Juan Nepomuceno Polycarp de la Serda fretted. His partner, Eva, should have returned by now.
He paced the large house, the one that belonged to the wealthy Widow Brennan, marveling at the size of the house when he wasn’t worrying about Eva being gone. He thought about looking for her, but she had given him strict instructions to do no such thing. He wasn’t trained and he could blow her cover if he said the wrong thing.
That could mean death for her, death for them both.
He ate while he paced. It seemed like it should help, but it didn’t. He looked out the windows up into the foothills, tracing the line of the trail she should come down. He didn’t see her. He paced more.
Three days, she’d told him. If she went missing for three days, he was to quietly disappear, take the truck back to the Agency headquarters in Palmdale, and there make a full report. He’d been pacing no longer than three hours. He couldn’t do this for three days.
She should have let him jog with her. He was an athlete. He could run. Some. Although baseball players were not particularly known for running skills.
But he could have protected her if he ran with her. And the way she dressed. She made herself a target. She’d probably been captured by the aliens and they were doing all sorts of horrible and disgusting things to her right now. He had to find her. He had to make them stop.
His imagination raced out of control until he stopped himself, stopped pacing, stopped thinking, and watched the trail for any sign of her. He couldn’t do this for three days.
She had made herself a target, he reasoned. If they did capture her, it was her fault. Surveillance could have been carried out with infrared scopes at night, wandering the hills. That’s how spies really did things. They didn’t go jogging in bright clothes.
She didn’t know what she was doing. She was too young. She had handled herself well in Las Vegas, but that was just training. And luck. If Juan hadn’t shown up, the second shooter would have gotten her. She’d hyper-focused on the first one.
Eva was going to get herself killed and even though it wasn’t going to be Juan’s fault, he’d blame himself for the rest of his life.
He picked up something and almost threw it, but remembered it belonged to the Widow Brennan and not to him, and when he looked at it, he recognized it was probably quite valuable. He set it down carefully and went back to the kitchen.
A sandwich and a bowl of soup later, Juan heard a strange engine noise from the front of the house. He ran towards the noise, dropping something or spilling something; he wasn’t sure and didn’t care, and got to the entryway just as Eva opened the front door. She turned and waved and Juan looked past her to see an alien vehicle sitting in the cul-de-sac in front of the Widow Brennan’s house.
He looked at Eva and he looked back to the vehicle. It was gone. He looked back at Eva and she grinned at him.
“The Lord Admiral gave me a ride,” she said cheerfully, then closed the door.
Her face became deadly serious.
“We got work to do.”
“Remember everything I say,” Eva told Juan, running quickly back to the room she slept in. “The Lord Admiral is some high muckity-muck for the aliens. I’m not sure how high, but everyone sucked up to him pretty good.”
“How did you...” Juan started to ask, but Eva cut him off.
“I don’t have much time. That spaceship slash airplane is coming back in a couple of hours and I’ve got to get ready.”
“Get ready for what?”
“I’ve been invited to dinner.”
They heated several pans of water over the fireplace and Eva filled the bath. If they let the cold water sit for a while, it would warm to room temperature, and then they could warm it up with water boiled over the fire. That made the water only tepid but at least tolerable.
“I need a big favor,” Eva said.
“Anything.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She returned wearing a short robe and with an armload of running clothes, including the ones she’d worn today.
“These smell. Can you figure out a way to get them washed while I’m gone? I’m not sure how long that will be.”
“How do I wash them?” Juan asked. He’d never been good at laundry when everything worked.
“I don’t know. Ask our neighbors how they’re doing laundry. Tom looks pretty sharp. He must be doing laundry somehow.” Tom was the leader of the neighborhood community and the one who had arranged for them to borrow this house. Juan had spent some time with him and some of the other guys, getting to know them. Eva encouraged him when she found out what he was doing.
He took the laundry. “Do you want me to go now?”
“No. Wait until after I leave.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. But if I’m gone for three days...”
He interrupted her. “I know the drill.”
She smiled kindly at him. “Thanks, Juan.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The water boiled and he helped her carry it carefully into the bathroom and pour it into the cold bath. She shooed him out and he left, grateful that she was okay, but with a whole new set of things to worry about. He paced while she bathed.
Twenty endless minutes later, he heard her shouting from the room. He ran towards the door but didn’t want to enter until he heard her shout his name. He opened the door quickly and went in.
Eva stood there, a towel wrapped up in her hair.
Shocked, Juan put his hand up to cover his view of her.
“What’s wrong with you?” she barked.
“Nothing, ma’am.”
“You don’t like what you see?”
“No, ma’am. I mean...” he was flustered.
“We’re partners, Juan. That’s it. Honestly. Put your hand down, you’re driving me crazy.”
He wanted to tell her she was driving him crazy. But he put his hand down.
She was beautiful.
Juan hadn’t thought of that before. He had, he corrected himself, just not a lot. He met Eva while she was firing a rifle and killing people, and she had been mostly tough and no-nonsense since then. She often wore her hair in a ponytail under a ball cap, with a tank top, camo pants and combat boots.
But now she was beautiful. He couldn’t miss that. He stared at her.
“Focus, Juan.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I forgot shoes. See this dress?”
She held something up, but he couldn’t focus. She held it in front of herself and it made it easier.
“Memorize this dress. I need you to get shoes to match it.”
That shook Juan.
“What? How?”
“Ask. There’s a bunch of rich snots around here. Someone’s bound to have shoes. You have thirty minutes.”
Juan looked at her askance. How was he supposed to find matching shoes in thirty minutes? She was being unreasonable.
“Size six and a half, but I could go seven if I had to. At least two-inch heels but I’d prefer higher, like four. Preferably black to match this. Not shiny. I could also get away with silver if I have to.”
Juan’s head spun.
“Quit gawking! Get out of here!” Eva commanded.
“Yes, sir!” Juan replied and mock saluted. He fled her bedroom.
As always, Eva was right. A few inquiries and Juan was led to Ireland Camerotte’s home, an attractive and elegant, if not slightly elderly, woman. Her shoe closet was bigger than some houses Juan had lived in growing up. She asked him for every detail of the dress and Juan did the best he could to describe it. It didn’t satisfy her.
“I’ve dressed some of the best who’ve ever walked the red carpet, you know,” she said several times. “And with a lot less preparation than this! Thirty minutes. Heaven.”
“I’m down to fifteen now, ma’am.”
“Never fear.”
She picked out three pairs and started to tell him the life story of each pair.
“I really have to run, ma’am.”
“Go, go,” she shooed him out. “Fashion can’t wait.”
Juan fled the shoe closet, fled the house, and ran back to the one he and Eva were staying in. He hoped she would be dressed when he got there. Sort of. He also hoped she’d left the water in the tub. He was going to need a cold bath after this afternoon’s events.
She had her dress on, thankfully, and was working on her nails. Her hair was still up in a towel. Juan brought the shoes in and set them on her bed.
One pair was a glittery silver high heel, the second almost a mini boot with a heel, and the third a pair of stiletto heels with a long, pointy toe.
“Oh my gosh, Juan. These are amazing!” Eva threw her arms around him, keeping her hands out to avoid smudging her nail polish. “Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I love them.”
“Ireland said they’re Christian Dior or something. They cost like a thousand bucks.”
Eva picked one up carefully and turned it around, looking at it from all sides. She set them down and tried them on.
“Perfect. How do I look?”
Even with her hair in a towel, Eva looked stunning in her dress, short, black, with a flair skirt and a backless halter top that criss-crossed and left an opening to show off her stomach.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Eva said with a chuckle. “Your face has revealed what I needed to know.”
“You look beautiful, ma’am. I’ve never seen you this way before.”
“I’m told I clean up well. Now, get lost. I’ve got to finish.” She stepped out of her shoes and Juan left.
He cleaned up after the soup and sandwich he’d eaten for lunch and while he worked, doubts began to nag him. What was Eva doing? And if she was invited for dinner, why was she going so early? Did the aliens eat meals at a different time? He hoped she had some weapons hidden somewhere under that dress, although it didn’t really leave any room to hide anything. Maybe she had one of those straps where you could put a gun or a knife on the inside of your leg.
And what was she going to do? How risky was it?
Juan tried to tell himself it was just her job. She had picked it, she knew the risks, but he’d grown fond of her and didn’t want to see her come to any harm. He finally stopped dwelling on it when he realized he’d been wiping the same spot of counter for some time.
Eva put the last touches on her make up and looked at herself in the mirror. No woman ever thought she did a good enough job, which is why the rich ones hired someone else to do it for them.
But it was good enough.
She put her shoes back on. Juan had done well. These were killer heels. She admired herself from several angles in the full-length mirror the Widow Brennan kept in her bedroom and was pleased with the results. She stepped back out of the shoes and picked them up, along with her silver clutch containing a tube of lipstick, a tube of mascara, a comb, a compact, and some tissue paper. She wasn’t going to wear the shoes any longer than she had to.
On her way out of the bedroom, she noticed a silver band bracelet with matching ring on the dresser. She tried it on, pushing it halfway up her arm. She put the ring on also, a wide, thin band. Hopefully, the Widow Brennan wouldn’t mind her borrowing these things. They were perfect accessories.
“Wow,” was all Juan could say when she walked out. She pirouetted for him, flaring the skirt of her dress up a little when she did so. He grinned stupidly at her. She felt bad about what she’d done to him earlier, forcing him to walk in on her. Hopefully, she’d be able to apologize later and explain herself, but that would have to wait. It’d ruin the moment, would ruin the mental preparation she was putting herself through. She had a bigger show to put on this afternoon and this evening than she had put on in the morning. Everything rode on how well she pulled it off.
Juan picked at the armrest of the couch he sat on, then finally asked Eva, “Why is he picking you up so early?”
“He wants to show me the palace.”
“Palace?”
“I know. I’m not sure what he’s referring to. He also wants to spend a little time with me before dinner. To get to know me better.”
Juan looked a little crestfallen.
“I’m sorry, Juan,” Eva said. “There’s more than one way to infiltrate an enemy’s position. This seems like the best option.”
He seemed to pick up a little when the conversation turned professional. It was easier to think of this as a field operation rather than a date. But it was unlike any field operation Eva had learned about or participated in. She was going in completely unsupported and with no real knowledge of what she was getting herself into. She could only prepare herself mentally to act a certain part and hope it worked.
“Are you at least armed?” Juan asked, then chuckled. “I don’t know where you’d put anything, though.”
“Oh, there are ways.” Eva smiled back, winking, then turned serious, shaking her head. “But no, not this time. I have no idea what kind of technology they have. If I brought in any kind of weapon or communication or listening device...Well, who knows what they can detect. It’s not worth the risk. I’m going straight into the jaws of the enemy and my pretended innocence is my best protection. I can’t let that cover be blown.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Be tough, soldier. We do what we have to.”
He didn’t reply with his customary, “Yes, ma’am.”
Silence reigned in the house until the whine of engines disturbed the quiet and Eva jumped up, almost relieved, grateful the anticipation of waiting had ended, and went to the window. The Hrwang craft slowly settled on the street and a hatch cycled open. The young man the Lord Admiral had called the Lieutenant Grenadier stepped out and waited.
“Bye, Juan. Remember. Three days.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t fail me, Juan. And don’t follow or try to find me. If I can’t get a message to you...well. Just don’t fail me. Get back to Palmdale.”
Juan shook his head.
“The mission is more important than either of us. I’ve got to do this.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Goodbye.”
“I’ll see you later, ma’am.”
“I certainly hope so,” Eva said and left before she started to cry and mess up her makeup. She needed to be a power struck girl now and nothing else. She took a breath and smiled at the Lieutenant, who sized her up. Good. At least Hrwang officers were just the same as human men in that regard.
She held out her hand and he took it, helping her through the hatch and into the vehicle.
Show time.
37