Chapter 1 - Hunter Cocker

I step into the dimly lit jewelry shop I’ve been casing. The door swings shut. A faint bell jingles above me. Makes me think of my cousin Zoe’s business. The bell at Florist Shop? It could wake someone from a coma. But this place would never allow that. It’s discreet.

It has to be.

The shop showcases glass cases of glimmering rings and necklaces. Broaches and bracelets. I take note of the air. Scent of polished glass. A hint of something citrus. Though it might be clean, the underbelly of this establishment isn’t. How do I know? Months of training. I’m a spy. CIA. But today I’m just a man in search of the perfect engagement ring.

I scan the room. Act like I’m unsure of the lay of the land. I’m not. I’ve studied this place. Browsing a glass case, I avoid the shop owner’s gaze. Continue to act the tourist. Nobody else is working today. That’s why our calendar had a target circled now.

His name is Edward Thornton, and he’s more than just a jeweler. Much more. Old Ed there is a British criminal with ties to an underground network I’ve been coached on for months.

“Can I help you?” Edward asks, accent strong with status. Raspy from a lifetime of cigarettes. I flick a glance to him as his baggy blue eyes assess me. He’s trying to determine who I am to him. Potential customer? Or a threat.

I clear my throat. Force a nervous smile. Truth? I’ve never been nervous a day in my life. He’ll never know that. “Actually, yes. I’m looking for an engagement ring. Something special, you know?” Pretending to be eager, I look inside another glass case.

A glint of interest from Edward. “Engagement, sir?” Shoulders relaxing slightly. “She’s a lucky lady.” Welcoming smile. “We carry the best diamond rings Portugal has to offer.” His accent thickens has he boasts, “None can compare.”

I swallow hard. Keeping up the act. Inside, my nerves are as calm as the eye of a storm. “Really? That’s great. I’ve saved up for this moment.”

There’s no woman.

I’m not in love.

Never have been.

Oh, there’ve been ladies.

Lots of them.

In lots of cities.

But ring shopping?

Complete farce.

The owner doesn’t know that.

He has no clue.

I need to make sure it stays that way. “She’s an amazing girl.”

“Do you care to share your budget?” Edward politely adds, “Mr…er…”

I fill in the blank for him, with a lie, “Wilson. Caden Wilson.” Shout out to one of my brothers. I used Max’s name last time, when I was in Hong Kong. My aliases are always of someone close to my heart. First name only. The surname is always fiction. Even though no one in the Cocker Family has any idea. They don’t know what I do for a living. How dangerous my life is. How different from theirs. But I like paying homage. Adds to my inner strength. I need to keep Edward talking. “I’ve saved thirty-three thousand. That’s a lot for me.” And it’s all CIA money. We considered using a higher number but had to make it plausible. I allow excitement to seep into my voice, “But Jean…my girl? She’s incredible. I want this ring to be perfect. Something she’ll never forget.”

Build a rapport with him.

Paint the image.

Of a man in love.

Edward selects half-a-dozen rings from displays. “Follow me,” he says, leading me to a private area where we believe the real treasures might be kept. “I have some delightful pieces that will surely interest you.”

He and I take our seats in armchairs from the Edwardian era. Authentic antiques. Not some knock-off. The table between us is mirrored. Another mirror in the corner. All of them show me there are no cameras in this room. So this is the place where deals go down. Can’t have evidence left behind when you’re the one who’d be in jail for it.

That’s not all I’m seeing in the mirrored tabletop. I take note of scratches. Glance immediately to his nose. Yep…red. Right around the edges of his nostrils. Dirty habit, cocaine. Expensive and dirty. Hard to break, too. One I’ve never touched.

“If there’s something better than bourbon and women, I don’t want to know about it.” That’s what my friend Grant used to say. Before his cover got blown in Russia and he was never able to say anything ever again.

As Edward places the rings behind a short screen on the table, explaining, “Easier to focus on one ring at a time,” I take the opportunity to observe him closely. His hands are smooth. But there’s an old callous. The kind you get when you ride horses. And pull their rein too tight.

He sniffles.

Sick?

Probably coke’s nasal drip.

I wonder how long it will be before he needs another bump. I might be able to use his addiction to my advantage. If he needs to leave so he can feed the dragon, it’ll give me enough time to look around. I’ll make him regret not having those cameras here.

Lifting a ring with a large diamond set in a delicate band, he gauges my reaction. “This one is unique, sourced from a private dealer. Very rare.”

“It’s beautiful,” I reply, faking nervousness. “This is a big decision. Can I see all the best options you have? You know how it is. Can’t rush this kind of thing.”

“Of course, of course. I understand completely.” Edward seems pleased, but he has an eye twitch. Impatience betrayed. I just got here, and already he’s wishing he was alone again with his white powder frenemy.

He continues to show me rings, and I keep up the idle chatter. Throw in a story about how I met my fiancé. Who doesn’t exist. Gives me a chance to subtly scan the room and elongate our time together so he can uncomfortable needy for his drug. My expert gaze catches a glimpse of a painting ever-so-slightly askew on the wall. Did it get jiggled by accident? By time? Or was it something else. I need to know if there’s something behind that thing.

Well, well.

Would you look at that.

Turns out luck is on my side.

I touch my nose. “Um, you got a little something…”

He stiffens, pale hand fluttering up. His index finger grazes moistness and, aghast, he stares at a dash of blood. “Pardon me! It must be the warm weather.” He rises in a hurry and opens a door behind him. “We Londoners aren’t born for this. You understand.”

I see a wisp of a bathroom before he shuts the door and gives me my big break. In a flash I stand up. Silently move the painting to one side. A smile spreads on me. The sound of the doorknob. My heart races for the first time today.

I live for these moments.

Edward reappears. Dignified to a painful degree. He discovers me in my seat as if I never moved. Painting? Slightly askew once more.

“Everything alright? I used to get nosebleeds when I was a kid.” Lie lie lie. Never happened. “Hated it.”

“It’s a devil of a thing,” he agrees, and moves toward his chair.

I rise. “Just got a text from my babe. She’s on her way to the coffee shop one block over.” I flash a happy grin as if Edward Thornton and I are buddies now. “Can’t let her see me walking out of a jewelry store!”

Baggy blue eyes flicker. Careful Ed. Grateful to be rid of me? Didn’t leave the coke in the bathroom and partake whilst you were away?

As if remembering he’s supposed to be selling me merchandise, he brightens as only the English can do. “Take my card?”

People still have cards? “Yeah? Great! I’ll make sure to hide it where she can’t see it.”

We walk into the showroom again. I take note of an additional camera there I hadn’t spotted earlier. I saw only three. But there’s a fourth. And a different model. Hmmm.

Edward lifts his card from a gold holder.

I read it, “Walter Chapman? Is that you?”

He lies, “It is.”

“Nice to meet you, Walter,” I grin. Just like a rude American, I didn’t call him Mr. Chapman, going instead by his first name only, on purpose. I can see it rankles him. I wave and head out, “I’ll be back.”

And I will.