Page 25 of The Eagle (Spy Girl 2)
At the top of the stairs, I am greeted by yet another hostess. "Monsieur Durand is waiting for you in the Spy Bar."
I gulp. The what!? Did I hear her right?
She leads me to a contemporary room that looks out of place in this old building. It features black and white marble floors, a stainless bar with Lucite stools, and red velvet walls covered with posters from every 007 movie ever made.
The assassin is seated on one of the stools chatting with a pretty bartender in a tight red dress. She sets a drink on the bar. "Your usual."
I sit down next to him.
"What would you like?" he says.
"A glass of champagne would be nice."
After a long lunch at the club, where I manage to get the assassin a bit intoxicated, I offer him a ride.
This time, he accepts.
When my driver drops him off, I tag the location on my phone and am driven to the designer's home. I'm escorted to a bedroom where a suitcase awaits me.
I thank the butler and mention needing a nap.
Inside the suitcase are black yoga pants, a matching top, and a pair of black running shoes.
It reminds me of the uniform I wore during my six years at Blackwood.
I remember how M's face would light up when we would sneak out to the club and how she would dance with reckless abandon. I hope she's dancing her ass off somewhere now.
I drop to the bed and allow myself to cry.
I can't believe they are all dead.
Because of me.
I owe it to her--to all of them--to figure out what Black X is up to and why.
I pull myself together and continue to unpack the bag, finding a handgun buried under the clothing.
I get myself into mission mode by checking the gun, pulling the assassin's address up on the Internet, and studying the surrounding area. I need to be able to get in and out of there without being noticed.
Because it's a residential street and not more than a mile from where I am, I decide to walk rather than drive. I find a yoga studio just a block away and check their online schedule.
I glance at the clock.
I don't have much time.
I jog around the assassin's neighborhood before I approach his house. Google Earth is great for planning, but nothing can beat your own visual reconnaissance. I study the area, noting possible escape routes and problem zones. After doing my due diligence, I check out the assassin's back yard. Most of the homes in the city are row houses, but on this street and the one facing it, there are detached villas, each with their own fenced garden.
My original thought was to slip into the garden and break into the home, but that is fraught with risk. Especially during daylight hours. And although I was trained to quickly disable most security systems, I wouldn't want to try doing it with an assassin in the house.
So, I decide to just walk up to the front door and knock.
"Hey," he says, looking pleasantly surprised when he opens the door. "You out for a run?"
"Yeah. The designer was further delayed, so I decided to take a yoga class and discovered the studio was just down the street from you. Class doesn't start for awhile, so I thought I'd stop by."
The assassin stands in the doorway, blocking the entrance and not allowing me inside. I was hoping not to have to force the issue.
"Um, sorry, it was rude of me to just stop by without calling first."
"No," he says. "I'm glad you did. Would you like to come in?"
His words are like music to my ears. "Yes, thank you. I would."
He steps aside.
I walk in.
He closes the door.
I reach for my revolver then spin toward him, gun leveled, causing his eyes go wide with astonishment.
"What are you doing?"
"Put your hands on top of your head and walk in the living room. No sudden movement, or you're dead."
He does as I ask.
"Get down on your knees."
Once again, he complies.
I now have the assassin exactly where I want him.
Exactly where I envisioned him all these years.
In the exact position he had my mother in--on his knees in front of me.
My gun pointed directly at his forehead.
"Tell me who hired you to kill the President," I demand, keeping both my focus and aim directed at him.
"Who sent you?" he asks. There's a slight tremble in his voice, something I hadn't expected. He had to know with his chosen profession that someday it would come to this.
"You killed the President of the United States. Did you really think you'd get away with it?"
"Yes, I've gotten away with every job I've ever been hired for. I am the best."
"Not this time," I say as my finger twitches against the trigger.
This is it. It's time.
I take a deep breath, wondering why I'm hesitating when a tiny voice behind me says, "Papa?"
My heart stops.
My throat goes dry.
My body stiffens.
I don
't dare turn around.
"Please," the assassin begs, "not in front of my child."
His child?
Images of myself watching my mother in this exact position flash through my brain. Only this child sounds much younger than I was. Seeing his father's head blown off would warp him forever.
"You didn't offer that courtesy to my mother," I reply, still remaining cool on the outside, even though internally I am panicking. I cannot allow a child to experience what I did.
"Your mother?" he asks, then a look of recognition crosses his face, and his hand involuntary goes to the scar on his arm.
"Don't move!" I yell. "Put your hands back on top of your head."
"Chauncey, don't do it!" the assassin yells.
I glance over my shoulder and see a boy of about six waving a gun in my direction.
Will this be my end?
Shot by the son of the man who killed my mother?
One lucky shot and boom, I'm gone from the world, and who would care?
Lorenzo, maybe, but he would soon seek comfort in another woman's arms. Daniel probably wouldn't even notice until he got horny. Ari would feel like he failed his mission, and that would be it.
The assassin gets up and takes the gun from his son. "If you were going to kill me, you would have already done it."
"I wanted you to know who I was first. I was sent by my government, but they gave me this job because I have been dreaming of this moment for the last six years."
"You have to believe me. I didn't know you were there until you shot me."
"And then you tried to kill me!"
"How did you find me?"
"I was given the location of your Paris hit and followed you. I blew you a kiss on the train, got rid of my disguise and got on the plane to Cannes as myself."
"That was you on the train? That was a good disguise."
"Thank you."
"You better get this over with then, and when you leave, please, take my son with you. We don't have much time."
"What do you mean?"
"If you know where I am, others do, too. There has been a bounty on my head for years. There is no doubt that they will be here soon."
"Papa?" the child says again.
He speaks to his son in French, telling him everything is all right and that he's proud of his bravery. When he wraps his arms around his son in a hug, there are tears in his eyes.
