Read Online Spy Mom by Beth McMullen - Free Book Online Page B

“We don’t mess around with these sorts of things.”
    â€œDoesn’t your coffee shop have a bathroom?” His eyes grow wide with realization followed by horror.
    â€œHe won’t go there.”
    â€œI won’t even ask.”
    â€œIt’s better that you don’t.”
    I wrestle Theo out of his stroller, pull his jeans and Thomas the Train underwear down, and plop him on the plastic potty. Simon averts his eyes. Theo starts to sing. He won’t use the potty unless he can sing. I don’t exactly know what the song is, something about rain and butterflies I think. It’s a sweet song.
    â€œThis is really happening to you,” I say to Simon, who stands with his back to the trunk of my car, a disgusted hand over his mouth. “But now we have a few minutes to finish that conversation we were having.”
    â€œI don’t know how you do this. Honestly. Where was I?”
    â€œIan Blackford. Alive. You know, little things like that.”
    â€œRight. We were watching this professor here at the University on an anonymous tip. Well, not exactly watching, more like monitoring. We knew nothing about him other than he is a quirky genius of some sort in the field of analytical chemistry, so at the very least it seemed like a good time to fill in some blanks in case the guy ever decided to go rogue on us.” Simon Still pauses, as if reflecting upon a very bad memory. “And out of nowhere, in waltzes the very dead Ian Blackford.”
    â€œWow. That must have been a surprise.”
    â€œYes. We were a little surprised, as you put it.”
    â€œAnd the Blind Monk?” I ask, before I can stop myself. “He must play some role in this tale of woe.”
    Simon’s shoulders tighten almost imperceptibly. He furrows his brow. The crease is deep. A person could get lost in there and never be heard from again.
    â€œInformation is on a need-to-know basis, Lucy. I don’t think you need to know.”
    â€œWell, as much as I’m enjoying this dialogue,” I say, “I fail to see what any of this has to do with me.”
    My baby continues to sing gleefully on his potty. “I’m almost done,” he announces.
    I look at Simon. “You’d better hurry.”
    â€œI put three analysts to task answering one question. And that question was, what is Ian Blackford’s weakness? Where do we stick the knife if we want to kill him? My analysts spent three hundred man-hours on it and came up with only one. You. We need you to lure Blackford out. He’ll show himself for you.”
    That’s not quite how I thought of it, but whatever you say.
    â€œWhat makes you so sure?”
    â€œI am sure. You can trust me.”
    I think about it for a minute and don’t like the conclusion I reach. “No,” I say finally, “forget it.” I turn back to Theo, but Simon grabs my arm.
    â€œThere is no choice here, Lucy,” he says.
    â€œThere is always a choice. What are you going to do, arrest me?”
    â€œHe knows where you are,” Simon says. Just like that.
    I pretend I didn’t hear what he said because I don’t want to have heard what he said. So he says it again.
    â€œSomehow Blackford got into our records and was able to figure out where you were and under what name.”
    â€œTell me you are making a very bad joke. Please. My records? Are you fucking kidding me?” There is a note of hysteria in my voice. It sounds like it belongs to someone else.
    â€œWhat’s fucking, Mommy?” Theo chimes from his potty. Can this get worse?
    â€œNothing, honey,” I say, helping him stand up. “It’s an ugly word that big people say sometimes when they’re mad.”
    â€œAre you mad at me?” he asks.
    â€œNo, baby.”
    â€œAre you mad at the man who won’t play cars?” Theo has a memory like an elephant. Simon will always be the man who wouldn’t play