came down with rickets or scurvy—but one of the men she’d brought home had been big on healthy eating, and for him I did my best.

A waiter passed by with a tray, collecting dirty dishes, and I added mine to them, then returned to the ballroom, got another club soda, and began circulating again. Holmes still wasn’t around.

A drop-dead gorgeous brunette sauntered up to me. The red silk gown she wore could have been spray-painted on, hugging her curves lovingly. It left her shoulders bare and was slit to mid-thigh, and each step she took revealed about a mile of toned leg. A gold mesh choker studded with diamonds encircled her throat. The ensemble was completed by a pair of long red gloves with a pointed hem that reached her shoulders. She was tall, and the f**k-me heels she wore brought her to a couple of inches taller than my six foot three.

“My date seems to have abandoned me,” she said in a husky voice that hinted of champagne, candlelight, silk sheets, and sin. “Would you mind welcoming in the New Year with a lonely lady?”

That was right. In about twenty minutes, it would be the New Year.

“It would be my pleasure.” I raised her gloved hand to my lips and kissed the back of it.

“You’re so gallant.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Don’t overdo it,” she murmured between lips parted in a faint smile. She tucked her hand in the crook of my elbow, and we began to stroll around the room.

She was actually a he, but referring to him in the feminine made it easy for both of us to keep his cover. Gabe Granger made one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. And if she didn’t work for the WBIS, and if I didn’t have a policy against f*****g people I worked with, I’d have tried to jump her bones. Tried, because if she’d said no, I’d have respected her wishes.

“Would you care for a drink?”

She smiled into my eyes. “Club soda?”

I grinned back at her. “Of course.” I got it, and we resumed our stroll.

“Do you think any of these asshats suspect either of us?” I couldn’t resist thinking smugly that they never did know when the fox was in the henhouse.

“Mann might.”

“He’s here?” And damn, I’d just kept myself from craning my head around like a teen searching the gym for the prettiest girl on the dance floor.

Granger laughed softly. “Did you doubt it? He’s waiting by the restrooms for his date.”

“Well, I’m not here for him.”

She sobered. “I know.” The orchestra began to play an old pop standard. “Let’s dance, shall we?”

I gave our glasses to a passing waiter and led Granger out onto the dance floor. She didn’t snuggle up against me, but she was close enough that no one would overhear our quiet words.

“Holmes isn’t here.”

“I’m aware of that. I’ve been trying to find him for the past two hours.” Knowing he liked to make an appearance, I hadn’t worried that I’d missed him. “A couple of officers said something about being surprised he hadn’t shown up.”

“He won’t be showing up, either.”

Well, f**k.

“My date let slip that Holmes was at another affair being hosted by a certain senator who is known and unloved by all of us.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Yes. Apparently it was a last minute thing too. Holmes had been angling for an invitation for months and had been routinely snubbed.”

“And then all of a sudden he was invited?” That was even more interesting.

“And let me tell you Richard Custiss wasn’t happy about it. He had plans for me to impress Holmes.”

“Why would someone in Financial Management want to get involved with Counterterrorism?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“How did you know Richard worked in Financial Management?” She stared into my eyes then squeezed my shoulder. “Never mind, I know: You’re the best.”

Well, I was.

“Anyway, to answer your question, I don’t know at this moment, but I’m looking into it.” Something caught her attention, and while I regretted I hadn’t been able to bring my Glock, I knew between the two of us, we could handle whatever the CIA threw our way.

“What is it?”

“I see your secretary is here.”

Was that all? “Yes.” I reversed our positions.

Ms. Parker looked good, and anyone would swear she was having the time of her life. She met my eyes but didn’t give the slightest indication that she recognized me.

“How long will she have to date that asshole?”

“Why? Interested?”

“And if I were?”

I shrugged. “Not my business. I just ask her to file my reports. I’ll tell you one thing, though. That’s not my favorite aspect of the WBIS.”

“You’re a good man.”

“Don’t let it get around, okay?” The music came to an end, and everyone clapped politely.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment we’ve been waiting all year for,” the MC announced. There was a little halfhearted laughter. “In ten seconds it will be 2002.” He began the countdown and went crazy when he got to “One.” He blew a horn, tossed confetti, batted at the balloons that drifted down from the ceiling, and generally made a fool of himself.

“Happy New Year, Mark.”

“Happy New Year, Gabe.”

Everyone around us was kissing. The corner of her mouth curled up. “I’m game if you are.”

“Sure.” As far as anyone in the intelligence community knew, I was straight. What I was was none of their business.

“If anyone finds out, you can say you didn’t want to blow my cover.”

“What part of ‘sure’ didn’t you understand?” I slid my arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her. No tongue; I was a gentleman, after all—hadn’t the MC said so just a minute or so ago?

But Granger licked at my lips. I drew back and laughed. “You sure you want to start something?”

“Gabriella, there you are.”

Granger turned to the bean counter who came bustling up. A little on the pudgy side, it was easy to tell he’d been riding a desk for his entire career. “Here I am, Richard.”

“What are you doing kissing this man?” His eyes zeroed in on the mole on my cheek, and he couldn’t seem to look away from it.

“Welcoming in the New Year, since you saw fit to absent yourself.”