The Librarian and the Spy by Susan Mann

Author:Susan Mann [Mann, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

It seemed like forever since Quinn had taken a shower. She knew she’d done so at the Lake Arrowhead safe house, but the actual number of hours that had passed since then completely eluded her. Despite the fact that she was in London—a city she’d wanted to visit for as long as she could remember—getting clean was the first thing she wanted to do now that she and James were settled in their hotel room in the well-heeled district of South Kensington. She’d marinated in the grime of two airports, the nasty, recycled air of a crowded airplane, and the oppressive humanity of the Underground long enough.

“There’s a part of me that wants to take a flamethrower to the clothes I’m wearing,” Quinn said as she lifted her suitcase and plunked it on the bed. “But I’m afraid I might need them since this is probably full of librarian clothes.” It was with no small amount of trepidation she unzipped the bag.

“Could be worse,” James said as he punched a series of numbers into the keypad of the hotel room’s safe. “You could be going undercover as a nun.”

“I would rock a habit and you know it.” She decided not to prolong the agony and flipped open the suitcase. “Um, wow,” she said softly when she saw that there was no wool tweed to be found. Instead, the suitcase was neatly packed with several pairs of jeans and slacks, some fun, colorful knit sweaters perfect for the cold English December weather, a number of other tops, and a blazer. Everything appeared to be exactly the right size and in fact, nicer and better quality than her own clothes.

“I’m impressed. Whoever pulled all of this together not only did it fast, but has better taste than I do, which, you know, isn’t saying a whole lot.”

James swung the safe door open, reached in and removed a Sig Sauer P226 secured in a leather holster. He set it on the foot of the bed and raised an eyebrow. “Told you to give them a chance.”

“I stand corrected,” she replied with mock solemnity. “I am curious, though. How did they know exactly what to get for me, even down to the right sizes? I wouldn’t think they would have paid attention to that when they cleaned up my apartment. They didn’t know then that they’d be buying clothes for me.”

“My guess is they went through your credit card records and figured out where you shop. From there they hacked”—he cleared his throat—“I mean, searched those stores’ databases to get the details of exactly what you’ve bought in the past, the sizes you wear, and everything.”

“Well, that’s ingenious and disturbing at the same time. I think I’ll pay with cash from now on.” Her eyes followed him back to the safe where he reached in again and took out a subcompact Glock and ankle holster similar to the ones he’d left in L.A. “And maybe find a nice cabin to hole up in in Idaho.

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