Exposed - A Thriller Novella (Chandler Series) by J.A. Konrath & Ann Voss Peterson
York to get discovered.Now, maybe, she finally would be.
Chandler
Several years ago … before I had to FLEE…
“To a special operative like yourself,”The Instructor said, “it can be tempting to rely on your physicaltraining and strength. But some missions will call for more thanthat. Many times, knowing how to fit into your surroundings,understanding human behavior, and plain old acting skills will bemore effective than brute force. Learn to be a chameleon, and youhave a better chance of being successful.”
I have always preferred formulating my ownexplosive with household chemicals to creating a smoky eye in themakeup mirror. So when I pulled the barely-there dress andfour-inch Jimmy Choos out of the FedEx package the bellman hadbrought up to my hotel room, my stomach gave a nervous flutter.
Not a good sign in a spy who had been trainedto control her emotions.
I returned the cell phone to my ear andfrowned, hoping my new handler could sense my attitude as itbounced off New York City’s cell towers.
“So where does this op take place, Jacob? Astrip club?”
He laughed, the sound a slightly robotic,electronically disguised version of his real voice.
Not that I’d ever heard his real voice.
“If you want, I can call around, see if anyof the area clubs have an amateur night.”
I couldn’t help but smile, at least a little.Jacob and I hadn’t worked together long—this was only our thirdoperation together—and I was still trying to figure out if Itrusted him. On the positive side, I was a sucker for humor.
But that didn’t mean I appreciated hisfashion sense.
“I can’t conceal a weapon in this outfit. Yourealize that, right?”
Pushing my dark hair over one shoulder, Iheld the dress against my body with my free hand and peered intothe Manhattan hotel room’s mirrored closet door.
Okay, so it was hot. Damn hot.
Maybe I could make due with a knife strappedto the inside of my thigh.
It would have to be a very short knife.
“You can’t be carrying. They’ll search youbefore they let you inside.”
“And my cell phone? Where am I supposed tostash that?” Jacob had just sent me a new encrypted cell, and I wasunder strict orders to keep it with me at all times, no exceptions.It was even waterproof, so I could take it into the shower.
“Did you notice the bag? Check the lining.Like the dress, it’s been prepared for you.”
I took another look in the box. A small,cross-body purse lay at the bottom, black sequins and tassels. Iopened it, running my fingertips over the interior and feeling thefamiliar shapes of two rolled bills and two small wires. I hademergency cash and lock picks sewn into the hems of all myclothing. Being prepared wasn’t only for Boy Scouts.
“The strap has a steel wire in it,” Jacobcontinued. “It can be used as a garrote.”
I tugged on the strap, feeling the bite ofthe wire inside the leather. “Talk about a killer handbag.”
“So now that we have your wardrobe covered,care to hear what you’ll be doing?”
“Shoot.”
“That’s it, actually. You’ll be going to aphoto shoot.”
“As in a modeling photo shoot?” Not a typicalday in my line of work. “Explain.”
“The Bradford and Sims Modeling Agency is afront for—”
“Let me guess. Porn.”
“Too easy, but yes. And human trafficking.They promise stardom to young girls, then ship them overseas andsell them.”
“Sexual slavery. Nice.”
“We’re still gathering information on thegroup.”
Gathering information? In our first two ops,Jacob had been all about preparation. He’d known everything abouteverything. That he was sending me in before he really knew what Iwas facing made me uneasy.
“Is this a rush job?” I asked.
“Marked urgent, and we only have a small timewindow, so we’ll need to keep in close contact in case thesituation changes.”
“These traffickers, you want me to read thembedtime stories?” Before I put them to sleep.
“They aren’t the important thing here.They’ve recruited the eighteen-year-old daughter of a VIP. You areto return her to her father unharmed. Not a scratch. The orders arespecific about that. She cannot be harmed in any way, not evenslightly. I’m sending her photo. She’s using the name JulianneJames.”
A babysitting job. A first for me. I glancedat the phone, and a picture of a pretty blonde came up on thescreen.
“Who’s her daddy?”
“I don’t have that information.”
It had to be someone important if they weresending me in. There weren’t very many agents in the world with mykind of training.
“Where is the shoot?”
“North of the Hamptons. Your contact isworking as a driver for the modeling agency. Your exchange isE-B-P-D.”
“Got it.”
“He’ll introduce you as new recruit ClaireThomas.”
“Claire Thomas,” I repeated, trying on my newname. I used and discarded identities like Kleenex. The onlyconstant was my codename: Chandler. My real name was nobody’sbusiness.
“You’re twenty-five years old, an aspiringmodel from Brooklyn. Your contact will get you in. After you getthe girl, text your location to this number, and he’ll pick youup.”
A number appeared on the screen.
“He’ll be at the curb in twenty minutes. AndChandler?”
“Yes.”
“The girl thinks she’s getting her big break.She might need some convincing before she’ll be willing toleave.”
“And if I can’t convince her?”
“Just get her out of there in one piece.Unharmed.” Jacob signed off.
I got dressed and did my best to channel myinner Max Factor while I sank into the role. I was a wannabe model.Several years younger than my actual age. Pretty. Spoiled. Used togetting my way, but still naive about men. I was looking for my bigbreak. I would do whatever I could to get it.
I went heavy on the make-up, dark eyes andtoo much pink lip gloss. The dress fit as if it was designed forme, and the shoes made me feel like sex on a stick.
“I’m Claire Thomas,” I said into the mirror.And I believed it.
I slipped my phone into the purse, thenheaded down to meet my contact.
Human voices, background music, and the clackof heels on marble floors all rose to greet me before I reached theground floor. The scent of coffee drifted from the residentStarbucks, and a woman passed me wearing enough perfume to enchanthalf of Times Square.
I personally disliked big anonymous hotels.But due to my frequent need to be anonymous, I stayed in