Spy Nude Pt. 02 by PrevertOne
Jim lay in bed, going over his options. He needed to be careful. The bungalow was most likely bugged, with hidden cameras as well. He’d already found the hidden passageway in his closet.
Probably has secret passageways and tunnels all over the island. The island has blockers. They’ll have to be neutralized first.
Jim knew “Melanie” and his lives were on a timer the moment they set foot on the island. He’d figured how the game would go the second he made contact with Krakov.
Of course Heinrich wouldn’t want witnesses outside the pool of buyers. A minor pimp and a college girl exotic dancer are expendable. If the rumors are true, the buyers are high enough in their organizations to cause trouble for Heinrich if he caps any of them. Then again, he does have a rep for being unpredictable. Anyway, we both won’t be getting off the island unless I can neutralize those blockers. Plus, I have to find where he’s keeping the formula.
Jim’s thoughts turned to Brittany.
She has to be doing okay. She’s done good so far, hasn’t given us away, and her performance at the airport was terrific. I don’t think I should tell her Krause likely plans to kill us at the end of the auction. So far we haven’t ended up like poor Harry; too bad for him.
Jim instantly pegged something off about Harry Rogan, that first meeting with Krakov, in Boston.
Krakov was a thug and killer, as Jim took from his profile. Harry’s profile read like a petty criminal looking to upgrade. He didn’t act the small timer trying to break into the big leagues. His demeanor was a little too polished, less shifty and nervous.
Not too good a job acting. Didn’t seem like a throwaway or discard though.
Still, Krakov’s aeration of Harry’s brains was a shock. Jim wondered, for a split second, if he was next. A second earlier Krakov made a joke about CIA spooks in the park, then boom! When Brittany walked into the scene, Jim acted on instinct. He didn’t so much save Brittany’s life as extend it, given the circumstances. Now he had to figure how to extract themselves from this trouble.
Time to sleep Jim.
He was too tired to try anything today. Besides, his commission was not just the formula but the seller and the buyers.
Hope nobody kills me today. It’s still morning. Maybe I can recon tonight.
****
Brittany woke with the taste of sour milk in her mouth and a slight headache. Her joints ached. She wondered, for a moment, why her dorm bed felt different. Then she came fully awake.
Oh God!
Brittany looked around and remembered. It wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare, a luxurious, exotic nightmare.
She drew her knees to her body and curled, rocking for a few seconds’ vulnerability, before composing herself.
Get up Brit. Gotta do this or we’re dead.
The shower was a repeat of the previous day. The effect left her refreshed but not relaxed.
She left the bathroom. A scent drifted to her nostrils, complimented by a corresponding rumble in her stomach.
“Food? Breakfast!”
It was on the dining table: hot oatmeal with brown sugar, a slice of banana, a pat of butter, and accompanied by bacon and eggs, and a glass of orange juice.
Plus a letter: “Melanie Swann, as our sensor indicated you have woken up, we took the liberty of preparing breakfast for you. An attendant will be by within the hour, to escort you to the spa for a complete treatment. Your Host.”
“Complete treatment? What does that mean?” Brittany wondered with some unease. Her worries did not affect her appetite however. She attacked her breakfast with gusto. It was the best meal she’d had in ages.
She looked at the clock on the wall, after breakfast.
Someone should be here any minute.
Something was wrong, though. It took several minutes to register.
“Oh!”
She was naked.
Between the worries over her current situation, and focus on breakfast, Brittany completely forgot about clothes.
Where are my coveralls?
She didn’t find them in the bedroom.
Did somebody take them while I was asleep?
The closet was empty.
Fuck! So now what?
Brittany occasionally went nude around the dorm. She never considered herself an exhibitionist, but eschewed excessive modesty. Her mother taught her to be comfortable in her skin. Her boldness about a mischievous streak in the park came from that philosophy. She’d even considered trying out as an art model for extra coin.
Her ease with nudity didn’t rule out discretion. It would be awkward to meet an escort in the buff. As it stood, she ran out of time. The doorbell buzzed, the intercom spoke.
“Miss Swan? My name is Jason. I’m here to escort you to the spa for treatment. If you can please step outside.”
Oh crap! What do I do now?
Brittany hesitated. Stepping out nude was out of the question. Doing nothing, though, could put herself and Jim in danger. She knew Jason needed a reply, but what? A few seconds’ thinking later, Brittany decided on the truth.
“Uh, Jason you said? Um, I, um, don’t have any clothes on right now. Can you, uh, wait a moment? Maybe I can wear a towel or bed sheet.”
“Oh!” said Jason. “That’s not a problem. Mr. Boorstadt instructed me to escort you as you are. He said you most likely won’t be wearing clothes for your visit.”
What the fuck?! Brittany thought, and then further reflected, Oh yeah, it does make a kind of weird sense.
She’d expected to be supplied with a bikini or some other suit appropriate for a Caribbean resort.
Jim said I’m the entertainment. I better play the part. “Okay, I’m coming.”
Brittany opened the door. She let out an involuntary gasp on seeing the man before her.
He wore a white polo shirt, loose khaki pants, and sandals; basic uniform dress for a concierge in a tropical resort. His looks drew the gasp from Brittany.
He was pale; extremely, almost frighteningly, pale. No color to his skin whatsoever, along with no hair. None on the head, nor eyebrows, or even lashes.
Her first thought was, “Albino.” His eyes, however, while pale, displayed enough color to belie the assessment. Her second thought, “Alopecia.” She’d heard of it. A cousin of hers suffered from it. Total hair loss.
The man was young, average sized, shorter than herself, with a slender body, toned without athleticism. He looked younger than her; a college freshman to her junior.
The look on his face was bland, a little sad. He didn’t react to her nudity in any way she could detect.
“Miss Swann? Please follow me.”
He led her to a golf cart parked in front of the bungalow. The passenger side had a towel spread on the seat.
The ride to the spa was short, uneventful, and quiet. Jason didn’t make a sound. Brittany glanced, occasionally, at him.
Should I ask a question? No. Too dangerous.
Her best chance at safety, she decided, was to reveal as little of herself as possible. Too much talk increased the danger of compromise to herself and Jim.
Brittany’s curiosity about Jason perplexed her. Something’s off about this man.
It couldn’t be his pale skin and hairless body. They were strange, yes, but not remarkable.
He’s sad. Yes, that’s it.
It was more his melancholy with a hint of something else. He’s sad, desperate, maybe a little afraid.