Brittanys Travels Ch 06

Brittany crossed her legs and gulped, suddenly feeling very vulnerable despite being in the most secure room in the world for her. She said nothing, waiting instead for the inevitable from Angie and Joseph.

Angie spoke up first. "I didn't tell you anything about what we've learned of your father lately because it had nothing to do with the mission in Hawai'i. Remember, even I didn't know what was going to happen there."

"There are other things even you didn't know, Angie," Joseph added. "I just learned the latest scuttlebutt while you ladies were off blowing up that boat."

"We did know your father had been in cahoots with Biliana," Angie said. "We didn't know her name or face until you met her in Luxembourg, but we were aware of her. I recognized her voice that night at dinner, but of course I couldn't tell you."

"I'm not really surprised she knew him," Brittany said, feeling a tiny bit of relief. "And obviously she didn't know I was his daughter."

"Not until now," Joseph said. "But we've got to assume she's going to tell him."

The concerned look on his face gave Brittany pause. She didn't see why. "What does that matter? Hasn't he been on the outs with Peter Gruber anyway? Even my going to prison didn't get him on your radar, did it?"

Joseph took a deep breath. "Brittany, I hate to have to tell you this, but...it appears your father and Peter Gruber have patched up their differences. He's back in the loop."

"What?!" Brittany stood up, her fists clenched in rage. "He knows Gruber sent his daughter to prison for nothing, and..."

"I know, I know!" Joseph also stood up, and he took Brittany in his arms. She also felt Angie's comforting hand on her back as she wept. "No offense, Brittany, but you did already know your father wasn't exactly father of the year, didn't you?"

"That's just about all I knew about him!" Brittany griped. "Just about all I remember is being scared to death of his temper!" She drew back from Joseph and walked to the window and gazed out at the snow, and went on while Joseph and Angie sat back down. "That and Mom telling my sister and me not to ask him anything about his job." She chuckled. "Somehow we knew not to ask when he disappeared, too. I think it was a week or so before we realized he wasn't coming back, and we never asked why. I was in the third grade."

"We know he's been active again in Mansfield, but we haven't heard him say anything about you, Brittany," Angie said. "I'd have told you if we had, you know."

"Thanks." Brittany still didn't look at either of them. "So just what do we know about him now?"

"He's been picking up some of the slack for Mansfield in Europe," Joseph continued. "Patching up the holes you blew in their operation," he added with a smile. "But as far as we know, he doesn't know it's you who did it."

"We don't even know for certain that he knows what happened to you," Angie said. "We think he probably heard, but it's never been confirmed.

"That'd explain why it didn't get him out of hiding from Gruber," Brittany said. Because she was still gazing out the window, she didn't see Angie and Joseph exchange sceptical glances.

"Brittany, we've got to assume Biliana's going to tell him her suspicions," Joseph said. "Then even if he didn't know what Gruber did to you, he'll surely find out now."

"It won't matter to him." Brittany finally turned around to look at them again, and the tears came back. "He never gave a damn about me. Or my sister I guess. Or even Mom."

"I won't lie to you, Brittany, it does look that way," Angie said.

"I guess I knew." Brittany flopped back down in her chair. "So what are we going to do about Biliana?"

"You're not going to do anything for now," Joseph said. "You're way too hot right now. There will be people looking all over the place for the women who blew up their pals in Hawai'I, and even if no one else believes Biliana, she knows who you are."

"But you heard Brian! He's got her on vacation for the same reason."

"Doesn't matter, Brittany," Joseph said.

"He's right," Angie said. "You and I both need to keep our heads down for a bit. Honestly, Brittany, I think you need a break anyway. Remember that's what Hawai'I was supposed to be."

"Oh, give it a rest with that, Angie!" Joseph laughed. "Everyone knows you had no intention of spending that time on the beach." Turning back to Brittany, he added, "All the more reason why you ought to have a real holiday."

Brittany opened her mouth to protest. But then she reasoned that she had been working awfully hard lately, and hadn't she nearly been killed in Honolulu? "Sure, Joseph, how about a ski resort in Switzerland?"

"Okay," Joseph said.

Brittany's melancholy turned to amusement. "Joseph, I was kidding! I know you haven't got a budget for that!"

"Oh yes we have," Joseph said. "You two made some of our benefactors very happy last week."

"Take it, Brittany," Angie said. "You've certainly earned it."

"Aren't you concerned about sending me back to Europe just now?" Brittany asked. "Didn't you just say I was too hot?"

"That's exactly why they won't expect you to go back there," Joseph said. "You'll be hiding in plain sight."

"But I do want Winnie to give you another makeover first, just to be safe," Angie added. Standing up, she went on. "Joseph, are we done for now? I really need to get some sleep."

"Yes," Joseph said, also standing up. "Brittany, I'll have your plane tickets and hotel reservation ready tomorrow." Seeing both their suitcases just inside the door, he added, "I'm sorry to spring this all on you before you could even unpack."

"It's fine, Joseph," Angie said, picking up her suitcase and opening the office door. "I wouldn't have wanted to wait on any of this."

"And I don't think I was ever prepared to hear that about my father," Brittany added as she followed suit. "But I'm glad to have it out of the way, I guess."

She spent the next few days relaxing, working out, and reading

A Farewell to Arms

on Joseph's suggestion, which at least got her thinking there could be worse circumstances than hers for going to Switzerland. Winnie gave her hair a touch-up the day before she left. "I'm utterly jealous of all those men who'll be swooning over you in the hotel bar while you sip your cocoa," he teased as he trimmed.

"Only the men, Winnie?" Brittany said. "I seem to recall one woman who did the job well enough for you."

"Yes, well, you are one in a billion, aren't you, Erika?"

"Oh, shut up." But she laughed. "Truth is, I wish you were coming with me. I don't know anyone over there. No one I want to know anyway."

"You can't really talk to your friends much while you're skiing anyway, you know."

"I do know. I used to ski a lot when I was a kid. There's a ski area in Winchester." She sighed.

"There it is again," Winnie stopped his trimming and rubbed her shoulders.

"There what is again?"

"That sigh. Every time something reminds you of your childhood. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay, Winnie. It's just, as I said that I remembered, skiing is yet another thing I haven't done since before...you know."

"And if it weren't for 'you know', you wouldn't be off to one of the ritziest places in the world to do it. Besides, what is it Angie always says? Use your outrage?"

"Yes, thank you, Winnie." Brittany perked up, though she was still haunted by lovely memories of the little girl whooshing down the slopes who had no idea she was destined for prison for something she didn't do. "Quite right."

She gazed at him hovering over her reflection in the mirror, the artist hard at work, resplendent in a tight black pullover and black jeans, and considered inviting him to her room after they were done. But for the moment, she found, she was content to be left alone. It had, after all, been a rather bloody holiday.

Brittany wouldn't have complained if Joseph had purchased coach class tickets for Erika, but she knew better than to argue when he handed her the first-class ones. For what was likely the first time, there was no confusion on her part when the flight attendant addressed her as "Ms. Tsoupas". The opulent journey was no less poignant to her than the flight to Luxembourg had been, but slowly but surely Brittany was coming to accept that she really did deserve the lucky turn her life had taken.

For once she even got some sleep on the plane, and was fairly wide awake when the train from Zurich pulled in to a mountain village that looked just as quaint as what she remembered from whichever Bond movie that was. As she stepped onto the platform and set her two suitcases down, she took a moment to drink in the cold but bright little town scene that greeted her.

"Are you lost, madam?" asked a man in uniform.

"The exact opposite," Brittany replied with a grin. "But can you tell me where the..." she pulled the printout of her hotel reservation out of her coat pocket, having never mastered the German name of the resort.

"There is a bus there on the hour," he said, pointing to a street corner just off the platform. "You've got thirty-five minutes. Perhaps you'd like to go get a drink to warm up while you wait. You can see the bus from the bar there."

"Great idea," Brittany said. "Thanks."

She was immediately sorry she had followed the man's suggestion, for the bar had English Premier League soccer playing on the television. Brittany was still under strict orders to show no interest whatsoever in the sport that had been her truest love before her life had been stolen from her, and the struggle to avoid gazing at the screen was exceeded only by the refreshed memory of all she had lost. So as she sipped her red wine, she almost welcomed the inevitable come-on from a man.

"Hello. American?"

"Yes." Brittany looked straight ahead at the shelf of bottles behind the bar.

"You have pretty eyes."

"Thank you."

"I am sure the rest of you is even prettier?"

Brittany set her glass down. "Sir, the last two guys I fucked, one's in jail and the other drowned. You want to join the club?"

The man said something in German under his breath and slunk away, and Brittany had the satisfaction of overhearing his buddies teasing him until the bus arrived. At least that offered a distraction from the soccer.

Back across the Atlantic, the routine weekly security sweep of the grounds was underway just as Brittany was enjoying her drink. Angie and Joseph had just finished a conference call when the security chief arrived in Joseph's office. "Morning, Bill," Angie said.

"Good morning." Bill set a completed checklist on Joseph's desk. "Angie, I'm afraid there's an irregularity."

"You forgot to wash the coffeepot again, did you, Angie?" Joseph quipped.

"Joseph, I'm serious," Bill said. "Angie, we found a bug in your suitcase."

"Oh, I knew about that," Angie said. "I let it be set there in Hawai'I so we could let the Mansfield people there think we were after their drugs. Don't worry, the only people listening in are dead now."

"Wait a minute," Joseph said. "What about Biliana?"

"She escaped from the boat with nothing," Angie said. "Not even any clothes."

"Nonetheless, I'd keep an ear to the ground on this," Bill said. "We've removed it, but there's no telling what might have been overheard in the meantime."

"I will, Bill," Angie said. "But I assure you, there was no espionage going on in my closet."

She read nothing into Bill's obvious scepticism. It was his job to be paranoid, after all.

Brittany's first twenty-four hours at the resort were heavenly, if rather jetlagged. She enjoyed a long bath in the gigantic tub in her suite, wishing Angie were there to join her and then wishing it were Yvonne, whom she longed to watch Winnie clean up as he had cleaned her up, and then content to be on her own. The lounge downstairs beckoned, but Brittany was enjoying her own company and opted to watch movies on television until she fell asleep. The next morning found her on the slopes bright and early in her new ski-bib and the chic winter coat Angie had insisted on buying her, and two minor falls didn't stop her from spending a wonderfully long day thinking of nothing but the joy of the cold beauty all around her for a change.

If she was vaguely aware of the possibility that she was being watched in her frolicking on the slopes, Brittany paid it no mind. It was just the price of her wonderful new life, and she was more than willing to pay it at a time like this. So spying on Mansfield Consulting remained the farthest thing from her mind that evening when, tired but happy, she put on the black dress Winnie had tailored for her and strode into the elegant hotel lounge with her head held high.

Brittany's training had been invaluable when it came to noticing what she needed to notice when she walked into a crowded room while also avoiding unwanted male attention. Once again she reflected on how much that would have helped back in her old life, and couldn't quite suppress a smile as she wondered how the men who gazed at her or worse might react if they knew the demure lady in their sights was a former soccer star. It would likely just have turned some of them on even more, but Brittany found she got a kick out of that.

In any event, she easily evaded the unwelcome overtures as the maître d' escorted her to a tiny corner table, and quickly established that there were no major red flags well before the waitress arrived with her martini. Indeed, it wasn't any man who aroused the one bit of curiosity Brittany felt, but rather a woman. A woman in a United States Navy uniform, an oddity so far inland, and also an unwelcome reminder of her sister, Penny. As Brittany took her first taste of the deliciously bitter cold drink, she wondered where Penny might be stationed now, and did she ever wonder about her poor sister in prison in Virginia?

She didn't care, Brittany told herself with a bigger sip of the martini. She told herself as much, but she didn't believe it. Penny the favorite daughter, the hero of the family, the one who could do no wrong, and who probably believed Brittany was guilty anyway. She didn't want to care what Penny might be up to now, but care she did. Was that, she wondered, why she felt such a burst of contempt towards that poor woman across the room whose only crime was having the same job Penny had? Or was it because she also had the bad luck to bear a resemblance to Penny? A strong resemblance at that, Brittany mused as she let her gaze linger on the unsuspecting sailor, with only her much shorter hair under her cap setting her apart from her estranged sibling. Or was it because on top of the resemblance, she looked utterly happy chatting up a dapper young gentleman whom Brittany would have been more than happy to let buy her a drink?

It

was

only a strong resemblance, a bizarre coincidence, but nothing more...right?

It wasn't her, Brittany told herself, it couldn't possibly be. It was the paranoia talking. But she knew well enough that she wouldn't be doing her job if she didn't confirm it. So she gulped down the last of her drink and waved to the waitress for another, and stood up. Fortunately, the sailor and her gentleman friend were placed conveniently on the way to the ladies' room, so neither of them paid any mind to her as she shuffled discreetly past their table.

She caught only a bit of their conversation as she walked past. But it was enough. "And it was, like, 'Way. To. Go, captain!'" said the woman who never took any notice of Brittany, and apparently also didn't notice her gentleman friend giving her an appreciative eye. Brittany managed to keep her cool as she kept up the charade of her visit to the bathroom, but she felt her heart nearly explode. She knew that silly way of saying 'way to go' as well as she knew any of her own verbal tics, if not better. Everything she'd ever done wrong as a girl, every time she'd run afoul of their mother or some teacher, Penny had never missed the chance to say, "Way to go, Brittany!" in that exact same sarcastic, condescending tone. Everything from her accent to her inflections on every word was just right. It was Penny.

Brittany locked herself in a stall, and stood facing the door long enough to simulate a pee she didn't really need and did her best to work through her panic and make a plan. There was no way this was a coincidence - someone had arranged for her sister to be there, but who? Did Penny herself know about it? Surely their father was mixed up in it somehow, but did Penny know anything about him either? Penny had been eleven when he'd left, old enough to have clearer memories than Brittany had, but...

Stop

, Brittany commanded herself. She flushed the toilet and let herself out to complete the charade by washing her hands. There was no use in trying to guess just what was going on; there were far too many variables. What she did know was that it must be some sort of trap, and she mustn't let on that she was on to it. Though she wanted desperately to rush back to her room and call Joseph and Angie on the secure computer, it was absolutely imperative that she go have her second drink and never let on that she suspected anything.

She wasn't sure what to think of the fact that Penny and her beau were still perched around the same table when she came out. But once again she slipped past them undetected on her way back to her own table, where the waitress was just delivering her second martini. "Danke," she said, doing her best to mimic the language software she'd been practicing on.

"You're welcome, madam," said the waitress in English. Brittany contented herself that at least she hadn't laughed at her attempt at German, and forced herself to sip the drink slowly.

She was prepared for the longest fifteen minutes of her life - although it did occur to her that this was far better than the few minutes she'd spent waiting for the jury to return at her trial - but she didn't even get halfway into her drink before she spotted Penny standing up and kissing her man good night.

Feeling a touch relieved once she was gone, Brittany allowed herself a discreet sweep of the room, which once again revealed nothing hazardous. She then allowed herself a slightly longer look at the man, who made it easier to do so by getting up and strolling to the bar. He was young, younger than Penny from the looks of it, with close-cropped dark hair that made Brittany suspect he might be military as well, but then why would he be out of uniform while Penny was in hers? Hiding fraternization? Then it occurred to her that his suit - a blue pinstripe number that would have impressed Winnie - looked too expensive to belong to a junior military man.

Whatever was going on, was he in on it?

Brittany concluded that, at least, was easy enough to find out. She stood up and sashayed up to the bar with the last of her drink. Figuring the barmaid already knew she was American, she called out to her in English. "I'd like to settle my bill, please."

Just as she'd hoped, her accent caught the man's attention. "Excuse me," he said, stepping up to her as she signed the bill for her two drinks. "Are you American?"

"Why yes," she said. "From Chicago." Joseph had provided her with a list of suburbs she could claim to be from if asked.

"Great town," the man said. "I'm from North Carolina, myself."

"You don't sound it," Brittany said.

"I lost my accent in college," he said. "In New Jersey."

"Always liked that state." A mistake, Brittany realized too late, and she racked her brain for anything she might have done in the Garden State besides playing soccer at Red Bull Arena.

She dodged that bullet, though, for the man was more amused than curious in response. "No kidding?" he said. "We don't hear that very often from out-of-towners! Usually it's some nonsense about 'which exit?'"