✏️ The Littlest Spy

26. Target of Opportunity

Isadora hovered at the edge of the living room, her heart racing as she watched Brock's conversation with Victor and Marco. She wanted desperately to interrupt, to pull him aside and share what she'd learned from Alison, but the moment seemed impossible to breach. Isadora was well used to ignoring men who wouldn't take her seriously; but Estelle didn't have the same determination.

Brock leaned casually against the mantelpiece, gesturing subtly with an empty glass. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he launched into his tale. Isadora wished for a moment that she could have at least ensured he had a non-alcoholic drink in his hand before adding new elements to their backstory; but she knew that her responsibility now was to understand and to remember what he was saying; and to make sure that it stood up to any later scrutiny.

"Hunting? Oh, absolutely," he said, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "There's nothing quite like the thrill of the chase, is there? I mean, I've got my hours on the range, don't want to let the skills get rusty, but there's nothing quite like a real target in your sights. My last trip to Tanzania was... unforgettable."

Marco leaned in, clearly intrigued. "Tanzania? That must have been exciting. What were you after?"

"Cape buffalo," Brock replied without missing a beat. "Nasty creatures, but what a challenge. You need something with real stopping power for those beasts."

Victor nodded appreciatively. "I'll get one someday. They're on my bucket list. What's your weapon of choice?"

"Depends on the target," Brock said, giving a half shrug. Isadora found herself worrying again; although if there was a subject Brock could speak on without an advance briefing, guns were probably a part of it. His eyes lit up as he continued, making her wonder just how much of his enthusiasm was real. "For the buffalo, I had my favourite game rifle. Safari Express with .404 Jefferys. Not the most popular choice, but it's always been good for me. If I'm hunting somewhere that getting around customs is too much hassle, I'll go with whatever the local guides provide. But I have to say, I always had a good experience with Heym. On hunting trips, anyway. At home, I have a lot of respect for ArmaLite. Precision engineering and probably the best choice for smaller targets."

The conversation flowed on, drifting into territory that made Isadora increasingly nervous. It was like those three had been friends for life, now they had a common topic to discuss. And the more she heard, the more it made Isadora uncomfortable. She had the same training as any field-certified monitor; and that included guns. But something put her on edge about the casual way these men could talk about killing, even if the targets in their sights weren't human. And there was a calculating look in Marco's eyes that she couldn't quite place. Almost predatory, like the story had awakened a dormant urge to kill some defenceless creature.

Before Isadora could properly think about what that might mean, Victor's gaze shifted in her direction.

"Mrs. Klein!" he said, his lips curving into a smile. "Don't stand on ceremony. Come, join us. I'm sure you have some thrilling tales of your own from these adventures."

Isadora felt her cheeks flush as she stepped forward, acutely aware of all eyes on her. While Brock might know a lot about hunting, she wouldn't have the first clue what she could say. Her lies would be caught immediately; and she couldn't exactly tell them that Brock had been making it all up. She turned towards Brock, wondering if he would say anything to help her. But she was distracted by the scent of anise and herbs, and noticed the faint green colour around the bottom of his glass. Brock had moved on to stronger spirits at some point, and she wondered if that had done anything to encourage his modification of their backstory.

"Does your husband let you handle his weapon?" Victor asked, his mouth turning up a little at the corners as if he thought this was funny. "Or do you need something with a little less kick?" Isadora's fist clenched involuntarily at the way this guy was putting her down, but she forced herself to swallow the sarcastic impulses. Estelle was a demure former secretary and trophy wife, after all; she had probably never held a weapon. So how would she respond?