Page 9 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
With a derisive snort, she tore her attention away, focusing on an older gentleman with a thin moustache and eyes glazed from drink. No doubt she’d selected him for maximum malleability. Get the poor sod drunk, take him for every quid in his pockets, then scarper quick as a blink before he even realised he’d been had.
Callahan walked over and leaned in. “Fancy meeting you here,” he whispered in her ear. “Bit far from your usual hunting grounds, isn’t it?”
A tremor rippled through her, slight enough that he might’ve imagined it. “I’d tell you to go to the devil,” she said, “but I imagine you’d interpret it as an invitation.”
“More a challenge, really. I’m fond of insurmountable odds.”
“What are you doing here, Agent?”
“Reconnaissance. You?”
“Winning.” She glanced at her mark, who remained happily oblivious to their exchange. “Or I was until you came blundering in.”
Callahan had seen that expression on cornered informants and spies who’d found themselves on the wrong end of a pistol: a feral gleam that heralded unwise decisions.
“From where I’m standing, you look to be treading a very fine line, Trouble.”
Her fan flicked closed with an agitated snap. “I suppose that would depend entirely on one’s point of view. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a game to finish.”
Callahan’s hand clasped her elbow. “I need a word.”
Spectre set her jaw, but she allowed him to guide her to a dark alcove.
He braced a palm on the wall above her head. This close, he could count the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, see the darker flecks of emerald in her irises.
“What kind of shite have you stepped into?”
Spectre bristled. “You think that’s the only reason I’m here?”
“Please. You belong in ballrooms with stolen diamonds dripping from your neck and rich idiots fighting for your attention. So, yes.”
“Stop talking like you know me,” she snapped. There it was – that flash of something in her eyes. Fear. She glanced toward the door. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of a government purse and a licence to kill to fund our frivolities. You’ve never had to—”
“Fuck men old enough to be my father, just to keep my body stitched together for one more day?” He gave her a grim smile, taking a certain vicious pleasure in her flinch. “You’ve no idea the depths I’ve plumbed to survive, little thief. The things these hands have had to do. So tell me why you’re in an opium den in Hong Kong trying to rob drunks.”
Her lips thinned. “Change of scenery. Coin for the lifestyle to which I’ve grown accustomed. Not that it’s any of your business.”
He tipped her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Here’s what I think,” he said, very softly. “Judging by the way you’re trembling, you’re in a bit over your head, and someone with deep pockets and a distinct lack of humour has put a price on you. So you’re trying to rustle up whatever money you can before they catch up, and that old bastard you’re with” – he jerked his chin at her mark – “is tonight’s lucky target. How am I doing so far?”
She sighed. “Must you always assume the worst?”
“You’re an unrepentant thief. Been at it since you could toddle, I’d wager. Your first word was probably ‘mine’. Your first complete sentence was probably instructions for a con. In the years since we’ve met, you’ve swindled, burgled, and bamboozled your way across half of Europe. At last count, you’ve got authorities in five countries searching for you. Six, if the Spaniards ever figure out what happened to some of their royal collection. So you’ll forgive me ifassuming the worstis just common sense.”
She scowled. “If you’re going to stand here listing my sins all night, I’m leaving.”
“No. Come with me.”
Spectre froze, blinking up at him. “Why in God’s name would I do something as daft as that?”
“You want the whole list alphabetically?”
“I can’t just—”
“I know a hunted creature when I see one,” he said. “And you, darling, are running on nerves and instinct right now. How long since you’ve slept? Or had a proper meal?”
“That’s immaterial.”
“The fuck it is. When you’re glancing at every shadow crosswise, that’s when you make mistakes.” He squeezed her shoulder, ducking to hold her gaze. “You’ve got two choices here, Trouble. You can keep hoping that gent over there will be too pissed to notice when you take a runner with his coin purse and anything else that isn’t nailed down, or you can come to my hotel, sleep in a bed for the night, and figure out your next move in the morning. No strings, no expectations.”
