She'd deliberately chosen the tracking program that only her lab partner could implement with his higher security protocol. Working together, they set up the program in less than an hour, Holbrook entering the final code to start the search.
He leaned back, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Nothing to be done now until the search finishes. I could definitely use a beer after today. Are you certain you won't come?"
Maura forced a laugh, "Yeah, because this fat lip and soon-to-be black eye surely feel like a party." She felt bad when his face fell, looking guilty. "Not to worry," she patted his arm, "I'm going to go home and take a hot bath.
Somehow feeling like she was taking the Walk of Shame as she left the granite and glass building, she ignored the stares at her bloody mouth as she passed through their scanning systems and out the door. The Corporation - Jaguar Holdings - was centered in a huge office building in the banking district in Manhattan, a grim, steel and glass edifice to power. And corruption, and violence. And the Big Three just loved flaunting it in the face of the business world here.
And she preferred to live as far away as possible.
Wearily unlocking the chain link fence on Pier 79, Maura made her way to her shabby houseboat. The pier overlooked the massive ferry terminal for the New York Waterway and Hudson River Park, and it was one of the few places around the island that allowed residents to live on their boats. She'd always been more comfortable on the water than on land, and finding the boat and mooring for a price within her budget was a dream come true. It was small, but beautiful inside, with richly polished wood and lots of paint and fabrics in cream and pale green. Her big splurge was a gloriously huge, four-poster bed with lots of big, fluffy pillows and soft linens. She grew flowers in pots and planters on her deck, along with a tiny vegetable garden.
Living in such a small space was easy for Maura. She had little in the way of possessions and liked the idea of being able to up and leave with a single suitcase in tow. Dropping her bag and laptop on the table, Maura went to the bathroom to get a good look. Her mouth was swollen and split from Kingston’s blow – that woman may be older, but she could pack a punch - and the slap from Yagura was certainly going to black her left eye, if not both. She applied an anti-bruising gel and gingerly brushed her teeth.
Could be worse,she thought,no loose teeth this time.Forced out of her gloomy contemplation in the mirror, she heard her phone ring. Bypassing the bag holding her cellphone, Maura flipped a switch filling the houseboat with white noise and picked up a phone strapped under a cushioned seat.
"You bastard," she hissed. "You really couldn't pull the punch?"
Yagura's obnoxious laugh filtered back to her. "That was fifty percent playing the part and fifty percent pure enjoyment. So, what do you know?"
She shrugged, looking longingly at her shower. "Nothing. That mess with Amari blindsided us both. I could tell Holbrook knew nothing about it."
"So, there's another player, and they're inside the building." Yagura mused.
"So it seems," she sighed, "what a perfect cock-up."
"Will that tracking thing work?"
"Oh, yes. It's a standard safeguard built into any piece of software we create." Maura sat down, stretching her sore legs gratefully, "The question is, can we get to the idiot selling our spyware before the Big Three do?"
She could hear Yagura light a cigarette, blowing smoke thoughtfully before he replied, "I sent the report, just waiting to hear back."
It still irritated her that the two senior agents on this job could send reports to HQ, but she couldn't. "Well, I'll know within sixteen hours who it is, so, by all means, let me know how they'd like to proceed, won't you?"
His harsh laughter broke in over the line. "Aw, shit girl. Are you pouting? Still mad that being all fancy and MI6 doesn’t make you important enough to report directly to the Agency? That's so cute. You want me to come over and rub your feet? Make you some cookies?" the man’s tone was heartless, as usual.
"Let me know, arsehole," she sighed, hanging up on his boisterous laughter.
Returning the burner phone under the seat, Maura went in to start the shower. It was infuriating that the snotty little git was right. She’d been sent over from MI6 to work with the CIA agents here under deep cover because she was familiar with how the London division of the Corporation worked. But aside from her contact with the two agents placed inside the Manhattan branch of Jaguar Holdings, she knew nothing. No one else to report to, no one to give her instructions other than them. And oh, did they lord it over her.
Undressing and trying to relax, Maura avoided the mirror. Where she'd been raised, “pretty” was nothing but a liability. She was attractive, tall, and nicely muscled, but she'd done everything she could to appear plain as possible within the Corporation. Glasses with hideous smoked lenses that hid her eyes, ponytail and baggy clothes, no makeup. Maura couldn't afford any extra male attention that could impede her progress.
Finally able to relax under the hot water of her shower, she sighed gratefully, allowing herself to simply enjoy the heat before quickly scrubbing up. The houseboat's tiny water heater ran out far too quickly for her liking. Wrapping up in a warm robe, Maura made a mug of tea and sat down on the deck of the houseboat, looking at the lights of Manhattan reflecting over the waters before her.
Chapter 2: "You Pay Me Enough, Mr. Pine."
In which Maura encounters unwelcome interest.
James Pine was ignoring the music and the giggles of the women in the Corporation-owned brothel behind him. Simon and Morgan thought a "celebration" was in order, knowing they'd have the identity of the traitor by tomorrow.
Since relationships in his line of work were complicated, it was simpler to pick a willing body from their array of high-end escorts, knowing his bed partner didn't expect anything different. But James wasn't in the mood for any of it tonight. The angry expression of MacLaren, refusing to look to him for help even after they beat her was rousing his curiosity. Holbrook, of course, looked like a whipped puppy and instantly sought out his direct supervisor for protection. But not the girl. She kept her gaze on the monitor and Amari's photo, neither expecting nor asking for intervention.
Pine irritably waved off another set of feminine arms trying to wrap around him. The flood of extra attention wasn't surprising. Morgan Kingston was well-preserved for a woman in her 60's, but she enjoyed using a combination of fear and gifts with the escorts here. Simon Fassell, third in command, was tall and handsome but known for his brutality. It could take weeks to heal after an encounter with Fassell, and most whores couldn't afford that kind of recovery time.
Pine, however, was safe, and desirable. Always polite and charming to the women here. But the whole night was beginning to chafe at him; the noise, the smell of sweat, lust, and overapplied perfume. Politely excusing himself with the madam, he walked downstairs and got his Jaguar from the valet.
Running a finger over his upper lip as he drove, he thought about hiring Maura fresh out of prison on a financial securities fraud conviction. Defensive and barely opening those full lips to answer his questions.
***
