It was dark outside when they left the plane and it was impossible to see where they were, but it was certainly cold enough for England. Amie shivered. Was this another military airport? Before she had a chance to examine her surroundings, Ken had propelled her into yet another car, this time a Land Rover painted in camouflage colours.
Amie climbed into the back and sank into the soft seat. Anything would be soft after that bench. She’d slept in an awkward position, was aching all over and fighting off a headache from the noise and vibrations of the flight. All she wanted now was a hot shower, a bowl of warm soup and a comfortable bed.
She got two out of the three.
They drove away from the aircraft hangers, through guarded gates and out along a narrow country road. However hard Amie looked it was impossible to see any helpful road signs or landmarks. She knew better than to ask Ken, who was sitting in the front seat murmuring quietly to the driver who hadn’t even acknowledged her presence.
The road was bordered by low stone walls, and on occasion the land fell away revealing vast open spaces devoid of light. Wherever they were, there were few inhabitants. The whole area looked deserted and Amie reckoned they were driving through farming country, although not once did the Land Rover’s lights pick up the reflection of curious eyes in the darkness.
She was on the point of nodding off again when the car stopped at some enormous gates set in a high stone wall which disappeared on either side into the darkness. The driver spoke into a hand-held radio, then got out and pressed a keypad on the side of the pillar. The gates swung open and two soldiers appeared from opposite directions and stood in front of the car. Both were heavily armed, guns pointing towards the new arrivals. The driver handed over papers for inspection to a third individual who’d appeared from out of the gloom. He nodded and they were waved through.
At the end of a driveway, which was at least a couple of miles long, the car finally drew up outside a large mansion. The driver got out while Ken remained in the front passenger seat. Amie tried to open her door, but couldn’t. The childproof locks again, she shook her head. Why was she surprised.
“Welcome to your new home,” Ken smiled wryly when the driver let her out. Amie made no comment but followed him up the flagstone steps where massive double doors led into a huge baronial hall with a wide central stone staircase and hanging chandeliers. Someone had seen fit to leave the mounted heads of unlucky stags on the wall, and there was even one stuffed head that Amie suspected might once have been a wild boar.
“Welcome to the Residence.” A girl about her own age with short dark brown hair and a pale complexion lightly dusted with freckles, wearing an army jumper and a pair of olive-green trousers, came forward to shake Amie’s hand. “We’re going to get to know one another very well, Felicity,” she grinned, her smile warm and friendly. Amie liked her immediately. “Call me Karen, though I answer to most things. Here, let me show you where you’re going to sleep and then we’ll find something for you to eat.”
The driver disappeared back down the steps and before the front door had even closed, the car had driven off.
Karen picked up Amie’s large case as if it weighed nothing, tucked the carry-on bag under her arm and proceeded up the stairs. Amie had to hurry to keep up with her but she couldn’t resist glancing at the faded landscaped paintings which decorated the walls. They mounted the stairs, then turned left where the staircase split into two.
She tried to see if any of the pictures had plaques or names on them, which might give her a clue as to where she was, but they gave nothing away.
Karen strode along a dimly lit corridor, its stone walls clad with ancient oak panelling, past several doorways, until she came to a halt.
“You’re in here,” she announced in her soft Edinburgh accent, flinging the door wide open.
If Amie was hoping to be shown into a luxuriously appointed bedroom complete with a four-poster bed, dressing table and chaise longue she was sorely disappointed. The room had been stripped bare except for rows of metal framed bunks three high, with a bank of gunmetal-grey lockers in between. It was just like the army barracks Amie had seen in the movies.
Karen dropped the case on the floor and plonked the small bag on one of the beds.
“Plenty to choose from so grab the best one. We never know when more recruits will arrive. Bathroom is across the hall, and I’ve left some soap, shampoo and towels for you on the bed there. When you’ve finished come on down to the kitchen – turn right at the bottom of the stairs and it’s at the end of the corridor – you can’t miss it. See you in a while then.” Karen swept out of the room.
Amie, shivering with cold, inspected her billet in dismay. It was freezing and by the looks of the thin grey army-style blankets on the bed, she doubted they would keep her warm. It might be enough if you were used to a British winter, but she’d just flown in from steamy Africa. She unlocked the large suitcase and got out the only other jumper she’d bought. She’d have to wear them both for now, already her teeth were chattering. Carefully she relocked the case, hoping that no one would discover what was hidden inside. She must find a safer place to hide her contraband.
The bathroom was as dismal as the dormitory. Six tiled open-fronted showers with flimsy plastic curtains, half a dozen toilets, a row of sinks and duck board seating below a row of wooden pegs hammered into the wall. While the fixtures looked new and clean, and the towels were quite fluffy, there was not a bath in sight.
Amie tossed up whether to have a shower, she felt grubby after the long flight, but the thought of taking her clothes off in the cold was daunting. Maybe she’d feel warmer with some hot food inside her, shower later and then she could dive straight into bed afterwards. Mind made up, she made her way down to the kitchen.
This room at least was warm. The large Aga along one side heated the cavernous room. Besides the usual sinks and cupboards, there were long lines of scrubbed wooden tables with benches on either side. Two large preparation tables stood at one end, and doors led off to what she guessed might be pantries and food stores.
Karen and a young man in his thirties with dirty blonde short hair and eyes that smiled were talking quietly at the end of one of the long tables. They stood up to greet her as she entered and to Amie’s eyes, they both looked incredibly fit. There was one other person in the room, a short, plump motherly woman wearing a large apron over her green jumper and trousers. She wasn’t surprised there was no sign of either Ken or the driver who’d dropped her off like a mailman on his delivery route.
“Ach, there you are. You’ll be wanting a nice cup of tea I expect,” the cook’s smile was friendly, her Scottish accent much broader than Karen’s.
“Do you have coffee?” Amie felt nervous asking, but she really didn’t like tea very much.
The cook, if Amie guessed her role correctly, gave a disapproving sniff and disappeared into one of the small rooms reappearing with a jar of instant coffee. “This do you?”
“Oh, yes, that will be perfect, thank you.”
The cook appeared mollified and put a pan of water on to boil. From what Amie could see, there was little in the way of modern appliances, unless they kept the microwave and food mixers out of sight.
Karen beckoned her over and she joined them at the table.
“Settled in?” she asked.
“A bit different to the Spa, and I’m really cold,” Amie replied.
“Just take extra blankets off one of the other beds and tomorrow we’ll get you kitted out in one of these fetching outfits,” Karen offered. “By the way, this is Bob, he’s one of the trainers here.”
Amie held out her hand. “Nice to meet you Bob,” she said as they shook hands. “Tell me, am I in the army now?” She was confused. She wanted someone to tell her what she was expected to do and why she was here in the middle of nowhere Karen’s broad shoulders, solid frame and sensibly cut short brown hair, looked well suited for the armed forces. There was nothing feminine about her and she appeare
d a lot more capable than many men Amie had met.
It was Bob who replied. “We’ve been given instructions to train you, and teach you how to take care of yourself. We’re not expected to go into the field until we’ve been properly prepared.”
“How long will that take?” Even though she’d only just arrived, Amie couldn’t wait to leave. She found the large house depressing and creepy, the modern lights didn’t penetrate the corners and the large empty rooms echoed.
“It’s entirely up to you, Felicity,” Karen replied. “The faster you learn, the faster you can be out of here. It is a bit grim isn’t it?” she laughed glancing at Bob to gauge his reaction, but he said nothing.
“What sort of things are you going to teach me?” Amie still wanted to know more.
“All in good time, we’ll outline your course tomorrow and that will give you a better idea. After a good night’s rest, eh?”
It was obvious that Karen wasn’t going to tell her any more this evening, but cook interrupted them with a mug of coffee and a large bowl of vegetable soup.
Amie was ravenous and the soup tasted divine, she could tell it was homemade.
A silence fell over the four of them and Amie felt quite self-conscious as they all watched her eat. Waves of fatigue swept over her, despite her restless sleep on the flight. All she wanted to do was hibernate and drift back to earlier times when life was normal and Jonathon was still by her side. She finished her soup and was almost nodding off when Bob suggested taking herself off to bed. She acquiesced, and as she shuffled out of the kitchen, she could hear their low murmurs – a conversation they didn’t want her to hear perhaps. As she climbed the stairs she wondered if they were talking about her, but then did she really care? Karen and Bob certainly looked like they knew each other well so perhaps they weren’t talking about her at all. She didn’t like Karen calling her Felicity either, but she understood that was the only name they had for her, and she obviously couldn’t disclose her real name. She may be stateless, paperless and non-existent but she still had her own name, she knew who she was. Her name was Amie, Amie Fish.
Despite feeling exhausted Amie didn’t sleep well that first night. She’d taken half a dozen blankets from the other beds and slept in a t-shirt and track suit, but she still shivered. To make matters worse, the mattress was lumpy, a piece of foam which was much too thin to provide any comfort, and she wondered if it was a deliberate army trick to make life miserable and show who was in charge.
To her surprise from the second night onwards, Amie slept like a log, she put this down to being both mentally and physically exhausted. She’d never worked so hard in all her life.
Since she was officially Felicity Mansell, she knew which identity she was expected to adopt, if she hadn’t realised that already. She knew she couldn’t mention her real name, at least not yet.
The first morning was spent kitting her out with army-style jumpers, trousers, boots, socks, a swimming costume, singlets and shorts suitable for gym work and to her horror, they even provided the most unflattering underwear she had ever seen. Granny knickers! Everything was a drab olive green, from the parka to the gloves and the balaclava, and Amie hated all of it. But she had to admit it was warm.
She was then asked to sign the Official Secrets Act which Amie thought was hilarious; she had a hard time keeping a straight face. Dead men tell no tales she thought as she scribbled Felicity Mansell at the bottom of the document, do they know I don’t exist? She was so busy thinking about her bizarre situation that on page two, without thinking she used her real initials. She swirled an F and M over the top and hoped no one would ever notice.
Karen had been at pains to explain what she was signing, but Amie knew she had no choice and it was basically a threat about what would happen to her if she told any tales out of school.
That first morning Karen had explained a little of what her new recruit was expected to do. The list of things sent Amie’s mind in a whirl. Some of the items sounded sensible, like unarmed combat, judo and self-protection stuff. They would get her swimming up to scratch and there would be route marches and survival hikes. But she was puzzled about the meditation sessions.
“It’s just as important to be mentally as well as physically ready for anything you might meet,” Karen explained. “Yes, the training will be rigorous but we want you to be as well prepared as it’s possible to be.”
Every day passed in a blur. There were runs up and down steep hills, crawling through pipes and plastic tunnels embedded in the mud, laps up and down the barely heated pool in a far wing of the main building. Then, there were the lessons, sitting alone at a desk while Karen stood by a blackboard and instructed her in topics such as geography, cryptography, using a miniature camera and concealing recording devices. There was brain training, in which Amie had to learn long lists of numbers, words and addresses using memory techniques. While she hoped that the meditation sessions would give her time off, she found that trying to clear her mind and concentrating only on her breathing was hard work. Unbidden thoughts would continually flash into her mind, myriad questions tumbling over and over inside her head. She would wander off, trying to see into the future, asking where this would lead, how long did they want her to work for them, and what then, how disposable would she be? Was it all worth it just to stay alive?
Bob, was particularly hard on her. Always urging her on just when she thought she would drop. Every time he sensed the exact moment she decided to give up, he would insist she increase the number of sits ups, or run the extra distance or climb that bit higher up the cliff. She grew to hate him, but had to admit that as the weeks went by, she was fitter and healthier than she’d ever been, so she had to thank him for that.
But there were so many times she was tempted to grab the money still stashed in her cases and run back to her family, face the press and live with the consequences. She wasn’t locked up here, but there was nowhere obvious to run. The house was in the middle of nowhere – she guessed she was in Scotland from the heather growing on the hillsides and her instructors’ accents. While she was not incarcerated like she’d been in the embassy, the whole estate was surrounded by a huge electrified wall topped with razor wire, and the gates were constantly guarded. Every hundred metres or so there were large warning signs announcing it was Ministry of Defence property and to Keep Out. Underneath, to reinforce the message, was a skull and crossbones plus a list of penalties any intruder would face.
Much as Amie would have liked to run away, she was so exhausted at the end of the day it was an effort to do more than put one foot in front of the other on her way to bed. This was probably the same place they’d sent Jonathon, but in all the time she was there, Amie saw no other trainees. It had occurred to her to wonder why they were going to all this trouble for just one recruit; this was an expensive exercise for the MoD. Was this because they were not teaching many spies these days, or because government employees weren’t allowed to fraternise? She didn’t know and frankly didn’t care.
The part she hated the most was the armaments training. They showed her a wide variety from AK47s and L85s; guns that sent bullets flying out like hailstones, to small handguns like the Glock G43 pistol she could conceal in a handbag. She was taught to identify them, strip them down, clean them and load them until she could do it with her eyes shut.
On the firing range she discovered that she was a good shot, hitting the paper targets every time, but it was something she hated doing. She hated the noise, the painful recoil of the butt on her shoulder, and she was convinced she could never, ever, point a weapon at any living person and pull the trigger. To her mind it was a pointless exercise, as she was never going to put it into practice. She hated the feel of the cold metal in her hands, the strength it took to insert the bullets into the magazine, and the thought that what she cradled was capable of taking a life.
They showed her how to hold a knife, where to thrust it into the body, below the ribs and upwards into the heart where the ar
teries were, so if she only had one chance, she could cause the maximum damage. It was ironic that the next lesson was first aid and how to lessen the damage and survive if someone should do the same to her.
Amie had almost lost track of time when Karen called her into the office one morning and announced it was time for her to leave. She should pack her bags as she would be collected after lunch. She shook her head, she’d been so immersed in just getting from one day to the next that she’d felt almost institutionalised, like a prisoner who’d spent years locked away from society.
She mounted the stairs to her room in a daze. A whole new life lay before her and she had no idea what the future would bring.
15 MADDY SAYS
A Land Rover painted in the usual drab olive green she’d grown used to, was waiting at the bottom of the steps. As Amie climbed in, she looked around one last time. From the outside, the Residence was a typical manor house which had probably once been the home of a laird and his family; now it trained people to kill. The blank, soulless windows reflected her feelings as she turned away and settled herself in the back seat while the driver stowed her cases in the boot and got in behind the wheel.
“Good news,” Ken was sitting in the front seat. “Since we know you hate the cold, we’re sending you back to Durban.”
Back in her civilian clothes Amie stared at him. “Why?”
“All in good time, I’ll brief you long before we get there.”
As they drove through the dense mist swirling in the valleys, Amie’s spirits rose. She was returning to Africa. She had no idea why she longed to return, she only knew that the continent had permeated her soul in some strange, primeval way. An added bonus was leaving the hated wig behind. Now that her hair was longer it looked more similar to her passport photograph pasted in yet another new document she now clutched in her hand. It showed she had never travelled out of the United Kingdom before. Another six months of her life had gone and she was going back to the continent she loved.
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 81
