The Rookie?s Guide to Espionage: An Eva Destruction Espresso Shot

by Dave Sinclair

  Steeling herself with a clenched fist, she opened the bathroom door. Isabella had her back to her, angrily stuffing clothes into her suitcase.

  “You said you regretted not having me,” Eva said in her best sultry voice. “Life is too short for regrets, wouldn’t you say?”

  A stunned Isabella spun around. After a moment of shock, her face lit up like a bonfire at a fireworks factory.

  “I never thought we’d meet again, Eva.” Her gaze rolled up and down the MI6 agent’s body, lingering on her lingerie. “But I am most pleased to see you.” She took a slow breath and stepped forward. “All of you.”

  Eva tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. Internally, she was screaming in panic. Outwardly, she channelled the ghost of Lauren Bacall. She would most likely be forced to sleep with Isabella. That’s what spies did, wasn’t it? Get in bed with the enemy? Did that extend to allies? At least she wouldn’t have to climb that rope again.

  Isabella glided towards her, positively beaming. One hand wrapped around Eva’s bare waist, the other slid along her jaw. She was taking her time, admiring her unexpected gift.

  Throatily, she said, “’Ow did you get into my—”

  Before she could finish, the door opened and Volmer barged in, head down.

  “Apologies, Fräulein Isabella, but I must ask —”

  On seeing the two of them, he halted his sentence as well as his stride. It took the BVT agent a moment to assess the situation. There was Isabella, her hands on Eva, who was stripped down to her underwear.

  Shock gave way to surprise, which gave way to intrigue. This in turn gave way to something else entirely. It was like all his Christmases had come at once, along with Easter, New Year’s and Hanukkah. It appeared he would, too.

  “Ladies, this is completely inappropriate.” He shook his head for effect. “Isabella is persona non grata. My government would not stand for such fraternisation.”

  Volmer walked over to the hotel desk, pulled out a chair and positioned it at the end of the bed. He sat and crossed his legs.

  “Should I order up some champagne?” He grinned.

  Isabella took her hands off Eva and folded her arms. “We will not be performing for you, Volmer. You need to leave.”

  “What if you divulge critical state secrets during the throes of passion? I believe this requires close supervision.” He glanced about the room. “Do you think it’s possible to order some popcorn, too?”

  The little man placed his feet on the bed and slid his hands behind his head. He clearly wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  As unexpected as his entrance was, for Eva, it was entirely welcome. She couldn’t speak for Isabella, but based on her scowl it seemed clear she wasn’t pleased with his enforced supervision.

  Eva didn’t want to sleep with Isabella if she could help it. Volmer was her out.

  “I can’t do this with him watching!” Eva flung her hands up in exasperation. “I was already nervous.” She eyed Isabella. “I’m sorry, I can’t, not now.”

  Eva marched towards the bathroom. Volmer watched her with pleasure, clearly enjoying the show.

  “Mon ange!” Isabella bellowed after her. “We can fix this, he can go!”

  Eva slammed the bathroom door behind her and exhaled a huge sigh of relief. Scrambling for her clothes, she dressed to the echoing sounds of insults being flung in French and Austrian German. She tucked Isabella’s phone down the back of her pants.

  When Eva finally emerged, a tense détente had been reached, with both parties scowling at one another from opposite sides of the room. Eva approached Isabella and kissed her lightly on the lips. Volmer sat up.

  “I’m sorry, I thought I could do this.” She ran her hand down Isabella’s arm. “I suppose this is finally goodbye.”

  The disappointment on Isabella’s face was tangible. She blew out a breath, in part frustration and in part steadying herself. She extended a delicate hand.

  “For the second time I am saying au revoir, Eva Destruction.” She kissed her hand. “We may not meet again, but know that I will always ’ave your back.”

  Eva nodded and headed for the door. She couldn’t look at Volmer. When she walked outside, the guard gave her a startled look, his expression an understandable where did you come from?

  As she scurried down the hall, she reached back to confirm that Isabella’s phone was still there. Relief washed over her. She tried to ignore the tiny part of her that wondered what might have been.

  Chapter Six

  Eva lay in her hotel room and stared at the ceiling, her phone held to her ear. The TV was on mute, news coverage silently displaying endless shots of the iconic Ferris wheel.

  “Hey Trev.”

  “Eva! This is unexpected.” His enthusiasm was endearing.

  Trevor was her tech guy—the one who had cracked the room key in no time. He had a crush on Eva like the bottom of the Mariana Trench. Eva didn’t encourage it, or take advantage of his not-so-secret infatuation, and to his credit, Trev never let it get in the way of his work. Which is exactly why Eva was calling.

  Espionage had changed. It was never all shadowy figures in trench coats and honourable, incorruptible spies, as the books would have you believe. It was more brutal, dirtier and far less moralistic than that. And in the new century it had changed again. It was less about a nation’s secrets and more about protecting their citizenry from the brutality of random acts of violence.

  Lyon had been a failure in that endeavour.

  Espionage was still about ideologies, albeit with different end goals. The superiority of communism was no longer at stake, but some similarities survived. Although the game had changed in the new century, terrorism like communism before it, was still one group of people wanting to impose their dogma on another.

  Creating fear for coercive purposes was at the root of terrorism. Lyon had achieved the fear, that much was certain. Many terrorist acts were perpetrated in the hope of prompting retaliation, making martyrs of the perpetrators and fuelling further jihad. It was this second part that was missing from Lyon.

  Nobody had claimed responsibility. Not one mention of the organisation known as The Tempest. If it wasn’t about making martyrs, what was it about? If it was to rejoice at how weak a country was, where was the gloating? It didn’t add up.

  Another changed aspect of espionage was the newfound reliance on technology. Disappearing ink and microfilm had given way to hackers and metadata. That was where Trevor came in.

  “Got a job for you, Trev,” Eva said. “Well, two.”

  “I’m all yours… I mean… um…” She could virtually feel him going red over the phone. “I mean, what can I do for you, Eva?” He let out an embarrassed sigh.

  “I’ve sent you a mobile phone in a diplomatic pouch—you should receive it in the next few hours. I need you to crack it and search for any messages around the time of the incident at the Ferris wheel.” Eva glanced up at a picture of exactly that on the TV screen.

  “Oh, okay. We’ve made some pretty cool leaps in recent times cracking those things. Not that we’d tell the general public, of course.” His earnestness was endearing. “What’s the other thing?”

  “Need you to do some digging for me. It’s about the incident in Lyon.”

  “Not a problem at all,” he said confidently. “Every available bod has been thrown at that, me included. So whatever you need, I’d probably be looking at it anyway.”

  It didn’t surprise Eva in the slightest. Two cabinet ministers were dead, along with three other UK citizens. Parliament was in an uproar. The opposition were baying for the Foreign Minister’s head. Eva knew her personally and was certain the minister would not go quietly. The leader of the opposition had called for an enquiry on who knew what and when. It was pure grandstanding before the next election. The findings of an espionage inquiry would never be made public, and the opposition knew that. The Prime Minister didn’t have a great deal of support and the sharks could smell blood in the water.


  “I’m thinking about how these kids were recruited. They’re from different cities, different sects, different imams. None of them seem connected, but there they were on the same day, striking fear into the world. If this was one of those detective movies I’d be trying to join up the pieces of red string.”

  “You and every other agency in the world with a passing interest.”

  “So I’m guessing nobody’s found anything?”

  “As you Aussies say, bugger all mate.”

  His accent was actually pretty good. He’d been practising. For her. Eva decided to put that aside for now. She had to focus.

  “But they were recruited, there must be breadcrumbs. They’re all separate, so that means it probably wasn’t in person, so that means…”

  “There will be an electronic footprint of some kind. Yeah, okay, I see where you’re going with this. Right, let me see what I can find. If they’ve found computers then they’ve found their digital IDs. I can start there. We’ll make an IT boffin out of you yet, Eva.”

  “Maybe see what’s on the black net too.”

  “The what?”

  “Black… net. The thing you told me about. Where you can buy drugs and guns and stuff without being traced.”

  “Black…? Oh, you mean the dark web.”

  Eva shrugged to no one. “Sure.”

  Technology and Eva weren’t firm friends. In her café, the point of sale was a shoebox. Computers weren’t her thing. She’d been working on it, but at times she felt like one of those apes at the start of 2001: A Space Odyssey, wailing at an obelisk.

  “If it helps,” Eva said, “maybe search for key word ‘tempest’. Either as something bad coming or an organisation known as The Tempest. It might not show up, but you never know.”

  Trev promised to do his best and hung up. She knew he would. There was so much bugging her about the case, it was good to have someone who would help her work through it without thinking she was being paranoid.

  She unmuted the TV. CNN was covering a live news conference. The families of the perpetrators had bravely fronted the media. Their faces were grave, full of remorse and fear. Nobody wanted their religion, their town or their family tarnished in such a way. Eva felt for them. These families, who had nothing to do with the violence, carried the burden.

  Not only did they have to contend with the loss of their loved ones, but they had to endure accusations of being complicit in the acts of terror. It was a weight Eva didn’t think she could take with as much grace as these people. They were brave, stoic and articulate. They were also angry. Angry at whoever had convinced their sons to perpetrate such heinous acts. Eva was going to do her best to bring these people justice.

  A phone buzzed somewhere in the room. It wasn’t hers—she’d spoken to Trev on that one, and it was still in her hand. It was the one Volmer had tossed her the day before.

  The message simply said:

  Please meet me at the Plague Column at 1 pm.

  I have news regarding our mutual friend.

  It seems she’s been playing us all.

  Come alone.

  V

  Eva didn’t like the sound of a plague column, whatever that was. She assumed the message was from Volmer, but why send a text message and not see her in person? Why the cloak and dagger?

  More questions.

  Eva hoped the meeting would finally supply some answers, instead of posing more questions. There was only one way to find out. Eva was going to go see a plague column.

  * * *

  Before Eva met with Volmer, she needed to check in with her handler. With her supposed partner being thrown out of the country, Eva needed to find out where she stood.

  “Hey Paul.”

  “Hey Evie. Still Australian?”

  “Effin oath, mate. Still a pommie git?”

  “The pommiest.” The pleasantries out of the way, Paul leapt straight in. “I received your report and we’ve done some digging.”

  Eva had asked Paul to investigate both Isabella and Volmer. She wanted more information on who she was working with, although the former was less of an issue now.

  “I’m sure it will be no surprise that spy agencies do not normally share resumes.”

  Eva didn’t answer. She knew Paul would have something, so there was no use asking.

  “However,” Paul said, and Eva smirked, “it is always wise to know who your allies are.”

  “You spy on other spies?” Eva tsked. “I’m shocked.” She really wasn’t.

  “Evie, this is the world’s second oldest profession, we’ve been at this for a while. We know what we’re doing.”

  Eva thought that sometimes it resembled the world’s oldest profession, but decided not to mention that.

  “They both have exemplary records. Isabella is highly skilled in,” he paused as if reading, “ah, many lethal things. She’d be good to have in a scrape. There’s some sort of investigation into a liaison with another operative but the details are sketchy. Apart from that, she’s dreadfully highly regarded. Some say a future leader of the whole ball of wax.”

  That didn’t surprise Eva. In their short time together Isabella had seemed extremely driven, and happy to take advantage of her station. Emptying a fancy restaurant in Lyon for a chat and a smoke was the first example that came to mind.

  “But that may all be over now she’s back in France,” Paul continued. “The way I hear it, her political enemies are using Vienna as leverage. Politics is everywhere, I’m afraid.”

  “You are well informed.”

  Paul paused. “Spy.” Eva could feel his smugness radiating through the phone. “I’ll send you her file. We have some information on the midget as well.”

  “Pretty sure you can’t say ‘midget’, Paul.”

  “Can’t I? It’s so hard to keep up with what’s politically correct.”

  “You’ll find ‘midget’ is highly offensive to those with dwarfism. I think the States prefer ‘Little People’, but ‘person with dwarfism’ is accepted everywhere else. Ideally, you just call them by their name.”

  “How are you so knowledgeable about such things?”

  “It’s called Google, dude.”

  “Ah, I’ve heard of that,” he said dryly. “Anyway, he checks out, too. Although apparently he has a temper, so that’s probably why he’s not higher up.”

  “Is that a short joke?”

  “It is now.”

  Eva told him about the mysterious text from Volmer. Paul being Paul, he already knew Isabella’s phone was on its way to Trevor.

  He cleared his throat. “How did you get her phone, Eva?”

  “Ah, I was hanging around and there it was.”

  “Right.” His tone made it clear he didn’t believe a word of it. “Evie, you need to stop being so reckless. Leaping off balconies, jumping on Ferris wheels, these are not the actions of an MI6 agent who still wants to have a job by Christmas.” There was an earnestness in his voice Eva found unsettling. “I’m going to be honest. I’m getting all sorts of pressure to recall you. You’re a rookie agent on her own. They’re saying you shouldn’t be running around Europe creating headlines.”

  “What should I be doing? Staying in the office and making them coffee?”

  “Now, Evie, that’s not…”

  “Look Paul, I know I’ve stuffed up. Both Lyon and Justin could have been handled better.”

  “Who?”

  “Nur Hakim. I know I’m a fresh agent, Paul, I get that, but there’s something going on here that’s not normal.”

  “That’s the problem, Evie. You’re fresh out of the packet, and they’re asking how you know what normal is. Espionage is a weird beast, it’s not what they show you on the telly.”

  He had a good point, but Eva wasn’t about to concede.

  “Do you think I’m good at my job? Do I give absolutely everything to what I do?”

  “Without a doubt in the world,” he said firmly. “I’ve tasted your coffee.” He gave a li
ttle chuckle; he was deescalating the discussion. “And I’ve never known anyone with better instincts, either.” He sighed. “Go do what you do, Evie. I’ll protect you as best I can, but you need to work fast, alright? I can only distract them with shiny things for so long.”

  “Understood.”

  Eva rang off and stared at the ceiling. No pressure, then. All she had to do was find evidence to back up her vague feelings, and potentially outsmart professionals who had been in this game far longer than she had—all within the next day or so.

  Piece of cake.

  The only trouble was, that cake seemed to be in a heavily guarded steel vault, buried deep underground.

  On the moon.

  * * *

  To Eva’s surprise the Plague Column was not a euphemism. It was an actual column of plague.

  Well, at least an artistic representation of such. The sculpture was carved in a twisted, swirling statue full of crazy-looking characters, mad kings and snarling beasts. It was located on the beautiful Graben strip of high-end shops, taking centre stage in the wide, car-free mall.

  Eva couldn’t seem to take her eyes off it. Every angle of the sculpture offered something new.

  “It is beautiful, yes?”

  Eva turned to see Volmer standing beside her, admiring the monument.

  She nodded. “And horrific.”

  Volmer pursed his lips in agreement. “In my experience these two things are usually intertwined.”

  Eva didn’t reply. Instead, she sat at the base of the statue and motioned for Volmer to join her. He parked himself with a plop and glanced back at the plague column.

  “It is one of the great ironies of the city,” Volmer said, mostly to himself. “It was made to commemorate the last great plague. The Kaiser promised to erect it if his people were saved.”

  “Noble, I guess.” Eva shielded her eyes from the light reflecting off the gold of the statue.

  “Oh, he was most noble,” Volmer said, dripping with insincerity. “Leopold the First fled the plague as soon as it arrived, leaving the people to fend for themselves.”