The-Forgetful-Spy-Santiago Read online

  Chapter 2

  Columbia, South America, 2 months later

  “I’m going to fuck the whore in the blue dress tonight.” Luis Montoya announced. As second in command and top security man to the incumbent drug lord, Raoul Ortega, Luis could do exactly as he pleased. He stared over Colin’s shoulder to the backyard patio at the bevy of prostitutes milling around the luxurious outdoor pool. “Did you see her when she came in?”

  Colin nodded even though he had no idea to whom Luis referred. He’d seen fifty women in any number of blue dresses at tonight’s gala extravaganza to celebrate Raoul Ortega’s recent ascension to power.

  “Miguel,” Luis called to the staff bartender with a grin. “Set Tommy up with a drink, my treat.”

  The blank-faced Miguel strolled from the far end of the carved leather and wood bar and placed a short, squat glass in front of Colin. He didn’t laugh at Luis’ joke. It was an open bar. In fact, it was Raoul’s treat.

  Colin was known here as Tommy Callahan. He did low level grunt work for Luis. Tonight was his last night on this long assignment. Tomorrow the party would be over and all those who worked for Raoul Ortega would be in jail. Colin couldn’t wait.

  “After the fireworks, I’m going to find her and fuck her until she forgets every other man she’s ever been with.” Luis downed another shot of tequila. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. The flash of his silver lighter caught Colin’s eye. There was a figure of a howling timber wolf etched on one side with the words ‘El Lobo’ underneath. The wolf.

  Colin thought it was a very unoriginal reference.

  “You should find a whore for yourself, Tommy.” Luis drained his glass and slapped it to the counter as a curl of gray smoke rose above his head. Miguel refilled it immediately. “Go ahead. Pick out a girl, my treat.” He laughed, because again, it was really Raoul’s treat.

  “Thanks, boss, I’ll look around for one.” Colin sank onto the barstool chair eager to drink to his own personal success. His drinking companion, Luis Montoya, would not share his enthusiasm over what he’d accomplished.

  The tequila offered was a very top-shelf brand and Colin was mere hours away from finishing up this successful undercover mission. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have time to sample the women at tonight’s party. He’d be gone before the planned midnight fireworks display.

  By this time tomorrow he’d be back in the States. If he could swing it, he’d be drinking with his ‘real’ friends. The day after that, he’d hopefully resume his secret spy duties in America. Anticipation coursed through his veins. He couldn’t wait to leave this drug-scourged existence. It was time to shed his most recent undercover identity, Tommy Callahan, gofer extraordinaire to Luis Montoya and his boss Raoul Ortega, drug lord extraordinaire.

  Luis lifted his glass in toast. “Here’s to good business, Tommy.”

  “Salud!” Colin raised the glass, tapping it once to Luis’ and sucked down the amber alcohol. He hated tequila, much preferring Irish whiskey when he drank socially, but when in Columbia…

  “You’ve done a good job for me since you’ve been here. Tomorrow things will change for the better, you’ll see.” Luis motioned for the bartender to fill Colin’s glass again.

  “Sir?” Miguel’s vacant expression remained in place as he spoke and poured another shot in Colin’s glass. “Would you mind having one of your men check the back door behind the kitchen?” Miguel glanced at Colin then back at Luis. “I noticed one of the guests heading there a few minutes ago. He hasn’t returned.”

  Luis nodded and stubbed out the spent cigarette in the red dragon shaped ceramic ashtray on the bar. “You mind checking it out, Tommy? I’ve got to go look for a blue dress.”

  The bartender slid his dispassionate gaze from Luis to Colin.

  “Sure thing.” Colin nodded, downed the tequila shot in one swallow as he slid off the barstool and headed to the kitchen by way of the swinging door next to the far end of the bar.

  He paused at the metal door and called over his shoulder, “Have fun once you find that blue dress.”

  Luis smiled and lifted his glass as Colin disappeared through the doors. He figured it was the last time Luis would get laid by a woman until he was out of prison. Glancing at his watch, Colin cursed the second shot which made his vision blurry. He squinted to focus. Two minutes after ten o’clock.

  Just less than two hours left in this identity. He entered the hallway leading to the kitchen as the door swung shut behind him. Dropping his arm after pushing through the swinging door, Colin shuddered as his stomach cramped sending him staggering into the wall. The sudden tunnel vision enveloped him before he could take a breath. He slid to his knees, pitching forward onto the terra cotta tiles wondering if he was about to die. The cramps in his midsection subsided marginally, but the ability to remain conscious did not.

  Compromised on his last day. Damn it. The only remaining question was whether he would die from the poison or if he’d wake up in the soundproof part of Raoul’s basement.

  Colin sent up one last plea for death as blackness engulfed him.

  * * * *

  Rachel Miles eased the door closed to the second floor study, assured from careful observation that she was alone. The enormous party downstairs was in full swing, leaving her plenty of time to steal the information she was here to collect.

  Clicking the lock in place, she crossed the room to hack into the computer sitting on the ornately carved wooden desk. Along the way, she glanced at the room’s masculine dark reds and darker browns along with the decorator’s heavy-handed Spanish matador art influence. The bright style was probably considered a success of color and art for a Columbian drug lord. Rachel, however, easily ignored the blatant beautification in favor of her task.

  Laying her petite, silver beaded purse on the desk, Rachel hiked up her dress to retrieve the device hidden in a special pocket attached to the thong underwear nestled between her legs. It was the only place to hide the small gadget without fear of its discovery during the standard body frisk and personal search required to enter the party tonight.

  Raoul didn’t trust anyone to enter without first being felt up. With her mission tonight to steal all his contact information and supply routes, he was perhaps vindicated. The security men Raoul trusted to keep spies out were not competent enough to stop her.

  The ice blue dress she wore clung so tightly to her body there wasn’t a single place other than her underwear to hide anything anyway. The guard assigned to frisk her tonight had squeezed her breasts repeatedly as a smirk shaped his mouth. He had also grabbed her ass with both hands, rubbed his crotch against her once or twice, but didn’t thankfully stick his hand between her legs. As part of her cover as a prostitute for the evening, she’d winked at him and smiled instead of going with her first instinct, which was to kick his balls to his ribcage.

  The guard had leered at her in return when she smiled. He slapped her butt as she edged away, but she hadn’t been singled out as he had done the exact thing to every other girl he’d frisked. It was maybe the closest he’d come to getting laid tonight.

  Shrugging aside the memories of her arrival, her dress still hiked to her thighs, Rachel reached for the device in the specially created hidden pocket. It promptly snagged on her undies and wouldn’t release. She pulled harder, but it simply wouldn’t budge. Sighing deeply, she slid her fingers up to her waist and removed her panties entirely. The metal prongs at the end of the device were hopelessly and permanently attached to the frayed silk.

  Conscious of her time constraints she placed the device next to the computer port and accessed the computer. Luckily, the wireless transmitter didn’t need to be inserted into the computer. She entered the user ID and password she’d memorized for this mission. Clicking on the appropriate icon, the program she sought to copy opened without incident. The device on the desk, still attached to her panties, flared to life with a hum and a green light indicating it was working.

  “Red Angel, do you cop
y.” The radio buzzed to life in her ear vibrating against the fine hairs. Physically she didn’t react, as she’d been trained, but her heart skipped a beat, as it did every single time. She hadn’t gotten the hang of having someone besides her own annoying subconscious talking in her head.

  “Copy, Dark Spirit.” Rachel responded to her partner, Francine “Frankie” Belle.

  “Status?”

  “Working on it.” Sighing, Rachel wondered why it seemed like she was constantly being tested while in the field. She’d been a fully certified Protocol spy for over a year. However, she’d yet to undergo a mission unaccompanied.

  “How much longer?”

  “Less than ten seconds. You should start receiving images any moment.”

  “Copy that.” The double click of Frankie’s radio signing off meant Rachel was alone with her thoughts again.

  While she didn’t have a problem partnering with Frankie, she often wondered why her boss, Paul Kelly, didn’t trust that she was ready for solo missions.

  Glancing at her underwear bunched up on the desk as the device copied, compiled and transmitted the information made her roll her eyes to the ceiling and heave a deep sigh. Although her missions had always been labeled completely successful, they were not without challenges, and most likely why she wasn’t trusted to go alone.

  Going commando for tonight’s mission was a small price to pay. Stealing Raoul’s files to place immediately into her boss’s hands without a trace was a job rife with difficulties. At least tonight’s only casualty would be her panties and not a person.

  Two months ago she’d kept her underwear on, but battled with an employee who’d unexpectedly come back to the office she was in the middle of robbing. He’d caught her red-handed. The sly look in his eyes, as he’d locked the door to prevent her escape, had quickly changed to one of perverted lust.

  “Suck my cock and I’ll let you go,” he’d said with a smarmy smile. Not giving her another moment to consider an affirmative answer he’d crossed the room quickly.

  Shifting her gaze to his tenting fly as he neared, she’d pulled the gun out of the waistband at the small of her back and threatened him instead of shooting him outright like she’d been trained. She’d hesitated, losing the element of surprise. He’d laughed and lunged for the gun. They wrestled for control of her weapon and it discharged. The shot to his heart and accompanying spray of blood ended the disturbing turn of events.

  Ultimately, that had been considered a successful mission as well. His death didn’t eat at her soul like she thought it should have. Perhaps if he hadn’t been about to force her to ‘suck his cock’ as punishment for the intrusion, she might have been more upset at having killed him.

  Frankie had informed her later at the mission-conclusion briefing that a Protocol clean-up crew made the shooting look like a suicide. Her gun had been confiscated, serial numbers filed off and left at the scene fastened securely in the culprit’s hand. They also implicated him in an embezzlement scheme gone bad as a reason for why he’d done himself in.

  Ironically, after surveying the dead man’s office, the clean-up crew had discovered that was the true reason he’d been working late that night and caught her.

  Ignoring the pinch of guilt at taking his life, Rachel let go of her memories and focused back on the mission at hand. Getting caught stealing Raoul Ortega’s files would certainly result in more than any cock sucking on her part.

  The flashing green light signaled the process was complete. Rachel closed down the program leaving the computer exactly as she’d found it. As planned, she ran the inside front hem of her dress over the keys to eliminate any prints and grabbed the device still attached to her panties.

  “Dark Spirit, this is Red Angel. Transmission is complete. Do you have it all?”

  “Copy that.”

  “What’s my egress?”

  “Hold on.”

  Rachel couldn’t detach the device from the skimpy material so she shoved the entire mass into her tiny evening purse. The tech scientists at Protocol headquarters would have to detach the device from the silk. They’d probably get a good giggle out of it and as a consequence she’d never be allowed to go on missions alone.

  “Too much security on the first floor. Use egress plan B. Do not engage,” Frankie’s soothing voice whispered in her ear.

  “Copy. Egress plan B. Stealth mode.”

  “See you at the rendezvous point in forty minutes, Red Angel. Good job. Dark Spirit out.”

  Rachel noted the time on her fancy gold bracelet watch and smiled at Frankie’s customary ‘good job’ remark. “Thanks. Forty minutes, check. Red Angel out.”

  She made her way back across the room to the door. The spiky heels of her shoes had made divots in the thick rug. She slipped her shoes off and quickly backtracked, toeing the holes with her bare feet to eliminate her trail.

  The naughty feel of going without underwear made her wish she had a regular sex partner to share ‘benefits’ with once she returned to base. It was unlikely, given that she only spent time at Protocol headquarters either getting ready to deploy on missions, planning for the next mission or training with the other Protocol agents.

  Fraternization with co-workers was prohibited. Besides the others were all women. She desired a man. One with a big cock would be nice, although as the air breezed up to caress her inner thighs, she decided she wouldn’t even turn down a little cock if it was offered.

  The dress she wore tonight sported a hip high slit on one side for easy access. She slipped her shoes back on, careful not to leave marks in the carpet. The continued rush of open air between her legs with each step made her remember it had been a long time since she’d participated in any carnal activities.

  Her escape from the den was unhindered. Making her way to the servant’s quarters’ stairs was equally effortless.

  Rachel climbed the uncarpeted wooden steps gingerly toe testing for squeaky treads as she went along. She ascended to the top step without a single sound. Pausing a moment to balance, she peeked around the edge to survey the hallway. Her egress was down the long hall where the servant’s room doors were lined up like soldiers at attention.

  From her study of the house blueprints during mission planning, she knew the door at the end of the hall directly to her right was a small broom closet.

  Entering the hall she counted the doors on the right hand side. The one third from the end was the plan ‘B’ egress route she intended to take. She strolled quietly along the polished length of hardwood floor and made it halfway to her destination when the door to the room she headed for suddenly opened. She froze only a millisecond before backpedaling a step and twisting to run the other way.

  The stairs were her best option, unless it was the planned exit of whoever had opened the door to the room she had almost entered.

  Heart hammering in her chest at the idea of being caught by one of Raoul Ortega’s thugs and visions of the rumored torture chamber housed in the compound’s basement, Rachel sped her pumping legs faster.

  A man’s voice echoed down the expanse behind her, though she only heard three frightening words. Any further conversation was lost in the pulse-pounding fury of her unplanned escape.

  * * * *

  Colin wasn’t dead.

  Fuck.

  He opened his eyes a crack expecting to see the gray cinderblock walls of the basement. Raoul had built the ‘information room’, as he’d called it, complete with soundproofed walls. During his short time here, Colin had heard endless tales of the many victims taken inside the room as whole men. All had come out less than men, if the grisly rumors were to be believed.

  Widening his gaze didn’t help. The diffused light in the room cast shadows, but didn’t illuminate anything. It was too dark to see. Damn it. Where was he?

  He sucked in a deep breath filling his lungs. It didn’t smell like the blood, sweat and tears from the previous victims of Raoul’s wrath. Where else would Raoul put him if not the information ro
om? Straining his eyes, Colin’s relief was short-lived. Wherever he was, someone was in the room with him.

  A light snapped on, showering the room in enough radiance to cause an ache between his eyes. Squinting in pain, he scanned the room. Through the glow of light, he found the angry expression of Miguel, the bartender from downstairs.

  Colin blinked a couple of times to adjust to the light and sent a questioning glare to his captor. Miguel turned his back and crossed the room to sit in a chair positioned near the door of the small bedroom he occupied. Colin rested on the bed.

  Another more disturbing realization became immediately apparent. He couldn’t move. Lifting his head he understood the problem immediately.

  “Fuck! Why handcuffs, damn it?” He tugged at the restraints attached to a sturdy iron-spindled headboard. Ropes secured his ankles to the matching iron-spindled footboard making movement a luxury. He didn’t understand why he was bound to a bed and not in the basement if they’d discovered he was an undercover agent.

  Miguel stared at him for a long while without answering. “Serena wants you that way,” he finally said. The hatred in his tone was one that Colin recognized as jealousy.

  Tugging at the restraints was pointless, but Colin yanked as hard as he could anyway. “Let me go. You can have Serena. I don’t want her.”

  “She don’t want me. She wants you. Tonight.” Miguel shook his head as if in disbelief that his precious Serena was interested in Colin. “Now that you’re awake I’ll go tell her you’re ready for her.”

  “No. Wait. Raoul will torture me to death if I screw around with his only daughter.”

  Miguel sneered in response. His attitude didn’t bode well for friendly compound camaraderie either. Everyone knew what happened if you screwed with Serena. It was a one-way ticket to an expedient dirt nap by way of the basement torture room.

  Serena Ortega liked men. She liked fucking them. Once she grew tired of her stud for the week, a hint would be dropped to Raoul and the stud was never seen again. Ever.