Spy thriller:
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“If you’re sleeping with your partner,” Blaze Bliss said in a wistful tone, “does that constitute sexual harassment on the job?” she spun in the swivel chair. Adjusted the surveillance screen. The monitor blinked, a remote camera panned, tilted and zoomed in. “Or, is it misuse of government property?”
“Only if you complain,” Christian Cross, her partner, answered. A glint of satisfaction on his trusting face. Likewise he adjusted a twin television unit. His handsome face side glanced to her. Brown eyes spent a few seconds scanning her, up and down. Admiring her talents. “Then again, things aren’t always as they seem. You know, looks can be deceiving.” He figured something was amiss, one way or the other.
“I’m not complaining, Christy,” she reassured, teasing his name into her thoughts. “Not yet, of course.” She watched with growing fascination as a suspect moved about.
“Thank god,” he threw back. “You’re brazen Blaze. I was wondering. Now, I’m relieved. ”
“No, you did that last night.” Blaze pressed a control. The camera zeroed in on a black attaché case. Her long black hair shined, hung at her strong shoulders.
“I think it was mutual.” His smile remembered the previous evening. She was long, angular, fit as a pro athlete. Almond colored eyes, olive skin smooth as silk. He wondered. What was her heritage, Spanish, Italian, Greek? God only knows. She looked good in the low light of the surveillance van.
“You got that right,” she breathed a satisfied sigh. “Why the black case?” She pointed at the screen, turning to him. “Yesterday, he had the brown case.”
“Shoot a picture,” he answered, patting his close cropped sandy hair. “Zoom in. Our boss at I.C.E. will want an update.” A remote camera blinked a warning light on his console. “Uh oh, we’ve got company. Uniformed beat cop. We’re parked next to a fire hydrant. Blaze?” he searched her big brown eyes. “You were driving. How’d do that? We don’t need a confrontation with the locals.”
“I was distracted by my partner,” she defended with playful inflection. “And, I got a news flash. That’s not a real beat cop.” She giggled with broad smile, became nervous. “Clever disguise for him.”
“What? Who?” He whipped around, reaching for his pistol. The gun came out of a holster from the middle of his back. “You know him?”
“Easy big guy. Holster that thing. This one’s on our side. At least I think so. Couldn’t mistake that swagger,” she answered, with an admiring tone. “Or, the face. Yep, I know him.”
“Okay, I give,” he demand, a tinge of jealous resonance drifting on a cresting wave of displeasure. “Old boyfriend? Wait, you said he wasn’t a real cop.” Eyes demanding answers. “Blaze, what’s up?”
“CIA,” she replied. “He’s not an old boyfriend. A brief acquaintance so to speak. Sorry, Chris. Been a while since I’ve seen him.” She used the manual controls, grabbing the joy stick in a firm grip. Jacked the camera mechanism and shot in close, tilted up and down. She heaved a delightful sigh as if remembering.
“We’ll talk about that later.” He moved toward the driver’s side. “Who is he? Besides CIA.”
“Paladin Payne,” she blushed. “Uh, senior case officer out of Langley. Kind of a rogue character at the Agency. Some say legendary. Does a lot of special assignments, like counter-terrorism.”
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