by Jo Black
The room brought an immense wave of calm over Zara, it was as perfect in every detail as she could have dreamt of, there was not a single thing she would have changed. It felt more like her home than all the temporary small rented flats she’d occupied in London, and yet she had never set foot in it before, nor had any say or influence in its decoration or placement. She drew a deeply satisfied inhale of the clean air to purge her lungs of the last restrictions of sleep then walked over to the table, poured a fresh orange juice, filled a bowl with muesli and splashed milk over it. As she picked it up and began eating she became aware of the light, but fast, tapping on a keyboard.
‘You’re awake,’ the soft but familiar voice came. Zara flashed a smile.
‘I had the strangest dream,’ she replied, picking up her orange juice and muesli bowl. She turned and looked at Alex sat behind his pristine white desk, working away on a pure white Apple branded laptop. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. She walked over to him. ‘We were on Smythe’s yacht, and then you came, blew it up and took me away on Sean Connery’s submarine.’
Alex couldn’t resist a smile. ‘That was not a dream.’
‘Jesus. Really?’
‘Well...’ Alex drew a deep breath, leant back into his chair and stretched. ‘It was Uncle Pavlo, not Sean Connery.’
‘Shame. One ping Vashily, one ping only...’
Alex let out a soft laugh. ‘So you do remember something.’
‘What happened?’
‘Uncle Pavlo’s special vodka happened.’
‘Special Vodka?’
‘Nine parts Stolichnaya, one part ethanol torpedo fuel.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘You’ve probably only destroyed about ten per cent of your brain cells.’
‘Good stuff then. Get him to send a case over, you can get really fucked up on that shit.’
‘I’m not sure my house insurance policy will cover the fire risk.’
‘You seem to have the burglary angle pretty well covered...’
Alex nodded and smiled, sensing his wife’s spy craft at work. ‘We don’t like uninvited guests.’
Zara put her muesli and orange juice down on Alex’s desk. ‘And what about invited guests,’ she purred demurely before sitting down on his lap and wrapping her arm around him. ‘How do you feel about those?’
Alex smiled softly. ‘Welcome home Zara.’
‘Love what you’ve done with the place.’ She placed a gentle kiss on his lips. ‘But one question, where exactly is our home?’
‘Islet D’Santa Maria, Ibiza.’
‘Ibiza?’ Zara exclaimed with surprise. She frowned. ‘That’s a little unexpected, I’d have thought your evil Bond villain lair would be in some secret volcano off the coast of Chile or some shit like that, not on a twenty-four-hour party people pill-head island of disco divas.’
‘We have a long-standing arrangement with the King of Spain. You’re perfectly safe here. It’s neutral ground for everyone.’
‘Even Smythe?’
Alex drew a sharp intake of breath. ‘His evil lair is on Majorca.’
‘We should pop by, ask to borrow some sugar.’
‘We’re well-stocked.’ Zara returned her attention to her muesli. Munching it to feign innocence as her spy’s eyes cast their intelligence gathering across Alex’s screen. ‘You can take the girl out of M.I.6, but you can’t take the M.I.6 out of the girl...’ Alex sighed reaching around her and lowering the laptop screen to close it.
‘Just curious. What you working on? You don’t have to tell me, if you want to keep secrets from your wife...’
‘Just settling the accounts for your return home.’
‘Expensive?’
‘You have no idea...’
‘I can imagine. The Hertz daily rates on those nuke subs must be pretty frisky, don’t imagine the Collision Damage Waiver is light on the chequebook either. I hope I haven’t been too much trouble.’
‘No. No trouble at all,’ Alex said sarcastically. Zara pouted at him as she finished her breakfast.
‘So what’s the plan man? Going to show me around the bat cave then off to the beach to top up the tan before we hit Manumission in your gimp outfit?’
‘Not really my thing. Nish might go with you, he’s probably a regular.’
‘I know the whole world has to gone to shit, and is standing on the precipice of annihilation, and only you can stop it, cue Hollywood music. But can we please just have a day off and be a normal couple? Given our extended separation I would at least like to get to know you a bit better before you get frisky around bed-time.’
‘I’ve got nothing better to do,’ Alex said.
‘Really? No orders from the Kremlin?’
‘Let’s just say I’ve been invited to take an extended leave of absence.’
‘Not because of me I hope.’ Alex didn’t respond. ‘It was because of me? How bad is it?’
Alex shrugged. ‘I guess we’ll find out.’
‘When?’
‘When they decide.’
‘When will that be?’
‘When will you stop asking questions?’
‘When you stop being a secretive right-hand-man of the President of the Russian Federation stroke Novorossiya Soviet Union rebirth, or whatever the mad king has dreamt up this week.’
‘I never ask about your work.’
‘That’s because you never call me, or write.’
‘You blocked my number.’
‘What did you expect? How am I supposed to explain to the audit office at the River House why the Russian Lord of War is calling and sexting me every ten minutes.’
‘I guess that’s not a problem anymore...’
‘Fuck. I forgot they fired me.’
‘Fired is something of an understatement.’
‘Yes, I’m not best-pleased with the manner of my dismissal, I shall be taking that up with H.R on return to London.’
‘You can’t seriously go back.’
‘I don’t see I’ve got much choice.’
‘You always have a choice Zara.’
‘I don’t want to worry about that shit today. I’ve never been to Ibiza. I think I deserve a holiday. So do you have any form of transport that isn’t nuclear-powered or used to start invasions of small sovereign nations in this place?’
‘It’s our home Zara, not a military base.’
‘Come on! You must have something mental in the bat cave. At least tell me you’ve got the suit.’
‘Sorry to disappoint.’
‘Sad face.’ Zara’s attention returned to the direction of the breakfast table. ‘You got any sausages?’
‘Be my guest.’
‘Come on. Have breakfast with me.’ Zara kissed Alex on the cheek, got up and returned to the breakfast table. Alex opened his laptop’s screen again, closed down his work and shut down his laptop before opening his safe and putting it in. ‘I bet I can guess the combination.’
‘You are welcome to try.’
‘Challenge accepted.’ Zara walked back over. She punched in a six-digit number and the safe opened. ‘So predictable.’ She smiled opening the safe. Her eyes fell on the small black ring box inside. She took it out and opened it to reveal a large engagement ring with a solitaire multi-carat diamond surrounded by green emeralds. Laser-etched into the face of the central diamond, the dragon symbol from the back of her kimono. Her face broke into a soft smile as it evoked the memories of the day he first gave it her. ‘Hello my precious.’ She held out her hand, Alex obliged, took the ring and slid it onto her finger along with the matched wedding band. ‘I do,’ she cooed. She closed the safe and locked it, took his hand and led him to the breakfast table. Zara took a pair of plates and loaded them with sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, and tomato. Added slices of toast from the rack and then served his plate before sitting down.
‘English or Russian tea?’
‘Hmm. Coffee.’ She smiled. ‘Pavlo’s vodka is still haunting me.’ Alex pou
red her coffee as she devoured into her breakfast. ‘This place must have cost you a few quid.’
‘What price happiness?’
‘What price indeed. About twenty million nicker from the look of it.’ Zara shrugged. ‘Just valuing my divorce settlement,’ she said with a knowing wink.
‘It’s in trust.’
‘Who to?’
‘The Guild.’
‘You still hanging around with those loon-pot freemason types then? Go on, show us your left nipple and do the funny handshake.’
‘Very funny.’
‘If you will have your secret boys society, don’t expect me not to take the piss.’
‘It’s not the freemasons.’
‘So tell me then. Come on. If you wanted to keep secrets you should have married a brainless page three bimbo not an agent of espionage.’
‘Curiosity killed the cat.’
‘The cat should have got a Beretta.’
‘The mouse should have got a shotgun.’
‘And the animals went in two by two, hurrah, hurrah,’ Zara sang.
‘So what do you want to do today my dear?’
‘Good change of subject. I don’t know. Tourist shit. Renew our acquaintance. It has been a while. I’ll try and forget you are an international war criminal with immunity to prosecution thanks to your sponsor’s nuclear arsenal, you can try and forget I’m a disgraced intelligence agent wanted for god knows what.’
‘So who shall we be today?’
‘How about a carpet salesman done good and his brassy wife from a northern provincial county?’
‘Aye-up chuck, look at Axminster thar’, that be proper champion aye,’ Alex said in a broad Yorkshire accent.
‘Aye Terry. I reckon that’ be a good twenty pound a square yaaard.’
‘You’ve got it babe.’ Alex winked. ‘But how about we just be us?’
‘And who are we?’
Alex shrugged. ‘Alex and Zara, the couple who reside atop the old monastery, retired from the international security business to lead a quiet romantic life.’
‘Hmmm.’ Zara smiled. ‘Nah, I like the carpet thing.’ she grinned.
‘You really don’t change.’
Zara finished her breakfast. ‘I’ll grab a shower and get dressed. Don’t run off and invade anywhere in my absence,’ Zara said before getting up, she gave Alex a kiss as she stopped en-route to the en-suite bathroom. ‘It’s good to see you my darling. It has been too long.’
‘Well, we have all the time in the world to make it up.’
‘But not right now, I gotta go pee.’ Zara headed towards the bathroom. ‘And your uncle has done me a proper mischief, I think I’m about to involuntarily shit my pants. To be frank, I’m surprised I didn’t shit the bed.’
‘You are such a feminine delight Zara.’
‘You should see my legs, few weeks in a Tunisian cell and I’m hairy as a bear.’
‘Don’t mention fucking bears.’
‘Why not?’
‘Trevor.’
‘What’s Trevor got to do with it?’
‘You really don’t want to know. Which reminds me, I need to call the boys and get them to shift the camp before the Israelis airstrike it with F16’s.’ Alex walked across to his desk phone, switched to a secure line and punched in a number. ‘Sooty, we may have a problem.’
44
After what seemed like an eternity to Alex, Zara finally emerged from the bedroom in a short summer dress and flip-flops. ‘What on earth took you so long?’ he asked.
Zara shrugged. ‘Women things.’
Alex led Zara down the stairs to the large main salon deck. Zara resisted the temptation to have a nosy around as they made their way over to the lift. Alex pressed the call button. She looked him up and down and started frisking him. ‘What?’
‘No piece?’
‘Don’t need it here.’
‘Bent Spanish coppers. Suppose you’ve paid them all off have you?’
‘It’s a little more of a formal arrangement than that.’
‘So you paid off the mayor and he paid off the bent coppers.’
‘Something like that...’ The lift arrived, they stepped in and Alex pressed the button for the garage level.
‘Never owned a house with my own lift before. You could have some fun in here,’ she said with a wink. The doors opened to the subterranean garage. Zara’s jaw dropped as she was confronted with Alex’s collection of exotic and classic cars. She walked out and whistled. ‘Quite the toy collection. Jesus Alex. You’ve been busy haven’t you? Which one’s mine, and don’t say the rusty Fiat Punto on the end.’
‘That’s the maid’s,’ Alex said following her down. ‘Which one do you like?’
‘Which one is the fastest?’ Zara scanned the cars when her eyes fell on a Ferrari F50. ‘Oooh, shiny.’
‘Are you sure you can handle it?’
‘Please... Apart from those few minor mishaps that really were not my fault, I’m an excellent driver.’
‘I’m sure I’m going to regret this.’ Alex walked over, disconnected the trickle charger and got in the passenger seat as Zara settled into the driver’s. She fired up the Ferrari’s V12, filling the garage with a deafening howl before it settled down into a light burble.
‘I think I just wet myself,’ Zara said.
‘I suspect I’m about to join you. Just take it easy while the tyres and brakes are cold, she’s very sensitive on the throttle.’
‘Don’t be such a fusspot. Where’s the handbrake?’
Alex took the handbrake off for her. Zara stared, baffled by the open gate racing manual shift. ‘Dogleg first, across, left down for first, then up to the left top to second.’
‘Gotcha.’ Zara got the gearbox into first. ‘How do we get out of here?’ Alex pointed at the metal car lift in the corner of the garage. ‘This really is the bat cave.’ She gently nudged the car out of its space. ‘Hasn’t this thing got power steering?’ She protested as she struggled with the heavy wheel to make the tight turn.
‘It’ll lighten up when you get some speed up.’ Zara negotiated the Ferrari through the line of parked cars to the lift. Alex took out a swipe card and punched in a security code. An alarm sounded and the hydraulic lift raised them up, opening the doors above them until they reached the front drive level.
‘Thunderbirds are go eh?’ Zara floored the throttle and lit the rear wheels up as she tore off the lift and down the drive. ‘Okay, so that’s a bit quicker than I expected.’
‘Let the oil warm up.’
Zara drove across the narrow causeway linking the islet to the main island. She stopped at a barrier manned by a pair of Spanish civil Guardia officers. ‘You have police security at your house?’ Zara asked Alex quizzically.
‘It’s a Russian diplomatic residence,’ Alex brushed off with.
Zara nodded, not convinced. ‘If you say so chap, if you say so...’ The gates opened and Zara made her way up the tight access road to the main island road above the cove.
‘Remember you’re driving on the right.’
‘I have been abroad before Alex, I was stationed in Pakistan for quite a while you know.’
‘You do get around my dear.’
‘As do you it seems.’ Zara pulled off into the traffic and floored the throttle, letting loose the full pack of shrieking Italian horses from the Ferrari’s stable and shattering the peaceful tranquillity with the engine’s rough bark into a shrill baritone orchestra as she redlined the Ferrari up through the gears, carving in and out of the traffic like she’d just stolen it. Alex, having let the instant fear of plunging off the cliff road at any moment subside into minor bouts of panic, looked across at Zara who had a broad grin on her face as she hammered the car for all it was worth across the island. He smiled to himself. 48 hours previously she was being held captive facing death, and here she was, without a care in the world. He felt a slight guilt at his envy for her ability to cast off her troubles and simply enjoy her life
, but then felt deeply satisfied that he’d fulfilled his overwhelming desire to liberate her.
