The only briefing Ken gave her was that she’d be working at the Consulate in Durban and they would tell her what her duties were. He also warned her that under no circumstances was she to mention anything about her past and he handed her a large envelope containing a British driving licence in the name of Felicity Mansell, along with other official documentation. He showed her several sheets of paper which documented her ‘new’ life to date and told her to memorize it.
This time Amie stayed wide awake on the eleven-hour journey back to Johannesburg in a commercial Boeing 767. She immediately searched for the channel numbers on the in-flight entertainment system to catch up on the world news. Nothing much had changed but it helped her orientate back into the world at large.
Some of her fictional story was true. ‘Felicity’ had grown up not too far from Amie’s birthplace and had even gone to the same college, and also studied video technology, but a couple of years after Amie had left. Unlike Amie she’d not managed to get work in the television field but in an office as a filing clerk and general dogsbody, before entering the Civil Service through the fast track apprentice scheme. It outlined the courses she had studied and from what she could gather, she was a glorified office worker for the government. Why she’d been singled out to work overseas in one of the more pleasant postings was not mentioned.
“All in your memory now?” asked Ken, taking the papers back.
Amie nodded.
As she fastened her seat belt before take-off Amie felt sad as she remembered her recent travelling companion. She hadn’t got to know Vivienne all that well, but it was yet another reminder of how short life could be and how quickly it could be snuffed out. That could easily happen to her, and then Amie herself would only be a distant memory, as she already was to her family, who thought her long dead.
In contrast to her recent flight back home, even though she was flying on a normal passenger plane, as an ordinary person, Amie felt anything but ordinary. The observation that she was supposedly a trained killing machine made her want to throw up. Inside, she didn’t feel very different to the girl growing up in the suburbs, and yet there was a world of difference.
Ken didn’t sit next to her on the plane, which was a relief, and he only met up with her when she stood in the arrivals concourse in Johannesburg wondering what to do. He nodded at her to follow him as he strode off in the direction of the domestic departures hall. Any casual passer-by wouldn’t have guessed they were travelling together.
It was a short one-hour hop to Durban where a car was waiting for them outside the arrivals hall. It whisked them away towards the city for a couple of kilometres before stopping outside a three-storey block of flats where Ken motioned her to get out of the car. He grabbed her cases from the boot, led her to a glass door and used a brass key to let them into the foyer. In the small, stainless steel lift they ascended to the top floor where four doors lead off the corridor. Ken opened the nearest one and ushered Amie inside.
She was relieved to see that the furnished flat was clean and modern. It had one bedroom and a bathroom down a short hallway. A galley kitchen took up one corner of the lounge, which overlooked manicured green lawns and a central swimming pool. Amie correctly guessed that the single bedroom meant she would be living there by herself. On the one hand it would be nice to have some privacy but on the other she wondered how much more time she would have to spend on her own.
“The driver will collect you tomorrow at 07.30,” Ken told her, handing her the keys. “He’ll take you to the office and they’ll put you to work.” With that he walked out without even saying goodbye. Amie shook her head and stuck her tongue out at the closed door. She knew it was childish, but honestly, he might be a high-up British envoy but he had no manners whatsoever.
Amie watched him cross the pavement three floors below and get back into the waiting car. There was something about him, she couldn’t put her finger on it, but he was unsettling, moody, unpredictable in his attitude towards her, and she couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. Nothing good, she suspected.
As soon as the car had driven off, Amie explored the flat. It was fully equipped with kitchenware and cleaning materials and when she pressed the remote control the television turned on and off, at least she would have some company in the evenings. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble. There were basic toiletries in the bathroom, and some foodstuffs in the fridge. Amie planned to have a boiled egg for breakfast so she set the alarm clock they had thoughtfully provided for her, for 6.15 the following morning.
She unpacked while the kettle boiled for her usual cup of night-time coffee and after a shower, she fell into bed. Before she could think about what the next day would bring, she was fast asleep.
The next morning Amie was surprised to see that the Consulate was in a residential housing area in a walled and gated compound. The low-level building looked clean and modern like the rest of this side of town. When the car drove through the gates and arrived at the front entrance, the smiling driver pointed to the front door. Amie thanked him, and feeling a little nervous, walked up the front path and into the building. A young black girl behind the reception desk in the empty waiting area greeted her with a cheery smile.
“You must be the new girl, right?” she spoke English without the usual African overtones.
“Yes, I’m A ... Felicity ...”
“... Mansell?” the receptionist finished for her.
“Yes.”
“Come this way. Mr Peterson, the Consul is ready to see you. My name’s Penny by the way.” She indicated a door to the side which opened automatically.
Amie went through and met up with Penny on the other side of the reception area then along a short corridor where her guide knocked on the last door.
“Come,” sounded from inside and Amie was ushered in to meet her new boss. If she was expecting the Consul to be an elderly grey-haired man she was in for a shock. The man who rose to greet her with his hand extended was surely not much older than herself. He was tall, over six feet with blonde hair that flopped boyishly over one of his piercing blue eyes. He looked fit too, as if he worked out in the gym every morning. Amie froze for a second. Wasn’t this the same man who’d been at her funeral? The one she’d seen in the embassy in Apatu? No, it couldn’t be the same person, could it? Someone who looked very similar perhaps?
“Ah, you must be Felicity,” he said, shaking her hand. “Welcome to Durban and our team here. Sit, please. Do sit down.” If he’d ever seen Amie before, or knew who she was he gave no sign of it.
Amie settled herself in the chair across from his desk and clasped her hands in her lap. She was almost mesmerized by his eyes and his warm friendly smile. She felt a little surprised as her body tingled from his touch, and she fought to remain calm and collected.
“Well, I hope you won’t be too disappointed with your first overseas posting, Felicity,” he paused. “It is your first, right?”
She must be confusing him with another man who looked almost identical. No, she’d never seen him before otherwise he would have known she’d lived in Africa for over five years, so she couldn’t have seen him in Apatu a few months ago.
“Yes, yes, it is.” Amie squeaked, then cleared her throat and was about to say that she’d been in Africa for years before she remembered that Felicity had not.
“It’s hot,” she replied lamely.
“Ah, you’ll soon get used to the heat, although it’s the humidity, especially in February, that can get to you. We’re a close-knit bunch here, not too much ceremony. Our work is mostly accepting passport renewal forms, gathering paperwork for imports and exports, attending local functions, waving the flag; that sort of thing. Well away from the prying eyes of the Big Boys in Head Office.” He chuckled.
Amie was unsure if he was referring to the Embassy in Pretoria or the top people in London.
He continued. “We don’t get involved much on the political side, more helping out the occasional tourist who’s been mug
ged or got into some other scrape. So, I’m sure you’ll fit in very well and find us an easy lot to work with.”
Amie smiled. “Thank you. I’m sure I will.”
“Well, I think that’s all for now. Sonia will show you to your desk,” and as if by magic, Sonia knocked and put her head round the door. Amie could only guess that Mr Peterson, had pressed a button hidden under his desk.
“Ah. There you are, Sonia,” he looked as surprised as Amie at the timing. “Take Felicity through and make her feel at home, would you? Oh, and it’s Simon, by the way. We’re such a small crowd we don’t stand on ceremony here.”
“Thank you,” Amie repeated, rising to follow Sonia through a door on the other side of the corridor. It opened up into an office much like any other office found anywhere in the world and Amie’s heart dropped. This was not what she’d planned all those years ago in school. No, not an office job please, this would be worse than working at the production house behind the counter.
“This will be your space,” Sonia pointed to a work cubicle by the window. “You’ll meet the others when they arrive.” She perched on the corner of the desk while Amie put her bag on the floor and sat down. Amie judged Sonia to be in her late twenties with short black hair and bright blue eyes. She was of average height and dressed in a short-mini skirt and, in Amie’s opinion, a top that showed rather too much cleavage.
“So, what do you think of our Consul then? Cool or what?” Sonia smiled.
Amie was a bit lost for words. “Well, he seems nice and um, friendly and ...”
“We’re all madly in love with him,” Sonia chattered on. “No wife, no girlfriend and no boyfriend, either! Ah, we can only live in hope.”
“When did you arrive here, in Durban I mean?” Amie was curious to know how long Sonia had been lusting after her boss.
“A year and a half, but I expect they’ll move me on in another six months. They tend to rotate the staff. I’ll miss it too, Durban’s a cool place to be and there’s lots to do. Good hours, sun, sand and sea, and the lifesaving hunks down at the beach are to die for.”
Amie’s heart sank a little further. No one here knew she was a widow, they knew nothing of her past, but the days of man hunting and partying held no attractions for her at all. She would have been happier back in the bush with Dirk and Helen.
“We’ll work until lunchtime and then I have instructions to take you shopping for anything you might need, and fix you up with transport. No one walks here, everybody drives, so we’ll collect a car for you this afternoon. I’ll finalize the paperwork, and until then, just find your way around the desk and stuff.” She took herself off to her own cubicle on the far side of the room leaving Amie to survey her new surroundings. Tentatively, she turned on the computer and discovered the intranet was the same set up she’d been shown at the Residence. She paged through and saw nothing of particular interest, but wondered which of the passwords she’d committed to memory would open the files that were obviously encrypted for those without the authority to see them. She’d been told they would contact her via email. That was to be her only link with her real bosses.
Amie still couldn’t get her head around the fact she was a spy. It was still too surreal, despite the training. She kept thinking she would wake up and it would all be a dream or a nightmare more like. But then Jonathon had appeared to lead a very ordinary and mundane life, so it probably wasn’t anything like she’d seen on the movies or read in all those silly spy books.
During the morning Amie met her other co-workers, all young, fresh-faced British twenty-somethings; she felt quite old. They chattered about the latest movies, who fancied who, and the rock stars who were coming to perform in Johannesburg and Cape Town but not making the trip to Durban.
While Mike, Donald, Sonia, Penny, Chris and Archie were all very friendly, she couldn’t quite see herself on the same wavelength. But maybe, they were spies as well, who could tell? She certainly didn’t feel like one.
Amie had a jolt later that afternoon when Sonia drove her to the familiar huge shopping complex. While she was rattling off all the amenities it had, boasting it was the largest in the southern hemisphere, Amie broke out in a sweat and thought she was going to blow her cover there and then. The last time she’d been to the Gateway Mall was the day Vivienne had died, and it took all her acting skills to pretend she’d never seen it before.
“There was a big incident here earlier this year,” Sonia chattered on. A gang rushed in and took hostages and dozens of people were killed. The police shot the lot of them in the end, but it’s all been very peaceful since. Great excitement at the time.”
Not for Vivienne it wasn’t, thought Amie. Dozens killed? That’s how urban tales grew.
It was unfortunate that Sonia chose to park in the very same car park, and use the same entrance. She looked at Amie in alarm.
“You all right?”
“Yes ... yes it must be the heat or something.” Amie took several deep breaths and forced a smile. “Possibly a bit of jet lag?” then mentally kicked herself, you only got jet lag crossing time zones and South Africa was only one hour ahead of Greenwich Mean Time.
“Travelling takes it out of you,” Sonia agreed as she bounced in through the entrance doors and along the air-conditioned hallways.
Amie wondered what she’d she would do if she ran into the receptionist or any of the other staff from the Spa; had no one thought of that? But it wasn’t too likely, this was a city after all and over two million people called Durban their home. And there was nothing wrong in being a tourist one moment and settling here a few months later. She wondered if she would bump into Gerrit and what she would say to him if she did. Her heart missed a little beat at the thought.
After collecting the few odds and ends that Amie needed for the apartment, and stopping for a quick coffee, they headed over the Umgeni River to the other side of town to collect her car. It was a small white Toyota Corolla, the same colour as most of the other vehicles on the road, just a compact run-around which would get her from A to B. She climbed in behind the wheel and followed Sonia back to Umhlanga on the northern side of town. It wasn’t until they were back on the freeway that ran beside the coast that she began to feel familiar with her new toy, but she gave herself a fright when she pressed too hard on the accelerator and it shot forward like a Formula 1 racing car. This car wasn’t as ordinary as it appeared. She eased off the pedal and hoped Sonia hadn’t noticed.
The following couple of weeks passed uneventfully. Amie spent time in the Mall and bought a few things to make her flat feel more like home. She purchased some brightly coloured cushions, a throw rug for the floor, a change of bedding in pastel shades, and, on impulse, a large rubber plant she named Albert. She placed it next to the sofa, in a beautiful, bright orange pot, and bit by bit she began to enjoy her new apartment.
Occasionally, though, little things felt odd, out of place; her clothes in the drawers didn’t look as neatly folded, her coffee mug had been moved and hadn’t the laptop been closer to the edge of the table? She’d been trained to notice things like that at the Residence, and she was sure that someone had been in while she was at work. Amie told herself not to be so stupid. Was she imagining things? Could she blame the long-term effects of the explosion? She was tempted to put it right out of her mind and ignore her instincts. Then, her training kicked in and she set up several tells on drawers and doors, a single hair placed strategically on top of her clothes, another under the cupboard doors in the kitchen, a light sprinkling of flour on the door handles. But maybe she laid the traps too late, for none of them showed signs of disturbance.
At the Consulate, the office staff were kind, friendly and cheerful but the work was deadly boring, sorting applications for permits and visas from people wanting to travel to Britain for any number of reasons. Amie was surprised at all the support paperwork that was required, something she’d never thought of, having been born and bred there.
The only thing to upset her eq
uilibrium was when Simon appeared. She had no right to feel her heart speed up a little, her hands go clammy, or that strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she found him more than attractive. She was a widow and in mourning, though she’d had precious little time to hide away from the world and get over her loss. It gave her a shock to realise he had such an effect on her, even though she’d been a little tempted by Gerrit as well. But it was different to the way she’d felt about Jonathon. They had always been an item, their affair had started in school and, aided by family and friends, it had automatically progressed to their engagement and wedding. She’d loved Jonathon, of course she had, but these new feelings were different and, could she admit it to herself, far more exciting.
The call came when she least expected it. She was shocked to see the little red flag winking when she booted up her computer one morning, the little icon that told her she had a personal email. It was from her great friend Maddy who was backpacking around South America. It went on about all the fun things she’d been doing and how she was missing her best friend, and how she’d met this boy who was just divine. On and on it went and Amie wondered who’d made up such drivel, but the message was in there.
Feigning a headache, she declined the lunch invitation with the others, and waited until she had the office to herself before copying the email onto a memory stick. In the car after leaving the Residence, Ken had given her a rather scruffy paperback copy of ‘War and Peace’.
“What’s this for?” she’d asked before realising it was her code book. Heavens couldn’t they have found something a little smaller, and how was she supposed carry it around in her bag all day? Not only that, but she would now have to read at least part of the book in case someone saw it and questioned her about it.
She didn’t have it with her at work, so decoding would have to wait until tonight. Life had been so routine and non-eventful over the previous couple of months that Amie had almost forgotten she was a spy.
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 82
