Mockingbird: Take Flight

[Mir]

Sweat was nothing new to Rowan Chapman.

As she ran along the Potomac River, her noise canceling headphones strained to keep pace with her. She breathed in the crisp spring air. Her running outfit was in good shape so far, a dark orange leggings and sports bra combination along with a dark gray sweatshirt crop top cover. Her little reward for herself for completing her training at the Farm. Rowan was hoping that with the premium she’d paid for the outfit, it would hold up longer than some of her other sets. Money wasn’t tight, not with the salary the CIA paid, but that still didn’t mean she wanted to waste her money.

Not when she knew what she had to do to earn it.

She was awaiting news she wasn’t looking forward to receiving. But she knew it was something she was going to have to face at some point. Her scores in training and the reviews from her trainers had basically spelled it out.

She wanted to succeed. She wanted to excel, but she wasn’t sure if the cost was something she was willing to pay. Rowan slowed down as her phone buzzed, and she felt the vibration against her thigh. Sliding the phone out of the thigh pocket, Rowan looked at who it was and she sighed.

She had a feeling it was time to pay the piper.

The Director was setting up an appointment.

Putting the phone away, she turned around and started running in the opposite direction.

As she ran, the sweat came down into her eyes and she blinked. She wasn’t sure if it was the sweat or the worry. Rowan kept running though. She’d known.

She’d known what was going to happen from the moment she had signed her name on the contract. It was different though from what she had gone through in her life though. She had competed in wrestling in high school, against the boys sometimes and she had won. Rowan had been a champion in a lot of things. But nothing was like this.

You only got one shot at this and you had to get it right. For a reason. They had to know they could trust you. Otherwise you could be a field agent, but there were limitations on what you would be allowed to do.

It was time.

Time for the infamous red test.

Rowan had to kill.

==-==

Rowan shook hands with the Director as she walked into his office. She’d gotten back to her apartment and had changed, quickly. Being late wasn’t something she wanted to do during a one on one meeting with the Director.

“Rowan, thanks for coming in.” He said, gesturing at one of the seats. She sat and he walked over to the bar but she shook her head and he walked back to his seat behind his desk. “I think you know why you’re here.” He said and she nodded. “That’s good, we can get straight to business.”

He pulled out a folder and opened it. She took that moment to cast a glance around the room. The office looked a lot like she thought it would. The decor kind of reminded her of M’s room in the Bond movies. She brought her eyes back to the Director as he started speaking.

“We have a company that we use for different contracting jobs. Sapphire Development. Sapphire does a lot of different research projects for us. One of their researchers, Logan Hall, has appeared to go rogue. He stole a bunch of research and is attempting to sell it to the highest bidder. The transaction, the auction is taking place in Madripoor. Your job is to get in there and get back the research.” He said. “In the process, we want Dr. Hall terminated.” He said, finally looking up from the folder.

“What is the research?” She asked. “What should I be looking for?”

He leaned back in the chair, steepling his fingers. “That’s part of the problem. We know what he took, but we’re not sure of the exact form. There’s two components. The first part is pretty straightforward. Vials of a serum. The second is more complicated. Data files. The data files could be in any form. You’ll have to ask him when you see him.”

“Ask him?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Politely, of course.” He said, giving her a small smile. “Rowan, you’re one of the most promising prospects we’ve ever had. Your test scores are some of the highest out of the Farm that I’ve seen during my time as Director. I’m placing a lot of trust in you and I know you’re going to reward that.” He said. “Do you have any further questions?” He asked, closing the file and holding it out to her.

She rose herself, accepting the file. “I don’t think so. I’ll review the file and let you know if I do have anything.”

“We have reliable intel that the auction is taking place in one week.” He said. “You have some time, but we really do need this data back in our hands.”

“I understand.” She said as he now extended a hand.

They shook.

[Mir]

“Jordan is looking forward to it. He got to meet my parents when they were in town, but he wants to see Goose Creek. I think my dad likes him, which is big, you know? My mom is just happy I’m with someone as long as they treat me right. When do you think you’ll get a chance to get back home…Row, are you listening to me?”

“What? Of course, I’m listening, Nora.” Rowan replied.

She was in fact barely listening to Nora, one of her childhood friends. She had Nora on speaker phone as she sat in a chair on the balcony of her third floor apartment in Georgetown. Nora was telling her all about her planned trip back to Goose Creek, where they’d grown up. She was leaving in a few days. Meanwhile, Rowan was going to be leaving in a few days herself, to Madripoor.

She had the file that the Director had given her on the glass table in front of her, next to a glass of lemonade. It was open and she had been reviewing the information that analysts had provided. There was a lot to cover and she had to know the contents of the file backwards and forwards.

“Well, when do you think you’ll get a chance to get back home?” Nora asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t have the freedom you have with your job as a fashion designer.”

“Hey, I had to get a lot done to get this trip arranged.” Her friend replied, laughing. “Besides, just the flight from National City to Goose Creek is going to burn a whole day. You’re in D.C., you could make the drive in a a few hours.”

“Eight. I know from experience.” Rowan replied, pulling a leg up on to the chair with her and wrapping her arms around it. “That was a fun trip.”

“Hugh didn’t go with you right?”

“No, he was busy with some legislative meetings.”

She sighed, inwardly. She understood his job was busy but there never seemed to be time for anything unless it was the things he wanted to do. Understandable, but you couldn’t make time one time to be able to see her hometown? It was still a bit of a sticking point, so she didn’t want to dwell on it, but she knew Nora was going to push a little bit. Her friend wasn’t being a dick, it was more her personality.

“I want to meet him.” Nora replied, her tone a mixture of needling and envious. “Jordan’s great and all, but you’re dating someone in Congress.”

Rowan had to laugh now. “I am not dating ‘someone in Congress’. Hugh’s a senior aide to a junior senator from Nevada. That’s hardly someone in Congress.”

“It’s closer to it than you and I are.” Nora retorted. “Speaking of, what are you doing these days with the CIA? Or are you sworn to secrecy? You have to know such interesting people between Hugh and the CIA.”

Rowan eyed the file on the table.

“I’ve got a few things I’m working on. But it’s nothing exciting, trust me.” She stated, hoping Nora would drop it. There was one way to play defense and that was to go on offense. “So things are getting serious with Jordan then?” She asked.

“I would say so.” Nora replied, as Rowan sipped from her lemonade. “I think we’re going to move in together when our leases are up.”

She almost bobbled the lemonade. “You’re kidding, that’s awesome. Are you ready for that?”

“I’m the one pushing for it more than him.” Nora said. “I really think he’s the one, Row.” She said.

Rowan smiled. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you, Nora. You know what, maybe I’ll see if I can head out to National City in a few weeks and I can meet this magical guy.” She said.

“I’d like that. Listen, Row, I gotta go. I’m getting a call from Kenzie.” She said.

“Kenzie…Sanders? The model?” Rowan asked, a bit incredulous.

“Yeah, she needs some information about a fitting we’re doing for an ad campaign. Luckily, she lives in National City so maybe I can get her into the office later. I gotta run, love you babes.” Nora said, before hanging up.

“And she says I must know interesting people.” Rowan said, out loud, chuckling. She drank more of her lemonade and remembered that she still had the preparations for this op to complete. Nora's phone call had been a nice break from reality but that's all it really was, a break from reality.

Time to get back to work.

[Mir]

Rowan’s eyes were technically looking at the mat, but with them widening, she definitely wasn’t focusing on that. She wanted to work her jaw around, make sure nothing was out of place, but she knew she didn’t have time. Spinning around, she dropped into a guard position, keeping her eyes now on the Japanese man towering over her and moving with a grace and elegance she could only dream to one day possess.

His eyes were not like hers, somewhat unfocused. No, they were like laser beams, always on target. That was nothing she wasn’t used to seeing. Neither was the way he launched himself at her, shoving past her legs to take a full mount. She kept her hands up, protecting her face, but that opened up one of her arms to be snatched for an armbar. Rowan pivoted, trying to get to a vertical base. The weight advantage favored the Japanese man.

She had a choice to make.

He was going to pull on that arm until she gave up or the arm did. She had a few options available to her but all of them risked some kind of damage. Allowing him to stretch her arm further, Rowan dropped her left knee into his back, pushing against his spine. He responded by trying to drop his hips. She pressed again and he dropped again. On the third time, she pulled the knee and pressed off the ground with her dominant right foot, causing a flicking motion. This freed her up.

A judo type throw was easy enough to bounce back from, a dislocated elbow, less so. She rolled to her feet and started running forward. Now it was her time to shine. She got him into a front guard and went for a front guillotine. He, naturally, pressed up, knowing her weight wasn’t going to work in her favor. She tried to keep the hold on, but his weight advantage was going to be too much, she could tell.

Time to fight a little dirty.

Taking the heel of her left foot, she pressed it against his right hip joint and pressed. A similar thought process to the armbar situation earlier. If he kept trying to post up, he would stress his own hip socket, similar to how when she applied pressure to his back, she was hurting her own elbow.

Then she heard him chuckle.

Fuck. How does he have me?

He rocked backwards, his arms coming up and wrapping around her and pulling her with him into a weird throw. At the same time, he hooked one of her free legs and pulled off the weirdest fisherman she’d ever been hit with.

She saw stars.

This time she couldn’t roll over in time, she couldn’t do much of anything, he had her.

==-==

“You seemed distracted.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Why do you lie to Sakuraba?”

Rowan offered up a small smile as he sat down next to her.

“I’m not lying, I wasn’t distracted.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she knew he didn’t believe her. She didn’t need to look at him. She didn’t believe her which made the lie rather unconvincing. Rowan was getting better at the lying part of her job, but at the same time, she was too worn out to try to make it convincing. The thoughts raging in her mind and the nerves raging in her damn elbow from where Sakuraba had hyperextended the joint were having their own jousting match in her brain.

“Then suddenly you forget how to wrestle, Rowan? You’re one of the best talents I’ve worked with here.”

She sighed. Damn, he had her right where he wanted her. Again. “Fine, I’m distracted.”

“Distraction is death.” He said and she parroted the words as he spoke them, though she didn’t say them herself. “You know this, clearly.”

They looked at each other in the reflection of the mirrors on the far side of the CIA combat gym. She’d gotten him her fair share of times and the win loss column had been reflecting that for a little while. She should have known he would know the jig was up when she’d tapped. She should have had him. By all rights, she should have. Rowan had been good when she’d gotten to the Farm but she’d been downright deadly when she’d left and under his tutelage on grappling alone she had become, in his estimation, one of the foremost grapplers in the world. Possibly the best ground based fighter on the planet.

Considering his background, she wasn’t going to argue with him.

“You asked for this session.” Sakuraba’s eyes were on her reflection. “Why?”

“I needed to clear my head,” Rowan replied, as she adjusted her gi. “I had a conversation with a friend and it got me thinking about a few things and I wanted to clear my thoughts.”

“I hope they have been cleared, though now you have an embarrassing loss that should be making your thoughts murkier.”

She smiled and nudged against the older man with her shoulder. “It’s not embarrassing, you’re a killer man.”

Sakuraba shook his head. “Those days are behind me,” the former Hand ninja said. “I train, I do not kill.”

She nodded. Sakuraba was one of the head trainers in combatives for the CIA wetwork operatives. He wasn’t just anyone though. A former Hand ninja, he had opted to leave the tribal clan and make his way to the West, this time without an agenda that served the Beast. He had done well for himself and the CIA had hired him, to both offer protection and in exchange to make use of his talents. She probably would have quibbled with the idea that he wasn’t a killer. Was someone who trained killers not, indirectly, a killer? Then again, that was probably deeper down the rabbit hole than Row wanted to dive down at five in the morning.

“What is bothering you?” He asked.

“My friend Nora.” Rowan said. “She and her boyfriend are getting closer together. Their lives are progressing. I grew up with her and she always seemed to know what she wanted to do in life. So did I, but then the Agency called when I was in college. It’s a different lifestyle. They’re going to be moving in together.”

“Buy them something nice.”

She laughed. “I will, don’t worry. Maybe a bonsai, I’ll say it’s from the both of us.”

He stared. “I do not know these individuals, they will surely not understand.”

“That’s for sure.” She looked around the room for a moment. “I have friends here. Jamie’s in banking, Florence is a policy wonk. Amy is a graduate assistant and Phd candidate. I have friends.”

“But.”

It hung in the air.

“But,” She agreed.

Sakuraba’s eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly. “I understand better what is bothering you.”

“You do?”

“Your red test.”

She did her best to hide her surprise. A part of her wasn’t that surprised. Sakuraba was widely known as being tapped in as the kids would say. At a breezy “How do you know about that?”

He smiled. “I know things. It is natural, Rowan. You have been charged with taking a life. Whether that life should be taken or not, it is still a life. You are judging your own life to determine whether you are worthy to take that life.”

Rowan stopped and thought about what he was saying. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“I usually am,” He said, before smacking her on the backside of her head. “This word you say in my gym, you know you are not to speak in such a manner. Your parents raised you with respect.”

She rubbed the back of her head. “I apologize, Sakuraba.”

He nodded. “Rowan, your life is young, you are still growing.”

“I’m not getting any taller, unfortunately. I’m twenty-two and I’m stuck at this height.”

She had been picking at her gi and she looked up and saw in the reflection he was glaring at her. She made an apologetic, sheepish face and held her hands up. No need to get back to back smacks in Sakuraba’s gym.

“You’re tall enough. You are young and so you think that you have not earned the right to kill. But a child defending themselves or their sibling has every right to life.”

“Sure, but I’m not going to be defending myself. I’m the aggressor.”

“Of course, but we all have a role to play in the life of another. Even if that role is never being seen, never being known. We are the nameless, faceless people in dreams, the person that that individual thinks of when they think of far away places. We are who we are.”

“How did you get so deep?” She asked, dropping her chin into her hand and resting her elbow on her knee. She leaned towards him, her eyes angling upwards. There was a part of her that just could not help this kind of response. Just the way she’d been born, as her mom would say.

“My wife,” Sakuraba stated simply and directly. “She was, among many things, a poet.”

Rowan frowned now. Sakuraba rarely talked about his personal life. But that wasn’t the only thing that had been apparent.

“Was?”

“She passed away some years ago. It is why I left the Hand.”

She’d never really pried before and most people had told her not to ask. The ones who had told her to ask had definitely been trying to set her up for failure but Rowan Chapman was nobody’s fool. Another thing her mom would say.

“I think that’s what bothered me about the conversation with Nora. Hugh is nice and all but…I don’t know I can’t see myself with him for the rest of my life. I mean, he’s actually not very nice, when you push comes to shove.”

Sakuraba’s eyes flashed.

“Oh my God, no not like that,” Rowan said, thinking maybe something got a little lost in translation. “You think I’m letting Hugh Sanford of all people treat me like that?” She asked, shaking her head. “He’d be in a kimura so fast, trust me. He may be a senior staffer to a junior senator from Nevada but he’s showing up to work with a black eye and a broken arm.”

“So what then are you looking for?”

She leaned back, dropping so she was flat and staring at the ceiling. “Integrity. Respect. Obviously love, but I mean, the person has to be good. Someone who wants to help others. Someone who accepts the ugly side of life. I’m not the easiest person to put up with, my mother will be the first to tell you that. But…”

“You believe that taking a life will change you and scar you. Make you unlovable.”

“How can it not?” She replied, her voice dropping lower, closer to a whisper.

“It will create the opportunity for change,” He said, nodding slowly. “That soil will be there, the seeds will be planted. It will be your choice to water them, Rowan.”

[Mir]

Rowan sat on the jet, flying from Washington D.C. to Madripoor. Sapphire Development had built the CIA a number of clandestine jets. This was one of those. She leaned back in the seat, thinking of the mission at hand. She knew this was a red test. But she still wondered if there was a way to get around that. Could she retrieve the information and maybe…maybe scare the researcher? She had the file on Logan Hall and she had read through it more than a few times. She knew she could recognize him if she saw him.

But shoot him? Or kill him? Could she do that?

She shrugged herself out of the leather jacket, tossing it into one of the other seats. Rising, she walked over to one of the walls, where a display showed how many more hours they had until the flight reached Madripoor. She was booked into the Sovereign Hotel. The auction was taking place at a casino. She was going to have to get into the casino, which wasn’t that difficult, but she was also going to have to get into this meeting, which was much more difficult.

Rowan had a suit packed, given to her by Sapphire Development as well. There was definitely a level of irony there. Sapphire Development arming the individual being sent to take out one of their own, even if he had gone rogue.

The suit hung one a hangar, in casing, on another wall. She walked over to it and unzipped the black bag. The suit was black with blue piping. Walking back to the table in front of her seat, she pulled out the folder with information on the suit.

Bulletproof kevlar dipped in titanium, the suit was flexible thanks to the presence of a few other things that she found were classified in the folder. She could tell what the capabilities were, but not the materials used. That was fine. She didn’t think she was going to run into any issues with the materials they used.

The suit had two hip holsters. They were empty, but she had a pair of her Sig Sauer P226s with her. Chambered in .357, the pistols had the stopping power she wanted. They could also be loud as hell which was something else she appreciated.

She dropped back into the chair. Rowan was still restless though and it wasn’t long before she was pacing around the jet. The small space was somehow roomy but still claustrophobic.

She called her mother.

“Rowan, this is a nice surprise. I was just thinking of you. I was talking to Nora’s mother about Jordan. He seems like a nice boy.”

“Yeah, she told me they were headed down to visit.”

“When are you going to come home for a bit. Your analyst job can’t keep you that busy.”

Rowan looked around the jet and laughed to herself. “It keeps me occupied.”

“I worry about you. Dad’s always puttering to himself and what not, but I know he’s thinking about you.”

She smiled. “I was thinking about when we used to go bird watching.”

“Oh you loved it so much,” Emily replied. “You used to spot every bird we could see. Great eyes, you get that from me.”

“Well, Mom, Dad’s gotta have a good set you know. He saw you.”

Her mom’s laugh was rich and full. “That’s a good point. I’ll have to tell him you said that.”

Rowan shifted in the seat, so she was sitting cross legged. “I loved those bird watching trips.”

“We named you Amelia for a reason. You were born to fly.”

A little on the nose considering what she was doing currently, but she knew what her mother meant. “I think my favorites were the white ones with the darker plumage.”

“That doesn’t really narrow it down,” Emily said and Rowan could hear her mom’s face if that made sense. Emily was rolling her eyes at the phone and giving her daughter a look that reminded her to be exact and precise. If there was one thing Emily Chapman had taught Rowan, it was to measure twice and cut once. You didn’t get to be one of the top biology researchers that way. Rowan’s own schooling had taught her that as well.

“I forget the names.”

“You do not, Rowan and we both know it.”

“I know.”

“The mockingbirds were your favorite.”

Rowan looked up at the suit poking out from the bag.

“Mockingbirds are my favorite.”

[Mir]

The luxury of the hotel room was not lost on Rowan. This place was definitely one of the swankiest spots she’d ever been to. She’d checked in and then gotten her stuff up to the room. After hanging up the things that needed to be hung up, Rowan had checked her computer to see if there were any further updates. She had a CIA substation here in Madripoor if she needed it, but she was hoping she wouldn’t need to call for any back up. It would look weird if she required back up on something like this. No, part of the goal was for the agent to be able to do it on their own. The next thing to do was to take advantage of the room’s shower.

She was quite happy to use the well stocked shower. Now, she was getting dressed. Staring at her reflection in the mirror as she ran a curler through her hair, kept dry thanks to a shower cap, Rowan tried to keep her thoughts out of her head and just do the rote process of getting ready. Tough, but doable, which was a favorite thing for her to try to tackle.

Sakuraba’s parting words still echoed in her mind. The opportunity for change was there. The soil would be ready and she would be planting the seeds. The question was whether she would water them. She had opted for a suit this evening and slid into the heather gray suit pants. Buttoning the black silk shirt, she grabbed the match heather gray vest.

The vest was actually a Sapphire development construct, the whole suit was. Bulletproof material that was still thin enough to be used as fabric for clothing, the ensemble was probably rather expensive. It was a thinner version of the…other suit Sapphire had sent. Rowan knew the hotel had weapons detectors and tonight wasn’t going to involve anything like that. So she left behind the holster and her pistol. She was simply getting the lay of the land.

The lay of the land which involved the auction of this serum, whatever it was supposed to do. Tonight was a bit of a soft opening kind of thing and she needed to make sure she had access to the auction.

That was one of the things that bothered her. Not that she didn’t have access but that she hadn’t been told what the serum could do, only that it was dangerous in the wrong hands. That she could understand, but she hated feeling like a dagger being pointed in a specific direction.

As she was going for a fresh faced look tonight, she went with minimal makeup. Mainly foundation and the like. No need for anything that fancy, not tonight. She wanted to blend in as best as she could. Once she was finished, she shrugged into a jacket that matched the color of the pants. Black Schutz pumps completed the look. They were a bit more form over function but she wasn’t anticipating running a lot, at least not tonight. She’d thrown the pumps into her bags before leaving.

The agency could assist on clothing but she would decide her shoes, thank you very much. She had saved up a lot for these shoes and she wasn’t going to let them go to waste. Especially when the curve of the slight heel was just so freaking adorable.

Riding the elevator down, Rowan thought about how she had signed up to be a dagger pointed in a specific direction. She’d known that would be the case, but at the same time, she wanted to know she was making a difference. What was so important about this serum and the data files that made them so dangerous?

Maybe she would find out.

But that would require being on her toes tonight and throughout the auction.

Exiting the elevator, she headed towards the casino. Nothing like losing a little bit of the CIA’s money to get in good with some folks. She had a list of names of people who were expected to be at the auction in a few nights. There were no guarantees they would be there, but their organizations would be sending someone.

Time to mingle.

[Mir]

Her stack of chips was actually going up. It was a bit surprising, considering Rowan was actually a terrible poker player. She was good with hiding her facial cues and body language, but she was not a card counter, at all. So the fact that she was up and she looked down to do a quick count, by twenty thousand dollars was pretty astounding to her. Rowan had to wonder if the agency would let her keep her winnings. Well, maybe she’d keep a few chips and not tell them. Was that bad?

Looking up from the stack of chips, she was expecting the cards to be dealt for the next round. However, there was a delay as they were being joined by a few new players. One of them sat down next to her and she recognized him. Alexander Garcia, well connected with a few different organizations, he could be here for any one of them. She looked at his stack of chips. He had come to play.

He ordered a drink as the cards were dealt.

She had a four of clubs and a jack of spades. The first round of betting went through as Garcia’s drink arrived. She was sipping at a vodka soda, and had no intention of drinking more than was necessary to keep up appearances.

The flop was a jack of diamonds, a king of hearts, and a four of hearts.

She watched Garcia beat more heavily than the first round. Maybe he was looking for a straight? She stayed in, matching his raise. The turn came and it was a queen of spades. She kept her eyes on Garcia. No one else at the table was something relevant to her, at this point. She was paying attention to the rest of them as it was necessary, but she had to keep her eyes on Garcia the most. If he did have a tell, he wasn’t showing it, as the betting came around to him again.

He put another bet in, the same amount as the previous round. There were a lot of options. He could be trying to slow play, he could be less confident, he could be bluffing. So many options.

She tossed in her chips to match the bet. The pot was close to thirty thousand with the number of players they had even though a few had folded. Garcia turned to her.

“You must have a good hand to stay in this late.”

“It’s not terrible,” She replied.

The river came and it was a jack of clubs. The final round of betting came and went, with checks all around.

She smiled as her full house took the pot, meaning she was up by close to fifty grand. She had to be allowed to keep some of this right? It’d go a long way to paying off the mortgage on that two bedroom she’d purchased.

“Alexander Garcia.” He extended a hand.

“Madelyn Hubert.”

Rowan had settled on the cover name a few minutes ago. A little bit of elegance and a little bit of softness. Nothing wrong with it, something simple to keep the conversation flowing. It wasn’t too memorable but it could stick with a person depending on how things went. Just the way she wanted it.

“Have you been in town long?”

She shook her head. “No, I flew in this morning from New York. How about you?”

“I got in this morning as well. I must not have seen you at the airport.”

“There’s so many people that come through Madripoor.”

“I’d remember you.”

She smiled. “And why’s that?”

[Mir]

Garcia shot her a smile she figured he intended to be charming. “I think we know why.”

Rowan pretended to blush slightly, as the next round of cards were dealt. “If you think flirting with me is going to make me go any easier on you, I hope you brought extra chips.”

He laughed and sized up his chips. “You may be right.”

They continued to play. She won some, she lost some. The normal ebb and flow of texas hold ‘em. Rowan kept her attention on the game, but continued to watch everyone around the table. Over time, she realized that Garcia was doing enough to win, but was also losing in a curious fashion. Every so often, he took one particular player to the limit but then he always seemed to lose. Whether that was folding or being beaten straight out, he lost, which was all that mattered. She had noticed the pattern after two of the times, when he had forced a bluff to try to knock as many people out as possible and proceeded to fold at the final card.

That had been enough to raise her suspicions. After a few more rounds, she had confirmed it.

So now, she had two questions to answer. Who was he losing all this money to, and more importantly, why?

The first question was easy enough to figure out. She only had to look across the table. It was the attractive brunette sitting on the other side of the table. Rowan hadn’t caught her name, but she thought it started with an S or something like that. With one question solved, she could turn her attention to the other question, which was far more intriguing but also far more complex.

There could be any number of reasons as to why he would intentionally lose. He was, in essence, gambling to get other people’s money to transfer it to the brunette. She had noticed he hadn’t dipped below whatever amount she had seen when he’d first arrived. If he did, it was temporary. Even when the people at the table changed, that stayed constant.

“So, what are you in town for?” She asked. “Just the gambling?”

“Madripoor has a good deal of tourist attractions.”

“And yet…” She trailed off.

“True, I could gamble in any casino in the world, I suppose,” Garcia said, flashing her an easy smile. “I’m here on business, Madelyn.”

She smiled and nodded, taking a sip from the vodka soda she’d ordered. “What kind of business?”

“Oh, it ranges. I’m with a consortium that does a lot of shipping and logistics. Import/export. You know, you need to move things and we’ll get the job done.”

I bet you do. His vague answer hadn’t narrowed anything down. “Anyone I would have heard of?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately not. It’s not a Fortune 500 company. Not publicly traded or anything like that.” He turned a playful eye towards her. “What about you?” He asked.

“I’m here on business too.” She threw in a bet to keep the round moving. “Nothing too crazy, I suppose. Big hotel chain, but also does a lot of the ‘experiences’ stuff. Working on a partnership with one of the big hotels here, and so I’m getting the lay of the land.”

“Like an undercover shopper?” He asked.

She laughed. “You know, when you put it like that, I guess it is kind of lame.”

“Not at all,” He replied, his brow creasing. “You get to travel the world and see so many new things all the time. But you’re experiencing them. Me, I see the back of my eyelids or the four walls of a hotel room.”

She looked up as a newcomer arrived, a shorter woman with bottle blonde hair like she had. The woman sat down with a stack of chips that totaled around two hundred thousand, making her one of the big fish almost immediately.

“Deal me in,” The woman said, with an unmistakable Russian accent.

[Mir]

The game continued on, but Rowan realized that Garcia was no longer intentionally losing to the degree he had been before. He was playing the game more like a regular player. She did see though that the newcomer, the Russian woman was following a similar pattern that Garcia had been. Doing some quick math in her head, Rowan realized that through the forced losses, Garcia had forked over exactly two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to this particular player. It was an oddly specific amount. She had been keeping a mental track of her wins and losses. Her chip count was decently high, she had around a hundred thousand above her initial buy-in. But she had, over time, sent about forty grand in one direction. So she still had a ways to catch up if she wanted to match Garcia’s losses.

Her mind kicked into gear. Garcia was losing to this brunette on purpose, there was no way around it. He had made sure to lose an exact amount and once completed had shifted his playing style to be more competitive. Almost as though he was now trying to win back the money, but not from the brunette. None of this would have stuck out to her, if the newcomer had started following a similar pattern.

Was there something about losing a certain amount of money to the brunette?

Since none of it was hers anyway, Rowan decided to follow the strategy.

Meanwhile, she kept her attention on the newcomer. She was beautiful, in a somewhat aloof way. Her brown eyes were sharp and took everything in without making it seem as though she was doing it. Rowan couldn’t confirm it, but there seemed to be more to her than met the initial eye test. Her appearance was that of a rich socialite. She was dressed to the nines in a beautiful dress complete with jewelry. Maybe she was trying to convince everyone she was some rich socialite. But you didn’t get muscles like that from pilates. Her arms were toned and fairly jacked.

There was definitely more going on here.

“Madelyn.”

She turned to Alexander as he said her cover name.

“I think I’m going to head out for the evening. It was lovely to meet you. I hope our paths cross again.” He looked around ready to settle up, consolidating his pile of chips into a few larger ones that would be easier to carry around. He was up a bit more than what she’d seen when she’d first arrived at the table.

“That’d be great, it was nice meeting you as well.”

He rose from the table and looked to leave but stopped. “I’ll be at the Cat’s Cradle later, if you’re interested,” He said, and she remembered the name of the nightclub.

She nodded and smiled and he left.

Turning back, she got back to work. It was time to lose but also to win. She definitely wanted to leave here with more than she’d arrived.

About ten rounds or so later, she had managed to do just that. She was up about seventy-five thousand and she had lost two hundred and sixty thousand to the brunette. The last hand had been rather killer. She’d lost with trips eights to the brunette’s straight. The Russian woman had also lost, with two pairs. With that, Rowan decided to call it a night. There was still more to see regarding the auction and who might be involved and she didn’t know if Garcia was even here for that. She had to keep her options open. Besides, if he was here for that, she needed to see about the Cat’s Cradle. Which meant she had limited time to do the rest of her surveying of the casino.

As she cashed out, she didn’t notice the Russian woman was keeping her eyes on her.

But the night was young and maybe the craps tables would hold some interest.

[Mir]

Rowan heard the pulsating sounds of the Cat’s Cradle far before she could see it. The nightclub was a well known hangout for the rich and wealthy who came to Madripoor. She knew she could get in but if Garcia was in the VIP Section that was going to make things a bit more difficult. Rowan had deposited the money the Agency had given her back into the account. She hoped she’d be able to keep some of her winnings. That’d be nice. Maybe she’d have a chat with the Director when she got back. The heavy beat of the club was overwhelming as she got inside. The lights were low, but they made up for it with a series of decorative lights. There were scantily clad women running the bottle service. The club had multiple levels and Rowan wasn’t sure where Garcia was.

She made her way up to one of the bars on the ground level and got another vodka soda. She wasn’t that big of a fan of vodka which was good for this kind of stuff. It meant she didn’t drink too much. Rowan preferred tequila. Sipping at the drink, she turned around and surveyed the club.

There was a dance floor on this level and she could see the stairs and elevator. The club wasn’t too packed, but there was a decent number of people in there. Her eyes continued to rove around. She took it all in. Rowan liked dancing just as much as the next girl. She was definitely much more of the stay at home type, but everyone needed to get out and do things. She had had her nights in the past.

Had she been here for her own reasons, she would have enjoyed a place like this. But her eyes kept moving around, trying to find Garcia. Convinced he wasn’t on this level, she went to the next one.

On the second floor, she realized this was more of a VIP section. In hindsight, she knew she should have gone straight to the biggest and probably most elaborate VIP area they had. Skipping the second level, she was headed up to the third when she ran into a roadblock in the form of a security guard who asked her if she was allowed access. She gave him Garcia’s name.

A few minutes later, Garcia came around the corner, a smile on his face.

“Madelyn,” He said. “I’m glad you chose to stop by.”

She smiled back. “Yeah well, I went back to my hotel and I couldn’t get to sleep.” She gave him a coy smile, letting her eyelids drop a little bit. “Thought I might see what you were up to.”

His smile widened. “Can’t say I don’t like the sound of that.” He beckoned her to join him and the security guard let her through.

The music was even more uptempo here. This was far more expensive looking than the first or even the second floor. The women were somehow wearing even less. It was borderline stripclub-esque. “Interesting choice of decor,” She said, looking at one of the bottle girls. The bottle girl in question was walking past them and she placed a hand on Garcia’s chest, letting it slide around.

He laughed. “The organization I’m with has an account with the Cradle,” He said. “So it’s one of the places in Madripoor that doesn’t, technically, charge me to drink.”

She filed that away for later investigation. “That’s good to know,” She replied, slyly. “I won’t mind running up a tab then.”

He chuckled as they walked towards his area of the VIP. She looked around and saw that the people on this level were far more famous than down below. That made sense. Across the large club, in their own booth, she saw three people she recognized. Not from any CIA dossier or anything like that.

“Is that….?”

Garcia looked over as they entered his area. “Oh, yeah. Reid Richards, Nolan Holloway. Kenzie Sanders. They’re models or something. You know them?” He asked and she shook her head.

They slid into one of the booths in his area as Rowan marveled at the interestingness of the room. Here was Garcia, an operative in the world of shady things and on the other side of this VIP were three women considered to be supermodels. What a wild place.

“So you’re the partying type?” She asked. They were forced to be close together due to the loudness of the club.

He shrugged. “Not particularly, but when in Madripoor, I suppose.”

She nodded. “How long are you in town?” She asked.

“A few more days. Work calls me elsewhere,” He said, as one of the bottle girls got their orders.

Rowan knew she was going to have to press him a bit to try to get more information. “You’re a pretty good poker player.”

That easy smile came back. “Thanks. You’re pretty damn good yourself. I think you had me on the ropes there for a few of the rounds.” They both knew that wasn’t true. Rowan was good, but he was better.

She wondered for a moment whether she was going to have to sleep with this guy to get closer to the auction. She really didn’t want to do that. If there was one thing Rowan was terrible at, in this game of spycraft, it was seduction and flirting. Her track record with men outside of work indicated that. On top of that, regardless of whatever Hugh Sanford, senior aide to a junior senator from Nevada, was doing at this moment, she was a loyal individual. She couldn’t knowingly do something like that and not tell him. Which would open up a whole new can of worms, as he legitimately thought she was an analyst at the CIA, as her parents and friends did.

On the other hand, she was going through a rocky patch with Hugh. He was busy with his work and she was busy with hers. She didn’t see either of those things slowing down anytime soon. Alex was also…quite good looking if she was being honest. The actual act of sleeping with him, she could imagine it would be enjoyable. Underneath the suit, he looked like he was fairly strong and while she wasn’t a sucker for a guy with muscles, it certainly didn’t hurt.

No, the real reason she wouldn’t do it, slightly above the loyalty to a boyfriend, was another reason. Rowan was not the type of person to jump into bed, with anyone. She needed emotional intimacy before she could have physical intimacy. Maybe that would make her a bad field operative in the long run. Maybe it would be a strength. Time would tell.

She glanced over at the table of models, who were clearly enjoying themselves. She wondered if Nora had worked with Reid or Nolan or would. Nora had name dropped Kenzie during their phone conversation.

“Who was that one player?” She asked, bringing herself back to the conversation at hand. “I think her name started with an S or something.”

His brow lowered slightly. “Serena, I think.”

You think, sure.

She accepted the vodka soda refill from the waitress as she returned with their drinks. She was going to ask another question, when a newcomer arrived. Rowan realized it was the Russian woman from earlier.

“This music is loud,” She said, sliding into the booth on the other side of Garcia. Rowan frowned slightly. Whoever this woman was, she hadn’t needed to get Garcia to get her into this elite VIP section. Either her name had been on the list independently, or Garcia had gotten her on the list knowing she would be there. He hadn’t done that with her.

Interesting.

Despite what she’d just been thinking, about a lack of

“It’s a nightclub, that’s how it works.”

“I understand how it works, Alex, I’m making a point. They could turn it down slightly and everyone would be enjoying themselves.” The Russian woman’s eyes took in Rowan. “Who is this little duckling?” She asked, drawing a flash of ire from Rowan.

She was taller than this woman for crying out loud.

“Madelyn Hubert,” Rowan said, extending a hand across the table.

The Russian woman’s eyes held a spark of amusement. “Madelyn Hubert, nice to meet you,” She said, shaking Rowan’s hand. “Alina Pirogova.”

[Mir]

The conversation flowed and Rowan did her best to follow along. Alina and Garcia knew each other. That much was obvious. But she couldn’t pin down the extent of their history with each other. She also picked up a few other interesting bits of information. Alina had been in Madripoor for a few days. She would also be leaving in a few days. Her arrival time had preceded them, but her departure time was right in line for when Alex had said he would be leaving. So odds were they were here for the same reason. She still wasn’t sure if it was the auction, but this was the best lead she had so far.

She’d tested the waters, bringing up the person they’d lost the money to. She’d also mentioned she had done the same. That had gotten her a little bit further.

The two had been more willing to talk and they’d spoken about the woman a bit. Neither of them had met her before and talked around the situation as though everyone already knew what they were there to do. Rowan wasn’t sure but she felt she had the smoking gun that she was in the right place. Whoever exactly Alex and Alina were, and whoever it was they represented, they were all here for the same reason.

Before she had been able to continue, Alex had changed the subject by asking her to dance.

Rowan slid out of the booth. She shrugged out of the suit jacket, tossing it back in the booth. She walked out to the dance floor as a new DJ was hitting the booth. The music shifted. The new DJ slowly blended in until they were hearing music that sounded a lot like Daft Punk’s work on the Tron soundtrack. She was just tipsy enough to let the music start to guide her movements.

She was also just tipsy enough to let Alex’s hands hold her by the waist as he came up behind him. Rowan let herself be pulled back against Alex as they moved to the song. The music was loud, but somehow she was still able to hear Garcia’s voice as he whispered into her ear.

“I find you very interesting.”

She smiled, eyes closed. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t quite put my finger on it.” He laughed. “You’ve got a certain presence about you.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I know you’re here for something, some reason, but it’s almost as though I don’t care.” He was tilting her head back and leaning in to kiss her.

Rowan shifted so that they were facing each other. She wasn’t tipsy enough for that. From the look on his face, he only took it as an invitation to a challenge. Which was good in the short term. Maybe not so good in the long term. She could see around him though and saw Alina in the booth, going through her phone. “What about Alina?” She asked.

“Alina?” He asked and shrugged. “She’s interesting as well, but for different reasons. Work reasons.”

“Work reasons?” She asked and he nodded in response. “What do you mean? You said you work in logistics.”

“I do,” He replied with a slightly amused look on his face. “I do work in logistics. Making sure things get from one place to another. It’s the things in question that can be interesting and so other parties sometimes get involved.”

He pulled her in close. There was that word again. Interesting.

“What kinds of things?”

“All kinds. But Alina, she’s with, let’s say a rival group and so we know each other and deal with each other out of professional courtesy.”

“That doesn’t make her interesting, only her job.”

He laughed in her ear. “Touche. Rowan, have you ever heard of someone called a ‘Black Widow’?”

She was definitely talking to the right people, she realized as she covered her surprise. A Black Widow?

Indeed, it was…interesting.

[Mir]

Armed with the knowledge Alina was, in fact, a Black Widow, Rowan knew she needed to keep an eye on the Russian woman. Luckily for her, Alina had gotten tired of sitting in the booth. She came out onto the dance floor. Rowan almost laughed because the Russian woman had very little rhythm as it pertained to dancing. But she was giving it her best shot. What was intriguing though was that she was trying to slide between Rowan and Alex. Almost as though she wasn’t too thrilled about the fact that they were as close as they were. Alex, for his part, didn’t mind the fact he got to dance with two women who looked like Rowan and Alina.

Eventually, throughout the dance floor, they realized they were joined by the three models.

Rowan decided to head to the bar and was joined by Kenzie Sanders.

“I think I know you,” Rowan said, when they were at the bar.

“Oh yeah?” Kenzie asked.

“You’re Kenzie Sanders, aren’t you?” She asked and then looked down, feigning surprise. “You’re wearing a Nora design.”

Kenzie laughed. “Yeah that’s me and I definitely am. Nora’s the best. We were just in Venice for one of her shows. She loves doing shows in Venice for some reason.”

Rowan laughed. She didn’t want to say she had a feeling that was because of her. Rowan had used to talk about going to Venice all the time when they were kids. Clearly, it had left an impression on her and Nora had gotten Rowan’s love for Venice. Rowan had definitely gotten Nora’s love for fashion. She looked over her shoulder, wanting to keep tabs on Garcia and Alina. She got another vodka soda and watched Kenzie make a face at the drink. She shrugged. “It tastes terrible so I don’t drink too much.”

“Honestly, fair.” Kenzie nodded as she accepted a round of tequila shots for herself and the other two. “See you out there.”

She left and before Rowan could walk away, she was joined by Alina. The woman leaned against the bar, back first, propping her elbows up on the bar. “Madelyn, you’re a good dancer.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

Rowan’s brow furrowed, feigning confusion. “What do you mean? It’s a nightclub, isn’t it?”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” She replied, the thick Russian accent audible over the sound of the music. Rowan glanced over her shoulder again and saw Kenzie had joined the other two models who were dancing with Garcia. “I know why Alex is in Madripoor. Why are you here?”

“I work for a luxury hotel chain and I’m-”

Alina waved her hand, moving her wrist joint around and around. “Yes, yes, I know all that. But we both know that’s not who you are and what you do.” She smiled a slow smile, reminding Rowan of a fox knowing it was in the hen house without supervision. “At least, that’s my guess,” She added, the smile turning lopsided. “You lose the same amount of money that Garcia did, that I did. To the same person. I have eyes, Madelyn. I’m not blind.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Russian woman rolled her eyes, very slowly. She leaned in, close to Rowan’s ear, so she didn’t have to raise her voice over the music.

“I think you do…Rowan Amelia.”

[Mir]

She gulped down vodka soda, buying herself more time. God, it tasted terrible. But, it did buy her more time.

“That sounds like a great name, for whoever that is.”

Alina’s sly look told Rowan the Russian didn’t believe a word she was saying.

“I’m sure you would feel that way, Rowan Amelia.” Alina’s amused smile shifted into a more serious look. “Does Alex know?” She asked.

“Know that you’re mistaking me for someone else?” She asked, and shook her head. “I would hope not.”

Alina nodded slowly, having gotten her answer it seemed. “I’ll keep your secret, Rowan Amelia.” She reached up and patted Rowan on the head. That was annoying just because, but also Rowan was taller than this woman, making it more patronizing. “So, you’re here for business. What kind of business?”

“I already told you.”

“I thought we dispense with the secrets. What is the saying, just us girls?”

Rowan rolled her eyes and turned to walk away. “I think we’re done here.”

Something flashed in Alina’s eyes, though Rowan couldn’t see it. She grabbed Rowan’s arm, forcing Rowan to decide between making a scene or letting this woman have her way. She could pull out of it easily enough. It was strong but the grip itself was weak. Deciding keeping things peaceful was the nicer way, she turned back.

“Be careful, Rowan Amelia. There are forces at play here that you or the CIA may not understand.”

Rowan twisted her wrist, freeing her hand. “I’m getting tired trying to keep up with your delu-”

“You could get killed.”

Her eyes narrowed and she stepped so she was in front of Alina, and much closer. “Are you threatening me?” She asked.

Alina’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Me? Threaten you?” She asked. “I did no such thing. I stated a fact. You could get killed.”

“A piano could fall through the roof right now and kill me too, what’s your point?”

Alina looked up at the ceiling, turning her head to the side. “The probability of that is very low, Rowan Amelia, I don’t know why you wanted to use that as an example. They must not be very good teachers at Langley.”

Rowan squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop calling me that, and stop saying I work for the CIA. If anything’s going to get me killed, it’s you throwing out baseless…” She trailed off when Alina pulled out her phone and showed Rowan her own picture, in some kind of dossier, clearly stating she was a CIA agent.

“Ah.”

She knew she could pretend that that was made up, photoshopped or something like that. But why bother with the charade at this point? They weren't going to get anywhere until she admitted the truth and they both knew it.

Alina smiled sweetly, putting the phone away and leaning up, kissing Rowan on the cheek. “You think I would say something like this without having my facts straight?” She asked. “Either someone wants you to appear like a CIA agent, or you are one. Did they teach you Russian, these CIA people?” She asked and Rowan nodded slowly. “Well, you’re like a little one I have to teach, what is it, the ropes, yes? Come on, mladshaya sestra, I’ll make sure you don’t die.”

Rowan remembered her Russian.

“I’m not your little sister.”

[Mir]

Despite Rowan’s worries, the rest of the night went without issue. She and Alina had rejoined Alex and the three supermodels and they had danced further. Alex had spent most of the night dancing with her and she’d let him get a little handsy but nothing crazy. Rowan was pretty sure Alex was working an angle but at the same time there was some little point of pride. He could have more than likely tried to work an angle that allowed him to be more personable with the models but he’d chosen to use physical presence with her. She was nowhere near catty enough to take this as some kind of big win.

A small win, maybe. She knew what Riley Reed looked like, after all. And Kenzie Sanders. And Nolan Holloway, my God.

She sat now in her hotel room, alone. She had been pretty sure Alex had tried to use the night as an excuse to break a more intimate physical barrier but that wasn’t going to happen. She was tired from the dancing but had been grateful she’d managed to change out of her suit into her sleeping clothes. The suit, while functional, would probably not have been that comfortable to sleep in, compared with the silks and satins she favored. She had been too tired to try to shower or brush out her hair.

So that had been a bit of a nightmare when she’d woken up. Now, with one leg up on the chair with her, wrapped in the hotel’s bathrobe and blondish brown hair wet from her shower, she scrolled through the Langley database.

She needed to know everything she could about Alexander Garcia and more importantly, Alina Piragova.

Room service had dropped off the croissants and local jam and she ate as she worked, sunlight streaming in through the windows of the hotel room. Her eyes scanned the pages and pages of documentation. Alexander Garcia was indeed a player, not just of women as some of the pictures indicated, but of things that normal people would consider dangerous.

Weapons, intelligence, pretty much everything. Well, not everything. She noted he had no connections to human trafficking. Points in his favor? Maybe even the worst of people still had some kind of conscience.

While she marveled at the taste of this local jam, wanting to find out where she could get some delivered back to her home in D.C., Rowan also looked for information on Piragova. She knew the woman was a former Black Widow. Even if she hadn’t trusted Alex’s word, Alina had all but out and out confirmed it. Whatever dossier Alina had on her, it seemed more than what the CIA had on Alina. They knew who she was and that she had been born in Oymyakon, Russia. One of the coldest places in Russia, which was an accomplishment.

Piragova’s information beyond that was spotty at best and nonexistent at worst. Rowan frowned, reaching for one of the croissant halves. This made things a bit tricky.

Her hand stopped as her cell phone next to the china plate buzzed. Her eyes shifted and she saw it was a text from the hotel’s concierge. She had a package waiting for her downstairs. Those same warm chocolatey brown eyes narrowed. If she was getting something from D.C. or Langley she would have known about it beforehand. She called down and asked for it to be sent up to her room.

Rowan had a laugh at the fleeting thought of whether other people answered their hotel rooms with knives in their bathrobe pockets when room service sent a package up. What an interesting sentence and an interesting thought. No, they didn’t. Because they were normal.

The package itself was pretty nondescript. A rectangular box curiously wrapped in brown wrapping paper. The kind parents used to wrap their kids’ textbooks back in the day. She had a number of fun little tools with her and a quick scan told her there were no explosives in the box, nor any kind of chemicals or dangerous substances. Raising an eyebrow, she took off the wrapping paper and found a smooth box with a latch on one side. The box itself was dark wood, with a glossy lacquer. On the top of it, was a logo she wasn’t quite sure she recognized.

She could tell it was an I Ching hexagram, but she wasn’t sure of the exact meaning.

Army.

That’s what it was. She opened the latch and surveyed the contents and smiled.

With zero contacts on the inside, she had found her access point to the auction. It made sense.

The organization setting up the auction had no way of knowing everyone who was going to be attending and who was seeking access. On top of that, they didn’t know who represented themselves and who represented a specific organization. That was smart, as it kept the information on who was attending more secretive. The instructions they had probably sent out was that everyone needed to buy their way in. Which meant paying some kind of fee somehow.

In a casino, the easiest way to do that was to lose a specific amount of money to a specific person. You were noted as someone seeking access and someone who had paid the requisite amount.

She was in.

[Mir]

The auction wasn’t until the next evening which meant Rowan had time to kill. She had anticipated that gaining entrance would take longer than it actually had. Now, she was going to use a lot of that extra time to her advantage. The contents of the box gave her the instructions on where the event would take place. It was in another part of Madripoor that luckily wasn’t far from where she was staying. She had to know entrance and exit points. She had contacted the CIA substation and gotten them on the task. They would be able to provide her a bit more information than she already had. Considering what she had was pretty much nothing, Rowan was grateful for the help.

They would be coming through with what blueprints they could gather, but that was only part of the picture. Blueprints weren’t worth much in a city that had been built on top of itself multiple times over. Rowan wanted to be boots on the ground and that meant getting up close and personal.

She was dressed in a one piece jumpsuit now, fashionable with many pockets. She blended in pretty decently with the upper class of Madripoor, if she did say so herself. She was definitely not one of them. They had the ability to throw money around like they were throwing out the trash. That was not really an option for her. But she had gotten a response from the Director that he didn’t really care how much money she made at the casinos as long as she didn’t lose the CIA’s money.

Rowan was going to take that as permission and run with it. She already had plans to go back tonight, assuming she got all her homework done. She said a silent thanks to her Grandma who had taught her to count cards when she had been a young child. Grandma Chapman had always had a thing for the local casinos as dumpy as they were. She had been a magician, but she’d always had a few rules. One of them was to play with small sums and win small sums. There was no need to be greedy in life.

The other was that all the money got donated to the church.

Rowan wasn’t entirely sure she agreed with that part, but it had made Grandma feel that she was doing something of a civil service. The casinos didn’t need the money that badly but people in the community did. Hell some of those people were addicts who were losing their money to the casino in the first place. At least now they had someone to turn to.

Regardless of Grandma’s ideals, she had taught Rowan while babysitting her, watching over her while she crocheted. Rowan had been thrilled by the hats she’d gotten for the winter and with the knowledge on how to figure out better what cards could be coming next.

While this had been much more useful in blackjack than poker, it had created a curiosity in the young Rowan Chapman of how to beat the system. Poker was about beating the people around you, learning their tells. Developing that skill had helped Rowan once she’d gotten to the CIA. Reading people was the name of the game.

So first, get the homework done, then get a headstart on tackling her mortgage.

That was why she was walking around the auction venue. The venue was part of another hotel. From what she could gather from the materials, the auction was going to be a silent auction. Technically, you could participate in the auction without being present. She wondered if there would be people exercising that option.

She made a note of the hotel staff’s uniforms. They were dark blue with silver trim. Always good to know these things ahead of time. Rowan wasn’t sure if she could effectively ape the uniform if need be. Not with what she had with her clothing wise. Maybe there was a way though, she’d spend a little time trying to brainstorm.

Rowan’s phone alerted her that the substation had gathered the information she had requested. She checked her watch, figuring she had enough time to finish up here and get to the substation. Things were going well.

“Madelyn.”

She turned at the sound of her alias. She smiled, seeing Alex walking up to her. He wore a cornflower blue suit with a blue and white pinstriped suit. No tie, but she noted the dark brown belt and matching brown dress shoes. A reddish purple silk pocket square completed the look. She had to admit, the man dressed very well. Like credit where it’s due. There was definitely something up about him, something he was hiding. But style wasn’t one of those things.

“Alex,” She said, giving him a smile.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. “I thought you were staying in the hotel the casino is part of.”

She shrugged. “Yeah but I figured what the hell take in some sights and what not.” She looked around. “Also, there are a few shops here I was interested in looking at.”

“Which ones?” He asked.

She wracked her brain since she had thrown that out for a little bit more cover. “Oh, uh there’s this one jewelry store that looked interesting.”

He smiled. “Let’s go together. I’d love to see what interests you.”

Looked like her trip to the substation was going to be delayed.

[Mir]

Rowan was not the type of woman to be distracted or enamored with overpriced baubles. Well, that wasn’t quite the truth. She absolutely was that type of woman. But she had also been raised with a good head on her shoulders and a savvy ability to properly set and stick to a budget. She knew what was within reach and she knew where her sights were set. There was something to be said for the ornateness and level of cost of the jewelry in this establishment. As much as she knew she would love them all, the prices would be prohibitive. Rowan was definitely intrigued by the sheer (non-extraditable) wealth of Madripoor. As the two of them walked into the high end boutique, her mind flashed to the resale and antiques store near where she’d grown up.

A small place, the establishment was run by pretty homey people and the clientele were much the same. There was a particular old ring setting they had she had always loved as a kid. Grandma Chapman had liked taking her there and Rowan had dug all the old stuff.

But she wondered if any piece from that store would be considered nice enough for this place.

The boutique was filled with diamonds and other precious stones. The intricate work on the different pieces made her eyes widen. Before they were able to really see anything, a slim brunette walked up to them, wearing a pattern viscose blouse and long black slacks. The jewelry she wore seemed a few steps down from this establishment but still quite nice. “Good morning, may I help you?” She asked, her eyes shifting between Alex and Rowan. She clearly recognized Alex, but didn’t recognize Rowan.

Rowan wondered if she thought they were together. “I think we’re just browsing,” Rowan replied.

“For necklaces,” Alex added, to be helpful, of course.

Her fingers almost came up, unbidden to her neck. For the purposes of this mission, Rowan had brought a few pieces with her but she mainly had costume jewelry with her. However, for her day to day for this, she wasn’t wearing her normal set of jewelry. Quite difficult to explain walking around wearing a St. Rowan Medal, among other things. So as it stood, her neck was bare at this moment.

“Perhaps we can bring a few pieces for you to try?” The woman asked, looking at Rowan.

Rowan shook her head. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Nonsense,” Alex replied. “We’d love to have Madelyn try on a few things.”

The woman nodded and left to gather a few options.

“We really don’t need to do this,” Rowan said.

“Your eyes haven’t stopped looking around this place,” Alex noted. “At least try on a few things.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “Who knows, maybe you’ll see something you like enough to get.”

She laughed. “Doubtful. Everything here is way out of my price range.” She realized at that moment, she didn’t know if Alex knew her cover job was just that, a cover. Had Alina told him something?

Alex stepped over to her, leaning in. He acted with an air of familiarity. They had been closer on the dance floor the previous night, but there was something different here. One of his hands found the small of her back. Definitely some sense of familiarity.

“We can always broaden your horizons.”

Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. And what was that about?

“Alex, you’ve got to stop hitting on me,” Rowan said.

“Why?”

She turned her head to the left, so she could see him out of her left side. Rowan let her mouth curve upward.

“I might like it too much.”