An Errant Prince

Undercover

"Thanks to that carry on debacle, we're not seated behind the targets." Sitting twelve rows behind Sam and Kash, it was impossible to surveille the two men without blowing their covers. Starling fingered the hem of a tacky Hawaiian shirt Jasmine had insisted he wear. "Where did you buy this horrid thing? In some bargain basement?"

"You're supposed to be a Greek Tycoon slumming it with his mistress." Her lip twitched up with mirth at the atrocious Aloha shirt favored by right-wing protesters. Not only was the cut bad, the large pattern and full rainbow spectrum made it impossible for him to remain inconspicuous.

"Greek Tycoon as in Ari Onassis? I look like a buffoon from Animal House. Meanwhile, who are you supposed to be, Jacqueline Onassis?" He noticed she'd opted for a tasteful designer fit and flare dress  for her own disguise. She could easily blend with any of the off-boarding passengers.

Jasmine viciously jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "Quiet! You're making a scene."

A flight attendant walked towards them, creasing her forehead in concern. "Is there a problem here?"

Jasmine smiled sweetly, eyeing the woman's name tag. "None at all, Ariadne. I'm afraid my elderly husband is feeling constipated. He's experiencing a few stomach cramps." Jasmine rubbed her hand on his knee in a show of affection. "He'll feel better once he passes some gas." Satisfied there wasn't a domestic altercation needing her attention, the flight attendant returned to her station.

"Keep your hands to yourself!" Starling growled. He had to exert every ounce of self control he possessed not to throttle her. He unbuckled his seat. "I'm going to the loo."

"That's a good idea. Try not to strain your hemorrhoids, dear." He glared at his fellow agent.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. He couldn't decide which was worse. Flying commercial or sitting next to that snickering viper.

James Starling walked past Sam and Kash, discreetly assessing both men from behind Cazal sunglasses. At the back of the plane, he slipped into the vacant bathroom. Once the folding folding door was shut, he pulled out his phone. Pulling up his contacts, he texted the local Greek thug he'd hired to delay Strom. The metal carabiner he'd slipped into her carry on would show up the airport security scan as a trigger guard, prompting a bag search. Once Sam and Kash were off the plane, Starling wanted to be the only one following them. To hell with the joint assignment. The Queen will regret pushing Strom down my throat.

While Agent Starling was in the airplane's restroom, Jasmine pulled out her own phone and texted a vivid description of Starling to the mercenary she'd hired to kill him. Putting her phone away, she smiled touching up her lipstick.