Free Spy Mom by Beth McMullen

cars. If he lives to be one hundred, Theo will never forget this slight. I get him cleaned up and his pants back on and his hands wiped and the little plastic potty hermetically sealed in a garbage bag.
    â€œNo,” I say again, strapping Theo into his car seat, Simon leaning on my hood. “I’m not getting involved.”
    â€œIt’s too late for that. You are involved. Help us and we can protect you and your family.”
    â€œAnd finally get your guy. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You want bait. You don’t give a shit if this professor lights up the sky with nuclear fireworks so long as you finally nail Blackford. So let me ask you, Simon, did Blackford suddenly find my records in his carry-on? Did a little birdie whisper in his ear? You were banking on him not being able to stay away from me, weren’t you? I can’t believe I ever liked you.” I shove Simon out of my way, get in the car, and peel out from the parking place as well as you can in a hybrid. I see him in the rearview mirror shaking his head, looking after me.

6
    Ian Blackford kidnapped me again on my seventh mission, but I’d gotten better and gave him a run for his money. In the end, however, I walked right into his trap, so to speak. He simply waited for me in my hotel room. I’d changed locations no fewer than six times, so I’m not sure how he stayed ahead of me but there he was, sitting in a straight-back chair, lights off, right foot tapping a gentle rhythm on the floor.
    â€œHow come,” I asked, “you always seem to know exactly where I am? It’s a little uncanny.”
    A slow smile crept across his face. “Sorry, Sally,” he said and like a Vulcan he pinched some nerve in my neck and I collapsed in a heap at his feet. I woke up hours later on a foul-smelling couch in a drafty communist-style apartment building in Zagreb, Croatia, my head pounding and my neck sore.
    â€œAre you planning on killing me this time?” I asked, thinking I might as well know what was in store. Blackford sat perched on the edge of the single window in the perfectly square apartment.
    â€œPerhaps. Haven’t decided yet,” he said.
    â€œGreat. Thanks.” I pulled myself up into a seated position and leaned back against the wall. “That makes me feel so much better.”
    â€œI have a message I want you to deliver.”
    â€œSo I guess you are not going to kill me?”
    â€œI told you. I haven’t decided yet.”
    â€œBut if I’m dead how can I deliver a message?”
    Blackford grimaced. “Please, Sally. Can you stop talking?”
    I nodded.
    â€œHow’s the head?”
    â€œMy head is terrible,” I said. “Feels like Jell-O. You knocked me out.”
    â€œI know. I’m good at knocking people out, that sort of thing. My third-grade teacher told me to do what I was good at, so there you have it. Blame it on Mrs. Pearson.”
    Don’t tell me things about yourself , I thought, holding my aching head in my hands. I don’t want to know you .
    â€œWhat’s the message?” I asked, hoping he might hurry up and deliver it and let me go on my merry way.
    â€œTell Gray this is his last warning. If he doesn’t back off in Libya, the consequences could be bad.”
    And here is what I wanted to say: Gray? You mean the guy who runs the place, the one you sent a message to the last time you snatched me? Well, let me tell you what happened after that. Nothing. Nothing happened. Gray does not even have a phone number, near as I can tell. And if he did he would certainly not be taking calls from me. I might as well be a worm for all he cares.
    But instead I answered, “Okay. I will tell Director Gray to stop getting in your way in Libya. Is that the whole message?”
    â€œWhat? That’s not good enough? Then let me elaborate. Tell him I will start eliminating those agents who show up in my shadow.