When she finally came back to the coffee table, she set down mugs for her and Catriona, before moving Frieda’s mug to set it on a coaster. She enjoyed the perturbed look on the NCA agent’s face, but her victory was short-lived.
‘Your brother is in violation of our agreement. He’s going back to prison.’
Cerys resisted the urge to fling the cup of scalding tea into Frieda’s face.
‘Jason is doing the Agency’s work right now,’ Catriona said, voice soft. ‘As is Amy.’
‘I don’t think they’re working for anyone but themselves.’
‘Maybe you should ask Owain about that,’ Cerys said, acidly.
Frieda smiled like the Cheshire Cat. ‘Please, let’s be adults about this. It was just sex. Agent Jenkins is my employee now, and all that is behind us. We can be civil professionals, can’t we?’
‘Civil professionals running a secret experiment in the woods?’ Catriona asked.
Frieda clenched her jaw. ‘That is classified. If classified information has been leaked—’
‘You have a rogue agent,’ Cerys interrupted.
‘I am well aware.’
‘Not Amy. P6. They’ve gone rogue. Entered the compound without your permission. Your staff are filing false reports.’
Frieda’s smile was frozen, like a Snow Queen. ‘You don’t understand a word of what you just said, do you?’
‘It’s you who doesn’t understand,’ Cerys said, trying to bluff her way through this. ‘You’ve lost control of the situation. None of your agents are working for you anymore. They’ve all got their own agenda. Amy isn’t the exception – she’s the rule.’
Frieda was silent for a couple of seconds, but that smile was still in place. She wore the dead eyes of a predator, of a shark swimming towards the blood in the water.
‘Agent Lane is many things, but she’s not a liar. It’s her one failing as an agent. If my agents are all running wild, as you say, I will start disciplinary proceedings. For some, that will mean a demotion, or expulsion from the service. For others, it will mean serving time in prison.’
Catriona inhaled sharply and Cerys felt the floor fall out from under her. Shit, they had made things worse. They had come here to score points, to goad Frieda into giving things away, and instead they had brought down the sky on Jason and Amy. And Owain.
‘Of course, the situation might still be salvaged. Communicate with your…handler, in whatever way you’ve established, and tell her this: she will solve my little problem, with this “P6” and with Carr – the older Carr, of course. She will take command from Agent Jenkins, and we will see if she can do any better.’
‘What will happen to Owain?’ Catriona asked, saving Cerys from losing face by asking.
‘As I said. We have disciplinary proceedings. If he has truly gone against my wishes in this matter, he will be demoted. If, however, he has lost control of the situation or acted out of ignorance – well, then he is a hopeless case, and I have no further use for him.’
Frieda stood up, and her shadow by the window moved to stand beside her. The threat in the air was palpable, the implication that she could target any one of them at any time.
‘I am sure you will make this perfectly clear to Agent Lane. And if she has deceived me…well. I’m sure she knows what happens next.’
Chapter 41: What Goes Around
The compound was full of wanderers.
Amy could well believe that rates of insomnia were high in prisoners, but the corridors were a constant source of traffic. She learned that P6 had roamed the corridor every other night since his arrival – always around half-three in the morning, disappearing down the far end. Two or three times a week, P12 sat in the mess hall after everyone had gone to bed and scribbled in a battered notebook for hours and hours, until he gave into sleep in the early hours.
And every night, without fail, P10 got up just after 1am to use the bathroom. Amy put it down to the hot drink he always took to bed with him, but it was notable because it happened every single night. Something about it was bothering her though, and she couldn’t quite place what it was. He was otherwise unassuming, a short South Asian man who was part of the Project Room crew, and seemed to get on with everyone without having a single close friend. He was perfectly dull. So why was she so obsessed by his 1am ritual?
There was a knock at her office door. She got up to open it, and Owain was standing there, once more red in the face. She checked her watch.
‘It’s too early for changeover,’ she said.
‘I need to talk to you.’
She let him in and sat back behind the desk, feeling better for having the solid wood between her and him. Highlighting the divide between them.
‘What did you say to Frieda?’
‘Nothing.’
While it was technically true, Amy knew exactly why Owain was raising this now, exactly how she had been instrumental in causing it, and how she had told Frieda something even if she hadn’t spoken to her.
‘Amy, come on. We’re…’
‘Handler and agent,’ she said, bluntly. ‘What I told her had nothing to do with you.’
‘It has everything to do with me! If there’s something happening in the compound, I am responsible for it. You undermined me by going further up the chain.’
‘I went to Frieda because I thought she already knew about it and was playing her usual games.’
She hadn’t meant to undermine him or cause him grief, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologise for it either.
‘You could’ve told me. Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?’
‘I don’t trust you.’
The words had already left her mouth by the time the truth of them hit her. She didn’t trust him. She could never trust him. It hurt to suddenly feel so certain about that, after they had been friends. But now they had been whatever-they-were longer than they had been friends, and she couldn’t change how she felt. She could think about the emotions that led to her behaviour, but these feelings weren’t based on lies from her depressed, anxious brain. They were simply reality.
‘But you trust Frieda.’
She could tell she had upset him, but she stood her ground.
‘Of course I don’t trust Frieda. I know every deal with her is a deal with the devil. She has never pretended to be my friend.’
‘When will you get over that?’ Owain shouted, slamming his hands down on the desk and causing her laptop to shudder.
‘It will never happen,’ she said, keeping her voice steady and trying to control her rising heart rate. ‘You viewed us as your ticket out of the police, and now here you are. I hope it was worth it.’
‘Now that I’ve been relieved of my position? I’m being sent home in disgrace and you’ve got my job. Is that what you wanted? Because I don’t think it is. I think it’s the absolute last thing you wanted.’
Amy gawped at him, a rock falling into the bottom of her stomach. ‘Frieda’s given me your job,’ she said, in faint horror.
Owain shook his head. ‘I hope it was worth it,’ he echoed, and left her.
The evening was cool and crisp, and Jason stepped outside for some fresh air. And a cigarette.
While they were technically allowed to smoke inside, the Governor didn’t like it, which meant that everyone smoked outside or spent the night hours hanging out of the bathroom window like they were still in school. Jason had technically quit, but old habits died hard, especially in the company of old friends.
He found Lewis and Stoker sitting on a felled tree together, sharing a cigarette and laughing by the security light. The wind whipped away their words, but Jason could see they were relaxed, comfortable with each other. Stoker stood up, touched Lewis’ shoulder, and turned back towards the building. He hesitated when he saw Jason, but merely nodded as he continued on his way.
Jason took his place on the log, the wood warm beneath him. Now that he looked closer, he noticed that the wood had been carved and treated, to make a proper bench out of it. It seemed those prison woodworking courses had been put to good use. Jason reached towards Lewis and was rewarded with a cancer stick for his troubles.
‘Where are yours?’ Lewis asked.
‘I quit,’ Jason said.
‘These things will kill you,’ Lewis said, waving his own cigarette
‘No sooner than this place.’
They looked out into the darkening woods, the chill of the night waking Jason after the heavy lamb curry he had cooked for dinner. They were never going to let him out of the kitchen. He would have to start poisoning some people.
He shivered. Not poisoning people. He had seen the suspicious looks he had earned today, from more than just Nikolai. The others feared him now, doubted him. He'd been the last one to tangle with Bo. He was the prime suspect. If he were Bryn, he'd haul himself in for questioning.
As he knew he was innocent, even if no one else did, he had been mentally pointing the finger all day. The only motive he could see was that someone was trying to turn the compound against him. Nikolai was the obvious choice – he'd made clear that he wanted him out, and that feeling had only intensified since Stoker broke his nose. Nikolai was also a candidate for having pushed him off the roof, except that he'd been busy punching Lewis at the time.
Other possibilities were few and far between. He was as likely to accuse Lewis as he was Pansy or Gareth.
‘Penny for ‘em?’
‘Thinking on who set me up.’
‘With the bleach?’
‘Yeah. I reckon that’s got to be the reason.’
‘Bo isn’t the most popular,’ Lewis said, taking a drag of his cigarette. ‘Too quiet for that. Maybe his fall from grace was an opportunity for someone?’
‘It’s a pretty harsh attack just to gain an edge.’
Lewis blew out smoke in a long, smooth line, his cool breath adding to the effect.
‘It may look soft in here, Jay, but it’s still a prison.’
It was hard to think of it as a prison, with the woods in all directions and his best mate sitting here with a cigarette, like they were free again, and young. Except they weren’t and this place was suffocating him every day. He didn’t like what he was becoming within this stifling cocoon.
‘Is that why no one asks any questions?’
‘What’s there to ask? “Why are we here? What’s it all for?” I go to a minister for that shit, Jay, not the Governor.’
‘You don’t care about what comes next? About the ‘second stage’?’
Lewis didn’t ask how Jason knew about that, and just shrugged instead.
‘I care about what comes after that. When the dust settles, when it’s all over. I’ve always been about ends over means.’
Jason nodded to himself, knowing Lewis was right, that Jason could’ve said the same. He wanted to know how the Governor came to be on top, but he otherwise just wanted to survive and get out. That could be the motto of this place.
‘What are you going to do after?’ Jason said, aiming for distraction.
‘I thought I might train as a mechanic. Mess around with cars, like we used to do. I'd need help though. I couldn’t set up something like that on my own.’
Jason knew what he was asking and knew that he couldn’t give it to him. Could he? He had to look after Amy, solve mysteries with her, find out where this thing with her was going. Except she could pretty much take care of herself, she was only solving NCA-approved mysteries, and he reckoned they could figure it out better if he wasn’t hovering over her all the time.
‘Could you give me some time to think about it?’ Jason said.
Lewis laughed. ‘We’ve got a lot of time and nothing to do but think.’
Jason finished his cigarette and stood up, reaching down to give Lewis a hand up. He stubbed out his own end, and accepted Jason’s hand. Hauling him up, Jason realised how much muscle he had gained, how he had grown into his long limbs, how they were now more similar than ever. It would be something, to run a garage with Lewis, to make something of themselves together.
He just had to explain it to Amy.
Heading back to the compound, Jason noted the lack of stars and thought they might get frost tonight. Stoker would be pissed off, because his baby vegetables would all freeze to death and he'd have to start over. Jason smiled at the idea of the grown man’s tantrum, stomping around his garden and hauling up the shrivelled leaves to fling them onto the compost heap.
Lewis reached the door and pulled at the handle. It didn’t open.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The handle’s stuck.’
Jason froze. ‘Shit, what time is it?’
Lewis checked his watch. ‘Just after eleven-thirty. Why?’
‘It’s too early, too fucking early. What the fuck is going on?’
Lewis grabbed his shoulders and shook him. ‘Jay! What are you talking about?’
Jason looked him dead in the eye, hating that he had to tell him this.
‘Some bastard has locked us out.’
Chapter 42: Déjà Vu
Still in a daze, Amy walked into the Eye Room at the start of the night shift and announced, ‘I am now in charge of the compound. Agent Jenkins has departed.’
The Eyes looked at her blankly. It could be for any number of reasons – they didn’t understand what she was saying, they didn’t give a shit about Owain, or they had all been trained into responding with studied neutrality to anything out of the ordinary.
‘Therefore, I will be supervising the day shifts directly,’ she continued. ‘I will expect a report from…IN1 in the morning.’
The mask on IN1 slipped, and he looked frightened, out of his depth. Amy recognised that feeling well, because it was the one currently oscillating in her chest. You have no idea what you’re doing and people are going to die. The only way she was getting through this was by roleplaying with a Frieda mask on and hoping it stuck.
‘I have seniority here,’ IN2 suddenly said. ‘I can do the report…ma’am.’
Amy had been under the impression that IN1 and ID1 were senior by default, but she hadn’t really had a chance to look through the personnel records. She merely nodded in acceptance of IN2’s offer and watched IN1 sink back in his chair with relief.
‘IN3 – where are we with the incident report for P5?’
‘ID3 has completed the contemporary record,’ IN3 answered. ‘I’m going to review the footage from yesterday to determine who contaminated the bottle.’
‘Come to my office when it’s done.’
IN3 looked at her in surprise, but Amy didn’t let her dwell on it. Let her think it was some stupid quirk of the new boss. She just needed to get the woman on her own to find out what the hell was going on with P6. Catriona had sent her an update on their disastrous meeting with Frieda. She should’ve warned them not to get too close to the ice queen.
‘IN4, please prepare an update on the status of P8. We don’t need any more evacuations.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘As soon as you know—’
‘I will come to your office – yes, ma’am.’
Amy was suspicious of anyone that keen to please, but it would only serve to reinforce her request to IN3. Also, IN4 sat next to IN3 every night – she might be able to shed some light on the whole affair. It was easier to find an informant than a confessor.
Amy left them to it and made her way down the corridor. She hesitated, leaning towards her old office, before opening the door to Owain’s. It was almost exactly the same size as the server room, but significantly less cluttered. The desk and the folding bed were the main features, with an end table bearing a kettle and mug with a personal stash of herbal tea and d
igestive biscuits. They weren’t Owain’s usual choices, so it must’ve belonged to the previous incumbent. The bunker was certainly getting through its leaders.
It was going to be strange here without Owain. She had avoided him most of the time, but at least she knew she had an ally here. For all she hated him and couldn’t trust him, she could rely on him to take her concerns seriously. He would’ve had her back, if only to keep Frieda sweet. Operating alone was going to be much more challenging.
‘Challenging’ was a good word. It masked the absolute blind panic that was bubbling away under the surface. If only she could keep focused on ‘challenging’, she might make it through the next few hours without screaming, before retiring to another folding bed to stare at the ceiling and freak out.
But that was for later. Now, she had work to do.
She'd kept the technician’s laptop, but her security access had been immediately upgraded. She clicked on the new directory, hoping to find the records for G. Instead she found file after file of protocols and policies, each dozens of pages long. Everything from emergency evacuation to flowcharts for plumbing failures, the NCA – and the Army – had provided a text that she was meant to absorb and understand.
She hadn’t been given the opportunity to ask Owain for guidance, and she knew she would’ve struggled to ask for help even if she'd had the chance. She was stubborn and she was proud, and while she could sometimes appreciate her own tenacity, this was not one of those times. She had persisted in hating and mistrusting him, and now she was all alone in this place with no idea how to steer the ship.
Retreating to the familiar, she looked again at the video of P10 leaving the dormitory to visit the bathroom. She watched the latest version a couple of times over, trying to work out what was bothering her about it. Did she think he was the one who had spiked P5’s shampoo with bleach? That made no sense though, because toiletries were kept in the dormitories and they slept in different rooms.
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