Chapter Seven
En route to Mayfair, Warwick, Byron and Jamie sat in the back of their chauffeur-driven car as it confronted Friday night traffic in Central London.
Warwick still was sulking at being assigned surveillance duties outside Khemidi’s apartment. He seemed oblivious that it was his lack of engagement at the bathhouse that had led to the demotion. Instead, he directed the blame at the new boy: Jamie. And he eyed the burgeoning friendship between Byron and Jamie with great suspicion.
“This could be our one chance at some proper intel,” Warwick lectured. “Our one chance of confirming Khemidi’s next target. I’ve no idea why we’re relying so heavily on the rookie over here!”
Warwick may have been talking out of anger, but Jamie accepted the point. Jamie was their most inexperienced spy, and he was starting to feel the pressure. What they managed to uncover at the penthouse tonight could be the difference between someone living or dying. He resolved not to let anyone down.
In the back of the car, the faint smell of hair product and cologne lingered from where Byron and Jamie had dressed up for the evening. Byron had slicked back his hair, and even though Jamie hadn’t thought it actually possible, looked more handsome than usual.
Throughout the journey, Jamie exchanged glances with Byron. He wanted to believe the glances meant something. But he reasoned he was committing the number one error of code-breaking: reading signs that weren’t there. At least for this evening, they would be able to play a couple again, even if that’s all they’d ever do.
As they reached Khemidi’s apartment, Warwick had some parting advice. “Don’t fuck up!”
***
Khemidi’s apartment did not disappoint. Located on the top floor of a multi-story, five-star hotel-apartment building, it was accessed through a double-door entrance manned by two exceptionally large bouncers. After being adequately frisked on the way in, Jamie and Byron were directed toward a living area, the likes of which Jamie never had seen in his lifetime. Black wood-paneled walls interspersed with mirrors created a sense of overflowing space, as windows on the other side looked out at the Mayfair skyline.
The attendees at this glamorous affair read like a ‘Who’s who’ of London’s social luminaries, with award-winning authors to successful app inventors all making the guest-list.
Feeling overwhelmed by the buzz of activity, Jamie instinctively reached out to hold Byron’s hand. And to his surprise, Byron took hold of it firmly, protectively, and led them inside.
Khemidi himself seemed delighted at the arrival of his two handsome guests, Jamie and Byron.
“You came!” he remarked, sounding surprised as he strode toward them. Dressed simply in a light blue blazer, white T-shirt and navy blue tapered trousers, he oozed style. Jamie doubted few people would turn down an invitation to a party like this. Khemidi greeted both of them with a kiss on the cheek.
“Tell me,” Byron said, “What does a man have to do to get an apartment like this?”
No time being wasted then, Jamie noted. Khemidi didn’t take the bait.
“It’s a beautiful apartment,” Khemidi conceded. “You both look very at home here.”
A gracious host, Khemidi started introducing the two men to others in attendance. With so many intrigued by the good-looking new arrivals, however, it was clear Byron and Jamie could be left to mingle freely. Khemidi eventually turned his attention back to other guests.
From the car parked outside, Warwick spoke to Byron through his earpiece, “What can you see?”
“Hold your horses, hot shot. We just got here,” Byron replied discreetly.
Conversation at the party was predictably pretentious; topics ranging from the impact of populism on literary review, to who in modern culture represented the current apotheosis for the fourth wave of feminism.
For someone of his schooling, coupled with his playful charm, it was a cinch for Byron. Byron was more impressed with Jamie, who hid his complete cluelessness on so many topics through sheer likeability and a knack to look especially interested in the person he was talking to. If it was a front, Byron hoped Jamie hadn’t been “fronting” when they’d gone out earlier in the week.
The only time Jamie’s style ran into difficulty was when Khemidi re-joined a group conversation they were having and began probing Jamie on the future of banking reform. With a cover story that he and Byron worked in banking, Jamie’s ignorance of the area seemed to sit uncomfortably with Khemidi. Jamie detected the faintest hint of suspicion on Khemidi’s face, and the passive interrogation made him feel wary; getting on the wrong side of a killer in his own apartment, after all, did not feel like the safest move.
Byron had interjected with a save, “The boy’s still young and idealistic when it comes to politics! We rely on him to sort out our numbers. His brain’s like a computer. You know those IQ test questions? They’re a cakewalk for him.”
Rather than laugh it off, Khemidi actually had called up an app on his phone and tested Jamie—showing him the ubiquitous questions involving different shapes that asked which shape came next in the sequence. It was a cakewalk for Jamie—and Khemidi’s suspicion seemed to soften.
Jamie was grateful for Byron’s save, but he was starting to wonder when he’d get an opportunity to prove his worth to Long Watch. He spotted an opportunity when the very same male who had spoken to Khemidi in the steam room arrived at the party. Khemidi went to talk to the male outside on a balcony leading off of the living area.
Why go outside? Jamie wondered. This had to be the next lead they were waiting for.
Byron also spotted the male. He eyed the distance to the balcony and considered how to close the gap without raising suspicion. At that moment, however, he was in the midst of a conversation with a seventy-year-old author, whose historical fiction just had been adapted for mainstream television. As much as he politely tried to wind up the conversation, he was no match for the seventy-year-old, who fondly kept her hand on the arm of her fine-looking conversation partner.
Unencumbered, Jamie positioned himself closer to the balcony. He could hear the sound of their voices but was struggling to make out the words. Taking several steps toward the open door that led onto the balcony, he suddenly felt his champagne flute catch the arm of another guest. Before he could stop it, the flute fell straight from his hand, and shattered with great noise. Shards of glass landing near his feet, Khemidi looked up and stared directly at Jamie; his conversation with the male drawing to an abrupt halt.
If Khemidi’s suspicions hadn’t been raised before, they certainly had been now.
From the other side of the room, Byron cringed at Jamie’s faux pas. Awkwardly, Jamie fumbled around on the spot – trying to look like anything other than someone who had been vying to get onto the balcony.
Khemidi finished up his conversation with the male, and then stepped back into the living area. Jamie felt his blood run cold when Khemidi came straight up to him and took hold of him by the arm.
“What were you doing?” he whispered into Jamie’s ear.
“I was… I…,” Jamie stammered, his mind going blank as he struggled to come up with an excuse.
“That was a very important business meeting you just interrupted,” Khemidi explained. With his hand gripping Jamie’s arm, he started to lead Jamie back through the living area. A smile plastered over his face, Khemidi made the gesture look friendly, but the tightness of his grip told Jamie this was anything but.
Byron had broken away from his conversation partner and came to Jamie’s side.
“Is everything okay?” he asked Khemidi, walking fast to keep up with them.
“Yes!” Khemidi insisted. “I was just telling your partner here that he interrupted a very important meeting.”
Khemidi brought Jamie out into the hallway, and for a brief moment, Jamie feared he was about to be turned over to the two hefty bouncers. Then Khemidi opened a door and led them into… a bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, the bedroom exuded opulence. with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.
As Jamie and Byron eyed the sumptuous double-bed in the center of the room with confusion, Khemidi smiled.
“I wanted to know what you were going to do to make it up to me?”
It took a moment for Khemidi’s unspoken invitation to sink in, even for Byron. As Jamie felt a wave of relief from learning that Khemidi wasn’t about to kill him, it quickly was replaced with trepidation over where Khemidi was going next.
When both Jamie and Byron failed to respond, Khemidi added: “I believe you hadn’t finished what you were showing me at the bathhouse...”
Byron’s mind immediately started to re-engage. He saw an opportunity to win back Khemidi’s trust. He strode up to Khemidi and brought his face close enough that their lips brushed against each other’s.
Jamie could see why Byron was such an effective spy; he knew the effect he had on people – and he wasn’t afraid to use it. Without saying a word, Byron moved his head slowly up and down… his lips dragging Khemidi’s with his.
“I think you better sit down for this,” Byron said.
Unable to hide his arousal, Khemidi sat down on a chair by one of the windows and gazed ahead in the direction of Byron and Jamie.
Jamie felt his heart rate quicken as Byron brought his face into his, and started kissing him passionately, pushing him up against the wall.
How he had longed to feel Byron’s mouth against his again…
Khemidi unzipped his trousers and pulled out his erect cock, which he started stroking slowly as he watched the two of them.
Byron took Jamie onto the bed, and Jamie wondered just how far Byron was willing to take this. As Byron got on top of him, their lips locked in a kiss, and Jamie felt his own cock get hard. He knew Byron would have felt it, too. Between their clothing, he felt the shaft of his throbbing erection rub up against the side of Byron’s leg; Byron straddling him. In the background, he could hear the sound of Khemidi’s cock getting moist as he rubbed it up and down.
For a few seconds, Jamie decided he didn’t care that this was just part of the assignment, and he kissed Byron back because he wanted to—and because Byron tasted so damn good. He felt his cock at full mast now, incapable of getting any harder. He gazed deep into Byron’s eyes, feeling their saliva mix.
Then, reason started to creep in. For Byron, this was probably nothing more than a means to an end. For Jamie, he could not ignore what he was feeling right now; he was falling in love with Byron.
Abruptly, Jamie pushed Byron off of him.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” he said. He looked apologetically at Khemidi, then opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway.
A few minutes later, presumably after exchanging the relevant pleasantries with Khemidi, Byron joined Jamie in the hallway.
“Hey man, I’m sorry. I wasn’t gonna go on much longer in there. I was about to wind things up,” Byron said. He put his hands out caringly and placed them on Jamie’s arms.
Jamie couldn’t help but smile inside at the confusion; Byron thought he’d left the room because he was finding the play-kissing with Byron distasteful. How wrong he was…
“It’s not that,” Jamie explained. “I’m gay. I know this is just… pretend. But I can’t…”
It felt refreshing to be open with Byron. But Byron looked shocked, and something else too… Jamie tried placing the emotion registering on Byron’s face: shame?
He leaned in to Jamie, keeping his voice low, knowing that Khemidi was still in the other room.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t have any idea you were… we need to talk. Not here. Later. Tonight?”
Jamie nodded.