Ida Laider, Down and Dirty *2*. By Jolen Casper & Alex McIver.
Now this ship isn’t as much fun as the last one I was on, but then how often do you win ten thousand dollars in the casino and then escape seconds before the whole boat explodes? I mean it only ever happened twice.
With no casino to play in I headed to the bar. The small lounge isn’t anything special; it seems the Lieutenant Colonel isn’t splashing out on the good stuff these days, not that I ever gave him much choice back then.
After a pleasant meal and more than a few drinks to pass the time I spot the island of Coraks on the horizon. This place is everything you would expect from a Caribbean republic; it’s a vision of beauty. I’m sure the flaws will become clear when we get closer, but until then it is a magnificent sight.
“Ida, Ida.” My peaceful daydream is broken by the intelligence kid squeaking in my ear. “You happy with the distance now? Over.”
“Sure kid.” I whisper, either this guys being a jerk or he’s actually got a sense of humor. Too early to tell yet. “I hear ya fine. Over.”
“Just a reminder that wile the Peoples Democratic Republic of Coraks wont mind your handgun, there is a lot of equipment in your bag that will arouse suspicion. The handbook recommends a covert approach to avoi-”
I tap the gizmo in my ear and cut of the geek before he lectures me to death. Like I don’t know what I’m doing or something. Shouldn’t he be busy looking at satellite images or listening to tapped phones instead of bothering me all the time?
With the sun disappearing over the horizon behind us it isn’t too much trouble to find a secluded spot along the side of the ship.
Peeling off my blouse and mini skirt I stuff them into the bag, after pulling out a re-breather I close the hold all up tight. A quick check to make sure no one is looking and I vault over the rails into the warm Caribbean Sea.
Now I’m no big fan of swimming, I don’t find it difficult or anything but if I’d known how much swimming was involved I would never have joined the air force. I guess I would have followed the career counselors’ advice and been ‘an aggressive little bitch that don’t know when to quit’. I miss Mrs. Grimble, she was always my favorite teacher.
As the sun sets there are still a bunch of tourists and locals clogging up the beaches, soaking up the last of the sun, or admiring the scenery. I could have kept swimming till I found a deserted area, but I’ve never thought it was worth it.
Nobody watching me emerge from the ocean, my tank top plastered to my skin, is going to be thinking about national security.
“Good evening.” Striding up to the nearest beach bar in my panties and t-shirt, “Beer please.”
The barman retrieved a bottle of the local ale. It’s nice stuff, got a lot of flavor behind it. By the time I’ve emptied a couple down my throat I’ve dried out and no one is looking at me, no more than usual at least.
Heading inland, I set to work on my plan. I checked into the local Regency Wyatt Hotel, and once inside, I take a long, steamy shower. Feeling renewed and ready to work, I go over a few things I’d learned.
My time at the ships bar wasn’t wasted. I’d gotten through some fine whisky and worked out some of the bugs in my strategy. ‘Charging in guns blazing’ has always been my favorite, but until I knew where Harris was I couldn’t risk anything that would attract attention.
Harris was last seen heading to a mansion belonging to a crime lord believed to be linked with the organization the scientist Eddy Rex is tied too. All very complex and circular, I don’t think Harris even knew if this crime lord had even the slightest knowledge of his target, but a lead is a lead I guess.
I had stashed my bag in the trees, back along the beach. Half of the stuff was useless. A watch that scans thumb prints, who the hell uses this crap anyway?
Changed into some new clothes and carrying just what I think will be necessary I set my sights for the casino. My backless black gown didn’t leave lots of places to hide things, but I made do with a snub nosed .38 tucked away in a leg strap, just above my stockings.
I heard that Mr. Big, aka “James Roget” would be playing hot and heavy tonight and since Harris was last seen in with him I wanted a peek inside that mansion. He was a known playboy, which gave me a way in. Eddy Rex had been in Roget’s employ for several years and was a running front man for the big shot. With a little luck I could get this mission wrapped up and say goodbye to P.U.S.S.I for good.
I strolled in and made the rounds, the tables were all doing good business. Having spotted the playboy hood, I joined the others watching him toss the bones. He didn’t look over at me for a few minutes, but once he did, I saw that he was impressed. Most men didn’t have an easy time looking up from my breasts, but I’ll admit, he took all of me in. I felt like he had me undressed and underneath him, all sweaty and hot, within that stare.
I threw some chips down on the table, betting with him and soon the cash doubled. He was winning and in a very good mood. I moved in closer, and introduced myself.
“Hi there handsome, you’re on a hot streak tonight.” His eyes lit up, and soon he had me blowing on those dice.
His cologne was expensive and very intoxicating, but I knew mine had the same effect on the male species. He finally took the time to introduce himself.
“Well my beautiful enchantress, you have surely brought me luck. I am James Roget, and besides delightful, you are?”
“Lotta Lovin, James, call me Lotta.” I smiled at his little joke.
“Enchanted.” He replied, before placing a light kiss upon the back of my hand.
After half a dozen drinks we decided to have some dinner and he lead me to a private dining room. We were alone, the room was elegantly decorated. He ordered for us, and the steward brought us a wonderful bottle of Piper Heidsieck champagne. How he knew to order the Brut Divin, I will never know, but it was one of my favorites. It didn’t rank as high as beer or whiskey, but would do in a pinch.
After dinner we went to the ballroom. I have to admit, he knew how to seduce a lady. I love to dance, and he was quite good. One of the better criminal warlords I had danced with.
Finally, he asked me to come see the mansion and have a late night drink, to which I was more than happy to agree. His limo was waiting for us at the front door and we drove out to his home. The winding roads were making me a bit dizzy after all the drinking but it was fun to give into the sensation for a little while. I asked him the usual questions about how he enjoyed living here, and his job, etc.
The mansion was amazing, vast and well guarded. I knew from intel that it wouldn’t be easy to penetrate. I tried to spot as much of his security as I could. One way or another, I had to get in and get Harris out. Leaving important recon to satellite surveillance boy was out of the question.
Two sets of black clad guards walked the fence line with twin Dobermans. The dogs weren’t going to be fun getting passed, but I could do it. I walked the veranda with him, timing the guard’s intervals. The top balcony had armed men every 30 feet, for a total of eight or so too worry about. Piece of cake.
I began making mental notes of the weapons I would need and the best escape route from all I had seen up until then. But I had to admit, this wasn’t going to be an easy job. I owed Harris though, and I always paid my debts. He was a tough agent so I was sure he was alive, but for how long I couldn’t be sure. I had to move fast. Whatever plan I made had to be quick and we had a very small window of opportunity to get out.
After guiding me around the downstairs, where I noticed several cameras, noting placement, he lead me up the spiral staircase. We walked along the plush carpeting to his bedroom. He opened the door, just as a another door opened down the hall, a man stepping out and calling to him..
“If you will excuse me, my dear, I’ll only be a moment. Make yourself at home.” I stood in the doorway, and watched him disappear into what I felt sure was his security central.
I didn’t find anything in his bedroom, James Roget seemed like the kind of guy to keep business and pleasure separate. I heard him coming and moved over to a chair and sat down, crossing my legs, which the slit in my dress accented wonderfully. His eyes followed my legs, all the way to where they began and I knew that he was buying the package. He bent down, kissing me, his tongue searching my mouth, he had skills.
Making with the coy look I excused myself to go freshen up, I crossed to the bathroom, blowing him a kiss. Inside, I relieved myself of my weapon and hid it in some towels. Normally, I don’t like to be so naked, but if I was going to let him seduce me, I had to allow it to happen. I couldn't be worried about him running his hands over little bit. (my pet name for my snubnosed)
The moment I returned, he pounced. His hands began their ritual, his body pressing into mine, I let him lead. After a few moments of passionate petting, I asked for some wine. He got up, and refilled my glass. While his back was turned; I slipped the mickey into his. He’d sleep awhile and wake up, all happy, and unsure what happened. I needed the time to scope out the house.
Toasting him to make sure he drank the sleeping draught, I let him continue his journey down my naked body. It wasn’t too hard. He was attractive and knew how to please a woman. It was a shame that I’d probably have to kill him before I found out how far his skill extended. But that’s the job, and I always got the job done.
After James fell asleep, I pulled on a robe and headed out into the hall. The corridor was lined with doors that I decided to check on my way back, after I went for a snack. I’ve found that most guards will accept that a woman carrying food is just lost on her way back from the kitchen. And if that failed, there aren't many problems a girl in a dressing gown with a .38 can’t solve.
Making mental note of all the cameras, and checking for laser motion detectors, I headed downstairs, where I figured the food would be. The kitchen is bigger then most restaurants, James must do some great entertaining in this place. Near the back door,I saw what seemed to be a delivery entrance, and beyond that a side gate. If all went well, that was my way in. I grabbed a slice of cheese out of the fridge and went looking for a likely place to keep Harris.
As I was taking a peek around the second floor I heard voices, muted, as if whispering. Pressing my ear up to a closed door I make out the sound of two men arguing.
“I’m telling you John, this guy is a spy, and if he don’t show up soon, they’ll send others to find him.” The first man said, his voice like gargling gravel.
“Nah,” A second voice, answered in a nasal whine, “I tell you, if they wanted him, they’d have sent someone by now. The boss says we’ll get rid of him soon, and that’s good enough for me.”
I listened for a while longer but they didn’t mention anything more useful, like a specific time, or the name of the guy they had locked up. Making my way back to the bedroom double time I consider my options.
“Things don’t look good” Said Davis the intelligence geek through my earpiece.
“I thought I’d turned you off?” I whisper.
“Voice prints confirm that those men were Roget’s lieutenants.” Continued the nerd from P.U.S.S.I., ignoring my question.
“Well I guess its no coincidence that they were directly below that room James was called off to.” I smile as the pieces come together.
“Satellite images show there is a small annex that way, hidden from the road. I have the locations of all the exterior guards, but I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you.”
“Aww, sounds like my intelligence man is learning.” I say in a cutesy voice. “I’m almost at Roget's room, my best bet is still to go in tomorrow night. I’ll pick up my things and make a final sweep of the place as I go for the exit. Laider out.”
The playboy had been drugged so I didn’t have to worry about him overhearing me. But it pays to be cautious sometimes, and I was bored with Davis again.
Entering the luxurious bedroom I slide out of the robe and head for my bag and dress which had been thrown across a window seat. Behind me I hear something stirring.
“Is that a gun strapped to your thigh?” James Roget's smooth, deep voice purred.
Turning around, I make out the glint of a .44 pointing my way.
“Nope, I’m just pleased to see you.”