“What’s this about?” Jesse asked. He sat in a chair in the conference room, looking at his partners with a smile. “We haven’t had a real meeting in a while now. I’m guessing I missed something while I was gone.”

“You weren’t the only one,” Kiefer said.

“A preliminary search brought up some… questions,” Alec began. “And I thought you all would want to hear about it. I know we have had some talks in the past about keeping ourselves just on this side of what’s lawful. I’m not sure exactly to proceed.”

Alec related the information about Rick’s sister, Erika Hill, and the possibility that she was a thief, or was working as a lookout for one.

“There’s a couple of things to consider here. This is a fairly simple case but people don’t come to us for pedestrian solutions,” Kiefer said. “Rick doesn’t know what his sister might be involved with and it’s not our decision to make the choice for him. If he knows about her situation ahead of time, he might change his mind. We’re only being contracted to find her.”

“That said,” Alec interrupted. “He’s a friend. I don’t know how I feel about dumping this girl on his doorstep without some kind of explanation about what we found.”

“It looks bad for her,” Jesse said. “But we’re not really sure, are we? I mean, one could say that it would appear she’s been involved with some unsolved thefts but we don’t have anything solid to say that’s true. I’m assuming if the authorities did she’d have been arrested by now. David, she doesn’t have a criminal record, does she?”

“Not as Erika Hill,” David said. “I don’t know yet if she has any aliases but I have a search going. I might have more information about that later today.”

“Alec, I think we find her first, and let her know her brother is looking for her,” Kiefer offered. “Don’t initiate any talk about her past. Just set up something for the two of them to connect, and let them work it out. If he asks about her past, give him a dossier. I’m betting he will at some point.”

“Sounds fair,” David said. “Gives her a chance to tell her story if she wants to.”

“Family business is complicated,” Alec sighed. “Well, how exactly are we going to find her?”

“I’ve got this,” David grinned. “I’ll make sure she’s in touch soon. Kiefer. You might want to help me out with some names. I could use the contacts for a couple of Shari’s rich clients.”

* * *

After their meeting, Alec headed out to the desert.

He had a home there, a sort of getaway spot whenever he needed to be alone. Along with his motorcycles, he had dirt bikes, and he liked to go off roading. He’d grown up in a rural part of the state, and he missed the solitude he found out in the wilderness. Though his brothers and most of his life was in Los Angeles, he sometimes felt strangled by the rush and population of the city. Lately, he was feeling anxious. He knew it was the after effect of too many years living in war zones and fighting for his life. Missions always took their toll. Knowing this was the cause of his stress didn’t do much to help. Not a believer in therapy, he’d tried it during the worst times. There were some techniques he learned which helped him cope. The one which really worked best was going somewhere he didn’t have to talk to or see anyone until his anxiety passed.

Alec became accustomed to the nightmares which plagued his sleeping hours. Flashes of gunfire, the smell of swamp water, the feeling of his body smeared in mud and sweat. Disjointed pieces of memory melded together, different missions. He remembered being in a field hospital in a foreign country, with doctors and nurses who tended his care but didn’t speak a word of English. He remembered his brothers coming, each in turn taking their place at his bedside. And then he would see himself back in the zone, running, with a fallen comrade on his back.

When he first came back home from the war zone, he’d had difficulty adjusting. There were the dreams when he did sleep, but at that time he suffered from insomnia. A dangerous cocktail of prescription drugs chased with whiskey had been his favorite remedy. It was Kiefer who insisted he get help. And it worked. There were choices he had made in black ops which he simply couldn’t take back, things he had seen which would always haunt him. He would never feel normal again, not in the way he had been before he was recruited. He sometimes wondered if he would have taken the offer to join if he’d understood the true repercussions.

Even though the dreams shook him those were easier to deal with than his anxiety. The feelings of unease and tension were more difficult to handle because he often felt they came without any reason. He never knew exactly how long it would last. Lately, felt like if he was grappling a sense of peace within his spirit which he couldn’t find.

It took him a couple hours to drive up to the house, a ranch style home on ten acres of land. On this particular day, he didn’t even take out his bike. He sat in the darkness of his den and smoked a cigarette. With the heavy black drapes pulled across the windows, he was in darkness despite the afternoon sunshine. Stripped down to nothing but his boxers, he sat and let the quiet wash over him.

At some point, he got up and had a drink. Rum was his favorite. He loved the smoothness of it on his tongue and the burn in his belly. Sitting there in the darkness, he drifted to sleep in his recliner. When he woke some hours later, it was from a peaceful, dreamless sleep. He stood and stretched. His phone was sitting on the coffee table, vibrating.

He picked it up and scrolled through his text messages, and found a new one from David, which had come in only an hour before:

Somebody’s been a real bad woman. Check your email.

Alec grinned. He went to his desk and opened his laptop. Sure enough, there was an email with the initials E. H in the subject line, no comments, and several attachments he had to download from a virtual server.

The first file he opened were images of identification cards.

All the same woman, in an array of different clothes and hairstyles. They were different enough that he wouldn’t have guessed the woman was the same person. Her hair had been in every conceivable color and several different haircuts. Being a master of disguise had to come in handy for a thief. All told, Erika Hill appeared to have at least fifteen different aliases.

The cards were mostly driver licenses and passports, along with immigration identification and even a couple of college student id cards. Several were from European countries, but there were also ones from Canada and the United States, including driver licenses for California, New York, Arizona, and Massachusetts. There was nothing under her real name. Erika Hill was a non-entity.

“So she has been in the States recently,” Alec muttered to himself.

Clicking on the next document, he found a criminal record for a woman named Tara Stephens.

Apparently, she’d discontinued use of this particular alias after she served a brief stint in jail. It was for pickpocketing and was in a juvenile record. She was only seventeen at the time, and apparently already a budding delinquent. She’d been caught stealing in a shopping district in Prague. Quite the start for a young American girl living abroad. The file stated she was sentenced to three months; an “unnamed person” posted bond for her and she was let out of jail in three days. Someone with money, other than either of her parents? The authorities would have noted if one of them bonded her out. It smelled like payola to him. Alec had heard stories about teenagers getting bailed out by drug dealers, who would use them as mules to ship the product back in forth. He had no proof of that but as a working theory, it was plausible. He wondered how far she had moved in her criminal career since then. Was she still working for someone else, or was she strictly a freelancer?

Apparently, she hadn’t been in any trouble after that, under this particular alias or any of the others which David had been able to document.

Alec stared at the picture. She had beautiful dark eyes, but there was something flat about their effect, cold. In the mugging photo, she seemed to be holding her mouth as if she bit down on the inside of her lip. She held a sign with her inmate number. At that age, and her first time being in trouble, he imagined she must have been terrified. None of the other photos caught that raw vulnerability, but he found small glimpses of it here and there.

This woman was tough, but there was something else there. A longing, some pain, and a trace of emotion she tried hard to disguise. No matter how she changed herself, it was there in the dark pools of her eyes. She was the perfect chameleon. She was singularly beautiful but her general description: brown hair, brown eyes, medium height and medium olive complexion would help her escape detection. And with the right disguise in place, she could blend into a crowd.

He took a while to read the rest of the file. Sometimes Alec wished he knew exactly how David found all the information he did. Other times he reminded himself it was probably best if he didn’t. His hacking abilities had gotten him in trouble with the government before. That was basically how David wound up in black ops in the first place.

There was a list of associates. It was brief, but seeing as she hadn’t been caught lately, he expected that. The lengthier a person’s criminal record was the more jackass friends of similar thuggery they knew. A real professional kept associations brief and clean as possible. More people meant a higher possibility of things going wrong, or worse yet, a better chance of getting ratted out to the police when things got messy.

Sighing, Alec leaned back in his chair.

The bones of the plan to lure Erika Hill were already taking form. But like any job, it was the specifics that were the most complicated. It was easy to get caught in the stickiness of details. Alec had to wonder what it was going to be like to meet this woman. Thief. Master of disguises. Long lost little sister.

There was so much to find out about Erika which couldn’t be revealed through tracking her lives under aliases and in different cities across the globe. Did she know about her brother? Or her mother’s death? Did she grieve for the family she didn’t have? What had caused her to decide on a criminal lifestyle?

Those were the kinds of answers which there was only one way to get.

* * *

“Other than being here to make sure my client is happy,” Shari said. “Remind me why I’m here again?”

“Basically, because we don’t know if they’re going to take the bait or not,” Alec said. “And just in case they do, you’re here to soothe nerves.”

“And offer my services as an attorney?” Shari said with a smile. “You guys do think of everything.”

Alec and Shari were standing shoulder to shoulder, in the middle of a new gallery in Santa Monica. It was a lesser known exhibit, a bit off the beaten track, but they had a new, very expensive showcase of jewelry. One which would hopefully draw the attention of certain people. Shari looked around discreetly and took a sip of her champagne. “I thought Kiefer was supposed to be around here?” she said softly.

Alec smiled but he didn’t look at her, focusing on a painting instead. “Yes, your man is close by. Here doesn’t always mean within sight.”

“I bet,” she replied.

“Mingle,” Alec said. “Don’t get too cozy with anybody.”

When Shari looked to her left, Alec was gone.

* * *

The gallery was crowded. It was a new opening, one which usually wouldn’t have been on her radar. But since Erika was in the area she decided she would come down and have a look at it. It was small compared to some of the other places she had been, but it was filled with high-class art. She had expected that. This was a rich enclave, and they needed to have truly compelling artwork in order to engage people to come there instead of some of the larger venues nearby.

The nice thing about it was the younger crowd. And there was money here, not just on the wall or under the protection of cases. No one was California casual here. The men wore nice suits with shiny dress shoes and expensive watches. The women wore skin-bearing dresses, diamonds and other precious stones dripped from their ears and their wrists, shined against the sunburned skin of their chests.

She was offered a glass of red wine by the greeter, and she figured, why not? She intended to take a taxi back to where she was staying anyway.

Erika walked around the perimeter first. She always looked for the same things: security panels, exits. She counted hallways and noted the placement of light fixtures and overhead vents, the number of art pieces encased in glass. By the time she made one full circuit of the space she had a count of how many paintings were included in the exhibit as opposed to wall paintings. She was able to figure out a risk assessment in her head. It came second nature to her.

“May I get you another drink?”

A soft male voice shook her out of her own thoughts. She looked up and found a man standing very close to her. He was a blond with hazel eyes and high cheekbones. How he’d gotten close to her without her noticing, she wasn’t sure. And as she’d scanned the crowd, she hadn’t seen him either. A man that attractive would have stood out in her memory.

“I guess I did finish mine,” she said, looking at her glass. “I think I’ve had my share of it though, the stuff tastes a little bitter to me,” Erika replied.

“Well, maybe I can take you someplace that serves better wine,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve always suspected museums serve Two Buck Chuck mixed with something else,” he said. “Either that or maybe some coffee.”

She smiled. He was smooth. And if he weren’t so cute, she probably would give him a few choice words.

“I was about to get out if here. My name is Erika. And you’re…?”

“Alec,” he said.

* * *

She balked at the idea of going to a bar with him, but she took his offer of coffee. They went to a shop within shouting distance of the gallery. He figured she would feel more secure there than somewhere too far. But he had to put it out there just in case; he’d rather come off as an interested potential date rather than someone who knew she was a thief and aimed to stop her. Despite whatever her profession might be in, she was probably as cautious as any other woman when it came to associating with strange men. He caught some of her sidelong glances. She was trying to figure him out as much as he was doing the same with her.

He’d seen her the moment she entered the museum. He imagined she was doing the math in her head, trying to get the ins and outs of the space. She was subtle about it. Your average person wouldn’t have picked up on her attention, but he knew better. It was her first trip so she wasn’t planning on doing anything tonight. He made sure to let her make at least one full circuit around before coming up to introduce himself. She’d be more doubtful about his motives if he interrupted her while she was working.

“You don’t seem like the artsy type,” she said. “What are you doing with those stuck up people?” she asked.

They’d both ordered their drinks by then, and she was stirring hers, watching him intently.

“Noticed that, huh?” Alec replied. “What gave me away?”

“Swagger. And you’ve got scars on the backs of your hands. I figure most of those stiffs haven’t even typed enough to get carpal tunnel syndrome.”

Alec smiled. “You seem to have some negative feelings against the well to do,” he said. “What’s up with that?”

“Didn’t answer my question.”

“When you break a window with your fist, one of the side effects is you get scars. Could have been worse. And no, I’m not am the artistic type, but my sister is. She’s going to have some of her work included in the next exhibit, so she was there to support the gallery tonight. I agreed to go with her. But by the time her friends came around, I was getting bored.”

“She’s a painter?”

“She does paint, but her favorite medium is sculpture. She’ll have a few pieces there so she’s excited about it as you can imagine.”

Erika nodded. “Good for her. “You never explained about your fist though? How’d you do that?”

“Teenage stupidity. Jealousy over a girl. Didn’t feel anything at the moment I did it,” he replied. “Hurt like all hell later.” He’d learned a little bit of truth went a long way.

“Well, if you must do that again, gloves next time,” she said.

“I don’t think I’ll try it again but thanks for the advice,” he grinned.

“What do you do when you’re not suffering the art crowd or breaking things?” she teased.

Alec took that as his cue. He gave her his cover story about being an accountant who had only moved to Los Angeles the previous year. He grew up in the Midwest, in a modest home. She listened to him but he made sure to stop before going into too much detail; no need to sound pompous. What surprised him was that he was a little nervous. Not about keeping up his veil of secrecy; he was used to having to lie on command and be creative when the situation called for it. She was focused on him, with those wide dark eyes of hers, and a round, subtly pouting mouth. It occurred to him that he was staring at her and not for reasons which had anything to do with the job he’d been tasked to carry out.

She was prettier in person than in any of the pictures he had seen. And he realized that she wasn’t in a particular disguise either: no wig, no contacts. She wore a simple black dress, upswept hair and heels. Was showing her real face in public brazen, or was it just that no one had seen her in this city before? Maybe after wearing so many disguises, showing her own face wasn’t really much more than another guise in a host of characters. Perhaps a new city made her feel more comfortable being herself.

“I grew up a little of everywhere,” Erika said. “I haven’t been in town that long either, so I’m still checking out all the sites around the city. I do like art,” she said softly. “I don’t exactly appreciate the people who can afford it. I always think unless it’s work from a small independent artist—great artwork should be somewhere the public can come see it. It’s not supposed to be on some rich jerk’s house, where only he and his friends can see it. I guess I think of it as the same as people who go hunting endangered animals so they can mount the head on their wall.”

Alec grinned. The irony of her statement was not lost on him, but it wasn’t something he could point out either. “Probably not the most popular opinion in this town but I can certainly understand it,” he said. “I take it you didn’t grow up around a lot of wealthy people, either.”

“I did not,” she said. There was a dreamy look in her eyes. Alec wondered if she was simply remembering or coming up with a story to tell him. “I miss Prague.”

“Prague?”

“My mother took me there when I was young and I fell in love with it,” she said. “I’m probably the strangest American you’ll meet because I was born here but grew up everywhere else. I haven’t been back to Prague in years and lately, I find myself almost homesick for it. All the buildings are so old, gothic really. You see lots of stone and all sorts of carvings, beautifully done, and so ornate. Not like the States. Buildings don’t get torn down. It just gets repurposed into something else, if it changes at all. You might find a place that was once an old church and turned into a bakery a hundred years later, and maybe a night club twenty years after that. And people are always coming in and out, from everywhere. People get out and talk to each other at the coffee shops and the bakeries. It’s a thing.”

“Similar to the cafes in France?”

“Yes. It’s where people gather.”

“I’ve never been to Prague,” Alec said. “Sounds like I should put it on my list of places to see. But then I still have a lot of Europe to see. I’ve been to England and Spain, but that’s it.”

“Maybe,” she said, smiling. “I don’t recommend Czechoslovakia in the winter, though.”

The two of them talked about safe subjects: movies, books, and places she should go in the city. The suggestion was made that he could take her to some of these places through innuendo, though he never clearly stated it was what he wanted. She seemed oddly focused at times, and then she was somewhere else, daydreaming or just watching him. When her concentration was on him, he felt oddly vulnerable. Her mind was always working; he could see the proverbial wheels spinning. She analyzed his words, his movements, and he felt it. When her attention was away, he found himself working to pull her focus back to him.

They spent an hour in casual conversation, through several cups of coffee and at least two awkward silences. The silences were only a few moments but were heavy with meaning. Their flirting was leading in one direction, and Alec was curious to see how it would work out. His purpose to get near her, gain her trust. He wasn’t planning on telling her who he was yet or that he was there by her brother’s request.

They stepped out onto the street together. It was dark by then and the street lamps were on.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asked.

“Oh, I walked,” she said. “I’m very close.”

They turned to each other. A warm breeze blew. Other people walked around them on the street as they stood for a moment, watching each other.

“You mentioned wine before,” she said. “I have some at home.”

* * *

Erika was living in a duplex three blocks away from the gallery. She occupied the upper floor. It was a Spanish style home painted white. The floors were of mahogany wood, as were the exposed wood beams above. The living room was very simply decorated; a flat screen television mounted over the fireplace, a red sofa, and a matching chair.

“Nice,” Alec said. “How long have you lived here?”

“Since I’ve been in town,” she said.

He watched as she walked ahead of him down the hall, taking off her shoes as she went. She half unzipped her dress, and then cast a mischievous look at him over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He sat down in the living room. He could hear her in the bedroom, crossing over the wood floor, opening a dresser drawer and then closing it.

She came back out wearing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. With her hair down, and makeup wiped away, she looked younger. She only had lip gloss on, a thin, candy cotton shade of pink. She walked up to him and drew her arm from behind her back. With two steps forward, she moved her arm from behind her back, and Alec found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.