Heart and Soul by Jackie May (reading list .TXT) 📗

“The prison is not on the boat. It is the boat. Seawaymax bulk carrier. We can take this sucker anywhere in the world.” She points at the flat domes. “Those are retractable roofs. Under each one is a cargo hold the size of a three-story house. Perfect for cell blocks.”

“So this is why you’ve been stationed in Cleveland?”

“During shipping season, we keep to Lake Erie. But she’ll be completely frozen over four weeks from now. We’re on the move north to Lake Huron. Why do you hate water?”

“Besides it being cold and wet and not solid ground?”

“Is there anything besides that?”

“Nope.”

“You ask me, foxes seem a lot more like cats than dogs.”

“It’s true. More crafty. More calculating. More precise.”

She opens the door for me. “I was thinking more fussy.”

We enter a long, warm hallway with bright lights that make me squint. Hillerman leads me through a door into a mess hall echoing with the clatter of metal trays being set out on a counter by the cafeteria staff.

“Full service. Coffee, eggs, donuts, whatever. If you need anything before we head downstairs.”

One of the cafeteria workers is a pretty woman, maybe a few years younger than me. She’s got dark hair and smokey eyes, which gives me an idea. “They’re getting meals ready for the prisoners?”

“That’s right.”

“Who takes it in? These people?”

“No. Cafeteria staff isn’t authorized downstairs. Why?”

“None of the prisoners have ever seen any of these people?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Perfect. I’ll take that one.” I point to the good-looking brunette. She catches us looking at her and freezes.

Hillerman is baffled. “What, her?”

“Her, yeah. But not dressed like that. Tell her to wear street clothes—”

“I’m not telling her anything unless you tell me what for.”

“You can’t know, or this won’t work. I don’t get to see your script, and you don’t get to see mine.”

“What script? There is no script.”

“Exactly. I’m going to play my hand, and you’re just going to have to read the table, be on your toes, and improvise. We need natural reactions. It can’t seem rehearsed.”

“And for your part, you need her?” Hillerman points at the girl, who is now starting to raise her hands, as though under arrest.

“Her, yes. You said I could order anything. But not dressed like that.” I shout across the mess hall. “You got anything else to wear? Street clothes?”

The girl looks to Hillerman for permission to speak.

“What’s your name?” Hillerman asks her.

“Mandy.”

“Mandy, stop what you’re doing and change into your street clothes—”

I interrupt. “Ask her if she’s got a hoodie.”

“She can hear you.”

“You got a hoodie?”

“Yes.”

“Wear that. Oh! How about makeup. Got makeup?”

“Er…a little.”

“Put it on. All of it. And take your hair down. We’re going for sultry. Like a seductress, you know?”

Hillerman pulls me toward the door. “We’re done here.”

“Meet us downstairs,” I call over my shoulder.

“She’s not authorized, I told you.”

“Well, then you better authorize her, and now, because I need her for this to work.”

“You just met her two seconds ago.”

“Which is exactly when my whole plan came together. So what?”

“So what? So what were you going to do if you hadn’t seen her? What was your plan going to be then?”

“Something else, obviously.”

“You think geriatric Arael Moaz, hooked up to ventilators and chained to a bed, is going to respond to seduction? He’s not a glutton, he’s a warmonger, dammit. This is the best you can think of?”

“It’s nothing so obvious or simple as you’re thinking, and you know it, or you wouldn’t have brought me here. You’re just pissed because I won’t tell you, and little Miss Control Everything can’t stand it. Now do your job and order that nice cafeteria worker to meet us in the prison block looking like she’s ready for sexy time.”

Hillerman skewers me with a glare before turning to the cafeteria worker and barking, “You’ve got five minutes.” The girl drops her tray and scurries out a back door.

Downstairs, we enter an operations room full of monitors showing video feeds of different prison cells full of underworld lowlifes. Most are in human form—men and women dressed in orange prison garb—but some are shifted into various animals. I see several wolves and, in a double-size cell, a giant grizzly bear.

Hillerman’s sudden appearance in the room sets the FBI staff on edge. Conversations abruptly cut off. One lady scrambles to take a seat in front of a monitor. A guy with his feet up on a desk nearly falls backward in his chair upon seeing us approach. At his desk is a single monitor showing a massive cargo hold with nothing but a small hospital bed under a spotlight. An old man lies unmoving on the bed.

“There he is,” Hillerman says.

“He gets an entire cell block?”

Hillerman turns to address her staff. “Listen up. This is unscheduled and unauthorized by Washington. If anybody is uncomfortable with that, take a lunch break right now.” Nobody moves. I don’t think anybody has dared to breathe since Hillerman came in. “Divert all audio-visual to our VIP. We’re going in.”

“I’m going in,” I correct.

“We’re going in,” Hillerman presses.

“We are going in eventually. I am going in first.”

Hillerman clenches her jaw. I see several eyes widen and jaws drop. Apparently it’s not a usual thing to see some girl in a Detroit Tigers jacket talking over their boss. How fun.

“This is Agent Davies, FUA Double-D.”

I clap Hillerman on the back. “Otherwise known as the girl who crashed Arael’s party and gift-wrapped him just for you.”

“They’re aware,” Hillerman says flatly.

“Oh, we know all about you,” one guy says with a goofy grin. “C’mon, is it true you actually jumped your car through a second-story window?”

A woman adds, “Yeah, but that was after chasing the bomb car all the way through downtown Detroit and ramming it off the road.”

Another guy continues the story. “Yeah, but that was only after she and Detective Brenner took down a baphomet. Right?”

All eyes look to me, and at this point I’m practically glowing. “They got all this from you?” I