Ms. Longshot. Sylvie Kurtz

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СКАЧАТЬ She ran her fingers through strands of my long hair. “First, we need to tone down that beautiful mahogany into something more mousy.”

      “Mousy?” I didn’t like the sound of that.

      “I’m going to dye it a flat brown, then overdry it and butcher the ends so they split. Stable girls don’t have the money for designer haircuts.”

      “Sounds absolutely splendid.” Oh, yeah, this was definitely a glamorous assignment. “I suppose you want me to bring back my acne and crooked front teeth.”

      “Could you?” Kristi joked, then knuckled my chin. “Chin up, girl. It’s not as bad as it sounds. I’ll be able to bring you back to your old self in a couple of hours when your assignment is through.”

      Chewing on orange-flavored nicotine gum, Kristi chatted about her horrible Internet dating experiences as she dyed and shampooed and snipped and dried my hair into a dull brown frizz that nearly brought tears to my eyes. She took a raggedy scrunchie from one of the drawers by the mirrored table and twisted my hair into a messy bun. “This is the going stableyard style, I’m told. Or try a single braid down your back.”

      I took in a long drag of air, hating my drab reflection in the mirror. “I think I can manage.”

      “Good. Now makeup.” She showed me how to apply a concoction that dulled my skin and, voila, I was my mother’s worst fear come to life. Common. I wanted to treat that poor pasty girl in the mirror to a day at Bliss Spa. She deserved it.

      Kristi swiveled the chair around until it was facing the racks of clothes. “Wardrobe’s up next. I had a hard time finding jeans that were long enough for you in the leg, but managed to unearth three pairs of Levi’s at the Goodwill store.”

      Goodwill? That was a long way from Barney’s on Madison. Oh, this was getting worse by the second. Wearing other people’s clothes. I shuddered and scratched at imagined cooties jumping over my skin. Kristi went through the piles of underwear—cotton instead of my usual LaPerla silk—and T-shirts with advertising splashed across the front. She was especially proud of the faded red Barn Goddess one. By the time she closed the zipper on the scuffed L.L. Bean duffel bag, I was near tears. I wasn’t vain. Not really. But this was, well, so beneath my station. “If you need anything more, let me know and I’ll see what I can dig up.”

      I hoped to identify the Horse Ripper within a week. I could survive a week in itchy clothes, forking manure. I could. Really. “I think I’m set. Thanks.”

      Kristi beamed. “My pleasure.”

      Alan Burke, Kristi’s brother, poked his head, dark-brown hair perfectly coiffed, through the dressing room door. “All done?”

      “If she was, she’d be with you already, now wouldn’t she?” Kristi snapped. Since Kristi had started her smoke-cessation program, she tended to take out her frustrations on her brother. Poor thing.

      Ignoring Alan, Kristi reached for a box on top of the dressing table. “I had some darker contacts made with your prescription. Your eyes are such a distinct warm sienna that I figured they might attract attention.”

      I stashed Kristi’s Goodwill-filled duffel bag by the elevator door and made my way to Alan’s tech room. The room was filled to the brim with computers, closed-circuit television screens and a wall full of electronic gadgets that would listen, see and record any kind of information you could imagine. I looked at them with envy, knowing a groom wasn’t likely to need any of those beauties.

      “How’s Kyle?” I asked Alan as I took a seat beside him in one of his high-tech chairs. Kyle was a Versace model who lived in Venice. Alan had met him at a recent ball and fallen head over heels in love.

      His chocolate-brown eyes drooped at the corners like a disappointed puppy’s. “He hasn’t called in a while.”

      “He will. How could he resist a sweetie like you?”

      Alan shrugged and got down to the business of going over the technical details of my mission as Ally Cross. “Here’s your driver’s license, credit card, ATM card, check book, car registration, insurance card. I’ve also taken the liberty of getting you some of those annoying frequent-shoppers cards. Blockbuster, Stop & Shop, Starbucks. I also found one for an on-line tack shop.”

      “Impressive.” He handed me my new life story stuffed in a faded navy-blue ripcord wallet with Velcro tabs. Swell.

      “Everything’s backstopped and will stand up to a fairly rigorous investigation.” He added a set of keys on a battered brass stirrup keychain to my booty. “Now, I’ve arranged to have an old Ford Focus modified with a steering wheel accelerator so you can drive it.”

      Because my right foot was missing, making it difficult to feel the pedal, I had to have a special modification to drive. God, I hated driving, but a groom wasn’t likely to arrive at a minimum-wage job in a chauffeur-driven limousine. “You think of everything.”

      “That’s what they pay me for, darling. I also have this.” He reached into a drawer and took out a cell phone and a silver locket. He dangled the locket from his index finger. “It doesn’t look like much so the risk of having it stolen is practically nil. If you press the front like so.” He demonstrated by pressing his thumb against the diamond chip in the middle of the rose scroll and set off an alarm on his computer. “We’ll get an SOS signal and be able to come to your rescue. Of course, that’ll work better once you’re back in the city, but we’ll be able to keep track of your movements in Connecticut. It’ll just take us longer to get to you.”

      Somehow that didn’t sound as reassuring as it should.

      He secured the locket around my neck, then flipped open the phone. “This is really a small computer in disguise. With this, you’ll be able to transmit pictures back to me, record conversations should you need to and, using the sliding keypad, record whatever information Renee needs. Plug it in the recharging base every night. At 2:00 a.m., it will automatically transfer whatever you’ve entered in the computer to our mainframe here. If you need to send something before, just dial Hal’s number and he’ll take it from there.”

      Hal being the mainframe. Did I mention Alan loved movies?

      “I have a cell phone that can do most of that.”

      “This one encrypts communications. And this one is registered to Ally Cross.”

      “Good point.”

      Alan smiled at me as he handed me the gadget. I stuffed it in the knock-off Dooney & Bourke purse Kristi had given me as part of my disguise. “You can call me anytime by pressing the number one on the speed dial function.” He scooped up a plastic bag at his feet. “Here are a couple of videos from last year’s Grand Prix jumping events. That should bring you up-to-date as to who’s who in the jumping world. I’ve also included a book on horse care and grooming. You’re a quick study so getting the procedures down pat shouldn’t take you long.”

      I clutched the bag to my chest. Although I’d never personally attempted the feat, cleaning stalls wasn’t rocket science. “Great. Thanks.”

      My last stop was to see Jimmy “The Heartbreaker” Valentine, the agency’s personal trainer. I loved him. Of course, so did every other agent, even though “Backbreaker” would be a more apt title for him. He’d worked for the CIA and didn’t take any of the crap we dished out. And I can honestly say that СКАЧАТЬ