Free The Miranda Contract by Ben Langdon Page A

Englishman. Curtis closed the laptop and began to pack it into a larger briefcase.
    “Is it a bomb, then?” Sully asked. But it was Curtis’s turn to ignore the comments in the room. He clicked the case shut and straightened himself, turning at last to Sully who stood between him and the door.
    “A bomb to kill the boy?” Sully asked again, louder.
    “I simply cannot answer, Mister Sully,” Curtis said, slowly. Sully noticed the man’s eyes were hard. His voice was pleasant enough, but there was nothing pleasant about what lay behind Curtis’s eyes. “The boy will be the only one who can unlock the case, when it is time.”
    “How? Who is this boy?”
    “Your little delivery boy, Mister Sully. I know you’ve already been prepped on his addition to the entourage, and now you know why.”
    “You overestimate my knowledge, Mister Curtis.”
    “Quite possibly, and yet, there is something about you which does not add up. You aren’t exactly hired muscle, are you, Mister Sully? No, and when the boy comes to meet Miss Miranda at the airport in the morning, it is then that you will ask him to open the case. If you don’t do this, then we move to Plan B.”
    “How many will be hurt, do you think?”
    Curtis smiled.
    “What if I took her away from all of this?” Sully said, possibly more to himself than to Curtis. “What if she didn’t want this life you have made for her anymore?”
    “Well, I suppose we shall just have to wait and see.”

    Miranda had been at the rehearsal for twenty minutes before she got to step up to the stage. Her retainers were elsewhere, preparations underway, so she walked to the performance space by herself.
    The last time up in front of the crowds was still fresh in her mind, but she didn’t feel the anxiety or fear as she walked out under the bright lights. The seats were empty. A few maintenance people moved about the rows and she saw a small crowd of security reviewing exits, but there were no fans there.
    Just her on the stage.
    The arena could hold 15,000 fans, apparently, and from overhearing Christie on his phone earlier, she had already sold over 12,000. It wasn’t the biggest concert she’d played, and there was disappointment in Christie’s voice. Somehow 12,000 wasn’t good enough. She turned her attention back to the stage spreading out around her. She walked up the steps to a platform which would lift her higher still on the night.
    This was the entry point. She would come in from the roof, the platform like an elevator from the heavens.
    One of the dancers was there at the top, stretching one leg like a ballerina up above her head. She had bright pink skin and ornate blue tattoos up and down her arms. As Miranda came closer, the girl smiled at her and more tattoos emerged on her face, the ink welling up from within her to make the intricate swirls of blue.
    “I’m Kyla,” the girl said, switching her legs.
    “Miranda.” She felt foolish for saying that and sunk her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket. “Have you performed here before?”
    The girl shook her head.
    “First time,” she said. “I’ve been here for the tennis though. Roof was open. Beautiful day.”
    Miranda looked to the roof which was sealed. Her team had transformed the stadium into a concert hall, but she knew it would be easy enough to change back. Everything about this business moved quickly.
    Kyla slid slowly to the floor in a perfectly controlled split. Miranda could tell the girl was a trained dancer. She was surrounded by professionals even if she felt like a phony the whole time.
    “When did you… I mean, when did you know you were uber?” Miranda asked.
    “I was born like this,” Kyla said. “Pink skin, you know, but the ink came later. I can’t do anything useful or anything.”
    “It’s beautiful.”
    “It’s freakish, come on,” Kyla said and laughed. Miranda laughed too and then waved goodbye, leaving Kyla to her warm-ups. Todd Christie appeared at the bottom