DECLAN
The lounge is upscale. The bespoke drinks and low lighting are reminiscent of a bygone era. It’s as if we’ve entered a speakeasy in Prohibition-era Chicago. I’m not sure whether that was the aim for this cocktail lounge in the middle of Copenhagen, but that’s what it is.
Per my contact, Monique should be here in thirty minutes. I don’t like to take chances, hence we’re early.
Charlie slides into a booth near the back. It has enough of a sight line to the bar that we’ll be able to keep an eye out for Monique, but it’s removed, giving us some cover. It’s also close to the bathrooms and the exit. Did Charlie think all of those details through when she picked it? Or was it beginner’s luck?
We prepped briefly this afternoon. She read the file on Monique on the plane and knows what she looks like from intel photos. I don’t fully know what to expect on this mission, so I told Charlie to follow my lead. She did well on the Castillo mission. I have no doubt she’ll shine here too.
Charlie stays in the booth while I order two whiskey sodas from the bartender and bring our drinks to the table. Charlie smiles as she accepts hers. We both let the drinks sit in front of us, untouched. No drinking on the job.
Charlie and I both changed in the hotel before coming here. We’re supposed to look like a couple on vacation. I dressed up, putting some gel in my hair, changing to a nicer button-down. Charlie has on one of those sequin tops that demands attention. I gave her my blazer to help cover the shine. I told her it was part of the cover. She didn’t question it. Before our next mission together, I’ll advise her that she needs to have options to blend in, as well as stand out.
Charlie pulls the blazer closer round her. I don’t know much about fashion, but I know she is pulling it off. The sight of her in my blazer is starting to distract me. I check my watch; we still have time.
“So why do you trust this contact but not anyone else?” Charlie dives in.
The question is fair. After Mexico City, I began to doubt each of my contacts. All of them could be vulnerable to the right offer from the Order, or any other nefarious organizations.
“We worked together. My first year with FIRE, I was stationed here in Copenhagen. Spent a year learning the race operations side of things while building contacts across Europe,” I explain, as Charlie nods, following along. “I guess I needed to trust someone. To have some solid ground.” I stare down into my untouched glass. “Those weeks after Osaka, when I was healing and trying to process what went wrong on that mission, I didn’t trust anyone. Anything. But I took a leap and trusted Oliver. Trusted Ian. I realized I had to trust at least a few people, otherwise everything was unstable, like sand beneath my feet.”
“But not too many people?” Charlie asks. There’s a playful hint to her voice. I look over and she gives me a knowing wink. She’s referring to our first encounter, trying to lighten the mood.
“Right. Can never be too careful about runners in executive assistants’ clothing,” I quip while I do a quick visual sweep.
“What about Monique?” Charlie asks. She is twirling the tiny black straw in her drink.
“Well, I obviously can’t trust her anymore. Not unless she has areallygood explanation,” I say, wondering what excuse might redeem her.
“So, you two . . .” Charlie starts to ask a question and then lets the words hang in the air. I glance over at her; her curious blue eyes are watching me, waiting for a response. The implied question dawns on me.Were we ever together?
“No,” I say with finality. “For starters, Monique is a lesbian, so I’m not her type. And secondly, I don’t date. Or do relationships.” I avert my eyes as I say this last part, unsure if I want to see Charlie’s response. Will she be shocked, disappointed, or worse – unfazed? I’d never second-guessed or been embarrassed to admit my self-imposed dating ban, but saying it aloud to Charlie feels wrong. I wish I could pull back those words.
“Oh,” is her response.
I need to explain, to justify my decision. “I can’t risk liking someone, or even falling in love with someone, only for the Order, or whoever else, to come along and put them in danger so they can get to me. Not happening. I respected X.C. and losing him has been hard enough to handle.” I hazard a glance at Charlie, who is nodding along. Her face is expressionless, as if she is trying to hide something. Maybe reminding her of the critical stakes was a little much. “Also, the hours and travel schedule I’m on barely leave enough time for training. No way could I manage dates in between covert ops.” I’ve never been one for casual hook-ups. That leaves one logical option: no romance of any kind.
“That’s very practical,” Charlie responds.
I wish I could read her mind right now. What is she really thinking?
I don’t have time to dwell on that, though, as I look up and see Monique heading for the bar. She either hasn’t spotted us or is willfully ignoring our presence. Her dark brown skin appears healthy, her clothing fits and is fashionable. No signs of any stress or trauma. Not held against her will.
I glance over at Charlie and motion with my head for her to turn and see Monique as well.
Monique places an order with the bartender and when she has her drink, she fiddles with the coaster.Is she nervous about whoever she is meeting?
I’m about to stand up to intercept her when Monique tilts her head back and knocks back her drink in one gulp. She pulls out some krone and drops it on the bar before leaving out the front.
She left something under the coaster, I think.
Instinct takes over. I’m moving to stand up and grab whatever she left when someone passes our booth. A white man, maybe my age and height, walks up to the bar. He sits at the same stool Monique vacated and orders a drink. He has short brown hair and a full beard, but it’s kempt.
This guy is familiar. I can’t place him right now and I don’t have time to think on it.
I stand and discreetly motion for Charlie to stand up and follow me. She sees the man at the bar and does a double take. When she looks back at me, her expression is confused.
I start down the hallway next to our booth, the one that leads to both the bathrooms and the side exit. The same hallway the man at the bar just came through. I’d bet that was who Monique was meeting. They must have arranged to enter and leave using different exits. If my hunch is correct, the man at the bar will be leaving via the back exit in a minute, maybe less.
