The Plagues of Pandora

CHAPTER THREE

Lauren Fox stood before the SPEAR team, unwilling to call herself a fully fledged member and wondering just what the hell she was doing there. Before the man had attacked her in New York, before she became unintentionally linked to a North Korean terrorist plot, before she met Jonathan Gates, she had been a successful two-thousand-dollar-an-hour escort with no more hang-ups than your standard call girl. Back then she had lived next door to a retired hooker who took it upon herself to offer unending sage advice. She was sharp, streetwise, quick-witted and headstrong. She found it hard to apologize. Growing up in a string of grueling foster homes would do that to you.

What the hell am I doing here? she thought again.

But the answer had already passed through her thoughts.

Jonathan Gates, she thought. I’m here for Jonathan. The Secretary had shown her kindness when it might have harmed his standing; had helped her and counted on her when circumstances proved that he should not. He’d even offered her a way out — of sorts. Or at least a safer way.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

Hayden was the first to approach her, hands held out as if sensing the self-doubt. “Drink? We have coffee.”

“They have caffeine in all its sinful forms,” Dahl said, holding up a bottle of water. “Here. Catch this.”

Drake paused with an FBI emblazoned mug held to his lips. “Sinful?”

“Yeah.” The Swede nodded. “Do they sell pure water as far north as Yorkshire yet?”

Drake grunted. “Sure, it’s made it up to God’s country. We still manage to get by with our mugs of instant coffee though.”

Dahl shook his head. “Heathens.”

Drake nodded. “And happy.”

Lauren took a long swig from the water bottle, grateful for the refreshing taste. She sat at the head of the table, conscious of all eyes upon her — not in a nervous way but in the hope she could help fulfil Jonathan’s last request of her.

“General Stone,” she said. “I’ve seen the bastard twice now and do not believe he suspects me. But I’m always careful, confident, and professional. You may remember at one time we believed that Stone might be skeptical of me. But no. Our first meeting was tentative, cautious—” She thought back. Bill Stone had requested they meet in a room situated on the first floor of an expensive hotel, arriving alone and in an almost laughable disguise. At that moment she had known the general was oblivious of her true intentions. Quiet, courteous, almost shy, Stone had requested the Nightshade routine. She had treated him gently, carefully, and with infinite vigilance, scared for her life in the obscure room but determined to see it through.

For an old guy, Stone didn’t look bad naked. Yes, the gut was a little saggy, the pecs undefined, yes he was one frightfully hairy specimen, but she had entertained much worse day after day in her line of work. And he didn’t want her to touch him. Not with her hands in any case. First the whip and then the restraints. This was a man of the Army who wanted an opposite experience of everyday life, a role reversal. With pegs, cuffs and rope she treated him well, until he begged for release. Even then she refused, bringing out the vulgarity in him, the haughtiness. From the shy man to the arrogant boor in thirty minutes, and beyond. Stone loved it, in the end begging for more.

But no. Their first session was over. Inevitably, such treatment led to a request for a second. This time Stone was less cautious, meeting her in a hotel less than a block from his office, and actually taking calls as their session progressed. The arrogance of the man shone through, the sheer superiority and self-knowledge that he was a being at the top of the evolutionary pile — the stalking predator.

Lauren tied him hard, trying to make him hurt, but Stone only embraced the pain, grunting for more. Of course there was a limit as to how far she could go, and she didn’t want to destroy the inroads she’d so carefully made, so the diamond-studded choker wasn’t too tight, the Saran wrap full of tiny holes in the vicinity of his mouth, and the nut-crunchers set to ‘medium’.

The second session ended with Stone taking his third call of the evening, worry suddenly mixing with the ecstasy on his face, and the first real development in her operation. In true egotist style he spoke whilst ignoring her presence.

Now, glossing over the details of the evening — which she knew by the look on Smyth’s face was a major disappointment — she brought the group up to date on her discoveries.

“Last night he recommended me to his ‘partner’, a man called Nicholas Bell, I believe, since Gates referred to him by both names in separate conversations. Now, normally I would decline but because Stone referred to this man as his ‘partner’ on more than one occasion, I feel it might be beneficial to see the man.”

“Partner could mean so many things,” Hayden said. “Could you get the gist of his meaning?”

“Well, he’s not bi-sexual and didn’t sound over friendly. That leaves business associate, which works for us.”

“When does this Bell want to see you?”

“Wednesday night.”

“I hate to say it,” Drake spoke up, “but this sounds awful dangerous, Lauren.”

“I’ve entertained two men before.”

There was a short lull to enable Smyth to reel his tongue back in and for Drake to wait for the inevitable Alicia comment before remembering she wasn’t in the room. Funny how you didn’t really miss someone and their habits until they were gone from your life.

He zoned back in. “Not what I meant, love. We’re talking at least one, possibly two, corrupt men that might be targets of the Pythians. How dangerous can you take it?”

“I’m a born and bred New Yorker.” Lauren shrugged. “I always take it to the limit.”

“We could follow the two of you,” Kinimaka suggested. “Stay close.”

“It’s hardly necessary.” Lauren raised her hands. “I’m doing this as much for Jonathan as you guys. If Stone’s dirty I’m going to out the bastard in public. For all his goddamn sins. And this Bell? Stone spoke to him three times just last night, whilst we were in full-on role-play. One time, I even had to hold the phone close to Stone’s ear because the handcuffs were too tight.”

Smyth’s chin finally hit the floor. “Oh my God. Will you be my girlfriend?”

Drake grunted. “Please say yes. It’ll distract him from other hobbies that involve blaming auto-correct.”

“Despite it all,” Lauren went on. “Stone still plays the army man with me. He has no shame. No scruples. If chance had taken him in a different direction a man like that could easily have become a psychopath. He has no conscience beyond that which he pretends to portray.”

“All right.” Hayden took in the team’s reactions with a glance. “It seems Stone and Bell may have something to hide. I say we follow Lauren’s lead and remain on alert. Allow her to do her job. We’d do the same for anyone else in this team.”

Drake nodded quickly. Hayden had hit the proverbial nail right on the head — it didn’t matter that Lauren came by her intel a little differently to the rest of them — Jonathan had made her a part of SPEAR for a reason and, so far, she was holding up her end.

As the affirmations rolled in, Kinimaka’s phone rang. He took a quick look at the screen and frowned.

“Damn, it’s Agent Collins from Los Angeles,” he said aloud. Claire Collins was a first-rate FBI agent that had recently helped crack a worldwide terror plot involving the Serbian mafia as well as saving Kinimaka’s sister from the hands of the Blood King’s men. “What the hell could she want now?”