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“Oh, him and a dozen other horrible missions I was on.”
“Understood. But hear me out.” He placed his hand on her arm. “Mel, you were an exceptional agent. You excelled at everything you took on and anything that was handed to you. What I am about to describe is light years from your previous line of duty.”
“So what do you need me for?” Now she was curious.
“I need you to be an escort for international billionaires.”
Melanie blurted out, “You want me to do what? And with whom?”
“It’s not what you think,” he replied.
“The escort part or the billionaire part? Or is it the international part?”
“Listen. There are international billionaires from some, shall we say . . . iffy areas of the world. They come to Washington, New York, and Miami to conduct business. When they have dinner parties, or cocktail parties, or other social gatherings, they want to be in the company of attractive, intelligent women who can carry on a conversation. They don’t want bimbo bubbleheads just sitting there looking good. They’re too easy to find. Then after dinner or whatever the occasion, you get to leave, and their dessert arrives.” He used a euphemism.
Melanie was listening intently. “Dessert.” She chuckled. “Explain how this is going to work.”
Patterson told her there were two sting operations planned. One was an art exhibit at a diplomat’s residence, and the second was a dinner party scheduled at a different diplomat’s private club. There would be approximately ten men seated at the table.
“Who are the other women?” Melanie asked.
“They’re usually from an agency. A very exclusive international agency.”
“So how do I fit in? And why?” Melanie was truly intrigued. “Won’t they know I’m from a different agency? No pun intended.” She snickered.
“We need you to work counterintelligence.”
“But how?”
“NSA, CIA, FBI. The entire alphabet of government intelligence agencies gets tips on everything from drug smuggling, diamond smuggling, human trafficking, guns, ammo. You name it. In each case, there is an elite billionaire involved in organizing the gathering. It takes money to pull off these jobs.”
“Right.” Melanie knew what he was referring to. “But what exactly would I be doing? Sitting? Talking? Obviously, listening.”
Patterson smiled. “All of the above, but you might find this surprising—we’re really interested in your sleight of hand talent.”
“My what?” she exclaimed, her eyes the size of saucers.
“Yes, those little tricks from Uncle Leo.” Patterson saw she wasn’t quite buying it.
“You’re joking, right?”
“Mel, I am dead serious. We need you to plant a bug on these men. The devices are smaller than a pencil eraser. Drop one in a pocket. It can transmit up to a thousand feet. There might be an occasion for you to drop a GPS device. All you have to do is get close enough. I know you can do this, Mel.” He hesitated. “I need you to do this. There’s no one else I know who’s both capable and completely trustworthy.”
Melanie knew he was serious. There had been too many high-risk security breaches occurring of late. It was a sad state of affairs when the people who were supposed to be protecting the nation’s most sensitive information carelessly tossed it out to the world and enemy hands. She understood his caution. “You know I can’t say no, so where and when do we start?”
“The first job I want you on is an art exhibit,” Patterson said.
“Okay.”
“There’s a new artist who is putting on an exclusive show in Georgetown.” He used finger quotes for the word artist. “No one has ever heard of him, and from what I understand, his work is garbage.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Melanie smirked.
“Yeah, well, we suspect these pieces of art are a cover for something else. We just can’t figure out what. There’s a guy from the Middle East who is spending beaucoup bucks on something that the art experts say is junk. So he’s either gone totally crackers, or there is something in this transaction that very few know about.”
“And I’m supposed to find out what it is?”
“We suspect drugs, but we have no evidence, cannot get a warrant. We’re dealing with diplomatic immunity.”
