“Agent Dagger managed to send us a string of invoices from shell companies that linked Orlov to dummy services, lots of payments for nothing. The invoices were all labeled ‘services rendered’ when nothing was actually done.”
“He sounds like my ex-husband.” Phil cost a lot and didn’t offer anything in return.
Alice ignored her. “eStocks’ expenses are through the roof, and they never appear to make a profit, even though they make millions in the stock market each year.”
Gabby stood up straighter and focused intently on whatever it was that Alice was trying to tell her. The temperature in the room was slightly too cold, and it made Gabby intensely aware that she should have worn pants, that every choice she’d made this morning was wrong, starting with her clothes. How was she supposed to fill the shoes of someone a roomful of EOD agents viewed as a peer? EOD might just be a few initials, but the name sounded ominous—the end of whose day? The bad guys, she hoped.
“Where do I come in?” Gabby asked.
Alice made uncomfortable direct eye contact. “You are going to work as Kramer’s assistant. We want you to observe and report back about what is happening in the office. We think Orlov is on his way from Russia for a meeting with Kramer. We need you on the inside to let us know what is going down.”
She nodded. That sounded fine. She could do office work and report back to Alice—easy-peasy.
“It’s fairly simple. Just pay attention to where the money is going at eStocks and who Kramer is in contact with.”
Gabby laughed. “Every time you say stocks I think of bouillon.The only stock I know about is the little cubes I use to make soup.” The minute it came out of her mouth, she wished she hadn’t said it. The word “bouillon” landed worse than her dress in this room.
Valentina flashed a look of horror and interrupted. “Agent Strong, we can’t send her in. She’s not prepared.”
Agent Strong looked at Valentina. “What do you propose instead?”
“Send me. I can be Agent Dagger’s replacement.”
“No, Agent Dagger worked there for nine months, and Kramer just started to trust her. She spent six months doing nothing but making coffee.”
Gabby would love a coffee.
“Darcy was one of our best agents, and she died.” Valentina gestured to Gabby. “This one doesn’t stand a chance.”
Friday, 9:00 a.m., EOD headquarters
The EOD conference room smelled like canned air and dry-erase markers. It was empty of clutter, color, noise, and apparently, listening devices. Calculating the risk of death across the empty expanse of table in the cleanest room she’d ever seen struck Gabby as both foreign and oddly familiar. She calculated the risk of death about twenty times a day but normally on the fly. “Is Kyle safe to walk home?” “Is that tree too tall to climb?” “If I take a nap, will the kids burn the house down and me with it?” Gabby fidgeted with one of the buttons on her crocheted sweater. How likely was this job to kill her?
She wanted a job, and being recruited by the EOD was the most Hollywood her life had ever been, but she didn’t want to die for it. Valentina, pain in the ass that she was, had a point—Gabby was not trained for this. Following the punch-and-jab motions of her instructor at cardio kickboxing was almost impossible. How was she going to defend herself from an actual attacker?
She sat up straight and looked Agent Strong in the eyes. There was no calculating the odds unless she knew the facts. “What happened to Darcy exactly?”
Agent Strong took a deep breath and exhaled. “Someone compromised Darcy’s cover. Not Orlov or Kramer. It was an outside source.”
“That means someone knew Darcy was a fake, right?”
Agent Strong shrugged. “Eh.”
“Which means the minute I step foot in that office, they’ll know I’m even faker.”
Valentina sat back and let Gabby’s words hang in the air.
Alice tapped her stylus on the table. “This is a low-risk mission, not zero obviously, but we’ve managed the risks as best we can. We’re following a lead on who killed Agent Dagger, and we believe we can contain the threat within the next day or two. We will not set you up for failure.”
The answer gave Gabby a queasy feeling. If they couldn’t protect Darcy, what chance did she have? “I won’t go in if you don’t find the person, right?”
“The last thing we want to do is place you in danger.”
Agent Strong’s answer was too vague for Gabby’s comfort. She sure as hell wouldn’t let Kyle go to a party if she was only pretty sure it was safe. Russian mobsters were probably a little trickier than middle schoolers, but still. Gabby calculated the pros and cons:
Pros:
• Being a travel agent was no longer an option, as the industry barely existed. At the moment, it was Tupperware, Avon, or the EOD.
