Models and Super Spies Ch. 13

The bedroom was empty, although it must have just been used. It reeked of sex and the sheets were a mess.Focus, Trey.

He zeroed in on the nightstand, although he made sure to keep one eye on the door. When he pulled it open, his heart sank for a moment. The red light was still flashing. "Locked," he groaned over the comm-link.

"Hold on." A second later, the light turned green with a beep. Trey pulled. It opened.

Inside was the holy grail, although it didn't look like much. Just a keypad and an LCD. "What now?"

"Use the co..." The what? Trey felt heat at the base of his skull. It seared across his scalp as he fought to think. Co... co...

Code!

His fingers flew across the keypad. F-A-N-T-A-5-I-A. The simple beep was the most satisfying sound in the world. The latches holding the console in place snapped open, one by one, with the clean swish of a hydraulic press. As soon as the last was free, he snatched the device from the deep drawer and turned to go.

"I'll be taking that." Vincent's voice was cold. The barrel of the gun pointing in his direction was even colder.

***

Alicia heard someone just outside the bedroom door. At first, she thought it was Gabrielle, or maybe Leo, having forgotten something, so she ignored it.

She'd taken a long, hot shower in Erin's private bathroom. After her foursome, she needed it, and not just to wash all the cum from her body. Gabrielle had offered to help her "wash," and while that had been incredibly tempting, she was glad to be alone.

Life would only get faster from now on, she knew. Leo Garza and his new perfume was just the beginning. She'd watched it happen with other models before her. With Tyra Banks, Cindy Crawford, and even Gabrielle Dubois. This party – this night – was just a taste.

Her hair was still wet, although it was fitting, considering the "pool party" theme. She tussled the dark blonde strands a little bit more, made sure her make-up was as perfect as ever, and reached for the door latch.

"I'll be taking that." The voice was a growl, although she recognized it. Vince?

Quietly, Alicia pushed the door open enough to peak into the bedroom. She had to blink a few times to make sure what she was seeing was real. Vince was standing there, mask pushed up on top of his head, holding a very large looking gun at... Trey!

"You're smarter than you look, my boy," Vince admitted. "Although you had help, didn't you? Who?"

Alicia watched Trey's jaw clench. She knew that look. He wasn't going to budge. Not even for his life.

"It's OK, I'll figure it out soon enough." He rotated the gun as he regarded Trey down its barrel. "You were always my scapegoat, you know that, right? You were always going to take the fall for all of this. 'Green operative double crosses CIA.'"

Alicia couldn't believe what she was hearing. She knew Vince wasn't who he said he was, but she had no idea of the extent of his lies until now.

"Unfortunate for you, the story's the same, only a bit more sensational." He hefted the gun to the ceiling, cocking his head to admire it. "Now, it seems that the green operative not only crosses the CIA... that's me, you see... but takes out a few innocents along the way." The smile he gave her husband was chilling. "Everyone loves a good terrorist story." He pointed the gun back at Trey. "Now, set that nicely on the bed and..."

Whatever it was Trey had that Vince wanted went flying across the room. It shattered on the mirrored wall to Vince's left, sending spider webs across the broken plane.

The man with the gun looked shell-shocked. His mouth froze open, his eyes didn't blink. Nothing registered in his stony face. Alicia knew that reaction, too, although she hadn't seen it in years. Not since they broke up.

"Now why did you do that?" he asked, still calm, although even Trey must have seen the emotion boiling beneath the surface. Vince sighed, training the gun once again on a defiant Trey.

"NOOO!" she screamed, flying out of the bathroom as the rat-tat-tat of the gun filled the room. She watched Trey's shoulder blossom in a splash of red, his body flying back like a paper bag in the breeze.

She shoved him with all her might as bullet holes walked up the wall he'd just been standing in front of. She covered him with her slender body, glaring up at Vince through the wet, blonde hair that had fallen over her face.

The gunfire stopped, although he was still fixing it on the two of them. Beneath her, she could hear her husband wheezing, but he was still alive.

The gunman, the man she'd once thought had turned his life around, stared down at them with murder in his dark eyes. For a brief, terrifying moment, she thought he'd open fire. And in that brief moment, she comforted herself with the thought that at least she'd die with the one she truly loved.

Then, bellowing in exasperation, he pulled the gun away and fled the room.

***

Liz had found it on the surveillance cameras. Vincent Silva's escape plan. It was a black zodiac that sat in the water along the ship's stern-side, almost where she'd waded in.

And as soon as she found it, she left the surveillance room like a racehorse out of the gate. Hurdling through the lounges and corridors with Benny Ng's gun flapping at her side, she left a trail of gasps and screams. Now wasn't the time to be discreet.

As she got closer, she found herself runningintothe screams. People were fleeing past her, filling the corridors in mass hysteria. She heard the gunfire. She saw the bodies. What the hell was he doing?

The rear deck was empty when she got there, the hookahs turned on their sides and the pillows tossed left and right. The harem orgy was over and only Vincent and Liz remained.

"Stop!" she ordered, leveling her .50 caliber on his back as he threw a rope ladder over the side. He froze, although she saw his fingers tighten around the grip of his submachine gun. "Put it down, Vince, and turn toward me slowly."

"Liz..." Her name rolled on his tongue like a new wine filled with surprising, new tastes. "Why did you have to go and get all righteous?"

"When did you turn?" she shot back. "Why all this?"

"They were going to shut us down. I was doing this for us. For C.L.O.A.K. This time next year, we'd have no funding. The work we do for these...people..." he spat, "would come to an end. I gave them what they wanted: a way for us to be heroes."

"And yet, you made us villains."

"It's all semantics," he shrugged.

"You know I have to put you down," the redhead stated, although she felt her grip waver on the trigger.Did it have to end this way?

"You don't have to. You could set it down, let me go. We can still blame this on young Trey. We'd keep C.L.O.A.K. active... I could use an Assistant Director."

"You know that's not gonna happen."

Vincent sighed. "I know."

Lightning quick, he turned on her, pulling the trigger of the SMG as he arced it off his hip. The deck rattled as the bullets left their marks.

Liz was faster. Years of training kicked in. She squeezed the trigger twice, fast, catching her boss – her sometimes lover, one time friend – in the chest. His gun went silent. He looked down where he'd been shot, disbelieving. Stumbling back, his knees edged up against the railing.

"I'm sorry it had to end this way," Liz whispered, her breath swept away in the night. Her third shot sent him over the edge and into the cold, black waters of the Pacific.

EPILOGUE

"So you're telling me that Vincent Silva, the decorated operative of two wars and a loyal servant of the United States government, had planned this whole thing for years?"

The deputy director of the Central Intelligence Agency stared down at the file Liz Hawkins had prepared for him in disbelief. He was one of only a handful of men that knew anything about C.L.O.A.K. or any of the other black ops and this report was most likely for his eyes only.

"That's right, sir," she said. It felt odd to be in a suit again, after all that she'd been through. "As it says in my report." All the evidence she'd compiled was there: bank account numbers, photographs, falsified documents. The entire paper trail, not to mention the eye-witness accounts aboard theSolstice.

"Jesus Christ!" The man tipped back in his chair and rolled his eyes. "He certainly made a mess last week on that floating party! What a train wreck."

The newspapers were going crazy with the story.Al Quedawas the party line, a story hatched in this very room by this very man. They called him the director of spin for a reason.

"Burn this," he said, closing the file and pushing it back in her direction.

"Excuse me?" Liz asked, her turn to register disbelief.

"If Washington ever gets wind of this, not only will C.L.O.A.K. be shut down, but there could be investigations into its sister operations. So much fucking red tape that we may as well hand the keys to our country to the enemy right now!"

Liz didn't know what to say. Was this for real? Was everything they'd done meaningless? "What about Erin Small and her prostitution ring?"

"You said it here. Her tapes and blackmail lists have been destroyed. She's fled to England. She's harmless."

"And Alexander Mishin?" Liz hadn't seen the man since that night, although she still felt herself swoon a little at the mention of his name. She'd left her involvement with the handsome playboy out of her report.

"Cleared, although we'll probably keep tabs on him for a while. More red tape, you know?"

"So... what then? Vincent Silva continues to be a hero?" There had already been a funeral and a story written about the "businessman turned hero" that supposedly fought off the terrorists in international waters.

"Liz, the man's dead. Who cares what he is?"

"Well, I do! And maybe weshouldbe shut down. Look at what unchecked power can do? No oversight, no supervision! No one to make sure this shit doesn't happen again!" She was on her feet when her rant came to an end, her chest heaving.

The deputy director smiled and nodded in agreement. "Which is why I'm putting you in charge of C.L.O.A.K.,Ms. Director. I need men and women like you to keep the others in line. Can you do that for me? Can you be my... 'internal affairs' for the black ops?"

"I don't know what to say..." she said, a whirlwind of emotion filling her head. Excitement, honor, fear, flabbergast. All of it at once.

"Say 'thank you.' Also, burn that."

"Thank you, sir."

He'd already moved on to other matters and didn't even look up as she left.

THREE MONTHS LATER

The doorman of Alicia's ritzy condo complex held the cab open for her as she got in. Bruce was a good guy, always willing to talk about the latest fashions in the industry. But then, everyone seemed to want to talk fashion with her now.

"Where to, miss?" the cabbie asked, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Alicia's breathe caught. It was Trey! Today, his hair was long and blonde, fashioned into a hippy-ish ponytail that went well with his horn-rimmed glasses. Every time she saw him, he was someone different, but his eyes – his beautiful, sad eyes – were always the same.

"The Maxim offices please. Downtown. But you can take the scenic route if you'd like."

Trey grinned before responding. "Will do, miss, but it'll cost ya," with a faux New Yorker accent.

Alicia rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her return smile. She looked out the window as they rolled out of Beverly Hills. This wasn't the first time he'd stopped in on her in the past few months sinceThe Solsticemission. She grew warm inside as she thought of the last time...

"So you're doing a shoot for Maxim?" Trey asked, his voice once again his own.

"Yeah. I got the cover this time. The article's 'Alicia: In Stiles.'" She giggled. It felt good to giggle. Giggling went against her sophisticated, public persona.

"I see you're using your maiden name again."

"Stiles? Yeah," she said bashfully.

"I'd heard you were married. What happened to that guy? Just didn't work out?"

Alicia leaned her head back and laughed. The sun passing in through the back window felt good on her face. "I guess you could say that." They'd grown so far apart that by the time they both realized it, it was like attending a high school reunion with your ex-boyfriend. And with Trey's career moving even deeper into the espionage field and Alicia's taking off, it didn't make sense to continue the charade. "Are we secure?"

"Sure are, ma'am." The accent was back.

The worn vinyl of the backseat crunched as she shifted forward, leaning against the driver's seat. Trey felt her behind him, smiling over his shoulder. "We made a good team though, my ex and I. Ironically, it was only after we decided it wasn't going to work out."

"When all is lost..." Trey said wistfully.

A wave of sadness washed through Alicia. That shared sense of loss. "How's Agent Hawkins?" Alicia asked, changing the subject, although she remained within whispering distance of Trey.

"It's Director Hawkins now, not that anyone will ever be able to acknowledge it. Liz was offered the director-ship of C.L.O.A.K. for bringing down Vincent Silva, who took the brunt of the blame."

"From what I read, he took all of it. Erin's supposedly starting up her own modeling agency in London. Gabrielle Dubois is about to start shooting the next season ofSupermodel—"

"Her last," Trey pointed out.

"Her last, yes, but the network still was under contract. Losing the Estee Lauder contract is a minor set-back for a woman like that."

"Not being under constant fear of blackmail helps," Trey added. "We really did do well together there, in the end."

Again, Alicia felt melancholy swell up through her body. "Ever wonder what could have been?"

"You mean us?"

Alicia nodded.

"The 'us' that said 'I do' was doomed, even before Silva drew you into his plots. We just needed a little bit of intrigue and a few conspiracies to show us that." Alicia gave her ex-husband a couple quiet laughs. "But the new us..."

"The model and the super spy?" Again, the giggle.

"I think you mean supermodel and spy," Trey corrected.

Alicia kissed him softly on the neck before whispering into his ear, "No, I don't."

Trey shifted in the front seat. His face felt hot when she touched him. "Well, those two might have a chance. But it's not going to be easy. And... well, they may have to be a bit more honest than they were before."

Alicia agreed. "It would certainly be against the odds." Trey pulled into the offices of Maxim Magazine. Alicia sat back into her seat. "So, how much do I owe you?"

"Oh, shit, miss. I'm sorry, I must have forgot to turn my meter on. But for a beautiful girl like you, this ride's on me."

"Are you sure?" the blonde asked, a twinkle in her eye.

"I am. But if you really want to repay me, how about a date tonight?"

Alicia covered her mouth as she laughed. There was someone outside, waiting for her cab. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass, sir. I actually already have plans."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. A date, actually."

"Anyone famous? A movie star, perhaps? Or some other hot shot that doesn't realize he's not good enough for you but thinks he is?"

Alicia rolled her eyes. "No, actually. I'm meeting my ex-husband. For a drink. We have a lot to talk about."

"Oh, the media's going to be all over that, Ms. Stiles."

Alicia gave him one final smirk before opening the door. "My husband is a super spy, sir. The media won't have a clue."

Finis