"Angie, please!" Brittany exclaimed, painfully aware that she was stark naked in the presence of her boss but too panicked to think of covering up. She was also aware of Winnie getting out of bed, also unabashedly naked and amazingly nonchalant about it all. "Before you say anything, just let me explain!"
"You don't need to explain." Ms. Shaw looked firm as ever, but not unhappy as she gazed down at Brittany. Turning to Winnie, who was pulling on a bathrobe from the closet, she added, "You've done an amazing job as usual. She'll knock 'em dead in the field, I just know it!"
"Wait, what?" Now Brittany did gain the presence of mind to pull a sheet over herself, though the damage was done -- Ms. Shaw had seen everything. "You mean I'm not fired?"
"Far from it," said Winnie, tying the sash of his robe. "You've passed your final test. In this job you are going to have to seduce people."
"Now we know you're willing and able to do that," continued Ms. Shaw.
"And at the risk of oversharing, you're going to do a fantastic job of it," Winnie added. "Sorry, Angie."
"Don't be." Now that the subterfuge was done with, Ms. Shaw was grinning broadly. "I had little doubt. Between your athletic body and two years of no men, well, Brittany, how could you not be a firecracker in the sack? But even I couldn't have guessed how beautiful you are underneath."
"Uh...thank you?" Brittany had no idea what to make of all this, but she was more flattered than humiliated, albeit barely so. She had also had a strange feeling that Ms. Shaw had liked what she'd seen before Angie had covered up, and her last comment left no doubt about that. Having gained an appreciation for other women's bodies in prison, Brittany found the idea not unpleasant, although she figured it was totally inappropriate all the same.
Ms. Shaw sat down on the edge of the bed and took Brittany's hand in both of hers. "Brittany, I'm sorry," she said. "I know all this was very manipulative of us, and it must have been awfully frightening for you when I walked in. But it's absolutely necessary to determine if you're up for the job. And now we know you are!"
Brittany sighed. "Thanks, I think."
That uncertainty of gratitude was still lingering a few weeks later, when Brittany found herself in the lap of business-class luxury high over the Atlantic. Like everything else about her life since the day Angie and Joseph had arrived in it, this latest round of pampering was a double edged sword. Her beautiful clothes, lush surroundings, and the promise of high adventure at the journey's end all served to remind her of just how wretched things had been for her so recently. Brittany had made up her mind to be grateful for the change in her fortune and make the most of it, but that was easier said than done.
"Another glass of wine, Ms. Tsoupas?" came a voice out of nowhere in a heavy French accent, and Brittany was rescued from her latest bout of recalling the long goodbye with Angie and Joseph at the airport.
It took her a split-second too long to recognize her alias, but Brittany was grateful for the practice in the relative safety of the business class cabin. "Oh! Erm, yes please, ma'am. Sorry, I was lost in a bad dream there."
"It happens all the time on night flights, I assure you," said the flight attendant as she poured a refill of merlot for Brittany. "Will this be your first time in Paris, Ms. Tsoupas?"
"Well, I'm actually going on to Luxembourg after this. It'll be my first time in either place. Can't wait!"
"Oh, my dear, Luxembourg is awfully gray this time of year. I hope you won't be stuck there for Christmas!"
"Depends on how business goes," Brittany said. "We'll see. I'm a rare book dealer, perfect for the Christmas season in a place like Luxembourg, I'm told." She was proud of her ability to look the flight attendant in the eye as she lied, a skill she was just going to have to continue developing now.
The flight attendant wished her good luck and moved on, leaving Brittany alone with her thoughts and her angst again in the luxurious business class seat.
She hadn't been able to hide that angst during the long limousine ride to New York earlier that day. And Angie had advised her, "Don't try to stifle that anger, Erika, use it!"
"Do we have to call me Erika already?" Brittany had asked without looking up from the portfolio she'd been ordered to memorize as best she could.
"You need the practice answering to your alias," Joseph had explained. "Really, we should have started calling you that a week ago. But we didn't know even then that you'd be leaving today."
Brittany had been glad in that moment that Joseph had told her to spend the ride studying the portfolio. It meant she didn't have to look at him and pretend not to be annoyed. Of course, she'd already been annoyed at the news that she wouldn't be allowed to remove the portfolio from the car, never mind taking it with her to Luxembourg. A paper trail was just too risky. And so she'd been forced to spend those precious last hours with Joseph and Angie learning all she could about Mansfield Consulting's weak link in the little country she just barely knew from studying the atlas in the prison library. Just as well, really, since the rural late fall scene rushing by outside had been perfect soccer weather, and there she was dolled up in a skirt and heels and expressly forbidden from even mentioning her favorite sport, much less playing it.
It beats prison
, she reminded herself now as she stretched out her tights-clad legs and flipped through the in-flight entertainment system, trying to gauge the likelihood of getting any sleep while fully clothed and nervous about her first job. It did not look promising -- or maybe she just didn't want to fall asleep and waste a moment of such luxury. Concluding that she ought to at least try to get some sleep, she switched off the screen and leaned the seat all the way back, and closed her eyes.
To her pleasant surprise, the usual flashback to prison was quickly pushed aside by the grainy image of the man she'd been ordered to seek out in Luxembourg.
"Denis," the caption had read beneath the black and white photo of a scowling man with receding blond hair. "Age mid-30s?" That was all.
"We don't know his last name or his exact age, or even if Denis really is his name," Joseph had explained. "We do know he answers to that name and that he's always on the hunt for American tourists who are interested in a little extra cash."
"So the idea is for me to find him and pretend to be looking for work as a mule, is it?" While studying the photo, Brittany had tried to force some attraction to it, without a lot of luck. He'd looked oily and much too sure of himself even in the poor-quality picture.
"Oh, heavens, no!" Angie had said. "Don't you remember what we discussed in training?"
"Right, of course!" Brittany had closed her eyes in frustration and shook her head; right up to the moment of parting, she'd hated disappointing Angie like that. "Always let them think they're in control and that you don't know who they are."
"Exactly," Angie had said. "So you let him find you. Never give any indication that you're looking for him. Not under any circumstances."
"Got it, right. But how do I get on his radar?"
"Luxembourg is a small city, and a guy like that knows where to look for out-of-towners," Joseph had said. "Just go out and live like an expat there on business -- remember, you're a rare book dealer -- and he'll find you."
"I don't really know how to live like an expat," Brittany had reminded them yet again, browsing through the few other pages of the portfolio -- mostly details of Denis' interactions with the agents who'd brought him to Angie's attention. "I've never even been to Canada, you know."
"You don't need any training for that!" Joseph had said. "Just don't look too wide-eyed like a first-time tourist, and you'll be fine."
"But I
am
a first-time tourist!"
"A first-time tourist who has our complete confidence, Brittany," Angie had said, reaching over to squeeze her hand supportively. "You can do this!"
Brittany almost believed that now. But she had hated saying goodbye to her two friends at the airport all the same. They had at least had the good sense to avoid a long goodbye when she had tried to convince them to wait with her until the last minute. Brittany, somewhat to her surprise, had had no qualms about hugging Joseph and Angie in turn. "Can't tell you how grateful I am to you both!"
"You can show us by doing a great job in Luxembourg, and I know you will," Angie had told her.
"Oh, that reminds me," Brittany said. "How do I know when I'm done and where will I go next? And will I be staying with you?" she'd asked Angie with hope in her eyes, having avoided that topic for days as she'd been afraid of the answer.
"You're always welcome there when you're off duty," Angie had promised. "We'll keep your room for you. And we'll let you know about the next stop once that's been determined. But that depends at least in part on what you find in Luxembourg."
"Just remember to check in like we discussed," Joseph had added. "And don't worry about that for now."
"Good luck, Erika." Angie had given her hand a final squeeze and Brittany had chuckled at her alias, and they were gone.
Brittany was not, for the time being, to know what Angie and Joseph had said from afar as they'd watched her disappear into security. Once Brittany was out of sight and there was no risk of her looking back any longer, Angie had allowed herself to cry. She'd said nothing, but turned to lean on Joseph, who had slipped his arms around her. "She's going to do great, you know that," he'd said.
"I do know that," Angie had replied, trying in vain to speak evenly. "I just, she still doesn't know..."
