The Housewife Assassin's Deadly Dossier (22 page)

Jack knew Nola would never admit it, but she was touched that Donna put it that way.

By the looks of it, the place Nola chose for them was everything Jack had asked for: the lounge had a well-stocked bar. It was large, but intimate, with lots of nooks and crannies. There were mirrors everywhere, so that even in the lounge’s low lighting he’d be able to watch Donna without being observed.

Immediately, things seemed to be going well. The women started out with polite chitchat. By the time they’d finished their first drink, the talk had moved on to neighborhood gossip. By the end of the second drink, they were giggling.

He loved to watch Donna laugh. It was even more special because he’d seen it so rarely.

“Now that we’ve talked of everyone else, tell me—what’s the scuttlebutt on me?” Nola asked with a sly smile.

Donna shook her head. “No you don’t! The last thing I’m going to do is insult the only person in Hilldale who actually has no hidden agenda with me.”

Nola stirred her martini with her olive. “Oh? How do you know that?”

“Well, first of all, you haven’t asked me to serve on any committees. Nor have you asked me to babysit.” Donna leaned in closer. “And thankfully, you haven’t asked me about my husband.”

“And I won’t, either.” Nola held out her hand for Donna to shake.

What the hell, Jack wondered. Is Nola too drunk to remember the whole purpose of why we’re here?

He was just about to give her the high sign when Donna said, “Frankly, there’s not much to say. Hell, you live across the street. You’ve seen it for yourself. He’s…gone.”

Donna’s mouth tightened.

As if that could hold back her tears.

If it’s this easy to get her to spill the beans, she’ll never be able to work for Acme, he thought.

He didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed.
 

“Well, hey, not to fret.” Nola patted her hand. “It’s just another way of bringing home the bacon, right?”

“Yes…right.” Donna shrugged. “I admire you, Nola. You obviously want to live your life in a manner that suits you, and live it where it suits you—to hell with what others say.”

“Darn tootin.’” Nola gave her a thumbs-up.

“Is that why you have a boarder now—because money is tight?”

Fuck it, Jack thought. She’s seen me? How? Where?

Nola looked up. Involuntarily her eyes caught Jack’s in the mirror. “A...boarder? What do you mean, dear?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to tell anyone. It’s nobody’s business.” Donna took a sip of her wine, but her eyes never went off Nola. “Like you say, we all have to pay the bills.”

“Okay, yes…I do have someone staying with me—but just temporarily. A friend of a friend. He needed a place to stay.”

“It doesn’t matter! It’s really none of my business.” Donna leaned back. “Is he cute?”

“Who, Ja—I mean, Jason?” Nola shrugged. “He grows on you. I mean, it’s just platonic. Like you said, roomies. You’ve seen him, right? Is that how you knew he was there?”

“Not really, no. I see his shadow, sometimes, when he stands by the window. It’s as if he’s always there, like a hermit.” Donna looked down at her drink, which was almost empty. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Dirty dishes in the sink bother me. A raised toilet seat bothers me. Doing someone else’s laundry bothers the hell out of me—”

Jack frowned. How did this little girl’s night turn into an I Hate Jack gripe session? Okay, yeah, maybe I left the toilet seat up once or twice, but that other stuff—

It was then he realized they weren’t talking about Carl anymore.

Donna had turned the tables on Nola.
 

Jack laughed out loud.
 

He had half a mind to send them a drink with his compliments, but apparently he’d been beaten to the punch. Drinks had just been delivered. The waitress pointed over to a couple of guys—big strapping dudes in nice suits, sitting at the bar.

When the women looked up, the men waved.

Nola nodded slightly, but it wasn’t an invitation.

The men didn’t see it that way. They heaved themselves off their barstools and sauntered over.
 

Donna ignored them, but Nola looked and smiled. “Not now, boys. We’re having a little girl talk.”

The guys sat down anyway—one beside each of the women. The one closest to Nola—the slighter built of the two men, put his arm around her shoulder. “Quit being such a tease.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not. Take the hint.”

“You’re too beautiful to be angry.”

“You’re too stupid to take a hint,” she growled at him. To make sure he got the message loud and clear, she poured her drink in his lap.

The man leaped up, cursing. “Fucking bitch!”
 

Nola and Donna jumped up, grabbing their purses. The other man grabbed Donna’s arm. “Just because your girlfriend is frigid doesn’t mean you have to be, too.”
 
He yanked her down onto him. “Come sit on papa’s lap.”

She looked him directly in the eyes and leaned in.

Before he knew it, she had him cupped in her right hand. She tightened up on him, twisting so hard that he gasped. “Gentlemen, the night is still young,” Donna purred sweetly. “If you want to walk out of here upright—for that matter, if you want leave the same gender as when you came into this bar, then I would suggest that we part ways amicably.” She gave him a hard twist as proof she meant business.
 

This time, when they rose to go, the men stayed put.

Jack waited until Donna’s bedroom light went out before slipping back into Nola’s house.

He wasn’t surprised to find Nola waiting up for him. Before he could say a word, she said, “Jack, I know how you feel about Donna joining Acme, but I’ve got to say, she more than held her own tonight! If he pushed his luck, I truly believe she would have taken him out—”
 

“Nola really—you don’t have to sell me. I was there. I saw it all.”

“No, you didn’t see her face, Jack! It was like…steel.” She winced. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was enjoying it.”

He didn’t say anything. What could he say?

Yes, he saw the look on her face.
 

It was the look of someone who had nothing to lose.

It was the look of a coldhearted killer.

He left a text for Ryan, telling him he’d be in the office by noon.
 

He packed his bag and went to bed.

For the first time in a while, he didn’t dream of Donna.

When he woke, he knew the Donna of his dreams didn’t really exist.

Chapter 17
MICE vs. RASCLS

Back in the day, when the CIA recruited its agents, assets and operatives, it looked for certain emotional criteria that could be summed up in the acronym, MICE—that is money, ideology, coercion, and ego.
 

The terms are self-explanatory. That said, persons of interest who are motivated by any of these factors would be ripe for the plucking and training as spies.

(The “c” and the “e” may also stand for
compromise
and
extortion
. As with most of the spy world, one must always leave room for flexibility, depending on the circumstances—even as it pertains to mnemonics.)
 

Staying in step with the times, today’s CIA has honed its wish list, now relying on these six influential factors, which go by the acronym RASCLS, and involve
: reciprocation
(extending a kindness because human nature is driven to pay it back, if not forward);
authority
(belief comes with respect to those who invite you to play, and in proving one’s self to them, and being rewarded with authority of your own);
scarcity
(“This is your chance, it’s now or never...”);
commitment
(to the cause, proven during an ongoing series of more important actions);
liking
(welcome to our exclusive little club!), and
social proof
(proving one’s commitment with public acts).

In other words, they will always find a way to get you off the other side and onto theirs—those little RASCLS.

“The time has come,” Ryan declared, in a voice that told Jack he didn’t want any further discussion about it. “You and Emma have done a superior job in vetting Donna. She and I are scheduled to have our monthly catch-up lunch today. I’ll ask her then.”

Jack shrugged. At this juncture, he knew better than to argue about it. “Is she making you lunch?”

“If it’s her infamous chicken pot pie, I think it’s time you tell her you’re bringing a few guests along,” Emma piped up.
 

Ryan turned to her. “How would you know how tasty it is?”

Emma’s mouth fell open. “Um…I think I read about it, in one of our reconnaissance reports.” Emma rummaged through a file. “In fact, I’m sure you mentioned it—”

She’s covering for Arnie, Jack thought. Interesting. Talk about an odd couple.

“I’ve never mentioned it.” Ryan’s eyes shifted from Emma to Jack.

Jack laughed. “It was in a report—with Arnie. What can I say? During the black bag mission. The poor guy was starving, and there were leftovers in the fridge. Don’t worry, Ryan, I made sure he only took a spoonful.”

“Oh yeah? I’ve eaten with him. It’s as if every meal is his last.” Ryan muttered. “This is one mission I’m glad is finally over.”
 

You and me both, Jack thought. He smiled at Ryan. “Good luck. I stand firm with my assertion—she’ll say no.”

“If she does, she’s not the woman I thought she was.”
 

“So, she’s another kind of woman—one who’s sane, and has her priorities straight.”

“You’ve spent all this time learning what you can about her, and you’re still blind to the one thing that drives her, eh?” Ryan shook his head, awed. “That Benjamin is as good as mine. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby. If you’re going to tag along, we’ve got to hurry so that you can position yourself somewhere she can’t be struck dumb by your boyish good looks.”

Hearing that, Emma snorted.

Jack had half a mind to tell Ryan the truth about the chicken pot pie. As a dog person, Ryan wouldn’t appreciate the fact that Lassie took the fall.

From what Jack could see and hear from the next booth, Ryan did a good job dodging her very specific questions about the investigation, focusing instead on more mundane topics, like Mary’s grades, Jeff’s last ball game, and Trisha’s latest growth milestone. Jack knew his boss had to do this because the investigation was ongoing, and Donna didn’t have the clearance status required to get the straight scoop.
 

Not yet, anyway.

He hoped that time would come only after the Quorum had been wiped off the face of the Earth.
 

Tatyana’s demise was a step in the right direction.

From the troubled look on her face, Jack knew she’d heard Ryan’s patter before—and was tired of it. She wanted him to get to the point of the meeting:

What progress was Acme making in finding the Quorum?

Still, Donna kept her impatience to herself and played along. “The children are okay,” she assured Ryan. “They don’t ask about Carl as much as they did, you know, since Phyllis–”