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Author's Note: This is the second adventure in the Eileen series. Eileen is a housewife turned spy. Also a former cop, she quit the force to stay home with her three children: 9-year-old twins Eli and Sam and daughter Leah, 15. Husband, Alan, is a college professor. When Eileen's former police partner, Blake, showed up, he offered her a deal she couldn't refuse: Lots of money in return for her working undercover for the World United Secret Service, an international spy agency. They're a little touchy about the acronym. |
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W.U.S.S. |
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The Service, as its agents call it, installed one of its other agents — Agnes, a Sophia Loren look-alike who knows karate — in Eileen's home as a live-in housekeeper, concocted a cover story about Eileen getting a new job with a magazine and launched her spy career. When her first adventure was over, she went home, only to find that when her partner showed back up on her doorstep, she was glad to see him. He asked her to step back into the world of secret agents and codes and help him find the man impersonating a British intelligence bureau chief called Nine. With the blessings of Mr. B (their boss, an Alfred Hitchcock look-alike), the two agents (Eileen and Blake) were launched on another adventure. Prologue: "You should have stayed home, where you belong," he said. I had to agree. Right that moment I would have given just about anything to be back home, ironing clothes, scrubbing commodes, being taken for granted by my loving family. But I wasn't. |
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"Yes. This is where we sacrifice virgins. Now, would you mind shutting up? I need to sharpen my virgin-sacrificing tools." He went back over to
some other big stone block I couldn't see and I heard what sounded like metal clanking around. "I've got bad news for you," I said. I think it came out kind of croaky. My voice always gets hoarse whenever I contemplate
becoming the evening's entertainment. Mr. Personality stomped back over to where I was and glowered. "Why is it you American women never seem to shut up? What is it this time?"
I cleared my throat. "I said I've got some bad news for you." He stood over me, his hands on his hips and waited. "Well?" "I'm not a virgin." He threw back his head and started laughing. He laughed and
he laughed and he laughed. I laughed with him. It didn't seem that funny to me, but hey, when someone is planning on cutting out your heart and he's laughing, you laugh with him. He suddenly stopped and looked at me kind of
odd, so I put a lid on it. Then he leaned down real close to my ear and whispered. "I know." "What do you mean, you know? And if you know, how come you plan on sending me to that Great Virgin Hunting Ground in the sky?"
"Well, first, you've got your cultures crossed. I'm Mayan, not Apache. We don't have hunting grounds in the sky. We sacrifice virgins. Second, I don't care. I'm not sacrificing you to the gods. I'm killing you because you got
in my way. Any more questions?" Well, no, now that you mentioned it. I guess all that's left is for this homicidal madman to chop my heart out. Unless, of course, I'm rescued at the last minute by my intrepid partner,
Blake. But I can't count on that — the last time I saw him, he was in a bigger pickle than I am. At least I can die satisfied that I did something noble — or at least useful — with my life.
That and a buck will buy you a cup of plain old coffee … and so we begin . . . Chapter One |
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