High-Caliber Concealer Read Free Page B

worked really well in the field.
    Nikki walked into the front lobby and
flashed her ID badge at the security guard, who smiled and waved in
recognition. She walked past the honor wall. Discreet brass plaques
with the names of fallen agents were stacked in an even grid from
the floor to mid-way up the wall. As usual, Nikki reached out and
touched Val’s plaque. She’d accrued a lot of debt when she’d asked
to have Val’s name put on the wall, but she didn’t think that
twenty years of service, of being the biggest badass in the
company, should be wiped out by a couple of months of stupid
decisions. She’d learned a few things about Val when she’d taken
possession of the car—things she hadn’t told anyone—and so she
touched the plaque to remind herself not be that stupid and to
strive to be that great. And to make sure no one removed the
plaque.
    Nikki was reaching for the elevator button
when she heard the traditional ding and the elevator doors opened.
Rachel and Jane were standing in the elevator laughing. They both
had the rumpled, slightly bleary look of people who’d been up all
night, but they were laughing hysterically.
    “Nikki!” exclaimed Jane. “Redhead!” That
sent Rachel into a fresh gust of laughter.
    “Yes,” agreed Nikki, trying to fathom what
was so funny. “I’ve been that way for awhile now.” Jane giggled
again, but Rachel made an effort to pull herself together.
    “Sorry, Nikki, I think,” Rachel paused to
chuckle at Jane’s laughter. “I think,” she continued, “that we may
have gotten a bit of laughing gas off Experiment-217. What are you
doing here on a Sunday?”
    “I was about to ask you guys the same
thing,” said Nikki, stepping into the elevator. “But I’m glad you
are. I need to find someone, fast.” Nikki pushed the button for the
seventh floor and Jane groaned.
    “No, Nikki. We’ve just finished and were
going out to breakfast,” wailed Jane.
    “It’ll only take a minute,” soothed Nikki.
Jane crossed her arms and leaned dejectedly against the elevator
wall.
    “It had better be only a minute,” she
muttered. “I’m hungry.”
    “Well, I haven’t had breakfast yet either,”
said Nikki. “And besides, I’ve got Z’ev at home. I can’t take too
long.”
    “Yeah?” said Rachel perking up. “You’re
still seeing Mr. CIA?”
    Nikki nodded.
    “You gonna tell him about Carrie Mae?”
    “She can’t!” said Jane, shocked. “She
wouldn’t! You won’t, will you?”
    Nikki shook her head.
    “You can’t trust boys. Remember that.”
    Nikki chuckled. “You sound like my
mother.”
    “Well,” interjected Rachel, “then they’re
both paranoid. It’s the CIA part of him I’d be worrying about.”
    “Can we keep it down?” asked Nikki, looking
pained. “Darla hasn’t figured out I’m dating a CIA agent yet, and
I’m not really looking to explain it to her, if you know what I
mean.”
    Rachel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I hear you.
Fortunately, Miss Utah isn’t in the building. I swear, I cannot
wait for Mrs. Merrivel to get back. The girls down in research were
thinking about sending Mr. Merrivel a get-well-soon card, but I was
wondering if maybe we couldn’t maybe come up with something a
little more useful. He had heart surgery, right? Was it a pacemaker
thing? We could probably come up with a really great pacemaker if I
had the girls think about it seriously.”
    “Mrs. Merrivel will be back when Mr.
Merrivel gets better—and no, you cannot put an experimental
pacemaker in his chest.” Nikki tried to sound calm. Sometimes
Rachel was a little too certain that her gadgets were awesome.
“Meanwhile, can you give Darla a chance? She’s actually got some
good ideas.”
    Rachel rolled her eyes. “All of her ideas
seem to involve cutting my budget.”
    “If all of Darla’s ideas are so great, why
are you sneaking into the building for illicit use of resources,”
said Jane. “You wouldn’t have to do that with Mrs.