The Nursery

by Asia Mackay

  Frederick nodded. ‘George Pig took a day off last Thursday. See what you can find out from the wife. He’s been distracted this week. He’s disappearing off on his mobile a lot.’

  My phone pinged. Royal Mail delivered your item CHINAPENG at 12.35 p.m. today.

  ‘The flight from China has landed. Keeping Peng alive for the next few days is officially now our responsibility.’

  Frederick sighed. ‘Well, here’s to hoping the kids sleep this week.’ He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

  I wondered if it was just his children that were keeping him up at night. Considering he was a Pigeon with no training, he was doing impressively well. He was stepping outside the safety of Six, working alongside us Rats to bring down a Snake. He was putting himself on the line for the greater good. Right now he was one of us.

  ‘Which one usually gets you up?’

  ‘Bloody both. Some nights they tag-team. It’s a living hell.’

  I would mention this to Will – how this was another reason sticking to one child was a good idea. After a night of being kicked and elbowed by a wriggling Gigi in our bed, this morning I’d woken up to her grinning face right in front of mine. Full of delight at being cosily ensconced between her parents. Chances of her not trying for a repeat tonight were slim.

  Frederick looked at me. ‘I don’t know how you do it. Your work is a lot more high-pressure than mine. I couldn’t imagine doing what you do without a full night’s sleep. Clearly it makes you even more heroic.’ He smiled and gave my shoulder a gentle touch.

  Frederick knew what I was capable of. He knew exactly what my job entailed. He knew everything and he liked me more for it. He was impressed by me. By what I could do. I saw myself through his eyes and it felt good.

  The girls weaved into the playground.

  We took a seat on a bench and watched them. They went straight to the slide. Gigi’s thin silver necklace glinted in the sun when she reached the top. It was a St Christopher’s medallion. Inside it was a thin GPS tracker that I’d got R & D to carefully insert. I kept reassuring myself it didn’t mean I was a crazed helicopter mum. If people could get their dogs microchipped without judgement, surely I should be allowed the reassurance of having my daughter’s location constantly updated to a specially modified GigiMap app on my phone?

  ‘Tonight’s mission is important.’ I looked at Frederick. ‘If we don’t get the GPS details from Peng’s card we have no way of tracking her and it’s going to make everything a hell of a lot tougher. You done much work in the field?’

  Frederick shook his head. ‘Being out in the field for me has meant being in a literal field. Dressed for combat. This undercover sneaking around is new to me.’

  Using a Pigeon on a high stakes op like this would usually have been out of the question. But we had no choice. There was no one else left. Jake and Hattie would be out retrieving the iPad receiver from Heathrow airport, while Cameron was busy at the Warehouse with the kind of forceful interrogations Frederick definitely wouldn’t have the necessary steel for.

  ‘You’ll be fine. Just follow my lead and remember you need to keep a low profile. There could be any number of Tenebris Ghosts at the museum and if you do anything to draw attention to yourself we’re all compromised.’

  A mother laden down with Sainsbury’s bags and two young boys came towards us. ‘Sorry, could you?’ She motioned to Frederick to move up.

  ‘Of course.’ He shuffled up next to me, making space for her and her many bags. We sat, legs touching, as we watched our girls charge around the playground.

  It was a sunny day. Gigi was happy. For a moment life felt simple. I could forget about the potential assassination of a foreign dignitary, more dead colleagues and a compromised Platform Eight. And just enjoy the sun on my face, soak up the smiles of my happy child, and the feel of a thigh against mine that wasn’t my husband’s.

  Chapter Nine

  THE NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM was aglow with bright spotlights, the impressive building perfectly lit on a dark night.

  By the time I got to the library door my name and invitation had already been checked twice.

  Robin was at the entrance in a guard uniform, the security wand in his hand.

  ‘Excuse me, madam, if you don’t mind.’ He waved it over my black dress with a theatrical flourish. ‘Please go in.’

  I took a glass of champagne from a hovering waiter and looked around the library.

  Six-foot-high red scrolls with beautifully calligraphed black Chinese characters had been hung from the ceiling in each corner of the library.

  I was one of the first to arrive. Frederick was already at the back of the room talking to the Foreign Secretary. He was clearly well-connected. I wondered how much was on his own merit or down to the school he’d attended and the privilege he’d been born into.

  I shook it off. How was it relevant? I continued to scan the room.

  For Robin’s modified security wand to read Peng’s GPS tracker card, he needed to hold it over it for five seconds. Not an easy task when he couldn’t know for sure where exactly it would be. We knew that Minister Peng never carried a handbag, meaning we had to presume it would be in one of her pockets.

  There was now a steady trickle of people arriving. I recognised another cabinet minister and two opposition MPs. I spotted at least another five security staff members within the room. The suits, the stance, the not speaking just watching. They were easy to pick out.

  Minister Peng walked in. She was thickset with greying hair, wire-rimmed glasses and a ready smile. She was wearing a blue trouser suit and large black pearls. Robin greeted her in Mandarin and continued to talk as he held the security wand over Peng’s right jacket pocket. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

  Peng laughed. Maybe Robin was funnier in Mandarin? Peng clapped hands with Robin, shaking them vigorously.

  ‘Bingo! We’ve got it,’ Geraint announced in our earpieces. The wand had successfully cloned the GPS tracker. Geraint was monitoring from our van outside the museum. Now we just needed to retrieve the receiver box from the Etch A Sketch hidden in the Marine Invertebrates room and we were home free.

  A waiter came up to Peng with a tray of canapés and she pointed to a spring roll.

  ‘Are there nuts in here?’ she asked the waiter brandishing the tray. She spoke clearly with a faint accent. I remembered from her file that she’d lived in England for a year while doing a Masters degree in Buckingham.

  ‘There is a small amount of peanut sauce inside.’

  Peng waved the tray away. ‘No thank you.’

  ‘G-Force, Peng could have a nut allergy.’

  This could be a disaster. If the Coyote was looking for an easy way to kill her, spiking anything and everything with nuts was a simple form of attack. Policing it would be near impossible.

  ‘Accessing the Foreign Office records on Peng. They must have made a note of it somewhere.’ A few seconds passed and then an: ‘It’s OK. She does have what’s been classed as a mild nut allergy. It’s not deadly. Her PA and bodyguard carry EpiPens in case of an attack.’

  I exhaled.

  I watched as the room slowly filled up. We needed everyone present before we tried to make a grab for the Etch A Sketch receiver.

  Robin crackled into my ear. ‘Two security outside library door.’

  I had a simple remit. To cause a disturbance that was big enough to draw waiting security in. But not so big that it would make news or draw attention to anyone monitoring Peng.

  I looked up again at the four Chinese scrolls hanging from the ceiling.

  I looked across at Frederick. He was now deep in conversation with a white-haired woman who had her hands clasped round his.

  ‘I hate to break things up,’ I said into my earpiece. I watched as a small smile formed. ‘But you’re going to need to let go of your girlfriend and get ready. I’m moving in in three.’

  *

  At the back of the library was a narrow spiral stairca
se leading up to a small mezzanine level. The lack of alcohol and canapés on offer there meant no one had yet ventured up. I quickly ascended, glass of champagne in hand. Party guest going for an explore. At the top of the stairs I could see how each banner was held by a piece of rope in a pulley system that was fastened to each corner of the room. The banners were made of thick parchment with a wooden base. I walked up to the pulley and slipped off my right shoe. With one deft click the heel came off, exposing a thin blade.

  My killer heels really were killer.

  I used the blade to slice at the rope. I kept going until there were only four strands left. I estimated I had a minute before it snapped.

  ‘Outside the library. Waiting for your order,’ Frederick crackled in.

  I quickly replaced the blade in my shoe and slipped it back on. I descended the stairs and made my way back to the centre of the library where I had a good view of the banner with the sliced rope.

  The Foreign Secretary was addressing the room.

  ‘All of us here are very proud to be able to return this ancient scroll to China. Minister Peng, we are honoured that you will be taking it back in person.’

  Minister Peng strode over to the Foreign Secretary and the two of them held the scroll together as a cacophony of flashbulbs went off.

  It had to happen any second now . . . I saw the banner start to break away and shouted, ‘Look out!’

  There were panicked cries as people underneath the falling banner rushed out of its way. It landed with a crash on the floor.

  I heard Robin in my ear. ‘The door is clear.’ The security that had been standing guard outside the library had no doubt come charging in.

  ‘Go now, Frederick.’

  There were two beats and then, ‘I’m in.’

  I watched as security helped the museum staff pick up the banner and move it away. The museum director took to the microphone and was reassuring the crowd with, ‘I promise no other works of art will try to kill you.’ There were titters but I noticed everyone was moving more to the centre of the room just in case. The two men who had rushed in at the sound of my scream and the crash of the banner hitting the ground talked to their three colleagues. They were all scanning the room.

  ‘I have the control box,’ said Frederick. The small box concealed within the Etch A Sketch could be swiftly pulled out and discreetly hidden inside a pocket.

  I moved towards the door. We needed to make a fast exit.

  Through the earpiece I heard, ‘Sir, what are you doing in here?’

  Dammit. There must have been extra security we either missed, or they’d been called in for the disturbance.

  ‘I was just making a phone call.’

  ‘You didn’t see the “no entry” sign?’

  ‘What? No, sorry, I didn’t. Look, I’m going, OK. Excuse me. Please move.’

  ‘We’re going to have to search you, sir.’

  I walked quickly across the corridor and shoved open the door to the Marine Invertebrates room. It slammed hard against the wall. The three men turned to look at me.

  I stared at Frederick. ‘There you are! What the hell are you playing at?

  ‘I . . . I . . .’

  ‘Finding a little place to sneak off to call her? Give me your phone right now. If I find you’ve been talking to that slag again, I swear to God I’m leaving you and taking you for everything you’ve got.’

  ‘Now calm down, sweetheart.’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me to calm down. You give me your phone right now.’

  ‘Can we talk about this at home?’

  ‘What? I’m making a scene, am I? Embarrassing you in front of your new friends? Well, you should’ve thought about that before you started fucking around.’

  ‘Can you both please leave this area?’ said the taller of the two men.

  I turned to him. ‘I’m leaving this area. And I’m leaving him. You hear that? I’m leaving you, you piece of shit.’ I turned and stalked out.

  Frederick followed behind me. ‘Darling, please let’s talk about this.’

  ‘Don’t you bloody touch me.’

  I sped ahead fast.

  Frederick was right behind me and headed for the exit. ‘We’re exiting now. Control box is secure. Confirm no one following.’

  We quickly climbed into the back of the waiting van.

  Robin crackled in. ‘No tails. Security still outside the Marine Invertebrates room shaking their heads. Not a bad performance, new boy.’

  ‘Just keeping up with the boss.’ He smiled as he said this. We locked eyes.

  Geraint leaned round. ‘I can run you both back.’

  ‘Thanks, G.’

  I broke eye contact with Frederick. Jesus, I had to get a grip.

  I brought out my phone to busy myself with writing an email update to the rest of Whistle.

  No matter how much I tried to ignore it, there was an attraction between us.

  Simmering.

  Everything about Frederick shouted about how in control he was.

  Except the way he looked at me. As if I was something to be devoured. I could read everything in that look. And he knew it. He wanted me to know it.

  I see you.

  I want you.

  What it’d be like to have you.

  This was ridiculous.

  I was with Will. I was happy.

  Wasn’t I?

  Will thought we were in trouble.

  Will was receiving middle-of-the-night text messages.

  Why hadn’t I just asked him about it? Or checked his phone? Was it better to admit I didn’t trust him? Or to trust him and never know?

  It had to be nothing.

  He wouldn’t cheat on me.

  Would he?

  Will thought we were in trouble.

  Will was receiving middle-of-the-night text messages.

  And I was making eyes at a colleague.

  Goddammit.

  We were in trouble.

  And Frederick?

  He was just a flirtation.

  A harmless, passing flirtation.

  One of those reminders that were far and few between where I felt like a woman. Fanciable.

  Fuckable.

  Not just a mother.

  It was harmless. Totally harmless.

  As long as the only action that happened around him was violent.

  Part Three

  Cling

  cling, v.

  1. Adhere or stick firmly or closely to; be hard to part or remove from.

  2. Remain persistently or stubbornly faithful to.

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  To: lex.tyler@platform-eight.co.uk

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  MISSION: #80521

  UNIT: WHISTLE

  DATE: Wednesday 2nd October

  ALERT: 4 DAYS UNTIL PENG’S DEPARTURE

  Chapter Ten

  A MAP OF KNIGHTSBRIDGE was projected onto the meeting-room whiteboard. Hattie stood in front of it leading our morning briefing. His large frame blocked most of the image; a blue dot flashing at the Mandarin Oriental hotel on Hyde Park was just visible at his right elbow.

  ‘It’s confirmed Peng is in there. Cloning the GPS card reader was a success. And having retrieved the listening devices from Heathrow we now have a rough schedule of exactly what Peng is going to be doing for the whole time she’s here.’

  I was seated at the dining table between Jake and Cameron, all of us clutching large Pret-a-Manger coffees. The canteen’s coffee machine had broken and none of us knew how to fix it. Pixie and Geraint were opposite us, their laptops in front of them, Pixie resplendent in a purple unicorn jumper and a feathered blue and green headband, Geraint rocking a grey T-shirt with what looked like a ketchup stain down the front.

  Hattie looked round at us all. ‘Good work and well done, everyone. We now have enough intel that we have a decent shot at protecting Peng from the Coyote.’

  We all exchanged glances
. The sincerity in Hattie’s praise was still hard to get used to considering our previous unit leader only got as nice as: ‘Well, it seems you don’t have total shit for brains.’

  ‘Let’s start this update briefing with Peng’s movements over the next few days.’ Hattie motioned towards the whiteboard where Peng’s schedule was now projected. ‘Robin translated everything Peng and the delegation discussed on the Heathrow recordings. This is a fully up-to-date schedule.

  ‘While Peng is here in the UK she’s going to be heavily protected by Parliamentary and Diplomatic Protection Officers. I’ve cleared it with the Met Police for us all to have temporary IDs. It means we all now have an official reason to be in the vicinity of Peng at all times. Considering how tight security at both the Foreign Office and the Chinese Embassy is, it’s low risk the Coyote will strike at those locations. Robin is with Peng now at the Embassy.’

  Jake looked round the room. ‘I thought it was surprisingly peaceful in here.’

  Geraint cleared his throat. ‘Robin checked in a half-hour ago to say Peng’s first meeting had started and that none of the Protection Officers’ mobile phones work there. They must have some kind of signal blockers. It means if we ever need to make contact with anyone at the Embassy, use the police radio frequency only.’

  ‘This Wycombe shoot that’s on the schedule for Saturday’ – Jake motioned towards the whiteboard – ‘I’m guessing it isn’t in London.’

  ‘It’s at Cherwell Castle, Lord Wycombe’s estate in Oxfordshire. Lord Wycombe runs a hedge fund but the family business, in which he still has a substantial stake, is a plane-building company that is hoping to sign a joint venture with China. This is why he’s pulling out all the stops to give Peng the full English aristocratic experience of staying in a castle, shooting pheasant, and being guest of honour at a four-course black-tie dinner for a hundred and fifty people. Peng and the delegation drive back to London on Sunday morning and that afternoon attend an exhibition and auction of Asian contemporary artists at Christie’s before heading back to China on a ten p.m. flight.’