If Looks Could Kill (3 page)

“Unless he had something world-class to hide,” Theresa replied. “So what's the second question?”

“The second question is even simpler.”

“Yeah?”

A smile crept onto Jo's face. “Why aren't we hauling buns down to the waterfront to check out that warehouse?”

•  •  •

Caylin huffed and puffed and pedaled. Normally a ten-mile bike ride wouldn't have been that big a deal for her. But add a big backpack to the equation and the steep hills of the Kinh-Sanh countryside, and Caylin was beat.

The road was paved, but narrow and winding. No cars passed her. In fact, once she left the city limits, she didn't see a single soul. It was creepy.

Finally a massive ten-foot wall came into view up ahead. But the wall was just the beginning. The setting sun
bathed the whole valley in a deep orange light, reflecting off the wall and the buildings inside it. The compound was set off the road, down a long driveway. This had to be Lucien's place. What else could it be? It was stunning!

In the center of the compound was a temple. It was a large, pyramidlike building made of stone and glass, which gave it a sort of ancient-yet-modern feel. Many buildings sprouted up around it, but the temple was the main attraction. From the size of the place, it looked like it could support several hundred people, no problem.

“Here goes nothing,” Caylin muttered.

She took a deep breath and pedaled down the driveway to the main gate—two huge wooden doors that must have been barred from the inside. She saw no signs of life.

“Anybody home?” she whispered. She dismounted her bike, stretched, and walked toward the gate.

No doorbell. Oh, well. There was a small door cut into the gate at eye level. Caylin knocked on it.

Seconds passed. She heard nothing.

She knocked again.

Uh-oh, she thought. What kind of a lame spy would
she be if she couldn't even get someone to answer the door!

Then as she raised her fist to knock again, the little square door popped open. A gruff-looking Asian man with a shaved head stared out at her. He said something she couldn't understand.

“Uh, hi!” she piped up in her best airhead English. “I'm from Omaha, Nebraska, and I'd like to see Luscious Lucien West, please!”

The man cocked an eyebrow and slammed the little door shut.

Great.

Caylin rapped on the door again. Harder this time. Time to go into Academy Award mode.

The same man's face appeared. Caylin waved dorkily.

“Uh, hi again. I don't think you understood me before,” she said, tossing her long blond hair over her shoulder. “I'd like to come in. See, I came all the way from Omaha, Nebraska, to see Luscious Lucien West. It would mean so much if you could just close that little door and open the big door so I can come in. Would that be okay?”

“Go eat a Big Mac, you silly American bimbo,” the man growled.

Caylin's jaw dropped. “Bim . . . um, I'm sorry, but I could've sworn you just called me a
silly American bimbo
.”

The man grinned. “Smart girl.”

Caylin's eyes narrowed as she smiled back. “I thought so. Okay, then.” She threw up her arms and turned back to her bike. “I guess I'll have to take all this cash somewhere else. Maybe to a casino in Thailand or something.”

“Cash?” came the voice from the little door.

Gotcha.

Caylin turned around. “
Cash.
A donation for Lucien's cause. I'd really hoped to deliver it in person. I hear that this is the place to be, at least in this time zone.”

The man leered, sizing her up. “Let me see.”

Caylin smiled and unzipped a side pocket of her backpack. She pulled back the flap, exposing a thick wad of U.S. currency. Cold, hard cash.

The man's eyes widened. “Those hundreds?”

“Yeah. Freshly printed and everything. It's always weird seeing new bills. They're so flat and crisp with no creases
or wrinkles. They're almost like Monopoly bills, don't you think?”

But the man was gone from the window.

Caylin quickly rezipped her backpack, put it back on, and tensed up, preparing for the worst. These people could do whatever they wanted out here in the middle of nowhere. Mug her. Rip her off. She had to be ready for anything.

But the big wooden doors only gave a loud thump.

Then they opened wide.

“It really is a beautiful city,” Theresa remarked as she and Jo made their way toward the waterfront.

She tilted back her head as a breeze lifted her hair from her neck and looked around. The town had everything a visitor could want, from restaurants to nightclubs to tour guides, all of them polished and open and friendly. But still, Kinh-Sanh was very much a country of East Asia, with traditional historic landmarks and a population that relied more on the bicycle than any other mode of transportation.

“It is beautiful,” Jo agreed, hopping out of the way as a guy on a racing bike flew by. “But . . . I dunno.”

“What?” Theresa asked.

“It just seems
too
nice,” Jo replied, shrugging. “Like artificial nice. Even in the nicest parts of New York you still see the occasional homeless person. Not here. It almost
seems too perfect. Like Disney World.” She pointed to the street itself. “Check it out. No trash. Not even a cigarette butt. I mean, no place is
that
clean.”

“That's a first,” Theresa said with a laugh.

“What?”

“You're actually criticizing a place for being
too
nice.”

“Very funny,” Jo said, waving her off. “Which way's the warehouse?”

“We make a left at the next corner,” Theresa replied, pointing. She gazed around her, noticing the locals passing by on their bikes. They would stare—but not so long as to be impolite. “Are we sticking out like the American sore thumbs that we are or what?”

“I know,” Jo replied, leaning in close. “So much for being inconspicuous.”

They made the left at the next corner. Within a few blocks the scenery started to change. Nightclubs became bars. Restaurants became tattoo parlors. And the average passerby became, well, more fragrant.

“Did you get a whiff of that guy with the beard?” Jo whispered, waving her hand in front of her nose. “Ugh!”

“Shhh,” Theresa warned. “Remember—we're foreigners. You don't want to offend anyone.”

“Then we shouldn't have showered,” Jo replied, holding out her arms to show off her black Armani jacket and good taste. “We smell too good.”

Theresa smirked. “You're a regular stand-up comedian.”

As the sun set, the neighborhood gradually took on the odor of dead fish. Then the Spy Girls got their first glimpse of the harbor. Waves lapped against the docks, and buoy bells clanked out on the water. Massive cargo ships dominated the horizon, and seagulls battled over fish in midair.

“Is that the warehouse?” Jo asked, gesturing at a dark building that took up an entire block.

“It should be.” Theresa nodded. “Let's check it out.”

As they approached, Theresa noted that the area was strangely deserted. Maybe all the thirsty sailors had already found their dives of choice.

The warehouse loomed above. Most of the windows had wooden planks sloppily nailed over them. The bricks were grimy and weathered by the salt air, but the main
doors of the place were recently repainted in a shiny green. Of course, the mondo padlock was shiny and new.

A gilded sign hung next to the main doors. In several languages it said: Future Site of the Lucien West Recreational Facility for Children.

“Awww, how sweet of him,” Jo muttered.

“ ‘Recreational facility,' huh?” Theresa scoffed. “We'll see about that.”

•  •  •

The guard with the shaved head led Caylin across a huge courtyard. The compound was immaculate—from the new buildings surrounding the main temple, to the manicured lawns and gardens, to the gravel paths that crunched under their feet. All of it surrounded by a ten-foot stone wall topped with steel spikes.

Why would a religious sect need spikes on their wall? Caylin wondered. There didn't seem to be much riffraff to keep out. Was it to keep members in?

Before Caylin could decide, a girl approached her. She wore plain white pants and a matching long-sleeve shirt—almost like sweats, but perfectly clean. Little white
slippers, too. Her light brown hair was pulled back from her face, and when she got close enough, Caylin saw that her eyes were jade green.

“Hi!” she said, shaking Caylin's hand. “I'm Jenny. Welcome to paradise.”

“Paradise, huh?” Caylin replied, introducing herself and noting that Jenny was as American as apple pie. She was probably a cheerleader in a past life.

“You'll see,” Jenny assured her. “You're American, too?”

Caylin nodded as Jenny took her by the arm and led her forward. The shaved-head guard disappeared. “I'm from Omaha. That's in Nebraska.”

“I know. I'm from Bloomfield, Illinois,” Jenny said with a sweet smile. “Which makes us practically neighbors.”

Caylin grinned back. So, is Jenny the official hostess? she wondered. She seemed perfect for the job. There wasn't an inkling of stress in the girl's manner.

Caylin gazed in wonder at the layout. “This place is . . .”

“Amazing, yeah. You'll get to know your way around in no time. And you'll be so happy here. We all are.”

Caylin blinked. “Really?”

“Don't sound so surprised,” Jenny said with a laugh. She patted Caylin's arm gently. “You had to have been lost enough to want to find this place, right?”

“I guess so,” Caylin said, casting down her gaze—as if to say that her whole life was meaningless up to this moment. “It took so long to get here.”

“Well, you found us,” Jenny replied softly. Her arm pat had become hand holding. “And I swear that you won't regret coming here, Caylin. Lucien has changed our lives.”

Caylin gazed into Jenny's eyes, searching for sarcasm or insincerity. She found none. She means it. She really means it, Caylin thought.

Jenny sighed dreamily. “Before, it was all . . . I don't know, just one sleazy thing after another out there. I mean in the West. TV was depressing. Talk shows and
The Office
repeats. School was depressing. Like, I wasn't learning anything, you know?”

“Believe me,” Caylin replied earnestly. “I know.”

Jenny nodded vigorously. “Yeah, it was all the same, right? I mean, what was I going to do when I got out of college? Go to work for some faceless corporation that
wouldn't even pay me as much as a man in the same job? I had enough. I said ‘when.' ”

Caylin smiled. “I totally know what you mean. Coming to East Asia can be a life-altering experience. You see things a little differently. But I have to be honest. I do miss
The Office
a little.”

Jenny laughed. “That'll pass. Pretty soon you won't miss anything. The gardens and the mountains will be more than enough entertainment. And Lucien's gatherings are like the Super Bowl every week. You'll see.”

“How many people are here?” Caylin asked, noting the perfect silence all around them.

“Seventy-two,” Jenny declared proudly. “Everybody's from everywhere. The United States, Europe, Asia. The word is out on Lucien, and the quality of people is just great. I love them all. We're like a big family.”

“Cool. I can't wait to meet them.” And find out how brainwashed they are, Caylin thought.

“I've been here just over a year,” Jenny continued. “I'm sort of a senior member. I'll be your mentor during your indoctrination period. But feel free to ask any of
the other members anything. There are no secrets here.”

I'll be the judge of that, Caylin thought. “Sounds good to me.”

Jenny nodded, then grinned a little too enthusiastically. “So . . . I hear that you have a small donation for the cause?”

Caylin grinned back. “Yeah,” she replied, unshouldering her pack and unzipping the money pocket. She flashed the bills. “But I don't know. . . . Do you think it's enough?”

Jenny's slack jaw said it all. But she recovered nicely, smiling away. “I'm sure Lucien will be very grateful. Unfortunately money is a necessary part of what he's creating here. Without it we'd be treated as just another hippie cult. If you just give it to me, I'll make sure—”

“Actually,” Caylin cut her off, closing the pack, “I was hoping to give this to him personally.”

Jenny's expression darkened slightly, an abrupt shift. “Well . . . that's not usually how it's done.”

“Oh, please, Jenny?” Caylin whined. “I came all this way. And if it's as great as everyone says it is, I can help
out even more. I turned eighteen a few months ago, and I control my trust fund now. There'd be a lot more where this came from. I don't mean to be a skeptic, but I'm afraid that Lucien is the one who will have to convince me.”

“I don't know. . . . Lucien's a very busy man.”

“
Pretty
please?” Caylin's tone was so sweet, she thought she might puke.

Jenny nodded reluctantly, then finally smiled.

“I understand, Caylin. I'll see what I can do. Wait here.”

•  •  •

“That padlock weighs more than my makeup kit,” Jo grumbled. “Any ideas how we're going to open it?”

“Just one,” Theresa replied, looking over her shoulder to make sure the alley was still deserted. The sun was quickly setting, and the light was growing rusty and dim. She slipped a hand inside a hidden pocket, pulled out her reading glasses, and put them on.

“You going to read me a bedtime story?” Jo asked.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you're too cynical, Jo?” Theresa asked, examining the lock.