Hidden Tracks | ✓

15 | in red underlined

"What's today's plan of action?"

I looked up from my breakfast to see Soler making his way over to our table. He was clad in a basic white tee and joggers. He'd made absolutely no effort on his hair and it looked like a tornado had passed through it while he was asleep.

I crinkled my nose at him. "Did you sleep out on the street or something?"

He frowned. "What?"

"Your hair looks like you just walked through a freaking cyclone."

He glared at me. "That's called a bedhead, dumbass. It's makes a person look hotter, not that you'd understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He smirked. "It means you'll never be able to pull off this look, not even in your dreams."

I snorted. "Yeah, Soler, I'm simply dying to look like I live on the streets."

Miranda coughed, trying but failing to hide her laugh. Soler rolled his eyes, again.

"Seriously, how many times a day do you roll your eyes?"

"As many times as you act stupid, Potatohead."

I reached over and punched his shoulder. Hard.

"Ow! What the hell, woman!"

I glared. "Call me that one more time, I dare you."

"Okay, Potatohead."

I was about to go full on Hulk on his ass at the breakfast table before Miranda stopped me.

"That's enough fighting to fill your quota for today, both of you. This is a breakfast table and it's 8 in the morning for god's sake!"

He muttered something under his breath and started eating. I graciously showed him my middle finger before returning to my croissant.

°

We decided that now, we would gather intel on Mason Caldwell, British MP and restaurateur.

All this while, we'd primarily focussed on Amélie, because she was the person who we'd got maximum leads on. But that didn't mean we could ignore the other missing celebrity.

Caldwell's restaurant in Paris was called Bon Appétit. A very generic name, but ultimately, that didn't hinder its success because Bon Appétit was doing very well on the commercial front.

We'd already visited the restaurant once after my meeting with Isabella Hill, but now, we'd go there a second time to ask some of the employees and the manager about Caldwell.

In my opinion, the hardest part of the case was maintaining the secret that Caldwell and Beaumont were actually missing. No one among the public (except Isabella) knew about their disappearance yet, they simply knew both of them had taken an extended break from the social scene for different reasons.

And since very few people knew of the friendship between Amélie and Mason, they would never imagine that the two so-called breaks were actually connected.

And so while interviewing these common people like restaurant employees and Turkish craftsmen, it was especially hard to ask them the questions we wanted, without causing any suspicion.

But we'd somehow have to manage. We were TIA special agents for a reason.

We decided to dedicate today to brainstorming. We needed to come up with a foolproof plan to not only get into Bon Appétit, but also interrogate the manager without raising any eyebrows.

After a while of sitting and pondering in Miranda's room, I finally had a Eureka moment.

"Guys! I think I have an idea."

Soler raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Soler, you can call the manager of Bon Appétit, pretending to be Caldwell's secretary, and tell him that a very famous and reputed food critic wants to dine at the restaurant. They should be ready to welcome this critic and give them VIP treatment.

Then, one of us will go there in the guise of the critic, and obviously the manager will talk to them, greet them and ask for feedback. That's our chance to ask him questions about Caldwell, see if we can get anything useful out of him."

Soler and Miranda seemed to like my idea. "That's actually a pretty solid plan, Kaia," Miranda remarked. "We can go ahead with it. But even if one of us poses as the critic, the other two will have to be present at the restaurant in case anything goes wrong."

I nodded. "Yeah. So then who will be the food critic?"

Soler looked at Miranda. "I think you could do it. Winter and I will book a table somewhere close to keep an eye on things."

Ultimately it was decided Miranda would pose as up-and-coming Chinese critic Mingmei Chen. Ms Chen was new to Paris and Bon Appétit was one of the first places she wanted to critique.

Miranda was fluent in Mandarin and she could also speak English in an accent, which made her seem as if she had just learnt the language. So she'd be very convincing in her role, I was sure of that.

Soler and I first reserved a table for ourselves. We thought the restaurant would be fully booked, but thankfully they still had a few tables left for two.

Ugh. The thought of sitting at a table alone with Soler, as if we were a couple, made me want to throw up.

Not really though, a small part of my brain argued.

Shut the hell up, I told it.

After that, we asked the TIA HQ to get us the manager's number for us. Agent Schiff again came through and provided us with his contact within a few minutes. Schiff also gave us the number of Caldwell's secretary.

If Soler was going to pose as the secretary we had to make sure it was authentic, and our real identities remained untraceable.

So after getting the actual secretary's number, we asked TIA to help us with their special Server Disturbance Technology, which was really just a fancy name for hacking into someone's phone and calling another person from their phone.

With TIA's remote-controlled assistance, we used that technology and hacked into Caldwell's secretary's phone. From there we made a call to the manager of Bon Appétit.

Soler pretended to be Caldwell's secretary and spoke to the manager in an authoritative tone, about how a food critic was coming all the way from Beijing and they had to have their best dishes ready for her to test.

The manager sounded very meek and immediately agreed to have the best facilities ready for Ms Chen.

After the call, Soler hung up, smiling in satisfaction. I must admit, he did a decent job acting as the secretary.

And the positive side was even if anyone tried to cross check the credibility of the phone call, it would be traced back to the secretary's phone (special thanks to TIA).

I took a deep breath in as I thought about the following day. We had an eventful dinner coming up, and Soler and I would have to make sure nothing could ruin this plan.

a/n: ahaa, so who else is excited for mission bon appetit? i know i am.