Amelia.

January of 1993.

Vancouver.

When you work as a spy, you usually get a welcome packet with every assignment. A gun, a fresh toothbrush, maybe a comb – and a few fake identities. Everything else can be made in a factory, mass produced and pumped out to the front lines, but identities are harder. Crafting a passport, a license, a police badge, takes a superior level of skill. It takes an artist, a steady hand.

"How did you make it holographic?"

I ran the sealer along the edge of the card, paused for a moment, and then pressed it again for good measure. "I used the balloon from the pharmacy."

Sam glanced at the bits of balloon on the table. "I don't even want to know how you learned to do that."

"I learned from the best."

"What if they decide to run your credentials?"

"No one wonders if someone claiming to be a cop is really a cop – they check on people who say they aren't cops."

"I guess that makes sense, but what if they check on you anyway?"

"I guess I'm dead."

Sam rolled his eyes, "You sure you want to go back out there so soon? He said he was gonna shoot you."

"In a crowded bar? I doubt it."

"Yeah, well, they broke Dino's leg not even a block away."

"It's fine, Sam. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? Because it seems like you're flying by the seat of your pants here."

"That's how my job usually goes."

Sam sat on the couch, huffing. "Well, I'm sitting outside the bar in case you need backup."

"If it makes you feel better."

I had only approached Jacob twenty-four hours ago, but persistence was key. When low-brow criminals were looking to get in with the big boys, they were usually annoying enough to get their shot. It was that, or give up. With rent to pay and kids to feed, giving up usually wasn't an option.

When I got inside, a quick scan of the room told me that Jacob was not there.

But Amelia was.

She was at the bar, casually sipping from a wide-rimmed glass. She was a little overdressed, and far from the menacing character that had been in the alley a week ago.

I sat beside her, curious and weary.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

She looked over, pretending to be bored, but there was a bright curiosity in her eyes. "If you like."

I ordered another of whatever she was having, folding my hands neatly on the bar and waiting until the bartender had gone to speak. "I was hoping to see someone else."

"Well, Jacob is a little unprepared to deal with your… What should I call it? Insistence. It got bumped up to me." Her English accent was musical, her tone deceptively friendly. "He did tell me something interesting. You're with the police. It makes me curious why you kept our little meeting in the alley from your colleagues."

She was prodding, careful about what she said.

"Bold of you to assume I didn't report it."

"You saw my face. We wouldn't be sitting here chatting if you had."

I smiled, a little allured by this game. She was a little more challenging than Jacob, less straightforward, sort of like a snake waiting to strike.

"I want a meeting with your boss," I said.

"Jacob mentioned that, too. If you know so much about her already, it seems silly that you would come to us."

"I've had a hard time finding her," I admitted.

"I don't know, your motives seem a little flimsy, cop."

"Call me Michael."

The hint of a smile came into her lips. She took a sip of her drink. "What did you want to meet with her about?"

"Something private."

She cocked an eyebrow, challenging me. "Everyone thinks they have a million-dollar idea."

"But not everyone has the information I do."

"That's fair. But you can see the risk here."

"I had a feeling I might have to prove that you can trust me. That's how this works, right?"

"Mmm." She took another sip, and a long pause. "I have business down the street. Come with me."

I thought about Sam sitting out front, waiting for me to come back out. But this was too much to turn down. Either she was about to take me out back and shoot me, or she was really considering what I had said. It would not be easy to prove my intentions. She would want something serious, something dangerous. I was suddenly in this alone.

We left through the back, walking down the sidewalk, away from the tourist area.

"What do you want out of that bar owner?" I wondered.

She flashed a smile, "You're very observant."

"I do my best."

"I have just one favor to ask before we go any further." She paused, glancing around to make sure there was no one about. "I want your badge. Do you have it on you."

I felt a prickle of anxiety. Maybe Sam was right. If she looked me up, she would know I was lying.

I reached for my pocket. She ticked a finger, her other hand jumping to the back of her pants. She had a gun on her. She advanced, using her free hand to pat my jacket pockets, and then venturing down to my pants. She slipped her hand into my pocket, coming a little too close for comfort, and took the fake badge I had made.

She examined it, glancing at my face. "I'll hold onto this, Michael."

"I'll need it back eventually. They charge you if you lose it."

"Your priorities are out of line."

"Should I be worried?"

Suddenly, there was a clear, electric feeling between us. She had hungry eyes. She was clever and a little ruthless, and it struck a chord in me. I was attracted to the danger.

"Maybe not now," she answered, continuing our walk.

I was distracted. She was distracting. I thought of Sam, wishing he was here to whack me in the back of the head.

She stopped outside of a restaurant. We stood there silently for a few minutes. She checked her watch a few times, sighing contentedly.

"Are we just gonna…?"

She shushed me. "He has a routine."

Oh. She had brought me to one of the borrowers. My mind raced. Was she going to shoot him in the leg? Threaten his family? Was she going to test how much I would let her do, to see if I was as crooked as I claimed to be?

A moment later, a man came out of a side door with a bag of trash. He saw us and froze.

Amelia smiled at him. "Ernesto. I've missed you."

He stammered, "I-I already paid this month."

"Yes, you did. No reason to look so nervous. I just have a little news for you. Your payment has gone up. New company policy. You owe me a thousand dollars."

His eyes widened, "You can't do that! We had a deal!"

Amelia looked at me, waiting.

This was my test.

I snatched the gun out of her pants and advanced on the guy, shifting the weapon to my left hand and delivering a surprise right hook. If she wanted a show, she was going to get one.

Ernesto hit the ground, putting his hands up to defend himself.

I pointed the gun at his head.

"Listen up. The nice lady wants her money."

"I don't have it!" he cried.

"I see a lot of cars out front. It looks like business is booming. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you only made it through because of what you borrowed. It seems like you owe her a debt of gratitude." I looked back, finding Amelia's eyes locked onto me. "What do you think? Three days? Is that too long?"

"Hmm. I want to be generous. Four."

"Four days." I pressed the gun closer, aiming at his shoulder. "You hear that? Now, listen to this."

I pulled the trigger.

It clicked, but there were no bullets in the chamber.

Ernesto flinched, and then opened his eyes, staring at me in horror.

I felt an intense wave of guilt, but it faded almost immediately.

"Get out of here, before I load this gun and give you some hospital bills."

He scrambled up and ran in through the side door.

Amelia approached, holding her hand out for her gun. I placed it in her palm.

"How did you know it wasn't loaded?"

"I saw it when you pointed it at me in the alley. Why carry around an unloaded weapon?"

"Let's continue our walk."

I joined her on the sidewalk again, and we moved on, skipping a few streets and reentering the business center of the city.

"Okay, I'll bite. How did you meet our mutual friend?"

I made up the story on the fly. "He came into the police station looking for protection and I took it upon myself to steer him in the right direction. I knew if I stuck around him long enough, one of you would show up to have a talk with him. Now, trying to get to the cousin, that's smart. It's a step past shaking down drug addicts and failing businesses."

"I still don't understand your motives. What do you want?"

I paused, waiting for a couple to walk past us before I said, "It's been small-time for me so far. You know, cutting a little off the top, looking the other way. I'm sick of that. I saw my chance and I took it – and I got a hell of a proposal for your boss. I just need a way in."

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, and your performance with Ernesto. He's been a tough nut to crack. And the way you handled that was sexy. But I'm going to turn you down."

"That's a shame. I was looking forward to seeing more of you."

I let my eyes rove down her body.

Amelia narrowed her eyes, "It's been fun, Michael. You can watch me walk away, if you want."

I did. It was a bust for now, but she left me wanting more. I was sure she would be the way in. What kind of criminal carried around an unloaded gun? I got the feeling she was bored and the opportunity for something to play with intrigued her.

I had to admit I was enjoying myself. I tucked the fear in Ernesto's eyes away in the back of my mind, knowing I would keep that detail from Sam.

I thought for a moment that I might be the one falling into a trap here, but that worry flitted away as my eyes followed the sway of her hips down the sidewalk.