by Karen Guyler
But she smiled at her daughter, they didn’t need any more strain on things. “I’m my usual sunny self.”
Lily grunted, tucked her long brown hair behind her ear and put in a headphone. Eva gestured for her to take it out. “You know the rule.” She pretended not to hear Lily’s muttering, not to notice her jabbing at the pancake stack. “So, what’s on at school today?” She put a forkful of her pancakes into her mouth. Tart yoghurt, sweet strawberries, delicious.
Lily shrugged. “Nothing.”
Eva cocked an eyebrow, pretending Lily was just being eleven, not deliberately trying to hurt her. “Seven hours of nothing? Easy day then.” She pointed her fork at Lily’s phone. “What’re you listening to?”
“Nothing.”
Eva resisted sighing. “What were you listening to?”
“Interview about climate change.”
“That’s cool.”
“It’s not cool, Mum, climate change is terrible, it’s an emergency that no one’s paying any attention to.”
Another of Eva’s attempts to bond with her daughter spectacularly failing.
“You want to play it so we can both hear?”
Lily hit the play button and a man’s voice filled their kitchen, warning that the best time to have done something to halt the climate emergency was twenty years ago.
“Who’s that speaking?” Eva asked.
“Carl Rubin, he’s head of the Futura Energy company. He’s proving that the world only needs green energy, but the rich people won’t give up the oil. It’s simple, no more oil equals no more wars, no more pollution, more jobs in cleaner technologies. But the people in power won’t listen. They’re so stupid, they’re killing our future.”
Oil could be blamed for more than that. From what Eva had pieced together of Charles’ past, the so-called black gold had first justified him committing crimes.
“His company’s signing an energy deal with our government to help us meet our renewable targets.” Lily speared her pancakes as though they were to blame for the climate crisis.
“You know a lot about it.” Eva tried to keep the surprise out of her voice.
“We talk about it in Environmental Studies.”
She did Environmental Studies? Eva was becoming as out of touch with her as Charles had been.
She glanced at the clock. “Can we listen to the rest of this together later? You can educate me.”
Lily smiled. “Sure, it’s up to all of us to do something to stop it.” She shovelled in the last mouthful of her breakfast. “Yummy, thanks,” pocketed her phone and headphones. “Gotta go.”
“I won’t be late,” Eva said. “Have a good day.”
“You too.” The door slammed, Lily gone. Eva wished she’d grabbed her and held her. They used to be so close. Maybe this could be the way to break through the wall Lily had put up around her. It would just be a relief to not feel the blame for her father being gone with every glance her daughter gave her. And she didn’t even know it was Eva who’d had him arrested and imprisoned.
Her words to Charles when she’d handed him over that whatever happened to him was nothing to do with her haunted Eva more than she wished they would. Her conscience had a loud voice. But he shouldn’t have done any of it, lying, deceiving, poisoning, destroying her charity, marrying her, pretending to love her.
While they were waiting for their house to be rebuilt after it had been blown up, the two bed flat she was renting for her and Lily had been a refuge. Now it was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Eva hadn’t realised how much she relished the postage stamp garden at the back of their tiny house, the knowing and trusting their neighbours. She hoped the blank slate the new inside would give her would help lay to rest the memories of her failed marriage, the mistakes she’d made.
“Do you think so, Daddy?” She asked the photo of her father that used to sit on her desk at her charity, Every Drop, before Charles had destroyed it. Her father smiled at her, his hand raised against the glare of a strong sun that highlighted the colours around him: sand, sky, washed out khaki clothing, the corner of a red daubed building.
She picked up his photo. “You think that’s all I need?” It wasn’t, she could almost see him shake his head.
“You know, lilla gumman, what it is.” he’d have said.
She still missed hearing his pet name for her. At thirty-two she was closer to being the ‘little grandmother’ he’d teased her it translated to than she was to the ‘sweetie’ he meant.
“What’s your heart thinking?”
“That I really want this job, beyond wanting to impress you. Is it wrong of me?” She traced his face with her fingertips. “What about Lily?”
This side of him captured behind the glass might have told her she should put her daughter first, like he’d doubtless wanted to do for her. The other photo of him in storage, when he’d been Time Magazine’s Person of the Year, serious in army fatigues and a microphoned headset on his helmet, might say the opposite. She sighed, she’d give anything for him to be there with her, a grandad, how he’d have loved that. Twenty-five years this year since he’d left her. It was a long time to self-guide; it was one lonely heartbeat.
Eva ran up the shabby stairs at St George’s Grove two at a time to the top floor, where she knocked at Nora’s office door. It buzzed open and Nora waved her in with a flash of her trademark red nails.
“Was that Arabic?” Eva asked when she’d finished her phone call
Speaking Russian had always opened doors for Eva, but Arabic and Chinese were probably the languages people got excited about now.
Nora laughed, took off her glasses. “I’m not so old if I can learn new tricks now, am I? My cunning plan is to make myself indispensable, so they won’t put me out on my pension.”
“Impressive, you know they’d be too lost without you, they’ll hang onto you until you get fed up and demand to leave.”
“It’s a hard game, we’re in, even behind a desk and you’re far too young for the which bit’s falling apart today club. My right foot, my left wrist, my neck, all of those I can ignore. As long as the most important muscle’s working as it should.” Nora tapped her temple. “Enough of that, my Andrea tells me I need to focus on how good I feel, how young I am. Better get my roots done then, eh?” Nora’s big blonde hair always looked as if she’d just stepped out of the hairdresser’s chair, today included. “How are you?”
Eva skipped the question. “Any news?”
“Gordon’s in his office, go and see.”
There was no way Nora didn’t know, but Eva understood the hierarchy, that things had to be done the way they had to be done.
“Sleepless night?” He asked when he released the door lock and invited her in.
“That obvious?”
“Shows me I’m right. If you didn’t care, you’d have slept well. Sit. Tell me who voted which way.”
“Markham and Locke voted against me, you,” she looked the hope at him, “Pryor and the Deputy Director voted for me?”
“It was two for and three against.”
“Oh.” Eva winced. That was it then, she was done before she’d even started. Her Plan B was a good salvage. “Can I go back to being an analyst?”
Gordon shook his head. “That’s not on the table.”
Eva blinked, she was hard up against a brick wall. She hadn’t expected to fail completely.
“Because,” he went on, “the panel decided to give you an unprecedented test mission.”
Eva’s insides lightened, unwound, her relief a mini euphoria.
He held up a warning finger. “It’ll be tough. You can’t fail your objectives. The panel can’t be told specifics, but you’ll have clear-cut goals you must hit for them to agree you should be appointed.”
A delay of execution. A chance to show them they’d underestimated her. “I understand, thanks for what you did for me.”
“Don’t let me down.”
She shook her head. Not a chance.
&n
bsp; “Thank you, for vouching for me.”
“I know I’ve got the measure of you, if I didn’t think you’d be an asset, I wouldn’t have asked you to join us. You have to have a mentor on this one though, someone to oversee you on the ground. Ready?”
She really was. Finally, it was time to see exactly what she’d got herself into by agreeing to join the unit masquerading behind the former assassins’ group named The Society.
6
“You sure?” Luke asked. A dark navy suit today, always dressed ready for the job.
Eva nodded, waiting for him to explain why they’d met on the ground floor of St George’s Grove underneath the scruffy staircase.
“In the words of The Society ‘dare you’? There’s no going back.”
“I’m sure.”
He held his access card up to one of pictures hanging on the wall under the stairs and the outline of a door opened beside them. “I give you S.”
“S?”
“No one’s come up with a decent name for us. S for Society, St George’s Grove, Sword—”
“Sword?”
“Yeah, don’t remember whose idea that was. We’re really scraping the barrel here, competition’s wide open if you have a better suggestion.”
He pushed the door and Eva stepped after him into a small room clad in dark grey panels. Low-level lighting ran in thin strips where the walls met the floor and ceiling.
Luke closed the door behind them and it disappeared. No handle, no interruption in the uniformity of the panels, nothing to mark it was there at all. He crossed to the opposite corner and held his access card up against a panel and a click disengaged another hidden door.
S for slick, Eva wondered. “This is unexpected, compared with what’s up top.”
“Yeah, hiding in plain sight, oldest rule in the book. When MI6 bought this building, it took a year of modifications before we could move in. The contractors thought they were building underground car parks. Our maintenance people finished it, made it definitely not a car park.”
The same lighting lit their way down a wide spiral staircase. Eva’s boots clanged a warning that she was coming down each metallic step. She followed Luke through another hidden door at the bottom into a huge space surprisingly bright and airy, given the lack of windows, and warm considering all the white and chrome.
“Wow.”
“I know.” The woman standing at one of several iMacs and more computer configurations that looked custom built, looked up. “I am that and more.”
Eva felt her face flush. “I—”
“Eva, right?”
She nodded. Of course, she’d have been briefed. The whole building would have to know who she was, to not challenge the stranger.
“Eva Janssen, meet Sadie Baldwin, she’s our Q.” Luke explained.
Eva made it worse. “You’re Q?”
“This bi-race fineness not white and old enough for you, girl?” Sadie gestured from her spectacular afro, black eyes, down her red jumpsuit to her white converses.
“No, I meant, we have a Q, it’s not a rumour?”
“You saying I’m not all that?”
“I mean, I—I should just shut up, right?”
Luke laughed. “I told you to go easy on her.”
“Officially, Q’s a rumour,” Sadie clarified, “and if they exist, why Quartermaster? Should at least be Quarterperson.”
“Which sounds wrong.” Luke pointed out.
“I’m not Q, no one here’s Q, we’re a department, Provisions. And according to the accounts for HM Government, you lot are hungry.” She drew out the last syllable, looking at Luke over her black-framed glasses. “You, especially.”
“I can’t help I’m so good at what I do. Sadie sorts us out for going into the field.” He peered at her monitor. “What you working on?”
“That’s the question of the hour. You hear about the triple shooting couple days ago in Denmark?” She looked from Eva to Luke, who both shook their heads. “Nice non-aggressive country, nothing extraordinary about their crime rate. Suddenly three people assassinated.”
“Does it fit with the annual figures?” Luke asked.
“Assassinated at the same time.”
“Mass shooter?”
“Impossible, look.”
Sadie moved her mouse around, drawing blue circles around the two bodies on the pavement in the image. “See this?” She wiggled the cursor over the front of a dark glass building at the top left of the screen, then pulled up a second image at the bottom. “There it is again, same building.” She ran the cursor up and down the tiny portion of reflective glass visible in the new image on the right-hand edge this time. “Same street, only this photo,” she pointed at the second one, “is taken from further down.” A bright blue circle this time around one body slumped on a bench.
“I could make those shots, why’re you puzzled?” Luke asked.
“At the same time?” Sadie asked.
“Clear shot in all of them?”
She nodded.
“Double tap, sure,” he pointed at the two victims, “but with the change of direction, it’d be a lucky shot even for me to get the last target cleanly. The rifle would still be in motion when the trigger was pulled for the third time. It’d be more of a carving into,” Luke moved his hand across the screen, “rather than a straight shot.” He jabbed at it, then peered at the photo. “Definitely one shooter?”
“Preliminary reports suggest one gun.”
“Ballistics not back yet?”
“Oh, they’re back, you tell me.” Sadie maximised another window, zoomed in on three small masses of metal and melded wire. “These are the bullets they fished out of the bodies, some kind of electronics. Never seen anything like it. I’ve requested one to analyse but I’m not sure how much it’ll tell me.”
Eva could feel Sadie studying her. “If it’s the same gun and it can’t be the same shooter, you have two gunmen, or women, with identical weapons. A field test?”
“That’s a good hypothesis.”
“Is anyone looking at overlap of victims?” Eva asked.
“Eva used to be an analyst.” Luke explained.
“I expect the Danish police are.” Sadie said.
“Could I take a look?”
“Sure, extra eyes on this wouldn’t hurt. I’ll make it available to you.” Sadie stood back from the monitor. “But you didn’t come all the way down here to help me with my curiosities.” She picked up a tablet, tapping on it as she walked to the opposite side of the room. Behind the door that opened for her was a much smaller space, a duplicate of the room upstairs with its dark grey panels and low-level lighting.
“What’s your mission? Need these?” She pressed on a panel and when it swung smoothly open, Eva could see a collection of sub-machine guns.
“That’d be some first mission.” Luke said.
“What about any of these beauties then?”
Behind a different panel, quite the assortment of knives, daggers, even swords that Eva was sure any Anime hero would be proud of.
“One of those, definitely.” Luke pointed at the longest sword that looked like it had been picked up from a movie prop department.
“You never know, Eva might be an expert.” Sadie looked the question at her.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
Sadie laughed. “Boring handguns then. Where you off to?”
“Norway.” Luke said.
“Norway?” Away from the UK already? What would Lily think? Eva was certain she’d be only too happy to spend the night with her best friend, Anya, but would her mum, Tricia, mind Eva calling in the overnight stay favour so quickly?
“First mission, we want something easy. A there and back with only one overnight, break your daughter in gently.” At least he didn’t say break her in gently. “A husband and wife spat, should be easy.”
A spat? One of them had ordered that the other be killed.
“What handguns have you shot so far?” Sadie asked
.
“Glock 17.” Eva said.
“That’s what you get then.”
“We’re taking guns to friendly peaceful Norway?”
“Like friendly peaceful Denmark?”
Luke had a point.
7
“What’s happened?” Lily rushed up to Eva where she was waiting in her school’s reception.
“Nothing, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to let you know you’re staying with Anya tonight, I have to go away on business.”
“You got me out of class for that? You could have texted.”
“I’ll miss you too.” Eva held out the bag she’d packed for her.
“When are you back?” Lily looked at Eva’s overnight bag on the floor by her feet, go bag Luke had called it.
“Tomorrow. It’s only one meeting. Do what Tricia tells you, okay?”
Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m not a kid, Mum.”
Still only eleven, yes, she was. “I know, but you’re precious.” Eva checked the corridor, Lily was the only kid in it. Safe to hold her arms out. “Hug.”
Lily looked up and down. For a second, Eva thought she’d refuse, still punishing her about Charles, but Lily took the step she hoped for and wrapped her arms around her. Eva held her tightly. Let this be the end of hostilities over why she couldn’t see her dad.
“Be safe and have fun. See you tomorrow.”
“See how brave I’m being here, no hard hat.” Luke let Eva precede him through the door out of the London RAF Northolt terminal building onto the airfield tarmac. Their hi-vis vested escort gestured for them to follow.
The memory of the first time they hadn’t got on a plane together, when Eva’s husband had knocked Luke out and taken off without her, clouded the moment. He kept a high profile in her thoughts for someone who was apparently out of her life.
“Just messing with you. Pop quiz,” Luke stepped closer to her, dropped his voice. “what’s our number one rule?”
She matched his tone. “That we preserve the integrity of The Society’s reputation.”
