Page 6 of Polestar
Magnus’gazetrailedthepint-sized agent as she bee-lined for the lavatory and slammed the door shut.
He sighed and made his way toward the kitchenette to fill and set the kettle to boil before powering on the radio.
He contacted Joey Kane, his superior, confirming his position and status.They’d continue on as soon as the storm let up—with a change of destination.
Negotiations weren’t going as smoothly as Kane had hoped.
“Sorry to do this, Magnus.We need Agent Ortega’s skills on this, but until we resolve this disagreement, we need to delay revealing too much to ourpartners.”
“Understood.An extended journey it is, then.”
He switched off the radio and returned to the kitchen to pull mugs from the cupboard.
The agent approached, rubbing her hands together, shivering in her damp jacket.
Magnus poured water over the tea, handed her a mug, then went to fetch a space heater from the utility closet.“Sit over there.”He set the heater on the floor next to the chair and plugged it in.
She followed his instruction, grasping the mug with both hands.“How much further to Iceland from here?”
“We’re not going to Iceland.Ireland.”
“No, I’m pretty sure we’re going to Iceland.I wouldn’t confuse ‘pack warm’ for frigid Iceland with Ireland.Ever.”
“Plan’s changed.”
“Since when?Why?”Agent Ortega jumped to her feet, still clutching her mug.
“Since the order came when I radioed in.”
“What’s going on?”
Magnus shrugged.
Agent Ortega scowled at him.“Listen, Mister—what’s your name?”
“Bjornson.Magnus Bjornson.”
“Of course it is.Look at you,” she muttered.“Mr.Bjornson.Myorders were to meet my team in Iceland.I packed for Iceland.Two very large suitcases.For Iceland.Until I can confirm thatmyorders have changed.You will fly me to Iceland.”
He lifted a brow, looking down at the bossy woman shivering in front of him with a pink nose.“Agent Bjornson,” he corrected, leaning over her.“Your orders depend on mine.And I have just been told to fly you to Ireland.So unless you want to walk around this little island in the driving rain to find your own ride, you will accompany me to Ireland.”
She sniffed, bright spots appearing on her tanned cheeks.“And how much longer do I have toflywith you?If that’s what you call flying?What wasthat,anyway?I think I lost ten years of my life in that landing.”
Magnus stiffened.“That maneuvering saved your life.Had you arrivedas expected, we’d have missed that storm and be nearly to Iceland by now.Then someoneelsecould have flown you on to Ireland now that the plan has changed.”
When she opened her mouth to speak, she swayed on her feet.Magnus grasped her wrist to steady her.
She gasped and dropped her mug as her eyes rolled back.
The mug hit the concrete floor with a crash as Magnus jerked her forward toward himself to stop her from falling backward.“Agent Ortega?”
He caught her as she slumped against him.Her head lolled; eyes closed.While supporting her, he checked her vitals and eased her into the chair.
What’s wrong with her?
“Agent Ortega?”he said again, easing her back into the chair.“Ortega?”His hands swept her forehead and cheeks.Her skin was pale despite her pink tipped nose and rosy cheeks.
Magnus swept her slight form into his arms and carried her into the small bunk room, tucked away beyond the kitchenette.Gently laying Agent Ortega on the cot, he pulled off her shoes.Her bare feet and calves were wet and cold.He eased her upright so he could remove the soaked jacket.The thin silk blouse beneath clung to her damp skin, outlining the contours of her lacy bra.
