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“Do you have eyes on the target?” A voice hissed into the earpiece hidden inside the curve of Clarke Griffin's ear. “They are meant to be wearing a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, without a tie as well as a pair of black formal trousers.”
“Everyone's wearing formal trousers Commander.” Clarke replied from the corner of her mouth as she let her eyes scan across the mass of bodies strung around the room. “We're at a charity banquet—formal attire is mandatory.”
“No need to get snarky Princess.” A second voice commented down the earpiece. “We're got a tracking signal from the pin you planted on his shoe—good work by the way, that foot well can't have been a nice place to be—and he's moving up to the second floor of the building.”
“Understood.” Clarke muttered turning her head casually to search out the stairs of the building. “Do we have anything on the cameras?”
“Nothing of note.” The Commander answered. “But, we have clocked Senior in the crowd downstairs by the banquet table, and Junior isn't with him.”
Clarke hummed in thought, stepping away from the dance floor, aiming for one of the doors next to the stairs that led up to the second floor—the women's bathroom. “Can we assume that Junior is selling right under Senior's nose then?” She asked ducking inside the bathroom to break any immediate sight lines. The blonde haired woman counted the number of closed stalls, two, and slipped into the third to wait for one of the two other women to leave.
“Evidence would suggest that's the case, yes.” Commander muttered with a huff.
The stall next to Clarke flushes and the door swung open with a loud squeal from the hinges. Clarke waited a handful of seconds the she pushed the flush on the toilet before stepping out into the main expanse of the bathroom. Then, she waited as the other woman washed and dried her hands, mirroring the woman's movements a couple of second slower in order to follow her out of the bathroom into the foyer of the building. However, instead of following her back into the open space of the dance floor, Clarke turned and using the obstruction of the crowd slid up the stairs unseen.
“Let's see if we can catch him red handed then.” Clarke said striding confidentially up the stairs. “Rave, do we have a fixed position on the target?”
“Yes.” The woman answered. “He's in the third room. There's an adjoining room next door—the fourth doorway on your right—I'd suggest you duck into there.”
“How about surveillance,” Clarke murmured as she slipped her hand inside the pouch of her handbag to wrap her fingers around her lock picks. “Have we had any eyes on who he's meeting?”
“No.” The Commander answered with a huff. “We haven't been able to mark down anyone of note missing from the main hall, but your job is to get the information without being seen Griffin. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I'll do my job Commander.” Clarke said with a quick roll of her eyes. “Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm approaching the door and going radio silent now.”
Clarke rolled her shoulders as she stepped passed the third doorway on the right, before turning to enter the fourth doorway. The blonde haired woman pressed the door-handle down, and smirked when it fell open easily. “Idiot.” The woman said with a sigh before slipping into the room and pushing the door closed in her wake.
Clarke flicked the inner lock to engaged before striding silently across the room to the door that stood in the partition between the two adjoining rooms. There the woman bent, looked through the keyhole into the other room, scanning it for her target.
Cage Wallace walked across Clarke's line of sight thirteen times, pacing up and down the length of the room, before there was a click as the door to the room opened and Cage turned his head to look. Clarke leaned away from the keyhole, her fingers drawing a long wire out of her bag, and poked it through the gap as she opened the small screen on her lap.
“Recording.” Clarke muttered quietly into her microphone, shifting the camera attached to the wire to focus on Cage Wallace's face and that of his business partner.
The woman watched for fifteen minutes as the pair worked their way through a short exchange. She witnessed the money slip from the hand of Cage's business partner into the man's hand and then into his briefcase before he drew out a vial of red liquid.
“The Red.” Cage murmured. “Just as promised Lorelei.”
“Will it do everything that you said it will?” The woman asked with a lift of her eyebrow and Clarke found herself suppressing a small smirk at the woman's tone. “I have a lot riding on this Cage.”
“It will do everything that you expect it to do.” Cage answered, his lips stretched into a cocksure smile. “You have my personal assurance of that.”
“Good.” The woman said as she slipped the vial into her pocket. “Then, it has been a pleasure doing business with you Cage. You must give my best regards to your father.”
“I'm sure he'll be sad to discover he missed you tonight.” Cage chuckled, his hand pressed to Lorelei's back as he led her out of the room.
Clarke took the time to withdraw the camera from the keyhole, ending and saving the recording, before waiting for Cage to slip out of his room and back to the party.
Then, half an hour later, the blonde haired woman strutted away from the upstairs bedroom. Her dress artfully rearranged as if it had been disturbed by another person's heavy petting and her lipstick slightly smeared across her smirking lips. The men, and women, that met her eyes as she watched turned their gazes away with a faint flush covering their cheeks.
“Mission accomplished.” Clarke muttered into her wire as she exited the building.
“Good work Griffin. Return home.” The Commander said, their voice level and calm, but Clarke's ears heard the relief that coloured the woman's words.
“I'll untwist those panties for you when I get there Commander.” Clarke teased letting a smile cover her lips as she listened to Lexa splutter on the other end of the radio.