The Hunted Assassin (22 page)

The atmosphere was similar to out front, but privacy and seclusion were prevalent. She continued leading the couple to the first unoccupied booth and motioned them in. Once they were in the booth and sitting next to each other on a tall back leather sofa, Misty stepped in and pulled the drapes closed.

The music could still be heard from out in the club, but it was much more subdued, allowing conversations to be carried out with ease.

“Okay, you’ve paid for one private dance, which lasts the length of one song. If you’d like to extend the dance, feel free to tap my pendant any time during the performance. Also, touching is frowned upon,” she said, first looking at Jaxon and then shifting her gaze to Camille, “but I won’t tell if you don’t.”

The previous song ended, and the next track started up. Just as the rhythm began to vibrate through the floor, Misty began writhing about. Within moments, her mini-dress had dropped to the floor, exposing sparkling body glitter that had been rubbed on her breasts. She turned around and bent over at the waist, touching her hands on the floor and shaking her bare butt in sync with the music.

Camille leaned over and whispered into Jaxon’s ear. “Um, do you think we should stop her, and ask about the real reason why we’re here?”

Jaxon chuckled. “What? And deprive her of performing her civic duty? She’s a paid woman, Cam. We should wait—”

Camille shoved her elbow into Jaxon’s rib cage, interrupting his chauvinistic thoughts before regrettable words were said.

“Ouch, I mean, Misty. As wonderful of a job as you’re doing here, can we stop you for just a moment?” Jaxon asked.

Misty stopped her gyrations and turned to look at them quizzically. “It’s your dime, mister.”

“It’s just that, our real reason for bringing you back here was to see if we could, I don’t know, score a little medicinal entertainment?” Jaxon asked.

“What makes you think I have anything to sell?” Misty asked as she stood in front of them, completely naked save for her high-heeled shoes.

“Obviously, we’d never assume that you’d be the seller,” Camille said as she reached out and caressed the side of Misty’s thigh. “But if you could point us in the right direction, to someone who might have what we’re looking for, I’m sure we could thank you properly.” Camille slid her hand up and across Misty’s abdomen, then in between her ample breasts, before she flicked her pendant.

Misty moaned softly. “Ooh. I like how you think, sexy woman. What is it that you’re looking for? I might know someone that can help you two out.”

“We’d like some Whitetail. Some for now and enough to bring home for later,” Jaxon said, fighting the erotic distraction from all the touching between Camille and Misty.

Misty’s enthusiastic smile and flirtatious demeanor changed instantly. Frown lines deepened on her face and she took a step back, dropping a hand in front of her pelvis as if to say
this entry is closed
. “I’m sorry. I … know nothing about that. Perhaps you two should look someplace else.”

Before they could protest, Misty picked up her dress and bolted from the private booth.

“What do you suppose that was all about?” Camille asked.

Jaxon shrugged. “Beats me. She seemed pretty shaken up at just hearing the name. If I had to guess, she’s probably running out there right now, telling some bouncer named Guido that we’ve been inappropriate with her. I think we should get out of here while we still can.”

“Agreed,” Camille said, stepping out of the private booth.

Once past the velvet curtain, they headed straight for the exit, not even pausing to see where Misty might have gone.

35

Francisco and Oliver walked into the control room of the ship and found Jaxon and Camille sitting next to each other on the flight couch.

“You two have any luck?” Jaxon asked.

“That’s a negative, boss,” Oliver said. “Found just one dealer in the entire two hours we were there, and he clammed up like a nervous oyster the minute we said Whitetail.”

A curious look passed over Jaxon’s face. “Strangely, same result with us. We had a lead on a seller, but as soon as we mentioned what we were looking for, she ran out of the private booth as if it was on fire.”

Oliver’s brow rose. “Private booth? Are you holding out on us, boss?”

“Not at all. Just running down our best options. Let’s undock and get out of here, and then we’ll regroup.”

The team dispersed, and minutes later, they released the docking clamps and headed for their next stop.

“We’re about two hours away,” Oliver said as he engaged the autopilot.

“Great. Let’s gather on the Observation Deck and discuss the next station,” Jaxon said before he and Camille left the cockpit.

Thirty minutes into the flight, the team had concluded their abbreviated mission briefing and were each researching information at their own computer terminals. As the objective remained the same—gain information on Whitetail—the discussion was cut short and independent research prevailed. As Jaxon read through various details and capabilities of Beta Station, the ship’s sensors picked up a disturbance directly in the path of the ship.

“Hey, boss. What do you make of this?” Oliver asked.

Jaxon closed the file he was reading and brought up the ship’s sensor array. On the display, there were a series of small spacecraft, around seven in the thirty-meter range, directly in their path.

“Can you tell who they are?”

Oliver tapped at his control panel. “No, sir. It’s like they’re ghosts. No information whatsoever about their origination or their class.”

“Just plot a new course. We don’t need any more trouble right now,” Jaxon said. “Is the stealth device still active, babe … Cam?”

All eyes focused on Jaxon as the flight deck drew quiet. Jaxon could feel his skin heat up because of his Freudian slip.

“Yes, puddin’,” Camille said with sass. “The code randomizer that Clay and I created is working as planned.”

Jaxon swallowed hard. It wasn’t like him to flub any part of the mission, but this was no ordinary situation. Having Camille thrust back into his life was something that he’d never have anticipated in his wildest dreams.

“All right. I’ll be in my quarters until we arrive if anyone needs me.” Jaxon stood and practically ran out of the control room to avoid any uncomfortable questioning.

Beep, beep.

Jaxon was lying on his bunk, reviewing Camille’s personnel file for the fiftieth time, when the intercom call interrupted him.

“Go ahead,” Jaxon said, flicking the switch on the wall panel.

“Hey, boss? We’ve got a small problem up here. Care to join us?” Oliver asked.

Jaxon closed the file on his commPad when he saw the time. They were twenty minutes out, according to Oliver’s latest estimate. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, dropping the tablet to his bunk. He was thankful for the distraction, as he was beginning to think his obsession with Cam was verging on the unhealthy side. He slipped his shoes on and headed for flight control.

When Jaxon walked in, Oliver was sitting at the navigation console. He glanced at tactical but Camille was nowhere in sight. Francisco sat opposite Camille’s station, no doubt scrutinizing some random chemical compounds.

“What do you have?” he asked Oliver.

“I called in for docking procedures a bit ago, and they said that they were full up and that we can’t stay docked at Beta Station for longer than ten minutes; long enough to drop off or pick someone up.”

“Completely full? Really?”

“It’s what he said. I gave him our IMO number, and that’s when he told me it was a no-go.”

Jaxon’s eyes narrowed. “What are our options?”

“We’ve got two, boss. We can stop the Buddha in orbit around the station, and they can send a tender for us. Probably twenty minutes, round trip.”

“Second option?”

“We could dock long enough to unload part of the team, but somebody would have to stay back to pull the ship away and wait.”

Jaxon contemplated for a moment. He knew that if the whole team was on the station at the same time, they could cover twice as much ground. The drawback was that if something went awry, there wouldn’t be an immediate means of escape. They’d have to wait for the shuttle to tender them back to the Buddha. At least with the second option, all they would have to do is call the ship and have Oliver pick them up if things went sideways.

“How far out are we?” Jaxon asked.

Oliver projected the navigation computer’s readout to the main screen. “Twelve minutes to dock.”

“All right. Miles, you and Camille will stay with the ship. Clay and I will do a quick pass of the station. I’m not comfortable splitting the team up right now, but this is one of the smaller stations compared to the others on the list. If it wasn’t on Evans’ list, I think we’d just pass it up.”

“Roger that, boss,” Oliver said.

Jaxon looked back toward Francisco, who was still engrossed in his computer terminal. “Clay?”

There was no response.

“Clay!” Jaxon said, raising his voice several octaves.

“Wuh ... what? Did you call me?” Francisco asked, rubbing his eyes clear.

“Yeah, change of plans. It’s going to be just you and me on the station. There’s a problem about docking, and only two of us are going. Camille and Oliver will stay back and come get us when we’re through. Grab your gear and be ready to go. About ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Francisco stood and walked out of the control room.

“Well, this will be fun,” Jaxon muttered.

“Eh, the kid’s not bad. He’s a little nervous, but he means well,” Oliver said.

“Yeah, it’s that nervous thing that worries me,” Jaxon said. “Can you fill Cam in on the plan change?”

“Yeah, sure thing, boss.”

Jaxon left the cockpit and went to grab his own gear from his bunk.

36

Having passed through security with much less pomp and circumstance than the last station, Jaxon and Francisco headed for the bars. Initially, Jaxon felt that the strip club was a good approach, but with Francisco as his partner, he decided to keep it tame. Jaxon wasn’t so sure if Francisco had even seen a naked woman in person, let alone talked to her openly about drugs. He figured the right bartender might have the information they were looking for.

As they walked along the much smaller pavilion streets, Jaxon and Francisco were silent. Jaxon instantly regretted not bringing Camille instead, because they at least had a history to pass the time. With Francisco, he was cut from a different cloth.

Passing by the first few dive bars, he came to a particularly dark saloon. The wall had a saying below:
a rare place where high and low rub elbows
. Without hesitation, Jaxon stepped in, followed closely by Francisco.

The mangy establishment was almost empty. Save for a few locals shooting pool at the back and a few daring businessmen, the place was a ghost town. Exactly what Jaxon was hoping for.

He walked up to the bar and took a seat. Francisco sat next to him, closer to the exit door. Jaxon smiled internally at Francisco’s nervousness.

The solitary bartender was dropping off drinks by the pool table, giving them a few moments of silence before he would return. Francisco chose that time to speak.

“You don’t like me,” he said. “But, if you just give me a chance, I—”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily the case, Clay. I’m sure you’re a fine man, it’s just how this team was assembled that has me off center,” Jaxon said, flagging down the returning bartender.

Before Francisco could continue, he’d arrived.

“What’ll it be?” he asked in a gruff voice, completely selling the dive bar aura.

“Two whiskeys, neat,” Jaxon said, tapping his credit stick on the receiver at the edge of the bar.

“But I don’t drink whiskey,” Clay said nervously.

“Well, kid, today you do,” Jaxon smiled and gave him a wink.

The bartender didn’t go far, pouring their drinks right in front of them. Before Jaxon could ask anything further, the bartender retreated to the far side of the bar to tend to one of the businessmen.

After a few moments of lingering silence, Jaxon continued. “I’m just a little frustrated at Howe and Evans for how they threw this team together. They gave me a trained agent with limited field activity, Camille. They gave me a recently deactivated field agent that had half of his personnel file blacked out. And then there’s you. You’ve had what? Twelve hours of simulation training?”

“Well, it’s closer to fifteen hours but—”

“And there’s my point. You can’t train an agent in a simulator in less than sixty hours. I just don’t know what Howe was thinking—”

“But I’ve been tasked with this mission for almost a year. I know exactly what to look for when we get to the right place. I’ll know whether they’re trying to pass off something else that’s not Whitetail. I’ll know what to look for in the production facility. You see, there’s more to being an agent than just being able to shoot somebody up and defend yourself,” Francisco said.