I, Spy? (Sophie Green Mysteries, No. 1) (Sophie Green Mystery)

do know more than you should. We’ve been after a group of counterfeiters for a while now. Brown was one of them. Now we have him, we might start getting somewhere. I was going to board that flight myself, but whoever did the rosters obviously didn’t know that. I thought we might have missed him.”
    He exhaled and stirred his coffee. One hand strayed up to gently touch his discolored eye, and he winced.
    “I’m sorry you had to see that in the jetbridge. I was going to take him back like a regular decontrolled passenger. His bag was full of counterfeit notes.”
    My eyes widened. “Really? That holdall? Were they good forgeries?”
    He gave a faint smile. “Not bad. You’d need a specialist to tell they were fake.”
    I sat back against my seat. “So now you’ve caught him, is that it? Are you leaving Ace?”
    He cocked his head, looking more like sexy Italian Luca. “Would you miss me?”
    “Only if my aim is off.”
    He laughed. “Funny. No, look, I have to stay on a while longer. I need you to keep it a secret who I am. The duty managers know, but no one else. You have to keep it a big secret. Understood?”
    I shrugged, then nodded. “Seeing as I don’t really know who you are, it shouldn’t be too hard.”
    That brought a smile. “Good girl.” He looked down at my drink. “Are you going to finish that?”
    I hadn’t even started it. I picked it up and gulped a load, scalding my mouth, managing a weak smile. “I need the caffeine,” I said, and he nodded understandingly.
    “I hear you. Are you on tomorrow?”
    “Yeah. Early again.”
    “Okay.” He looked at his watch. “Look, why don't you go home early? I’ll square it with Paola.”
    I must have looked as doubtful as I felt, because Luke laughed.
    “If you get into trouble, I’ll cover for you. I’ll even pay you the difference.” He stood. “Finish your coffee, then go.”
    I nodded.
    “And, Sophie?”
    I looked up.
    “If you tell anyone about this, I may have to kill you.”
    I stared. Luke grinned, then walked away.

Chapter Two
     
    When I started this job, they told me the social life would be great. No one parties like airport people, they said. And there’s such a mix—people from all over the world, different ages and backgrounds and languages and races—it’s amazing. Your social life will go through the roof.
    Really?
    Last time I went out clubbing with the guys from work I went home, changed my clothes and went straight off to work again at four-thirty. And then I fell asleep at the desk and nearly got fired.
    My usual social life consisted of watching Buffy videos, with or without my best friend Angel, and occasionally going to the pub. With my parents. God, I needed a life. I wonder if you can get them on Amazon?
    I let myself in with a big sigh of relief. Tammy, my fluffy little baby, was mewling around her bowl, looking all tiny and helpless.
    “Aw, poor baby,” I scooped her up and felt her purr against me. “Did you run out of squirrels to kill?”
    Tammy gave me a dirty look and squirmed to get down. She killed anything that moved: mice, birds, squirrels, even small dogs if she got the chance, and yet she was so small I could hold her in the crook of one arm, like a baby.
    A baby with teeth, and really sharp claws.
    I found her some biscuits, remembering guiltily that she hadn’t been fed since lunchtime yesterday, and forked out a huge can of food.
    It must have been twice her body weight, but she ate it. God, I wished I was a cat. You got to eat and eat and eat and never get fat, you had gorgeous glossy hair and fantastic cheekbones, and people were always telling you how beautiful you were. Well, they were always telling Tammy, anyway. Right now I didn’t feel very beautiful. I felt haggard.
    I moaned as I remembered I had a third early tomorrow. That was the last time I swapped shifts with anyone.
    The way my shifts worked was that I did two late shifts, then two earlys, then I got two days off. If you were totally insane, like Angel, you could apply to work twelve-hour shifts, four days in a row or four nights in a row, then four days off. There were all sorts of overlaps, and the part-timers sometimes worked on a three-on, three-off pattern that would drive me mad. This was how it was hard to remember who was going to be on when, because we all only got the roster sheet for the people who were on the same shift as us.
    But this month they stuck Luca’s roster on the end of my sheet. Or should