Agent Eve Read online

  And Eve savoured it, as one tastes the joy of an ephemeral moment of glory. Especially when it was so well orchestrated.

  A ring suddenly sounded.

  And that, that was not on the programme…

  An alarm went off in the whole building. The music and the lights suddenly turned off, leaving only the emergency lights shining.

  The cries of panic followed shortly after.

  Then chaos.

  The public dispersed among indistinguishable screams, models inadvertently fell off the stage and security agents appeared to yell incomprehensible orders.

  Eve reacted in the first few fractions of a second. Her frustration to see her thunder stolen by an unplanned diversion did not shake her survival instinct. And that impromptu alarm did not seem like a good sign.

  Someone shouted in English that it was a bomb alert and that everyone should remain calm. The tall black woman kicked off her shoes to walk back up the winding catwalk faster. She was almost there, the silk curtain within easy reach when someone grabbed her wrist firmly, obliging her to break her momentum. The angry look she gave her assailant was worth two rounds of a machine gun. But her black eyes saw themselves in the watery green eyes of her chauffeur.

  “Come with me, miss,” he said quietly.

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “I will ensure your protection.”

  She glanced at the scramble around them and bit her lower lip strongly to stop herself from answering back.

  “Come,” the man suggested, finally letting go of the beauty’s wrist and offering her his hand.

  Her fingers slipped into it softly. The brown of her phalanxes mixed into the white of the bodyguard’s and the vision dragged a short, inadmissible thought from the woman.

  The man turned out to be efficient, clearing a path for them though the backstage as if he already knew the premises. His large strides were followed by Eve’s bare feet. He pushed doors she had not had the chance to notice before. All the way to the kitchens of one of the restaurants, completely deserted, the pans still steaming and the dishes unfinished, to end by taking them both to the service rear courtyard.

  It was a scene of trash cans and piles of cardboard. Smells of fish carcasses and panting breaths.

  There was a screech of tyres and in the half-light, a large black van with tinted windows pulled up. The back door slid open quickly to reveal three men in commando gear, armed with kalashnikovs. Eve’s eyes opened wide but she did not have time to resist, as she was taken forward by the momentum of her running, her fingers enlaced with those of her protector with total trust. He wrapped himself around her as her breath was cut by surprise, and the heat radiating from his body did nothing to help. She gave him a lost look for a brief second before she was thrown inside the van. The three men in black received her as if she weighed nothing, and the body-guard climbed in after her. The vehicle set off at full speed before the door had even closed with a definitive slam.

  4

  In the darkness of the van, she finally screamed. Although no one could hear her. Almost naked, she struggled before she was easily overcome. She panted, furious, a large hand covering her mouth.

  “Shhh… Eve, please. It’s useless,” the man with the shaved head smiled with a certain softness.

  His green eyes were troubled by the turn of events and in the glow of the small light on the ceiling she thought she discerned worry.

  “You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked in his deep voice when she finally calmed down.

  He did not remove his hand from her lips and stood facing her as she was held around the waist by another man.

  She shook her head in response. She was hurting all over as if she had been showered with blows, felt like vomiting, and the pearls of her lingerie seemed to be digging into her skin. So no, she was not okay at all. She had just been kidnapped! The young woman rolled her eyes to show her panic, not sure her jailers would understand her.

  “I’m going to remove my hand. Don’t start screaming again, okay? If not, my colleague will have to gag you. With his kevlar gloves, I admit it won’t be pleasant…”

  She squinted her eyes into a gaze she hoped was murderous, he flashed a smile and progressively diminished the pressure of his large fingers on her face, until he finally moved away with a frown of hope.

  As she had calmed and was busy humidifying her lips and moving her jaw, he sat on the wooden bench on the side of the vehicle opposite her.

  The van turned suddenly, shaking its passengers and their prisoner, before plunging into an underground parking lot. The stop was even more abrupt and the breaks squealed. A bag made of an opaque black fabric was slid over the captive’s head. Handcuffs clicked onto her joined wrists and a man’s jacket was placed onto her shoulders.

  “Screaming will do you no good. Save your energy, my dear,” the man with the shaved head suggested.

  He guided her out of the vehicle with his burning hand on the middle of her back.

  “You’re making a huge mistake,” she finally formulated. “Il-Sung is going to look everywhere for me. And the American Embassy probably already knows about my disappearance…”

  “Don’t worry, this will be over quickly.”

  “What?” Eve asked, with serious worry in her voice.

  She stopped abruptly, stood barefoot on the parking lot floor. She could see nothing, knew she was completely surrounded by armed mercenaries, and the man at their head was the biggest mystery. To be afraid was legit!

  The white fingers at her back that were underneath the open jacket became more pressing, and descended in a caress to the small of her back. The young woman held her breath then felt that of her jailer on the nape of her neck.

  “Stop this game with me, Miss Mendy. You could have overcome at least two of my men in the van. Perhaps you could have even taken out the last one with the gun at my ankle.”

  “You’re crazy,” she hiccupped, bursting into tears, hidden under the fabric over her face. “You’re completely crazy!”

  The young woman’s legs suddenly turned to jelly, a big muscled arm wrapped around her waist to hold her up. The heat of the man spread enough to heat up her stripped body. In that manner, he made her walk and her shudders calmed at each step.

  She sniffed noisily once more when the group entered an elevator, came out a few floors later and took her into a room with a floor that was soft as fur. Carpet, she realised. Very high quality carpet. They were no doubt in a luxury complex.

  The hand at her back left her for a few seconds to place itself on her shoulder with delicate firmness, ordering her to sit. Eve obeyed, and her buttocks found the softness of what must be a handsome chair.

  The black fabric bag was removed with an almost theatrical movement, making her straightened hair turn electric.

  “Let’s continue,” said the fake chauffeur, his voice deep like the yowling of a feline.

  Eve’s black eyes struggled to get used to the brightness of the room. The place was surprisingly muted, however. No iron table, nor crude light. Bedside lamps wearing pretty lampshades were lit on sideboards along the wall. The round table in front of which Eve was sat was decorated with an inlay of precious woods. A motif of a blooming rose, a tad vintage. The chairs were of the best taste, in addition to being comfortable. If she looked closely, all the decoration was of the same tone. A little passé, but possessing a certain style. It was very far from the cold modernism that had been raging over the past few years.

  But where were they? In which corner of Seoul could such a place be hidden?

  “Let’s continue,” the man said again. “You are known by Interpol as Eve Mendy. Your maiden name, I imagine? Hm… We do not have enough time for you to explain why you did not adopt an alias for your activities.”

  “Where are we?” she asked with a dry throat.

  “The French embassy. But that does not matter.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “You too.”

  He weigh
ed her up but she held his gaze, her eyelashes still heavy with tears. The black trickles on her brown cheeks had no effect on this man. No more, visibly, than the stunning set of lingerie she was still wearing, or her naked skin, furled in the jacket that had remained open. His jacket, incidentally. She recognised the colour and the fabric, identical to those of his suit trousers.

  The distinguished features of the man had hardened, but his green eyes still betrayed his curiosity, and the pleasure he found in considering her as a mystery to be solved. A challenge worthy of him.

  “Eve Mendy, American, born in Lagos, Nigeria. Twenty-three, divorced, no children. Officially a model since you were seventeen. But you are known unofficially for other qualities, are you not?”

  “I’m thirsty…”

  “Art theft, embezzlement, assault and battery,” he read from the page of a dossier he had just opened in front of him. “You are also suspected of being involved in a murder case, in two ransomed kidnappings and in the abduction of a child.”

  He placed his large hand flat on the paper and took his piercing gaze back to the young woman. She no longer looked anything like the small crying thing she was only a few minutes ago. On the contrary, she seemed like a wild animal in a cage. She may have been trained to not let it show, but finally her dangerousness shone through.

  “There was no child abduction,” she specified with a calm and neutral tone.

  “I know. It was to take a young boy back to his mother.”

  The man showed a shadow of a smile. He was delighted that his little provocation had made the mask of the beauty gently skip away.

  She studied him, her bound hands on the table. Almost at ease, sat there, hair out of place and completely out of context.

  He clicked his fingers to order water and when a tray arrived with a jug, he rolled up the hem of his immaculate white shirt. His muscular forearms, covered in fine, light hair, were on show.

  Two stemmed glasses that would be more suited to white wine. He poured the clear liquid, and Eve satiated her thirst with relief.

  “You’re wanted in three countries just for the drug trafficking.”

  “Your papers say bullshit. I don’t get involved with that.”

  “You may as well be, because you are named as ‘of interest’ for international inquiries into cartels.”

  “But we both know that’s not your specialty,” the voice of a woman entering the room cut in, almost amused.

  She was a small woman, radiant in her forties and whose shapely figure was unreasonably set out by a dark, tight-fitting suit. Her red hair was scraped back into an austere ponytail, she wore trendy butterfly glasses and her small heels gave her the caricature appearance of a ravishing secretary.

  Her smile, however, was not so cute.

  The man with the shaved head stood quickly to salute her entrance. She made him sit back down again with a simple movement of her cherry-red manicured index finger.

  “Your specialty, Miss, is information. And that is fortunate as it’s ours too,” said the women that seemed to be the boss. “Directorate-General for External Security. The French counterintelligence, if you like.”

  “Pleased to meet you…”

  “Same here. We’re pleased to have gotten our hands on you! And others will be in turn. Unless…”

  “Unless?” Eve asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Unless you cooperate with us,” the man finished.

  “Secret agent, that explains a few things,” she whispered at him.

  “Number Six was not supposed to intervene on the Il-Sung Jang case,” the boss said calmly. “But as you court-circuited our plans by sliding into bed with the CEO of Seuta Electronics before our undercover agent… We had to improvise. Objectively, I understand why you got in front. Our agent was not so… Well not… Let’s say less…”

  “Charming?” Eve suggested, focusing her insolent black glare into the clear gaze of the spy still sat opposite her.

  “That’s it. It’s not often one sees an element of your level at such a young age.”

  “You have access, due to your position,” the man highlighted tactfully, “to information that interests us.”

  “My clients are not going to see it like that.”

  “But we do not care one bit about your shabby little industrial espionage!” the boss laughed, perched on the edge of the table. “What interests us are the branches of the South Korean mafia. One of the branches leads to him, and it is the beginning of a serious path to follow. Because their activities could be as far-reaching as the Eiffel Tower. The bad guys are international these days!”

  Eve stopped staring at the spy’s face to turn to the redhead, incredulous. Her olympian calm and slow movements since she had been exposed hid her state of interior panic quite well. It was never nice to be unmasked, even less so when one was being blackmailed. And the perspective of playing double agent for the French government was not a happy one. A watched mission also, whereas she was used to working for the highest bidder. Hey, she wasn’t a public official!

  “So? You take a long time with your foreplay… What do you want?” she said to encourage the James Bond with the shaved head and his boss to stop beating around the bush.

  “So, we want access to his laptop.”

  “Are you taking the piss? That’s easily available with a new phone, by anyone who is a metre away!”

  “The encryption is too advanced. We need the laptop, if only for an hour,” the man explained, chewing the inside of his mouth, a previously unseen twitch.

  “The laptop that never leaves his side… That one? The one that has its own man to be carried around with Il-Sung?”

  “Yes. That one.”

  “And you’re not interested in the prototype of the smartphone Seuta Electronics has designed?” Eve concluded, unable to mask her astonishment.

  “Afraid not,” the redhead answered with a carnivorous smile. “Those gadgets are not on our list of priorities. The iPhone and the like that are about to be released are just playthings for the general population, not a global, high-stakes issue. Worst case scenario, if they take off we’ll use them for strategic surveillance purposes!”

  The black woman pouted, unconvinced at the man that did not take his gaze away from her.

  Still sat in front of her, he had fallen into the game of insistent looks. Flattered to his bones by every one of her ironic smiles. In the matter of a few minutes, the beginning of a very promising complicity had arisen between them.

  He had been watching her from afar for months in admiration, yet troubled. This girl followed no logic but her own. Even on missions such as this. Paid missions on which she had to do more than give herself… Often, through the bedroom door of the Korean boss he was pretending to protect, he heard her roar with pleasure. Orgasming so loudly the walls trembled. The impact it had on him was as uncontrollable as it was immediate.

  And there, deep in thought whilst studying her high cheekbones, her black irises and the curve of her lips, he wondered just how much this woman was faking it.

  “I don’t really have a choice,” she sighed, pulling him out of his thoughts.

  “Exactly…”

  “Number Six will be your contact as he is already in place in the security service. That will make your report meetings easier,” the redhead pointed out.

  She finally lifted her sublime and huge behind from the table made of precious woods, and smiled, like an accomplished sadist.

  5

  “Take off your shirt.”

  The kidnapping, the journey in the unmarked van and the interview in a secret bureau of the embassy took only twenty minutes. Not even half an hour to topple weeks of work. Eve grit her teeth but was at the height of anger.

  Back in the vehicle, she was no longer handcuffed and stared down her kidnappers defiantly. Let them try and tie her up again and she would happily slap some good manners into them.

  Number Six irritated her too. So she spoke to him informally, to
shake him and make him loose his arrogance. Mr. Counter-Intelligence Agent, who played his part so well she did not even uncover him. In truth, that last point was what made her furious: she had been convinced she was in control of the game on all sides. She was experienced enough and with a good enough eye for faces, she believed, to be able to detect an element as important and as potentially dangerous as a spy!

  He raised an eyebrow in response, while the vehicle swerved around traffic to take them back to the hotel where the show had been held as quickly as possible. However, he did so without asking any questions, unfastening the small buttons of his white shirt meticulously. He revealed his naked torso without batting an eyelid, in addition to showing his imposing shoulders, his strong arms, his sculpted pecs and his shapely abs that could be spotted owing to the light of a lamp. On the chest of this hands-on-man, a fine veil of fair and curly hair in a T-shape descended down to his belt.

  To copy him and get out of her brief but unwelcome thoughts, the young woman contorted to unclip her bra. She waited for him to hand her his shirt, quick-wittedly, to completely remove the lingerie. Insolent and immodest. Her round, dark breasts could be made out in the darkness of the back of the van. Nipples hardened by the cold, pointing audaciously, in front of the surprised looks of the four men of her escort. Not one dropped his weapon. What self-control!

  She placed the pearl-covered piece of clothing delicately on her thighs, and repressed the sudden shiver caused by the cold contact. Then, with a crooked smile, she pulled on the shirt and closed only a few chosen buttons.

  “You will give this to the embassy,” she ordered, handing the bra to one of the henchmen in combat gear. “So they can give it back and take the credit.”

  “Wise,” Number Six pointed out.

  “As for the shirt, thank you. It’s kind of you after having found me passed out backstage.”

  “Random theft. Opportunistic. Ingenious.”