C21 Box Set

Chapter 3-4

“Actually, we call ourselves Mister, Miss or Mrs., or more often just use first names,” Alastair told Dylan when he asked a while later. “We’re not into fancy labels. Of course, since we’re a covert agency, we don’t have to be.”

“You have women working for you?”

Alastair nodded. “Why not? They can be exceptional operatives.”

“Ah-ha, you do call your people by a…a title of sorts.”

“A descriptor, not a title.” Alastair took a drink of his coffee, setting the cup back down on the table beside his chair. “Have you come to a decision?”

“I think so, but I’d like to ask some questions first. Would I go through some sort of training?”

“Indeed you will,” Alastair replied. “We’d hardly send you out blind. You’ll learn how to use various weapons, hand-to-hand combat, defensive driving, how to set up surveillance, and…Well I’m sure I’ve missed some. We’ll ask Mars when he gets back.”

“I see.” If nothing else, the list gave Dylan a good idea of what he might be facing when he became another operative, as Alastair put it. If…he reminded himself. I’m still not one hundred percent certain. “This make-over, for lack of a better word. Will it happen here? Before I leave?”

“Yes. Either way, whether you join us or not, we don’t want you ending up being arrested. Nor do we want any of Mr. Samson’s confederates being able to find you.”

Dylan sucked in a breath. That had never even crossed his mind. “Do you think they might?”

“Always a possibility.” Alastair went quiet, looking thoughtfully at Dylan. Before he could voice whatever was on his mind, the cabin door opened and Mars came in.

Startled, Dylan said, “I didn’t hear your bike.”

“You and Alastair must have been having quite a conversation to have missed it,” Mars replied before heading to the door leading to the bedrooms. “I’ll put your stuff in your room, hit the bathroom, and join you.” He glanced at the kitchen counter. “Thank God. Coffee.”

He returned moments later, got coffee, then settled on the other end of the sofa. “So, are you joining us?”

“Probably? I was quizzing Alastair about what was involved.”

“Lots of hard work, some danger, some excitement, and…lots of hard work,” Mars told him with a grin.

“He was asking about his make-over, as he put it,” Alastair said.

Mars nodded. “The sooner the better. There weren’t any cops at his place, but the murder is still headline news. Second page headlines, but…” He took a torn out page from a newspaper out of his pocket, handing it to Dylan. “Your fifteen minutes of fame.”

Dylan took a look, sighing. “If I had my way, I’d pass,” he replied, looking at his photo. One he recognized as coming from the hotel’s publicity office.

“I know the feeling, though I got lucky. I only hit the police blotter page.”

“You killed someone?”

Mars nodded. “Many of us have. That’s how C21 gets its recruits.”

“Seriously?”

“Thought you were special, huh?” Mars said, laughing.

“What happened with you?”

Mars shrugged. “Maybe, someday, I’ll tell you. When—”

Alastair rapped his knuckles on the side table to get their attention. “As I was saying, Dylan was asking about changing his appearance. I’m sure he’d like to ASAP, since it’s possible Mr. Samson’s confederates may be looking for him.”

“Which of course,” Mars said, “made you think we could use that to our advantage.”

“The thought did pass my mind.” Alastair looked at Dylan. “If we decide to, it would mean holding off on your make-over.”

Dylan got the picture. “You want to use me as a decoy of some sort. What’s to stop the cops from finding me before they do?”

“Good planning.”

“And if I don’t agree?” Dylan asked quietly. He figured he would. He owed it to Alastair and Mars for saving him. Still, he wanted to know if they’d put pressure on him to comply.

Mars put Dylan’s fears to rest when he replied, “No member of C21 is forced to take on a job if they don’t think they’re right for it. We’re not idiots. Send in someone who’s not in the right mindset and the job can go south fast.”

“I…” Dylan hesitated. “All right. If you can figure out how I’ll come out of it alive, I’m willing.”

“Thank you,” Alastair said. “Why don’t you and Mars put your heads together to come up with a workable plan, while I notify our superiors what’s going on?”

Mars saluted. “Whatever you say, boss man.”

Alastair sighed, muttering, “Children,” before heading down to the cabin’s basement.

“Is that where you have the security center?” Dylan asked.

“Yep. How about you get fresh coffee and then we’ll devise something to draw Samson’s cronies into our net, so to speak.”

Dylan poured another cup of coffee and they settled at the table after Mars got a pad and pen from the desk. “First off,” he said, “did Samson ever talk about any of the people he worked with?”

Dylan gave that some serious thought. “Only a couple of guys who worked in the same office with him. He carped about how lazy he thought they were.”

“Names?”

“Cal and, umm, Walt, I think. No last names.”

“You said you never went by IE Global.”

“No. That wasn’t allowed.” Dylan looked down at the table, embarrassed to admit it.

“Hey, we’ve already established he was controlling, although I have to admit I’m surprised you permitted it.”

“It took me a long time to catch on to what he was doing. At first I thought it was kind of nice that he cared enough to be worried about where I was when I wasn’t with him. Like he wanted to be sure I was safe.” Dylan smiled dryly. “It was subtle. First just wondering why I didn’t answer the phone when he called—which of course I couldn’t if I was in a business meeting or having purchases rung up at the grocery store, or…what have you. It slowly evolved into his questioning me about who I was with when I went out for lunch or on a break. Why I wasn’t free to stop by his place exactly when he wanted me to. He didn’t get that I had a life of my own. Or I did, until he made it hard for me. Finally, I had it and walked out; telling him it wasn’t working for me anymore.”

“Obviously he didn’t that kindly to that.”

“I thought he was okay with it until he showed up at the bar. He convinced me to go with him to see his new house. Okay, I’ll admit it. I figured we’d probably end up in bed. I’d had a couple of drinks, he was persuasive, and honestly, the s*x had always been good, even at the end.”

“Letting your c**k lead you will always end up causing problems,” Mars said.

Dylan couldn’t tell by looking at him if he was serious or joking, so he just nodded. “Anyway, long story short, although it wasn’t really, that’s why I never met any of his friends. When I was with him it was supposed to be only the two of us.”

“If I ever ran into someone who thought like that, I’d be out of there in a heartbeat.”

“Trust me, after that, I don’t ever intend to get into a relationship that even looks like it’s heading that way.”

“So it didn’t sour you on getting involved with someone else?”

“Not really. I haven’t been looking, and I don’t think it’s even an option for the foreseeable future,” Dylan said ruefully. “But if I met the right man, and I thought it could work, I’d be willing to try again.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Why?” Dylan asked, wondering if Mars meant personally or otherwise.

“Because there could be times when trying to stop a guy we’re after might involve making him think you’re interested in him. It helps if you can make it seem real.”

“Hang on a damned second. I’m not going to prostitute myself to catch some bastard.”

“We wouldn’t ask you to. You don’t have to f**k him. Just make it seem like you might. There are occasions when that will get a subject to open up and tell you things he might not reveal if he thinks you’re trying to be his friend, and that’s all.”

Dylan nodded slowly. “Okay, that makes sense. As long as it doesn’t involve pillow talk. Well,” he qualified, “unless the guy’s damned sexy and it’s the only way to get what I’m looking for.” He realized what he’d said sounded bad, after having just protested he wouldn’t go that route.