"Until we obtain further intel, we cannot move against this new faction. Michael is en route to Cairo to see what information can be acquired from his contacts there." Operations paused and glared at the operatives as if the lack of hard evidence was entirely their fault. Each one felt the uncomfortable weight of his stare.
So that's where he is, thought Nikita wistfully. So much for our picnic. Michael had promised that they would escape to the countryside for an afternoon if the warm weather continued. Oh well, business before pleasure, she thought as she twisted a strand of hair and tried to outstare Operations.
"We're not making progress just sitting here," snapped Operations. "This briefing is over." With an impatient flick of his wrist, the holographic screen vanished. He tossed the remote on the table and headed toward the Perch.
"What's got his shorts in a wad? Madeline holding out on him?" It was Emerson, a recent addition to Michael's team. Rumored to be a genius, he had yet to learn the fine art of keeping his comments to himself in Section.
Chairs pushed back from the briefing table as the operatives began to disperse. Walter and Birkoff stared after Emerson's retreating back. "That clown really needs to get with the program," sighed Walter.
"Yeah, he's supposed to be so smart, but what idiot embezzles from Fortune 500 companies and then leaves the data on his hard drive?" Birkoff wondered.
Nikita was about to add her two cents' worth when Madeline approached her. "Nikita, it would be a good idea if you reviewed your Arabic. You may need to assist Michael with some documents when he returns."
You mean my practically nonexistent Arabic? "Not one of my better subjects, I'm afraid," Nikita smiled weakly.
"All the more reason to visit the language lab," Madeline prompted. "Emerson is there now. He worked in the Middle East before he joined us and is fluent in Arabic."
That loser? thought Nikita with disgust. She forced herself to be pleasant as she answered, "I'll get right on it."
Madeline smiled in that supremely annoying way and went to join Operations in the Perch.
After a grueling afternoon with the arrogant Emerson, Nikita was finally able to get away from Section. The sky was dark and threatening as she stepped into the street. Shoppers darted in and out of the stores trying to make last-minute purchases before heading to their city apartments or suburban homes.
A few raindrops were beginning to fall, but Nikita did not mind. She turned her face upward. It felt wonderfully refreshing after the stifling atmosphere of the language lab and the galling suggestion from Emerson that they have coffee together. Since Michael's out of town, he'd added with a leer.
What a pig. While Nikita preferred tea, 'coffee with Michael' was always a welcome invitation. Okay, so we only went out once, she reminded herself. But she still remembered how Michael put his hand on the small of her back as he ushered her into the café. They had only made small talk, but Nikita sensed that Michael wanted to say more.
Presently, she came to a bookshop that had just opened last week. A bell on the door jangled as she entered. A pleasant grey-haired woman greeted her, asking what kind of books she was interested in.
"Oh, I thought I'd just browse," Nikita answered cheerfully. The woman smiled and nodded. "Let me know if I may help you."
Nikita wandered up and down the narrow aisles. Cookbooks, religion, politics, true crime, children's, fiction, biographies. So many books! Nikita was not a voracious reader, mainly preferring fashion and decorating magazines. But tonight she felt like losing herself in a good novel. After all, Michael would not be coming around to check up on her.
Turning the corner, Nikita came upon the store's largest inventory – romance novels! A couple of middle-aged women were reading the back cover of one and pointing and giggling like embarrassed schoolgirls.
Wonder what's so funny about that one? Nikita was amused as her eyes wandered over the dozens of racy covers. Each one showed an impossibly handsome man about to rescue or ravish an equally beautiful damsel whose breasts threatened to burst through the bodice of her dress. She'd seen women on the Metro reading similar novels, but never gave them much thought.
They must need to escape their dreary suburban lives or inept lovers.
As if by a magnetic force, Nikita's eyes were suddenly drawn to a particular novel. It was entitled, "Raven's Mate" by Susannah. She gasped as her hand reached to pick it up. On the cover was a dark, mysterious man who was a dead ringer for Michael! The most disturbing part was that his arms were around a red-haired woman. She resembled an operative Nikita had once seen arguing with Michael in his office. Nikita blinked to make sure she was really seeing it clearly.
She quickly looked around at the other patrons. She almost expected to find Michael looking over her shoulder with a smirk on his face.
"Oooh dearie, that's the latest one by Susannah. I hear that's a really steamy read!" said the woman in the navy jacket.
"Susannah who?" asked Nikita stupidly as she clutched the book. Her friend, whom Nikita dubbed 'green raincoat,' stepped closer with her arms full of sensational novels.
"Susannah who?!" laughed green raincoat. "Honey, she's so well-known that she doesn't need a last name! Why, she gave up a promising career as an attorney in New York to be a writer and hasn't looked back!"
"Margaret, look. Here's Genevieve's sequel." Navy jacket thrust another book into her friend's arms.
"You recommend this one?" Nikita asked. I'm really out of my league here.
"Most definitely!" gushed navy jacket. "Oh, and you should read Anhri, Katherine, and Roxanne's books, too. They're so incredibly romantic!"
Green raincoat sighed as she looked at the cover of Nikita's book. "What I wouldn't give to run my hands through his hair!"
"Is that all you'd like to do?!" snickered navy jacket as she elbowed her friend.
"Actually, I'd like to run my hands all over him!" she laughed.
Nikita smiled faintly. For some reason she felt offended at the silly remark. How stupid is that? Just because it looks like Michael. I'm just missing him because he's so far away.
Nikita cleared her throat. "Well, if this one's as good as you say. . ."
"Oh, you won't be sorry!" said navy jacket as she patted Nikita's arm affectionately. "It will tide you over until you find your own Prince Charming!" With that, the two women headed for the cash register. Nikita overheard green raincoat as she sighed, "I've always been a sucker for those dark, mysterious types!"
Nikita looked down at the book in her hand. Me, too. While Michael couldn't exactly be compared to a Prince Charming, he was dark and mysterious. She'd been terrified of him when she was first brought into Section. And yet. . .she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. Long curling auburn hair; emerald eyes that saw everything but revealed nothing; toned physique that even severe black suits could not disguise. She had never met a man like him before. . .or since.
The clerk approached her. "We'll be closing soon. Have you found something you like?" she inquired politely.
"Uh, as a matter of fact, I have," Nikita answered. She handed the woman the book while she rooted around for her wallet.
The clerk smiled broadly. "Excellent choice!" Then she lowered her voice so that the young man scowling nearby over a biography of Lenin would not hear. "I often think that if I met a man like that I might just lose control!"
Nikita almost laughed out loud. Lose control? Because of a book? The woman looked like a mild-mannered grandmother or librarian.
"Here you are," said the clerk as she handed Nikita her change. "Sweet dreams!"
"Thank you." Nikita shoved the book into her over-sized black bag. She wanted to get home and see what the big deal was about these so-called 'romance novels.'
PART 2
Nikita reached her apartment building moments before the sky opened up and sheets of rain came down. Tat was close, she thought as she dropped her bag on the couch. She yanked open the refrigerator door and looked warily inside. I wonder what I have that's still fit to eat?
At the sound of the door opening, an orange kitten scampered down the stairs from the bedroom and brushed against Nikita's legs. "There you are!" she said as she scooped up the feline and nuzzled her. This was the same kitten that Michael had told her to get rid of not too long ago. Of course, Nikita disobeyed. Later, the kitten had the audacity to climb into Michael's lap and go to sleep. He said nothing, but simply removed it to a nearby cushion. Chalk up one for Nikita! she thought with amusement.
After five minutes she had scrounged up enough turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and bread for one sandwich. The kitten was happily devouring a can of Kitty Kravings. Nikita polished off the sandwich and the remains of a bag of chips. She went upstairs, took a quick shower and pulled on an oversized Hard Rock Café tee shirt.
She threw some extra pillows onto the bed and settled down to read. The kitten jumped up and curled itself into a ball by her side. "Let's see why these books have everybody in a lather," she said to the cat.
Nikita had just opened the book when some extremely loud thunder and lightning startled her. The lights flickered briefly and she waited to see if the electricity in the old building was going to remain on. When it did, she breathed a sigh of relief and continued.
* Raven's Mate by Susannah *
Setting – Southern England, 1885
Fifteen-year-old Nikita Arabella Josephine Jones-Wirth waited anxiously outside the door of her Uncle George's library. She had come in from riding through the fields with her rambunctious cousins, Seymour and Jason, when her Aunt Adrian called to her.
"My dear, your uncle has news from your father! Go quickly to the library."
As she was about to knock, she heard hearty male laughter from within. It was a voice she knew and despised. She sighed and plopped down in the window seat. She removed the pins from her head and shook out her long blonde hair. There was nothing to do but wait.
For the last eighteen minutes, according to the grandfather clock in the hall, she had been waiting for her uncle to conclude his business with Mick, the eldest son of the neighboring landowner. Mick's father was the local Member of Parliament and no doubt he brought news of the latest goings-on, both political and scandalous, in London.
Nikita's father had been two months in Brazil trying to set up an export business. If Nikita had not been so eager for any scrap of news about him, she would have hidden herself in the linen cupboard across the hall. She had no desire to run into Mick again. She found him boring and pretentious. The way he looked her up and down nauseated her. The parlor maid, Maggie, told her that she had overheard the Master and Mistress talking of a possible match between Mick and Nikita.
"Not in a thousand years would I let that swine touch me! Nikita had declared vehemently. "Or any other man, for that matter!" Just look where it had gotten poor Penelope, Jason and Seymour's older sister. Married less than a year and her belly already puffed out so big it seemed she might be having twins, or even triplets! She waddled around with her hand on her back and complained about her swollen feet and hands.
Nikita recalled how Maggie had blushed furiously as she said, "Oh Miss, if the right man touches you . . .well, it isn't so bad. It can be . . .quite pleasant!"
Nikita had responded with an unladylike snort and rolled her eyes, gestures which often got her in trouble with her old governess, Miss Berryhill. She looked sharply at the maid. She's the same age. Does she know something I don't?
At last. the library door opened and Uncle George emerged with Mick. Slapping him on the back George said, "Are you sure you won't stay to dinner? I'm certain the young people would like to hear some of the London gossip."
"Another time perhaps. I'm expected at Oaklands tonight." When Mick caught sight of Nikita loitering there in her riding habit he exclaimed, "Miss Nikita, it is indeed a pleasure to see you again." He lifted her hand to his lips.
Nikita cringed, but managed to give a small smile. "Hello." She knew she was barely being civil and that her uncle would reprimand her later, but she did not care. She impatiently tapped her riding crop against her leg. What she really wanted to do was strike Mick across the face for the salacious way he was looking at her. His eyes moved lazily from her lips down to her bosom and back up again.
"I would like to extend an invitation for you to visit our gardens. Everything is in full-bloom right now. I'm sure I could spare an afternoon to give you a personal tour." The way he said 'personal' made Nikita's skin crawl.
Fortunately, the butler appeared at that moment with Mick's hat and walking stick, thus saving Nikita from having to answer. She slipped into the library while her uncle saw Mick out the front door and into his carriage.
"What news of my father?" she implored when her uncle returned. He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a letter.
"This arrived by the afternoon post. It seems he has been delayed due to some blasted jungle fever." Seeing the agonized look on Nikita's face he quickly added, "Oh nothing to be alarmed about, my dear. He has fully recovered, but he expects to be another month in the tropics."
"Oh, thank goodness!" Nikita exclaimed as she twisted her hands nervously.
"He has, however, asked me to make some arrangements for your future." George hesitated a moment, He knew his strong-willed niece would not be happy about her father's plans.
Nikita's face brightened. "Can I go to Brazil to help him?" She could think of nothing better than working alongside her beloved father. He could teach her Spanish and Portuguese and she could assist him in his business ventures.
"I'm afraid that's not what he has in mind. It's all right here in his letter." He pushed the heavy cream envelope across the desk. "You are to be enrolled in the Sanibelle School for Young Ladies. The next term begins in two weeks."
"What? I thought I was finished with school," she wailed. "My French is much better than Seymour's and I know more math than Jason. And I can ride and shoot as well as they can."
George sighed. "Yes, that's quite true, Nikita, but I must comply with my brother's wishes. After all, he has entrusted you to my care." He came around to where Nikita was standing and gently put his arm around her shoulder. "The Sanibelle School is a fine institution. I was at Oxford with the headmaster, Paul Wolfe. Oh, he can be a tough old buzzard, but he has the best interests of his pupils at heart."
Nikita frowned and looked at the envelope. She was depressed seeing her father's neat, precise handwriting on the front. "So, I only have two more weeks of freedom?" She had the sudden urge to say some particularly interesting words she'd learned from Jason and Seymour but thought better of it.
"Look on the bright side. It's only an hour and a half by train. You can come home any weekend and between terms."
"I don't see why I have to go at all," she said sullenly. But if this would please her father, then this is what she would do.
PART 3
"What's that?" Seymour asked as Nikita came out onto the terrace one afternoon. She was scowling at a letter that Maggie had just handed her. "A 'welcome letter' from a Miss Glanzman, assistant to the headmaster, at the Sanibelle School. That fine, upstanding institution," she answered sarcastically.
"An all-girls school? Hmm. . .I think Jason and I might have to visit you there! Sounds like our kind of place."
Nikita shot him a withering look. "I'm glad someone finds this amusing, because I certainly don't."
"Hey, what kind of stuff are you supposed to learn there? Here boy, fetch!" He threw out a stick for the family dog to retrieve.
"Let me see. . ." She studied the second page of the letter. "Miss Roddy – literature; Miss Bham – mathematics; Miss Leo – sewing; Mr. Chandler – geography; Miss Jennings – cookery; Mr. Fanning – archery and so on. Apparently, these are the things all well-rounded young ladies require. Oh, and my roommate is to be a Miss Fielding."
"It's a pity they don't teach young ladies boxing. You could certainly show them a punch or two!" laughed Seymour. He raised his fists into a defensive position and jabbed the air.
Nikita snorted. "Well, if Mick's idiot brother could have kept his hands to himself, he would not have left the Harvest Festival with a black eye and a fat lip."
Mick's brother, Simon, tried to kiss Nikita and pinch her bum. He only succeeded in becoming the laughingstock of the shire when her right fist connected with his unfortunate, grinning face.
"I say, your suitors have a hard time of it!" Seymour continued.
Nikita scrunched up her nose. "Suitors! Bah! Don't you have some cows to milk?"
Seymour continued boxing with his invisible opponent. "No, I believe that's your chore today!"
The day Nikita dreaded had arrived. George, Adrian, Jason and Seymour all accompanied her to the Sanibelle School. The boys settled her trunks into the room she would share with the as yet unseen Miss Fielding. They collapsed on the bed with mock protests of how heavy the trunks were.
"I didn't know you had so many clothes and shoes!" Jason said as he threw up his hands.
"There must be fifty pairs of shoes in that one trunk alone!" added Seymour.
"Oh, will you two keep quiet? Those are books that Uncle George loaned me."
The boys looked at each other and burst out laughing. "I didn't notice any gaps on the library shelves, did you, Seymour?" Jason asked solemnly.
Nikita rolled her eyes. "Men!"
The boys continued laughing, but suddenly fell silent when the door opened. In burst a lively brunette with long bouncy curls.
"Ah! This is room 412, is it not? Which one of you is my roommate?" She smiled at them coyly.
"That would be me." Nikita stuck out her hand. "Nikita Jones-Wirth."
The girl shook her hand and said, "I'm Carlotta Ramona Maria Esmeralda Bannister-Fielding, but 'Carla Fielding' will do just fine! I told my parents they gave me too many names!" She laughed heartily and Nikita immediately liked her. "I was named for both grandmothers and a great-aunt."
"It's nice to meet you, Carla. These are my cousins, Jason and Seymour."
Remembering his manners, Jason sprang forward and bowed over Carla's hand extravagantly. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Fielding!"
Not to be outdone, Seymour stepped up and kissed the back of her hand. "Enchanté, Mademoiselle." He hoped she would be impressed with his command of French, the language of love.
"Ah, such nice English boys!" she sighed. "My father is English and my mother is from Martinique. I would have preferred to stay in the Indies where it is warmer, but my dear Papa says I must have a proper education." She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "So here I am."
The little group continued chatting for several minutes. Suddenly, a bell rang somewhere in the corridor and interrupted their pleasant banter. According to the schedule, all students were now to report to the chapel for orientation.
The boys took their leave after bestowing hugs and kisses on their cousin and again fawning over Carla.
As they came out onto the lawn to search for their parents, Seymour had a dreamy look on his face. "I'm going to marry Miss Fielding!" he declared. "I know we were meant to be together."
Jason stopped dead in his tracks and looked at his brother with amazement. "Have you forgotten that we're matriculating at Balliol the day after tomorrow? Besides, you only met the girl fifteen minutes ago. How do you know she's the one?"
Seymour gazed off into the distance. "I have this special feeling."
Jason smirked. "No doubt that 'special feeling' is hunger since you overslept and didn't eat breakfast this morning." He jostled his brother on the shoulder. "Come on, I see Mummy waving over there."