Page 24 of A Touch of Treachery (Section 47 #3)

DESMOND

S till plotting how I could keep the General or anyone else from getting their hands on any samples of Redburn, I rode the elevator down to the sixth level.

The armory always reminded me of a massive department store that carried everything a spy could ever need.

Shelf after shelf of weapons, tech, gadgets, and clothes stretched out as far as I could see, and the entire floor was divided into large squares cordoned off with clear bullet- and magic-resistant glass walls to keep any stray weapons fire, smoke bombs, or explosions from escaping and hitting anyone walking past.

Joan was in a square close to the elevator, plucking guns, knives, and ammunition out of an open metal locker and laying them on a table.

Charlotte’s arms were crossed over her chest, and she was watching Joan with a wary expression.

Diego was also here, swiping through screens on his tablet and cataloging the weapons and ammo.

Joan waved her hand over the table like a magician unveiling a trick. “I got all your favorites, Dez.”

I nodded at the assortment of weapons. “An impressive spread, as always.”

Joan jerked her thumb over at some suitcases on the floor. “Your suitcases have the usual secret lead-lined compartments. Henrika will no doubt have her security team search your luggage, but she did say you could bring all the toys you wanted.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s no fun if the prey you invite into your death trap isn’t armed to the teeth,” I muttered.

Joan shrugged, then gestured over at a single gun on another table. “Are you sure you don’t want to take more weapons, Charlotte? You never know what might happen.”

“I’m not a cleaner, so I’m not nearly as deadly as Desmond,” Charlotte replied. “If I can’t think my way out of a situation, then using a weapon will be a last resort.”

Joan shook her head. “Your loss.”

Diego grinned at the liaison. “You love this, don’t you? Picking out just the right gear for the mission.”

Joan returned his grin with an even wider one of her own, and the ice-blue aura around her heart pulsed with happiness. It had been a long time since I’d seen her look so relaxed, and her good mood lightened my own.

“Absolutely! It’s like being a personal shopper for a bunch of badasses who have access to the best toys money can buy.” Joan waggled her eyebrows. “Speaking of toys . . .”

She moved away from the weapons locker, opened a glass door in the wall, and stepped into the next square.

Charlotte, Diego, and I followed her. This area was filled with racks of clothes in different colors, sizes, and styles, from luxurious cashmere sweaters to classic black tuxedos to glittering sequined gowns.

Joan looked at Diego. “What’s the weather supposed to be like?”

The tech guru hit some buttons on his tablet. “Cold and blustery. A big storm is supposed to move in tomorrow, Saturday afternoon. The forecasters are predicting a foot of snow, maybe more.”

Charlotte grimaced. “That sounds like the Tannenbaum mission.”

It had snowed quite heavily during the Christmas Eve party, which had been great for the mercenaries, as it had cut off easy access to Tannenbaum Castle, and bad for Charlotte and me because it had taken so long for help to arrive.

“We survived that storm,” I said. “We’ll survive this one too.”

Charlotte smiled, but her eyes remained dark and troubled, and the aura around her heart dimmed with doubt.

Armed with the weather forecast, Joan plucked one garment after another off the racks and laid them on two separate tables, along with shoes, jewelry, and other accessories.

“I’ve reviewed the Winterfest schedule posted on the website,” Joan said. “The daytime events are all casual, but there’s a formal themed party each night.”

“Of course there is,” Charlotte muttered.

I nudged her with my elbow. “Aw, what’s the matter? You don’t want to get dressed up?”

Charlotte stabbed her finger at a pair of silver stilettoes on the table.

“Not when getting dressed up includes wearing shoes that will lead to my death. Those stilettoes will rub blisters on my feet in minutes, and I can’t possibly run in them.

Why can’t I have practical shoes, like the ones you picked out for Desmond?

” She pointed at a pair of hiking boots that were squatting next to some gloves.

Joan rolled her eyes. “Relax. This isn’t my first mission, and I’m packing a variety of shoes for you and Desmond.

You aren’t the first Section agent to ever bemoan wearing heels, Charlotte.

Trust me. The stilettoes are way more comfortable than they look.

Even better, they contain a few surprises. ”

The liaison picked up the stilettoes and clicked the heels together. Snick-snick . Three small, sharp spikes jutted out of the pointed steel toe of each shoe. “Just in case you want to climb up a wall or kick someone while they’re down.”

Charlotte harrumphed. Joan rolled her eyes again, then set the stilettoes down and moved on to the other items.

“The top buttons on your coats are equipped with small but powerful flashlights. Twist the button to one side, and the light activates. Twist it to the other side, and the light vanishes.” Joan demonstrated with one of the buttons, then set it aside.

“Your necklaces, watches, and other jewelry contain standard comms equipment so the two of you will be able to hear and talk to each other.” The liaison gestured over at a couple of sparkling snowflake brooches.

“Cameras are also hidden in the jewelry, so I, Diego, Gia, and everyone else can see what you’re seeing.

The comms equipment will also let us hear and talk to you, as well as track your locations. ”

Charlotte shot a sour glance at the jewelry. Me too. I had never particularly liked other agents listening in on everything I said and did. It might be necessary to maintain mission safety and security, but it also felt extremely invasive at times.

Joan plucked a long shoestring with two fluffy black pom-poms off the side of a woman’s boot and dangled it at us like a cat toy.

“Since you didn’t want a lot of weapons, I added some extra accessories to your gear, Charlotte.

A little something I came up with myself.

Both pom-poms are packed with explosives.

Just dig through the fabric until you find the button, hit it, and then ten seconds later, boom! ”

Pride rippled through her voice. In addition to packing gear for agents, Joan also dreamed up new gadgets, and several of her inventions were housed in the armory.

Charlotte blanched. “You want me to wear explosives pom-poms on my boots?”

“Absolutely!” Joan replied in an enthusiastic voice. “They’re also attached to your gloves and hats. All your purses are also lined with explosives.”

Charlotte blanched again.

Joan set the pom-poms down. She hesitated a moment, then cracked open a large green velvet box, revealing the Grunglass Necklace. Or at least a copy of it, according to the white identification tag.

“You should take this too,” Joan said, nudging the case over to Charlotte. “Maybe you can fool Henrika into thinking it’s the real necklace and use it as a bargaining chip.”

Charlotte’s forehead crinkled at Joan’s words, as though the liaison had said something wrong, but she trailed her fingers over the glittering jewels. Charlotte blinked a few times, then stared at Joan.

“What an excellent fake,” Charlotte murmured. “Why, it’s so good it looks like the real thing. But I’m no expert in vintage jewelry. Not like you are, Joan.”

The liaison bristled, and the two women stared at each other, having some silent conversation I didn’t understand. I looked at Diego, who shrugged in confusion.

Joan stared at Charlotte a few more seconds, then spun around on her heel and opened another glass door. Charlotte, Diego, and I trailed the liaison.

If the first square had been a weapons locker and the second square a designer closet, this third square was a drugstore with shelves full of seemingly ordinary, everyday items, from keychains to lotions to a pack of playing cards with colorful suits and numbers.

Joan’s face brightened, and she rubbed her hands together in glee. “And now, the really fun stuff—gadgets and gizmos galore!”

The liaison grabbed several items off the shelves and laid them on a table, but she also rejected just as many, examining the items for a few seconds before shaking her head in disapproval and returning them to their original spots.

Joan held up a silver lipstick tube. “You’re already familiar with this, Charlotte. Standard Section issue.” She hit a button on the side, and a small hypodermic needle popped out of the bottom of the tube. “Jab this into someone, and it’s lights out in five seconds.”

She hit the button again, retracting the needle, then removed the top and twisted up the lipstick. “And this plum color will look terrific on you.”

“Great,” Charlotte drawled. “Because I have to wear just the right lipstick when walking into a trap.”

Joan ignored the sarcasm and showed us the rest of the items. A toothbrush with a ceramic knife hidden in the hilt. An acidic deodorant that would eat through metal locks. A fountain pen that shot out a surprisingly long length of wire in case we needed to tie someone up—or garotte them.

“What does this do?” I asked, picking up a rectangular gray box that was about as long as my index finger and twice as wide.

“That old thing? It’s a recorder with a tiny cassette tape,” Joan replied. “It uses batteries. Completely analog. An antique from spy days gone by.”

“Cool.” I set the recorder down.

Joan planted her hands on her hips, then made another round of additions and subtractions from the items she had picked out. Diego followed her, marking the selections in the armory database.

Charlotte wandered along behind them. Her eyes narrowed, as though she was seeing far more uses for the gadgets with her synesthesia than what Joan had suggested.

I too stared out over the sea of seemingly innocuous items. Joan was making sure we had everything we needed, but dread still twisted my gut into knots. No matter how well equipped Charlotte and I were, something completely unexpected would inevitably come up.

I just hoped the unexpected thing wouldn’t be the death of us.