Chapter #23Get Fane by: imaj   Six Months Later
“Oi, knock it off back there,” shouts the cab driver, banging an angry fist against the partition between you. “I’m chargin’ yer if I haff to clean it up after yer.”
The mousy looking woman breaks off the kiss and pulls back from you. She takes a deep breath and frantically fans at her face with both hands in a desperate and futile attempt to calm herself. Then she adjusts her glasses and smoothes out her charcoal grey suit skirt. “Oh my,” she says, a heavy Welsh accent clearly recognisable. She leans in again to whisper in your ear. “I think I’ve destroyed my panties.”
You giggle a little and steal another peck on her lips. All the while you keep up the steady torrent of Eldibrian lust that you’ve been pouring into her all evening. As fast a flow as you are able to given your currently limited association with the ousiarch.
The woman shivers, biting at her lower lip. Her eyes flutter as she moans in your ear. “And now I think I’ve destroyed my skirt as well…”
The cab driver glares at you both in the rear view mirror.
“I don’t usually do this,” the woman hiccups. “I mean, all this drinking and picking up random women. And in the middle of the week, straight after work. And you look just like her, you know.”
“Oh,” you purr, pitching it as a question.
“You know,” she replies, slapping her hand on your knee. “The singer. The one that went crazy. What was her name again? Breeanna Summers?”
“You were a fan,” you ask, mildly surprised. The woman must be at least fifteen years older than the typical Breeanna fan.
“Oh god no,” replies the woman. “I had to take my niece Gwen to one of her concerts last year.” She makes a gagging gesture with one hand, earning another angry stare from the driver. “No, no, no, no, no,” she says to the driver urgently. “I’m just miming throwing up. Not actually...
“Would you believe I did some lookalike work,” you interrupt with a smirk. “But then no one wanted a Breeanna lookalike after she got put in the loony bin. And then she went and did that thing with her hair. The fuck I’m doing that. So I’m like, well might as well just dye my hair back its natural colour.”
“It looks pretty this colour,” says the woman, stroking your hair. She moans and shudders again.
The cab jerks to an abrupt halt. “Right, that’s it,” yells the driver. “Twenty fifty three for the ride, and anuver ‘undred quid for cleaning up. Out, both of yer.”
*****
The woman makes a theatrically loud shushing noise as she leads you into the darkened flat. “Don’t want to wake my flatmate.” she adds, one finger held over her lips
“Bedroom,” you ask impatiently, eager to end this. You give her one last flush of Eldbiria to seal the deal.
The woman grins back and grabs your hand. She pulls you towards one of four identical white doors, into a tiny bedroom. Most of the space is taken up by a large double bed. You can make out a couple of clothes racks in the gloom
“Finally,” says the woman. “I’ve been waiting for this all evening.” She topples backwards onto the bed and grins up at you.Her fingers fumble clumsily at her navy blue blouse, slowly revealing strips of pale skin. “What are you waiting for?”
You reach over and pluck the glasses from her face, turning them round to look through the lenses. “Pretty strong,” you say, settling the glasses on your nose. You have to squint to see properly.
The woman looks at you in confusion. “Are we… What’s going on?”
You lean down and kiss her on the lips. Just a light peck, but you manifest the knockout sigil on your lips as you do so. The woman's eyes flutter closed as she falls unconscious. Then you stand upright, changing to the imago you just absorbed for.
“Can I take a rain check,” you say quietly, matching woman’s languid accent. “I’m going to have a very busy day at your work tomorrow and I need some sleep.”
*****
You glance at the elegant watch on your wrist, an old fashioned silver wind up one. The rest of the workers in the office are wrapped up in their work, staring at the monitors on their computers. A shame, since the view here from the thirty fifth floor is magnificent, with London sprawling out below you. Doubly a shame as you have to dig through the computer files to find out the information you need.
You tap at the keyboard a few more times, searching the database for the contract you need. A warning box appears on the screen - “Record in secure storage.”
“Hey Peter,” you whisper at the man at the desk opposite. “I can’t find this record I need.”
He sighs before forcing a smile to his face. “Can you show me Anwyn,” he asks. You turn round your monitor to give him a better look. “It’s secured information, too sensitive to store on the network database. Hard copy”
“Too sensitive,” you scoff. “We’re a mercenary company. I thought everything we did was under the table. Oh… Right… Wow...”
Peter nods. “Yeah,” he replies. “Why do you need it anyway?”
“Krugger wanted some old thing in the Congo double checked,” you lie, backing up your words with Viritrilbia. “Can I get in there?”
“You can’t,” he replies, sighing again. “Typical. You think he’d check before assigning it to you. And people round here wonder why Esty Oyj are nabbing all our clients…”
“Can you get it for me,” you ask with a winsome smile. You add a little dash of Eldibria to give him a sense of affection for you in the hope it might help too.
He sighs yet again. “Busy,” he explains, but he reaches down to his belt and unclasps his ID badge before throwing it across the gaps between your desk. You deftly catch it and take a good look. The Diamond Security Solutions logo is emblazoned on the badge in black and yellow. “Go to the secure storage and get it yourself.”
You’d prefer him to get it himself of course, there’s less chance of you getting caught that way. So you ask: “Is that, well, secure?”
He replies with a contempt filled laugh. “Between you and me,” he explains, sotto voice. “It isn’t just our clients Esty Oyj are fishing round for…”
“Oh,” you say, giving a perfect portrayal of a young woman suddenly worrying about her job security. “Thanks, I guess, for this and for the warning.” You pocket the badge as you stand up from your desk and head towards the secure records room
*****
You walk out the building, out into the street with a manila folder under your arm. No one gives you a second glance, even if Anwyn Jones’ clothes are just a little too big on Maria Vasquez’s body.
As you pass a trashcan on the sidewalk, you toss Peter’s badge into it. Most of the contents of the folder follow it in. You only keep one sheet, the sheet with the details about Diamond Security Solutions Fane liaison for the Cabinda coup operation. The information on it is sparse. All you have is a name, a picture and the number for a burner phone: Julian Dey.
It’s a start
To stop reminiscing, attend to Fi's reports in "A Short Hop" 
 You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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