CARINA

by Alison Morton

  ‘Through into the next building, then the cafeteria. The library’s the building after that.’ I pointed at a pair of glass double doors.

  ‘Sure you can get into the library?’

  ‘Gods, I hope so,’ I replied. ‘The adjutant assured me the student pass was universal and the chip with my fake student history is supposed to be bombproof.’

  ‘Ha! Shouldn’t come to that.’ He bent over, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll go and collect the hire car and see you in an hour or so. I’ll be by the library west entrance.’

  I nodded, slung the backpack across one shoulder and pushed the right glass door open.

  * * *

  ‘Well, it’s unusual to subscribe a student before they’ve started their research programme, but your supervisor’s letter explains everything.’ Nothing was out of place about the librarian from her vowels to her navy twinset and thin-framed spectacles under a head of well-disciplined hair.

  ‘Thank you so much.’ I gave her my friendliest smile. ‘I just want to get ahead with the reading. Which section deals with the scientific application of precious metals?’

  I picked all the volumes on silver mining and processing in central Europe; one was even titled Roman Silver Mining and Processing in the Ancient and Modern Worlds. I waited for them to be delivered and sat with my notebook at one of the few empty desks in line of sight of the librarian’s desk. The red-brick interior of the library was quaint but matched the style of the building exterior. It was one of the few older buildings I’d seen in the mass of glass and concrete blocks.

  My five books arrived and I checked my watch again. According to my briefing, our target’s library check-in records showed she came here every day in the early afternoon and stayed for two to three hours. I had no idea how home had hacked into a foreign university’s records, but I was sure their output would be accurate. Anyhow, I’d hijacked all the books I thought she might want.

  After an hour of reading that was so boring it threatened to put me off the silver industry forever, a sturdily built woman about mid-thirties, dark brown, almost black, hair checked in at the librarian’s desk. She was carrying a crimson coat and leather briefcase and wore boots with red piping . I kept my head down but watched her through my eyelashes. I couldn’t hear her words, but her voice wasn’t English. More than that, she fit the description. She talked in an animated fashion, as if she was frustrated. The librarian nodded in my direction. The woman spun round and marched over toward me. Gods, she looked pissed with something!

  ‘Excuse me, but I need that book urgently.’ She jabbed her finger at my desk. The one on Roman silver mining.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry,’ I replied in English, attempting to sound sincere. ‘I’m reading it at present and using it to make notes. I’ll make sure I finish with it this afternoon. You can reserve it for tomorrow.’

  ‘No, I need it today.’

  ‘Then you’re going to be disappointed.’ I went back to my studying.

  She stood there, silent, but the anger and frustration rolled off her. Her hand darted out in the direction of the book, but I was faster and clamped her wrist. I stared up at her.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I said.

  ‘I must have that book!’

  ‘Really? And who are you to insist?’ I held my breath. Would she answer?

  ‘I’m a visiting professor from Europe and I have a class to prepare.’ A pink tinge grew in her face and she glanced down. Not a very good liar.

  ‘Then you know the rules of academic libraries. What’s your name?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘You could just be another student being obnoxious. You can get lost.’

  She hesitated, looked at my notes, the books, then back at me.

  ‘I’m… I’m Doctor Vibiana from the Central University in Roma Nova. Now hand over that book.’

  Juno, she’d used her real name. But she thought she was dealing with some normal EUS student, not a Praetorian hunting her.

  The librarian was looking in our direction and not in a positive way. My opportunity. I bent down and grabbed my bag, abandoning my notepad and pencil, and took Vibiana’s arm.

  ‘Let’s take this outside, we’re disturbing the other students.’

  Vibiana clamped her lips together, but she gave a quick nod, picked up her bag and coat. I mimed ‘sorry’ to the librarian as we passed her desk. In the entrance lobby, I steered Vibiana towards a side bench.

  ‘Now look, this is a ridiculous quarrel. Actually, I have something that if you’re interested in the scientific application of silver you might find very useful.’

  ‘What?’

  I fished in my backpack, shucked off the packet, brought out the preloaded syringe and stabbed her in the upper arm through her jumper. Her eyes widened. She made a token struggle, then slumped. I caught her and eased her down onto the bench. I glanced left and right. A man hurried round the corner and looked at us. I made a drinking gesture and rolled my eyes. He grinned back. As soon as he’d disappeared, I secured my bag and hers, then dragged Vibiana up, pulled her arm across my shoulders and grabbed her coat. Right now I needed a third hand and arm, but it wouldn’t be for more than a few minutes. We lumbered on into the next corridor. She wasn’t completely out of it, just sedated. Her legs and feet cooperated most of the time.

  The door leading to the service basement was halfway along the corridor. I glanced left and right. Nobody. I propped Vibiana against the wall. Once my scanner had revealed the door keypad code, I pushed it open and heaved Vibiana through into a world of concrete, cabling and everlasting conduit. Thank the gods, the stairs down had a solid tubular rail. Luckily, the exit door to the street was only a few metres away. Propping Vibiana’s drooping form against the boiler cage, I yanked the door bar down and opened it a few centimetres.

  No sign of Flavius or a car.

  Crap.

  A moan. I looked back at Vibiana. She was shaking her head and struggling to stand up. No. I pulled the second syringe out of my bag, shucked off the cover and grabbed her arm. She opened her eyes.

  ‘You.’ She looked at my hand. ‘Wass that?’

  I said nothing but yanked her arm and jabbed the syringe in the flesh. She gasped, then slumped back. Sometimes I hated the things I had to do. She must have done something really bad for Roma Nova to have sent a snatch team. She looked harmless enough to me.

  I looked out again. No car. Vibiana would start stirring again in another ten minutes.

  ‘Flav, where the hell are you?’ I hissed into the phone. The voicemail cut in. I nearly threw it on the floor, but shoved it in my pocket instead. A clang in another part of the basement. Footsteps in the distance but getting louder.

  Hades.

  I went back to Vibiana, eased her up and dragged her towards the outside door. I pushed the bar down, then grasped her by the arm and pulled her through. A blast of cold air hit us. I pulled the door shut and shifted away from it. At least we were at the back of the building, but it was still too open. All we needed was some nosy student or worse, one of the campus security guards to see us and it would all go in the crapper. I stood in front of Vibiana and searched around again, staring at any car that drove past. There were only a few, but my heart leapt as each one approached. The disappointment was immense when I saw none of them was driven by Flavius.

  Vibiana murmured, ‘Wass goin’ on?’ I spun round. She was moving her head, but was struggling to prise her body off the stone wall. I had two to three minutes before she started shrieking for help.

  5

  A screech of tyres behind me.

  ‘Bruna. Here.’

  Flavius. Oh, thank the gods. I nearly sobbed.

  We bundled Vibiana into the trunk, threw her coat over her, stowed her bag and leapt into the car.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ I shouted at him.

  ‘Some arse-ache of a security guard held me up as I didn’t have a pass for the car. I ha
d to go through a rigmarole explaining I was picking up a friend who’d hurt her foot and couldn’t walk. Make sure you limp if we get stopped.’

  * * *

  We drove out of town into the boondocks; mostly flat and empty with the odd farm building, but after the first settlement Flavius turned left into a wooded area. The tarmac ran out and became a dirt road, the puddles filled with ice. According to the digital map, it dwindled into a track.

  Flavius cut the engine and we got out, slamming the doors. A shout came from the trunk. We exchanged glances.

  ‘Ready?’

  I nodded. He was strong and I was agile, but there must have been over a hundred and ninety pounds of angry woman about to come at us. I released the catch and the lid swung up.

  She struggled up and took a deep breath, coughing in the cold air. She swung her legs over the rim and with some difficulty rolled herself out of the trunk. Then she launched herself at us.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ She shook her fist in my face. I grabbed it and pushed it down.

  ‘Marcia Vibiana.’ I reverted to Latin. ‘I am Lieutenant Carina Mitela, Praetorian Guard Special Forces.’ I waved my gold eagle ID in her face. ‘This is Optio Marcus Flavius. You are under arrest for treason under the provisions of Table Eight. You will surrender to the court and return to Roma Nova with us.’

  ‘Apollo’s balls to you. I haven’t done anything wrong. Show me your evidence.’

  ‘We are the arresting officers. The court will examine and decide on the evidence. You will surrender to us and accompany us on the first flight home.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  I looked at her with a steady gaze. ‘You will be on that flight, I assure you.’

  She glanced at both sides of the road but we each took a step sideways to prevent any attempt at escape.

  ‘You can’t just walk into the Free Republic of Quebec and drag me off,’ she protested. ‘That’s kidnapping.’

  ‘Well, this is the quick way.’ Gods, she was going to be awkward. I took a deep breath. ‘Under the treaty provisions with Quebec, and Louisiane for that matter, we have accelerated extradition. Optio Flavius here and I can make a citizen’s arrest, take you to the central police commissariat and have you detained.’ Vibiana glanced from me to Flavius as if looking for a different answer. Flavius just frowned at her. ‘The legation will get an extradition order to the procureur de la république within days and we’ll be back to fetch you,’ I continued. ‘But you’ll have all the embarrassment of a public hearing, media reporting and up to two weeks in a remand prison and still end up back in Roma Nova.’ I waved my hand at her. ‘Your choice.’

  She scuffed her boot on the frozen ground and looked down. She said nothing for a minute.

  ‘Why couldn’t you just come and talk to me about this instead of abducting me and treating me like an animal?’

  ‘Given your behaviour in the library and your file describing you as hot-tempered and stubborn, how could I think you would have been reasonable?’ I said.

  She shrugged.

  Flavius took her arm and led her to the passenger side door. We had purposefully picked a car with only front doors. ‘Now, you can give us your word you will sit quietly in the back and make no attempt to attract attention or attack us, or you can travel in the boot,’ he said. ‘Up to you. First sign of trouble and you’re in the boot. Understand?’

  ‘You Praetorians are supposed to be right bastards and it’s true.’

  I laughed. ‘We’re being pussycats with you. Now get in the damned car.’

  * * *

  Back in Montreal, we accompanied Vibiana to her apartment near the university and supervised her packing her things. She only had a suitcase and carry-on. We confiscated her passport.

  ‘You don’t know why I’m here, do you?’ she said as we travelled through the sleet across town.

  ‘As far as we’re concerned, you’re a traitor who absconded with state secrets concerning the silver trade.’

  She laughed, then went back to whining about Praetorians, citizens’ rights and abuse of power.

  * * *

  Quebec City might have been the oldest European settlement in North America but Montreal as the bigger and more important city hosted our legation. I could only be relieved as we drove up to its gates on a secluded street off Boulevard de Maisonneuve. At least we wouldn’t have to listen to Vibiana yammering on for much longer. I spoke our names into the security panel and stared at it while it scanned my face. The gate slid open and Flavius drove in. We let a now sullen Vibiana out of the back of the car and escorted her through the glass doors into the red-brick building.

  ‘We’re only a small legation here, Lieutenant.’ The Praetorian commander looked over her spectacles.

  ‘I know, ma’am, but it’ll only be for twenty-four hours max, just until we get the flights confirmed.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what your colleagues at home said. We’ve made the secure room as comfortable as possible and there’ll be a guard on the door at all times.’

  ‘She’ll complain, whatever you do,’ Flavius said.

  ‘One of those, is she?’

  We exchanged smiles.

  ‘How’s “Francine”?’ I asked. ‘The courier?’

  The commander smiled. ‘Not her real name, of course. She’s recovering well. Sore head and a bit of concussion. She was more worried that you’d got the field pack, but she thought you’d taken it.’

  ‘Courageous girl. But I’d like to ask her how she managed to be lying on the metro ticket hall floor.’

  ‘We took a statement from her, once she was compos mentis.’ She left her desk, went over to her filing cabinet and pulled out a beige folder with a broad red stripe across the front.

  ‘Here.’ She handed us a sheet. ‘I hope you won’t mind reading the hard copy. I don’t want to message anybody outside this building with this.’

  I studied her face, but the expression was neutral, so I studied the sheet instead. After the preliminaries, it ran:

  After texting agents with coded message that I was in the vicinity, I pocketed my phone, then stepped towards the exit. Somebody pushed me hard on the front of my right shoulder and I fell back over something against my lower leg, presumably an object or another person’s leg. I remember hearing the crash of the bottle of wine I was carrying.

  I blacked out, then my head hurt abominably and my vision was blurred. Everything seemed to spin in front of me. I was loaded into an ambulance. At the hospital, one of the agents spoke to me. She said she had the field bag. The next thing I remember was lying in a hospital room.

  I think it was a man who pushed me, possibly a tall woman. It was so quick. Like everybody else, he was muffled in a heavy coat and hat. This only came to me afterwards, but I think he wore sunglasses, which was odd at that time of night.

  I laid the sheet down.

  ‘Odd is a good word,’ I said.

  ‘But who was it and how did he, possibly they, know “Francine” was delivering the bag to us?’ Flavius asked. ‘Have you used her before?’

  ‘First time she’s done this.’ The commander looked from Flavius to me. ‘She’s an admin clerk and volunteered. She’s a mouse, hardly ever goes outside, except for shopping or some socialising, so she was quite excited.’

  ‘Poor kid,’ Flavius said.

  ‘Well, in case our phones were hacked, we’ve purchased new ones, but we’ll use the scrambler unit at all times.’ I gave the commander a steady look. ‘I hope you’ll forgive us if we keep these numbers to ourselves. Francine’s delivery to us was only known to you, me and our liaison officer at home.’

  Her face tightened and her eyes became cold.

  ‘I’m not accusing anybody, Captain. I think it’s a hack, but let’s keep to extreme operational security.’ I stood. ‘We’re going back to our apartment to clear up. Is there a back way out of the legation?’

  * * *

  ‘Bloody hell! I thought the Praetorian c
ommander was going to incinerate you on the spot when you said that about the phones.’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s true.’

  We left the hire car at the legation and caught the metro back. It was snowing again as we trudged back along the street to our apartment. I’d be glad to get to my bed. But first we had to check whether we’d had any ‘visitors’. We set our phones to silent.

  ‘Front or rear entrance?’ Flavius asked.

  ‘You do the front.’ I made for the pathway that led between the tiny gardens at the back of the row houses. The fronts may have been brick or stone but the backs were mainly clapboard with balconies jutting out. People here had built in a communal way, each garden facing inwards almost forming an elongated courtyard with the others. Not that any courtyard life was happening on this cold, snowy evening.

  Each property had its own garden gate giving out onto this pathway. I checked ours hadn’t been tampered with, but was surprised to find it unlocked. No bolt either. I sighed. Another sign of trust in this crushingly pleasant country, maybe.

  I closed the gate carefully, making no noise as I did it. Downstairs, light seeped out of the part-louvred metal shutters, but upstairs was dark. I crept up the wooden steps to the balcony of our apartment, taking care not to slip on the ice formed in the grain of the wood. I slid into the shadow at the side, out of the sight line of the door or shuttered window. As far as I could see in the dim light, there were no tracks of any footsteps on the exposed part of the balcony.

  I tapped in ‘Clear to back balcony door. You?’ and sent it.

  No reply. I shivered despite the thick padded coat. It must have been minus ten degrees by now. C’mon, Flav. A light on my phone. ‘In and clear.’ I had the key in the back door as fast as my nearly numb fingers could manage. The balcony led into the kitchen. I’d closed the door shutter and was about to go grab the kettle to make a hot drink when Flavius held his hand up.