It was the first time he'd seen her in heels that high, her legs defined and flexing as she confidently descended the stairs in front of her apartment. She wore a black cocktail dress, a short and sleek little number. Jackson hoped he could keep his focus. Tonight was an integral part of their mission and he had work to do. Unzipping her dress with his teeth wasn't part of it.

“Mira,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you.” She pulled him back in for a kiss on the lips, her tongue darting out to lick across his lower lip. “It's our first date, you know.”

“You’re right.”

She smiled. “A real date.”

A heat bloomed inside Jackson at the sight of her smile. From the beginning, he’d been prepared to make their night at the Embassy Row Ball special. For authenticity’s sake—or at least that’s what he’d told himself. It would be easier that way, to blend in as a happy couple. But now that it had actually become their official "first date," Jackson had gone all out with the black tuxedo and limousine. This night was now important to him in more ways than just the job.

“Where's the champagne?” Mira joked as the limo sped away.

He smiled and brushed his finger along her cheek. “That comes after. We've got work to do.”

“Fine,” she said with a pout.

“You can have a whole case later if everything goes well.”

“I might want more than champagne when this is over.” Her grin, and the way she bit her bottom lip… God, he was five seconds away from rolling up the privacy window and asking the man behind it to take the scenic route.

Mira laid her hand on his leg, curving down inside his thigh.

Another option was to turn around and head back to her apartment. Maybe spend the whole night being a couple of irresponsible, unpatriotic, sexual gluttons.

Jackson grabbed her hand as it slowly inched towards his crotch. And then he held it like a nice and proper gentleman. “Behave yourself,” he said. “If you keep that up we won't get anything done.”

“Oh, I don't know. I think we'd get something done.”

Aside from his newfound goal of having as much sex with Mira as possible, wherever and whenever possible, Jackson still had a few other less important objectives to reach. One of them being a thorough investigation of the Tanzanian embassy and its guests. They were all armed with recording devices and bugs, and the knowledge that Langhorne's plans had somehow filtered through the embassy.

“Where are Matthias and Tansy?” asked Mira.

“They're already there. I got them in with the banquet staff. If you want to get anything done in this town, you need to know some people in the banquet business. It's like an analogue backdoor.”

“Sneaky, sneaky...”

“Let's just make sure we get out of there just as smoothly.”

“We will,” she said, playing with her earrings.

“Please, stay out of trouble. Okay? I'll be keeping my eye on you, but...”

“But what? I've got my earrings, remember?”

“Just don't go disappearing. Promise me.”

Mira snuggled up to him, curling her arm around his and resting her head on his shoulder. “I promise.”

* * *

For the most part, she kept that promise.

To be sure, Jackson kept a lock on her as he hovered around the room and talked to various guests—or at least pretended to talk to them. People just assumed he had a good reason for being at the ball, that they’d have something in common, including a shared boredom that would facilitate random, arbitrary small talk.

No hors d'oeuvres yet?

Guess not.

Damn. We're here too early.

I tried telling my wife that.

Me too. You're with A. Johnson, right?

Um, yeah. Until he fires me.

Jackson had lived and worked in the District long enough to be able to bullshit any angle necessary, whether he was with A. Johnson, or maybe he was even A. Johnson himself. Who the hell was A. Johnson, anyway?

More importantly, where was Mira?

They’d put her to work early, helping a group of Tanzanian immigrants find their tables, then having an in-depth discussion with the ambassador, and then talking for some reason with the soundboard guy. Currently, she was positioned at the entrance in a "greeter" capacity. Jackson swung by when she had a minute alone.

“What are they paying you?” he asked.

“What? Shh...” She looked so cute when she was embarrassed. And she was easily embarrassed.

“That doesn't sound like enough. They're working you hard.”

“Fine,” she said quietly. “They are. Grab me a drink?”

“I'll get you a soda.”

“Jackson,” she whisper-yelled, as if to imply a great need for something stronger, perhaps a stiff gin and tonic.

Taking the hint, Jackson wandered over to the growing crowd in front of the bar. It looked like things were starting to pick up. A live band had begun playing and the hall filled with the brassy notes of African Jazz. Jackson turned back to look at Mira, the cinematic quality of her beauty now accentuated by the music. He watched her interactions with the guests, her warm smile, an engaging glance. She might be the first woman he'd actually felt excited to introduce to his friends, his family. How could they not love her? Jackson would be a fool not to, either.

While in line for a drink, he made a quick call to the rest of the team. Tansy was already casing out a few sensitive "off-limits" areas at the rear of the building. And Matthias was already bored—which wasn't necessarily bad. Given his background, the man had almost a built in radar for people who were acting a little odd. A part of Jackson was hoping the night would go as uneventfully as possible, whether they collected any evidence or not. The whole thing had sounded suspicious from the start, and so having Mira simply come away from the night unscathed would be considered a success.

After his calls, Jackson grabbed two cocktail glasses and made his way back to Mira, or at least, in the general direction of where he’d last seen her. He now stood in the middle of the banquet hall, holding two drinks, looking for Mira while probably looking utterly lost in the process. He did a slow three-sixty scan of the room. But she was still nowhere to be found.

Thinking it might be easier to track down her earrings, Jackson pulled out his cell to check on their whereabouts. No pressure. He wasn't looking for Mira. Just some stupid earrings... They would usually appear as a blinking dot in the black and green radar screen of the custom app. He'd tested them just hours prior. But now, there was nothing but blank space. He tried adjusting the search frequencies, and still nothing.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to remain calm, and then took a long sip from one of his drinks before placing them both down on a random table.

“Tansy, we got a problem with the earrings.”

“Don't worry, Jack,” Tansy’s replied over the phone. “She's with me.”

“With you?”

“Well, not exactly. But she's somewhere in the back rooms here. She crossed through the kitchen with Chuck and I followed them.”

“Where are you now?” asked Jackson.

“I'm just...uh...” Jackson could hear his footsteps, and then the creaky opening of a door. “I'm just trying to go where I saw them last. A storage room.”

Jackson’s suspicions twisted into a slight panic. Why would Chuck take her into a storage room? And why would Mira agree to it?

“Wait,” said Tansy. “Wait a minute.” His voice began to sound strange. Worried.

“What is it?” barked Jackson.

“Hold on... What the hell is this?” Tansy swore loudly.

“What!?”

“The earrings, Jack. They're on the ground. Crushed.”