I didn't like bearing my face in public places, but keeping it covered would be even more suspicious.
Right now, I could easily pass as some tired wannabe biker from Silver Lake. In full gear, I would draw too much attention.
Mylunchwas two bites of overpriced chicken Caesar, now congealing. The rest of the items on the table served as a prop for anyone who cared to look my way. I'd been here forty-seven minutes, sipping sparkling water, careful to never leave prints or DNA behind. I wasn't here for food, anyway.
I was here for him.
Target number one.
He sat three tables across the terrace with a woman who looked like she did Pilates and cocaine before breakfast. She wore a white business suit, heels made for violence, and hair so blonde it blinded my eyes. His hand lingered too long on her wrist and his laugh was perfectly modulated to broadcast success.
A soft static click. My earpiece flutteredto life.
"You alive up there, boss? Haven't heard from you all day."
I picked up my dummy iPhone and scrolled through nothing, just to blend in further. "Eyes on the target," I whispered to Viper.
"Uneventful, I take it?" He chuckled on the line.
"Seems like he's with another rental," I supplied. "Can you tap into their security system?"
"What kind of question is this? We've infiltrated harder targets." I heard keyboard keys. "Looks like her name is Bambi," Viper offered in a few moments. "Yep, same agency he used to book Crystal B."
I didn't reply.
"Guy's smart," Viper continued. "Removes all the drama that comes with a real-life relationship. Only the fun remains."
Once more, I was quiet. I didn't have much experience with real-life relationships, as I rarely encountered women, especially for fun. Father had taken me to some private club after I turned eighteen. There he picked a girl for me and she taught me everything there was to know about sex. There were all one-night stands. You booked a girl, you did what you had to do because your body needed a release. You left.
Besides, the Bureau frowned upon its operatives investing time in seeing someone on a regular basis. It put everyone else at risk.
Right now, I couldn't relate to Viper but could absolutely relate to the target.
On the line, Viper snorted. "You ever wonder what it's like to have a normal job instead of watching rich sleazeballs?"
"No." Thiswasa normal job. I knew nothing else to compare. "Have you found anything useful on him, or is this just an early midlife crisis? How about those encrypted files? Are they ready yet?" This asshole was taking up too much of my time. I had two more to annihilate to get my cut.
"Hold up. Let me check." Viper was gone for a few minutes. Last night, he'd dug up some information on the target, but the files were encrypted, and he'd been running them through some program ever since.
Finally, my earpiece crackled softly. "I've got a packet that'll blow your mind. Crazy off-ledger stuff," Viper said excitedly, and I could almost hear him bouncing in his rolling chair. "I'll send it to you via transfer."
"Get me a hard copy too."
"In a bit."
I flexed my left hand under the table, releasing a tendon that cramped. "I'm out."
The earpiece clicked dead.
I sighed and glanced around the cafe.
The rooftop was a wash of light and sound—somewhere, a jazz cover of the Pixies hummed out of a speaker, a waiter banged through the kitchen doors with a tray of pink cocktails, two young women took selfies by the glass railing, hair flipping like synchronized swimmers. The breeze brought a note of burnt coffee and car exhaust, and far below, the street sizzled.
The target signaled for a check. The woman stood, shook out her pants and jacket. The target rose too and steered her toward the elevator. I shifted my chair a few degrees, staying in his blind spot. He didn't look back. He never did.
I left a tip on the table for the waiter, made sure to touch it with my gloved hand. Then I walked to the lobby, passed the elevator, and took the stairs down to the parking lot where my bike waited for me.
I was at seventy-four when the manila envelope slid under my door.
