“I will.”

Since they had time to spare, Clive led them on a walking tour of the city, along cobbled streets, past magnificent gray granite buildings and gorgeous flower gardens. He chuckled at the way Loup craned her neck and gazed all around, but without malice.

“Nice little city, eh?”

“Yeah.”

They ate an early dinner at one of his favorite pubs in town, one that served stovied tatties. Clive ordered a half pint of lager.

“Mind, I’m only having a wee bit o’ beer because we’re not really on the job and nothing goes better with stovies,” he said in warning. “Never, never, never drink on the job. You’ve got to have a clear head and keep your wits about you.”

“You’re telling me those security guys with the band never drink?” Pilar asked skeptically.

“Not the good ones.” He fixed her with a stern look. “You find yourself at three in the morning with a pop star foaming at the mouth from a heroin overdose, you damn sure want to be sober, girlie.”

“Ew.”

“Too right.”

They returned to the venue. There was a long line out front, almost all kids in their teens and twenties, with a marked preponderance of girls and young women. Clive led them around to the back entrance, where they were admitted after showing their badges.

“Here.” A strapping guard shoved T-shirts at them. Like his, they had SECURITY printed in large letters on the front and back. “Hard to spot a badge in all that mess. Don’t want anyone getting confused and thinking a couple fangirls snuck backstage.”

“Do they do that?” Loup asked.

“Every chance they get.”

After they’d donned their T-shirts, Clive escorted them to the front entrance and assigned each of them a security guard to shadow. For the better part of an hour, they hovered and observed as the guards confiscated backpacks and liquor bottles, examined purses, and patted down suspiciously baggy outfits.

“You’re right,” Loup said when Clive came to fetch them. “That’s pretty goddamned dull.”

“Eh?” He took a wax plug out of his ear. “Sorry. Can’t abide the shrieking.”

“Dull! It’s dull.”

“Dull’s part of the business, girlie. Best you learn it now.”

Backstage, they took up their posts, doing their best to stay out of the way of the sound and lighting technicians and security guards and dozens of other people hurrying around, swearing at equipment or muttering into earpieces. Beyond the stage, the hall filled to capacity and more.

“Kinda exciting, huh?” Pilar squeezed Loup’s hand.

“Kinda, yeah.” She squeezed back. “I think we’re supposed to be acting professional.”

“Oh, right.” Pilar let go.

The crowd was calm enough during the opening act, a young soloist who played guitar and sat on a stool crooning love ballads. He played to tepid applause and finished his set in twenty minutes.

The crowd began chanting.

“Kate, Kate, Kate!”

“Ohmigod!” Pilar clutched Loup’s arm, forgetting to be professional. “Here they come!”

She watched three skinny young men in T-shirts and jeans slouch past them. “Yep.”

Massive shrieking ensued.

Onstage the members of Kate were transformed, bouncing and energized as they launched into their opening number. Loup ignored the band and watched the crowd surge forward, watched the vigilant response of the guards.

“Think we’ll get to meet the band?” Pilar shouted in her ear over the noise.

She shrugged. “Dunno.”

For a while, the concert was uneventful. Then there was a roiling in the crowded pit. One of the guards jumped into the fray, shoving and elbowing. He emerged with the slight, unconscious figure of a girl in his arms. He passed her off to one of the other guards, then hopped back onstage.

The second guard caught Loup’s eye and beckoned with a nod as he passed with his burden. She followed him.

“You’re one of Clive’s girls, yeah?” he asked, laying the fan on a cot backstage.

“Yeah.”

“Got a fainter. It happens.” He popped the prongs of an oxygen tube into the girl’s nostrils with the expertise of long practice. Her eyelids fluttered. He glanced at his watch. “She doesn’t come around in a minute’s time, fetch Bill. She comes around, keep a sharp eye on her. We get a lot of fakers.” He pointed at the security doors toward the rear of the space. “Don’t let her get back there.”

“Okay,” Loup agreed.

The girl came around. “Who’re you?” she asked, narrowing eyes ringed with heavy black liner.

“Yeah.” She sat up and plucked out the oxygen tube. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll just be going back to my friends now, right?”

“Sure, I guess. Let me check.” Not sure how to proceed, Loup glanced around for Bill or anyone else on the real security team. “Hey!”

The groupie was on her feet and sidling toward the back door.

Loup hauled her back toward the cot. “Oh, no. Sit here and wait.”

“Okay, okay!” She pouted. “I’ll sit right here.”

“Fine.” Two steps later, Loup glanced backward and spotted her making a beeline for the doors. “Fuck!” She put a come-along grip on the girl, who responded by whimpering and falling to her knees. “Oh, c’mon! I just need to find someone to tell me what to do with you.”

“Don’t hurt me!” the girl wailed. “You don’t understand! I love them!”

“I’m not gonna fucking hurt you!” she said in disgust, pointing. “Sit. Wait.”

The girl sat demurely on the cot for the time it took for Loup to turn her back, then bolted for the door.

“Ohh-kay.” Loup scooped her up, tossed her over her shoulder, and held her in place while she searched, ignoring the girl’s kicking and flailing. “Bill! Hey, Bill! Clive! Anyone?”

Onstage, the band played, heedless.

“I’m gonna spew down your back, I swear!” the girl gasped.

“Go right ahead.” She found Bill muttering into his earpiece. “Sir? Excuse me, sir. What should I do with her?”

He stared for a second, then cracked a huge grin. “Fainter?”

“More of a faker, I think.” Loup shifted her struggling burden, adjusting her grip. “Keeps making a run for the back door.”

“Just put her back in the crowd.” Bill pointed toward the stage. “Be… no, you know what?” His grin widened. “Don’t be discreet.”

“Okay.”

The groupie yelled and thrashed. “Hey, baby,” Pilar called in amusement as Loup passed her. “Where you going with that? Hope you’re not planning to ravage her.”

She turned, quick enough that the groupie made an urping sound. “More like drop her on her head. No, Bill told me to put her back.”

“Ooh, you’re going onstage?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

Onstage, the amplifiers created a wall of sound Loup could feel on her skin. She crossed the stage to the left of the band, heading in the general direction from which the girl had come. A few people in the audience pointed and stared. Behind her, the drummer faltered. The security guards turned around to look and began cracking up with laughter. The groupie kicked and squirmed. At the edge of the stage, Loup shaded her eyes against the glaring lights with her free hand and scanned the packed audience.

A gaggle of heavily made-up young teenage girls a few feet away waved frantically. Loup pointed to her burden with an inquiring look. They nodded and began to make room, jostling the crowd around them.

“Up you go,” she said, her voice inaudible beneath the music and crowd noise. She swung the girl upright, catching her under her arms.

The groupie spat in her face.

“Oh, yuck.” Loup eyed the dangling girl with disgust, half forgetting that she was still holding her off the ground. The girl stared back at her with a mix of defiance and terror. “Okay. Professional. Down you go.”

She lowered the girl effortlessly to her waiting friends, then turned, wiping her face on the sleeve of her T-shirt before heading backstage. The security guards gave her beaming smiles and a thumbs-up salute. The lead singer and the bass player were carrying on as though nothing odd had occurred, but the drummer stared open-mouthed as Loup passed, still playing off the beat.

“Now that was muy macha,” Pilar commented.

“That was disgusting.” Loup wiped her face again. “She spat on me.”

“Gross!”

“Yeah. So much for the glamorous life of a secret agent bodyguard.”

FIFTEEN

Clive was pleased, although he wouldn’t let them backstage to meet the band after the concert.

“No offense, sunshine, but I don’t quite trust you not to act like a gobsmacked fan,” he said to Pilar. “I don’t mean to punish you for being a perfectly normal young lady, but if you’re gonna be in this business, you’ve got to act professional. You made a reasonably good first impression tonight, and I don’t want to spoil it. Understand?”

“I guess.”

“And you!” He grinned at Loup. “You did a lovely job of setting the rumor mill in motion, darlin’.”

“I was just doing what I was told.”

“Yeah, and how!” Clive chuckled. “Mr. Lindberg will be tickled.”

Even with the spitting, it had been an exciting break in their routine, but afterward, it was back to training and studies. The week that followed contained a crash course in basic electronic technology when he discovered that neither of them had more than the most rudimentary of skills.

“We didn’t have computers that could talk to one another,” Loup explained. “Just old ones that broke all the time. If it hadn’t been for Jaime, we wouldn’t have had any at all.”