Thick Blood

Chapter 3= Strong Woman

The car ride was long and painful. The air was hot and humid, weighing heavily on my shoulders. Burning furiously, the sun released a large heatwave that beat down upon me. Suddenly, my clothes stuck to my sweat releasing a sticky oder. However, at least I had exchanged my usual leather outfit for a light, loose number.

Also, I became cautious of the hair glue that attached the curly maroon wig to my head. It had started to leak in the weather. I could feel it dripping down my skull. I needed a wig when undercover in my home area, simply because, most people would recognise me. Maybe not as Evelyn. But certainly as the daughter of the leader of the Cayea tribe.

A long shiver drilled down my spine.

I had warned the others of my Spanish town's despicable heat, yet I don't think they took me seriously due to the fact that I could hear them panting through the commes stuck in my ear.

Grinning, I said quietly "Didn't take my advice, huh?" Cameron pretty much answered that through the commes with an irritated grunt. Peering around the car's wheel, I finally managed to settle the steaming vehicle in a parking space outside a leaky pub.

Annoyed, I muttered into my commes, "I still don't get why I had to drive all the 5630 miles to reach here when you could have just dropped me off by jet." Agent Brookes answered in a professional pitch. "It adds to your undercover character Agent Sharpe. If anyone were to grow suspicious of you and dig around, they'd discover it soon enough."

He had a point, but that didn't stop me from cursing under my breath as I left the car.

Next, Agent Chambers voice drilled into my head through my communications device. "OK, so the new information is based on a line of experiments. We have claimed one name which could help with discovering more. Di'Ciablo.

'Oliver Di'Ciablo is married with two children: a daughter, and a son who unfortunately died last year in a stroke. He is in some form, an important businessman with some run ins with the law. He spends most of his Friday evenings at the pub you are currently outside of. I have sent a picture via your watch.

'I'm on standby for any help if needed.
Good luck."

It was all down to me before I'd even blinked.

Turning my wrist, I scanned my smart watch screen. On it, was an image of a chubby man in a smart suit. His head was slowly balding and had a little beard stubble on his chin. It was just a normal guy... But from the outside, I looked like a normal girl too.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the pub. Coughing and spluttering, my lungs adapted to the hoards of smoky mist inside. My eyes watered. The pub was a tiny shack, with rounded wooden tables and a few dozen men jeering over a football match on a flickering TV set.

This was not an ideal place for a highly official businessman. So much for not being suspicious...

I took a seat down on a stool at the bar. The Barkeeper stared at me, raising an eyebrow. "Whatchoo want, hun?" He asked. I shrugged, ignoring his confusion about how a young woman had just stepped inside of his bar.

"Lemonade. And call me hun again, and I'll cut your tongue."

The Barkeeper flinched.

I actually hated lemonade, but I couldn't drink alcohol as it slowed reactions and I was undercover. If I'd ordered water, it would be too conspicuous.

"I like your attitude." A voice creaked from behind me. I nodded towards the empty bar stool next to me, which the the stranger took casually. The stranger's name was Oliver Di'Ciablo.

What I wanted to tell him was:
Yeah I know you like my attitude, because I know who you are. You made arguments in several political discussions to start a deadly organisation that experiments on animals and possibly my cousin. Therefore, I can get in your mind and your point of view to see that you like people who confront others head on; speak their mind and are rough. So, I am going to wield this information to my own advantage and manipulate you so I can get leverage on you before kidnapping you and torturing you to find out about your organisation and if you are holding my cousin hostage. If so, then I will most likely kill you as punishment before crushing your life-long business into a bloody pulp, until I get her back...

Instead, I settled on. "Thanks. I've had a long day."

It made a change not having to create an accent due to the nation I was in, because I was already half Spanish. I just needed to enhance it. I was also glad that Di'Ciablo spoke English, so my team (who were listening in) could also understand him.

Di'Ciablo raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't wanna bore you." 

The barkeeper exchanged me a large glass of lemonade, with a straw poking out for what little cash I had in my pocket. Pretending to not pay attention to Di'Ciablo, I sipped through the straw, wincing at the bubbly sour taste that fizzed through my mouth.

Why didn't I order Coke?
Idiot!

" So, what's your story?" I asked, trying to ignore the terrible taste of my drink. And so he told me...

He told me his name was Oliver Di'Ciablo. No really... That he loved golf. Like, why'd I care? And besides, why do all men love golf? It's like a sickness... And finally, that he was C. E. O to a huge company called Carter Laboratories. Bingo. 'bout time.

Before he set off on a conversation about a stupid golf tournament, I managed to slip in. His voice was dull, as was his range of vocabulary. I expected a guy with so many degrees to just generally be more intelligent, personally. But hey.

Interrupting quickly, I batted my eyelids pathetically. "Gosh, C. E. O of a huge company!" Di'Ciablo attempted to brush it aside. His voice wobbled- almost like he lacked of interest in his successful career. Something really wasn't right.

I myself wasn't exactly amazing in the area of the sciences, but I knew the people listening on the other line would know. I just needed a way to grab their attention.

"What exactly does your company do then?" I hardened my voice so it was much more direct. Di'Ciablo just brushed it off, but it wasn't him who I was directing at.

Brooke's voice buzzed into a haze through my ear piece like a swarm of bees. "It's a trick. Sharpe thinks something is up. Chambers can you give a detailed explanation?"

"Just a minute..." Another voice replied. "OK, Carter Laboratories is supposedly the current home of a livestock cell organism farm where they are trying to use cells to replica other species. It is funded by the Government but hasn't had a safety check for over three years and is being investigated due to rumours of other illegal experiments. "

With a slight giggle, I nodded towards Di'Ciablo, awaiting his answer. He thimbled his whisky glass, pretending to be rather busy before stating  "Oh you wouldn't like it! It's just about... clone reproduction."

My eyes narrowed. He was well rehearsed. But he couldn't fool me.

"Why is it called Carter Laboratories when your name is Di'Ciablo?" I questioned with a slight smirk. Now I was just messing with him. Part of me already new the answer.

Di'Ciablo gargled into his whisky. His face blushed a deep crimson, and he bit his scarred lip nervously. I noticed how cracked his lips were; biting them must have been his coping mechanism.

Taking his sweet time, the man answered uncomfortably. "It's the name of the street..." Despite identifying his lie, I nodded curtly. He needed to believe I was on his side, after all...

Sipping my drink again, I shook off the flavour with a shudder. "So, what's your name?" Di'Ciablo asked in an urgency to change the subject. I winced. I had forgotten, I hadn't really made one up...

"Mia Blanco." I answered with the first name that popped into my head. Truth was, Mia Blanco was my next-door neighbour when my parents were still alive. She was a brat, and I never liked her. Last I heard she had got into some successful collage. I was oblivious to the reason of why I used her name. But it couldn't hurt, could it?

Perking up a little, Di'Ciablo nodded. "Mia. That's a nice name." I noticed him weighing it out on his tongue, waving over the syllables. He leaned in closer towards me, the rash smell of beer and nachos radiating off his skin. I enjoyed hurting his type of people. People who always undermined women.

Never undermine a woman with strong intentions.

Never undermine such power.

It may be the last thing you ever do...

All I knew, was this was going to be fun...!