Page 82 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

Lizzy blew out a breath when he couldn’t see her, allowing the sadness she was stowing away a moment of freedom, allowed it to touch her again. She unclicked her seat belt and stood up as much as she could beneath the bin as she recomposed her face and her feelings. Then she eased into the aisle and stood straight. Wickham was carrying her suitcase and his duffle just ahead of her.

The willowy blonde flight attendant who stood at the plane door offered perfunctory goodbyes as the passengers filed past her—but her goodbye to Wickham seemed genuine, aimed to capture his attention. She had been too obvious in her attentions to him on the flight and subtly dismissive of Fanny. Her behavior targeted Wickham, telling him he could do better and thatbetterwas in front of him, serving from the drink cart. He had noticed, of course, but he had done nothing to encourage the behavior. His hand had remained anchored to Fanny's knee, confirming Fitzwilliam’s theory. It wasn’t just the sex; it was the sex andruination.

Wickham nodded to the attendant but did not speak. She gave Fanny a quick, envious glance but did not say goodbye to her, not even perfunctorily. Fanny returned the glance, not with envy, but with entitlement. Wickham had turned his head and saw Fanny's face. He smiled at her expression, pleased.Lizzy could tell he thought Fanny was loosening up, warming up as their travel continued. Ned was decreasing…Wickham increasing. They would dance to completion.

Fanny stepped quickly and was beside Wickham as they entered the Casper/Natrona International Airport. Despite the airport's large title, it was a tiny place, at least in comparison to O'Hare. O'Hare made Lizzy think of vast and ancient Gormenghast, the labyrinthine and endless castle in Mervyn Peak’s novels. In comparison, Casper's airport was a tiny, thatched cottage in the woods. But it was neat and clean.

As they came through their gate, Gate 1, Lizzy saw a restroom sign to her left. She nodded to it and Wickham, understanding, acknowledged with his own nod. “Wisdom. I'll wait."

Lizzy walked quickly under the sign and down the short hallway to the women’s room. She had seen no one around the gate?at least no one who had shown any interest in her and Wickham.

Before she went inside the bathroom, she dug her phone out of the Patagonia bag and held it up, reorienting the camera so that it showed her herself. She pretended to be checking her hair, her makeup, though not actually interested in her own face. She angled the phone to see over her shoulder. No one was following her or watching her. That included Wickham, who stood some distance from the restroom hallway near the gate seats with his phone out, staring hard at it. His duffel and her suitcase were at his feet.

Lizzy quickly lowered her phone, put it back in her bag, and pushed the women’s room door open with her shoulder. She tensed for the meeting she expected. Fitzwilliam had said someone would be waiting for her.

The restroom appeared to be empty. She walked in farther and looked again. She could see a pair of women's shoes—filledwith a woman's fleshy feet—beneath one of the stall doors. The feet were placed so that the woman was standingfacingthe toilet.

The orientation of a man's feet, perhaps, but not normally of a woman's.

She walked to the sink and put her hands under the faucet to get the water to run. A moment later, a blue eye peeped through the crack in the stall door. And then the stall door opened slowly and the woman stepped out.

Lizzy blinked. Female CIA agents did not conform to a stereotype, but whether light or dark, tall or short, they were usually lithe, athletic. There was a certain physical and personal self-possession to them, probably due to the Farm, the combat training, their time spent clashing with and fending off toxic male agents.

But this woman was not athletic, at least not in appearance. She was short and almost as wide as she was tall. Solid, not flabby. Her bright floral dress, too snug at the chest and the waist, was belted, the belt white, clashing with her low blue heels. Her hair was reddish blonde, and her skin was so pale it seemed translucent. Her cheeks, however, were bright red. She was obviously flustered, panting between parted orangy-lipsticked lips. She looked less like a CIA agent secretly delivering a lethal weapon and more like a harried PTA mom making a late delivery of bake-sale cookies.

She surveyed the room with wide eyes and then looked at Lizzy, using the mirror to look into her eyes despite standing behind her. "Agent Bennet?" she asked in a whisper. Then she went on immediately. "I'm McDougal.AgentKaren McDougal." She had a huge leather purse over one arm, and she plunged her hand into it. Lizzy readied herself, but McDougal produced only a CIA pass case and flashed her credentials—badge and photograph.

Lizzy turned and faced her. "Hi, Karen. You have something for me?" She tried not to sound too commanding, too rushed. The poor woman looked overwhelmed.

Karen nodded, putting her pass case away and digging again in her purse, now holding it open with her other hand. She talked as she rummaged, talked fast, breathlessly. "Wow, just,wow!Never imagined meeting you in person! I know your name. I was at the Farm after you, and you were sorta legendary there?highest all-time scores in classes and so on and so on. I was barely able to pass most classes. After graduation, they ended up sending me here, to the Casper satellite office. American Siberia. At first, I thought the assignment was a joke. A joke! Casper? But no—it was my real assignment. And I've been here since. Years."

She looked up and then back down, nervously. "This is the first time I've carried a gun since the Farm." She looked around again, though the door had not opened. "Guns, plural, even if I'm not carrying them both for myself. I mainly shuffle papers no one cares about and read old chatter no one expects to amount to anything. I'm sorry! I have so much in this crazy purse. My toddler's plastic animals…my whole life."

Karen rummaged with more intensity and then grinned. "Here it is." She scanned the room again, theatrically, as if she were play-acting at being a spy. Then she produced a gun, handing it to Lizzy. It was a small revolver, old and a little rusty, but with fresh oil smeared on the barrel and onto the grip. She grimaced as Lizzy noticed the oil.

"It was the only gun in the office that could be easily hidden. My old one. It'll work. I oiled it at the office after Agent Darcy called, and I stopped at a range on the way here and tested it." The faint, unmistakable odor revealed that the gun had been recently fired. "It's not loaded now, but I have abox of ammunition for you." She dug around again, eventually producing the small box and handing it to Lizzy.

“Darcy wanted a team to follow you, but I'm afraid I'm all you've got. I'll tail you until he and his partner find me." She looked into Lizzy's eyes, her blue eyes watery but steadying. "I won't let anything happen to you. Don't worry about my Farm scores. This is the real world. And I'll watch my back along with yours. Darcy told me what happened in Rapid City." She gave Lizzy a smile with some real fortitude in it, and Lizzy smiled back as she slipped the gun and the box of ammunition deep into her bag.

"Thanks, Karen."

Lizzy started to go, but she reached out and grabbed her forearm. "That Agent Darcy…he soundedsexy, like…I don't know…Timothy Dalton or something. That voice made my legs tremble. First time I've reacted like that since long before my divorce, before my toddler." She chuckled. "MI-6?"

"Yes, MI-6," Lizzy admitted.

"Spoken for?" Karen's hesitant smile grew into one that was impish, hopeful, "Married?"

"Not married but, yes, spoken for. Committed."

Her smile twisted to become rueful. "Too bad. Not many worth having in this line of work."

"No, almost none."

"Be careful, Agent Bennet."

"I will. You, too, Karen." Lizzy hurried from the bathroom.

Wickham had turned and was peering down the hallway as she came out the bathroom door. She walked quickly to him. "Sorry to be slow," she said with a vaguedon’t-asksmile

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