Free Missing Lynx by Fiona Quinn

tray, Striker coughed loudly to create a distraction. I simply took in a deep breath and slid seamlessly into the shadow. My breathing slowed. My mind conjured up the industrial-blue, dimpled texture of the walls. I used my imagination to project this out in front of me, just like Master Wang taught me to, and settled in to wait.
    Right away, the Dirts forgot I ever existed. They never looked around for me. Striker had them focused. As the Dirts told their story, under the table they tapped their feet, and swiped their palms down their pants, trying to hide their nervousness from Striker. And, they were lying.
    Forty-five tedious, uncomfortable minutes of dry information went by before Striker stood up to go to the men’s room. I used the distraction of his movements to turn on my digital recorder and went still.
    As soon as the door shut, the Dirts exhaled loudly. MacNamaly pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and mopped at his face.
    “Fucking hell! They sent us Striker Rheas as our contact? What the fuck are we going to do now?” MacNamaly demanded.
    “We’re going to follow the plan. Get your shit together. You look like you’re headed for a heart attack.”
    “Fuck that. I think we should bail. Rheas. Fuck. Why do you think they sent in their A-Team? Do you think they know?”
    “They don’t know shit. They sent in Rheas because we’re making first contact. Rheas isn’t gonna keep this case. He’s gonna go back to the office and assign it to some low-level newbie who’ll bumble through and do exactly what we want him to do.”
    “Man, you’d better be right. You’d better be right about this, man. I’m not gonna spend my life in no jail cell. I’m fucking ready to bail,” MacNamaly whisper-shouted, wiping his face some more and shoving the handkerchief back in his pants’ pocket.
    “We’ve passed them the bait. They’re going to go after this like a dog on a steak bone. Iniquus will be marching home in victory, and we’ll be there to catch them red-handed. They’ll be implicated in the crime, take the fall, and we come off like heroes and retire with our bags of money. Easy peezy.”
    “Easy peezy, you shithead, unless we don’t get the newbie, and we get Rheas. Then what?” asked MacNamaly.
    “Then, we come up with Plan B. Plan B might not be too good for Rheas’s longevity, if you know what I mean.”
    Striker opened the door, I turned off the recorder and stepped to the side. I was visible. Striker focused over at me. I gave him a nod.
    “Alex, did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”
    “Little bit.” The Dirts whipped their heads around to look at me. I gave them a little finger wave and walked toward Striker. The men turned their heads following me. Their mouths gaping like trout.
    “How long have you been here?” MacNamaly growled.
    “I never left. I’ve been here since I brought you coffee. Maybe I should give Commander Rheas a blow-by-blow of what transpired, so he’s up to speed.”
    Both men stammered incoherently. They had no way to protect themselves, as I repeated their conversation verbatim. 
    “Your secretary is out of bounds, Rheas. Get her under control,” MacNamaly was all but foaming at the mouth.
    I waved my recorder at them, and MacNamaly lunged. I jumped out of his reach. Striker had him face down. Dirt Bag Two got up and made for the door. He stopped when he heard the ratcheting sound of me chambering a bullet. He reached for his weapon only to find an empty holster.
    “Before I joined Iniquus, I aspired to be a Vegas magician.” I smiled, aiming his gun at his center mass.
     
    The Dirts were handcuffed and taken into custody. Treasury could handle the case from this point. Striker shook his head on the elevator ride down. “Lynx, you’ve got to start making this look harder. I’m telling you.”
    Ha! That’ll show Command what I’m made of. “You want to know what’s hard?” I asked, looking down at my feet. “Walking a mile in