by Guy Adams
I caught my breath enough to be able to deal with Derek, walking back in on a man who appeared in an equally bad state. ‘OK,’ I said, determined to give orders rather than converse. I couldn’t bear the thought of a conversation, which might entail questions whose answers would only make my state worse. ‘I need you to repair whatever needs repairing and be ready to go again if need be. Can you do that?’
‘Of course, but …’
‘Please. Just do that; I need you to do that.’ I gave him a business card with my mobile number on it.
‘It says your name’s Gerard.’
‘It isn’t.’
‘I bet it’s not Charlie Berry, either.’ He scribbled his own number on a supermarket receipt and handed it over.
‘Probably not. But it’ll do for now. I need to leave you to this, all right? I’m sorry but I need to run. I need to … Well, I need to.’
Derek held up his hand. ‘It’s fine. I understand. Do your thing. I’ll call you.’
I nodded and left, my hands twitching, my legs moving so fast I was in danger of losing my balance. I wanted to run, to run – and run – and run. To start screaming, to fill the rushing air with noise and anger and fear. I was a hair’s breadth from losing control. You’re probably judging me for that, yes? Writing me off as weak? Well, fuck you. I’ve seen things that would make your teeth bleed. Sometimes those things gang up on me, that’s all.
If Shining had gone missing on what could be termed a ‘normal’ mission (God knows what constitutes ‘normal’ in any branch of espionage, but you’ll admit it rarely involves time travel and living-dead Russians), there was a protocol to be followed, a plan to fall back on. But at that moment I was utterly lost. Barely a day old in the world of Section 37; I was no better than a tourist. I was suddenly the entirety of the section, with an unresolved countdown and a missing officer. I hadn’t a clue where to begin.
My only option was to let The Fear go, burn itself out, and let me think.
I headed towards the river, walking in circles. Eventually I sat myself down on a bench looking out towards Tower Bridge and breathed out the last of the poison that had filled me.
Life had become clearer. I was the only active member of the Section. I knew I could expect no support from outside my newly-inherited office. Either I would solve this problem or I wouldn’t. Anything else was just mental white noise. Compartmentalise. Tag the problems you can deal with and disregard the rest.
Next question: should I tell my superiors about Shining? It wasn’t a simple decision. On the one hand, of course I should. On the other … If this was the only section that had a chance of dealing with his disappearance, nothing would be gained by bumping the problem up the ladder. Also, the department would certainly face closure if Shining were lost, so I had to consider keeping it dark. What sold me was that I knew that’s what Shining would have wanted me to do. Keep my mouth shut for as long as possible. Keep it in house. Twenty-four hours and I was already offering him more faith and devotion than any other section head in my career. I couldn’t decide whether I felt proud or foolish about that. So I just went with my decision.
I had a book of agents, madmen all, and, given that countdown, about two days in which to put them to good use.
Fine.
b) High Road, Wood Green, London
The first step was to head back to the office. I needed to gather intel and think.
I stopped by Oman’s first, and was furious to find it closed. I needed the app he had given Shining on my phone. At that point I had no way of monitoring the numbers station. I didn’t even know the frequency; those details having been confined to the two of them. Realising that made me more angry, and I paced up and down High Road wanting to punch something. It would certainly have been Oman had I clapped eyes on him. However, it was another target that presented itself. I was standing in the middle of the bustling pedestrians, looking across the road at the entrance to the mall when I recognised a woman in the crowd – the one I had seen the day before, outside Euston Station. She had irritated me then, with her cockiness and her patronising attitude. I was fuming now. Certainly too angry to let her wander about unchallenged so close to the office. Had she been keeping an eye on us? Had she maybe even been in the building while we were out? I didn’t imagine Tamar would have taken kindly to that; she clearly took pride in keeping an eye on ‘her August’. I had certainly been treated with utter suspicion, but who knew?
The woman entered the mall and I cut across the road after her, determined she wouldn’t go to ground.
I could see her a short way ahead of me once I stepped through the automatic doors. She was staring at the display window of a jeweller’s. Casual. Normal. Just someone filling her lunch hour with window shopping. That made my mood even worse, probably because I knew that I was being anything but casual. My hasty movements around the busy shopping centre couldn’t have drawn much more attention to myself. The Fear had turned into full-blown rage now, as it always did, and I was struggling to suppress it. I walked up behind her. For a horrible moment I had an urge to just reach forward and shove her face into the glass. Smash that smug face into a pulp. Embarrassment and shame came swiftly after. I had no real idea who this woman was; fantasizing about hurting her was not the real me. Or not a ‘me’ I wanted to accept. I was still angry when I took hold of her shoulder, but I was partially back under control.
‘Thought you’d pop by?’ I asked as she spun around. ‘How lovely to see you again – and so soon.’
The look on her face was perfect: an utterly genuine mask of confusion. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘You must remember our little chat last night? Perhaps it’s the suit?’
‘I’ve never seen you before in my life.’ Her confusion had shifted to anger, but it was nothing compared to mine.
‘Oh, fuck off,’ I whispered, doing my best to keep a forced smile in place for the benefit of any onlookers. ‘Life’s too short for pointless games. Was there anything in particular you were after or were you just sticking your nose in where it wasn’t wanted?’
The anger on her face turned to fear then and I felt a brief twinge of uncertainty – her performance was exceptionally good.
‘I have no idea who you are,’ she insisted, casting around for someone who might be able to help.
‘Don’t bother,’ I said, stepping in closer, blocking off her view.
That was a mistake.
‘Help!’ she began shouting. ‘This man is harassing me!’
I stepped back immediately. ‘Nice,’ I conceded as people began to turn towards us.
I turned and began to walk away as casually as I could.
‘Some sort of problem?’ a man asked as I passed him.
‘No problem,’ I insisted, but he reached out to take hold of my arm. I smacked his hand away, which was a second mistake as it antagonised him. He grabbed me by my shoulders, his fingers digging in hard.
‘I think you should apologise to the lady,’ he said, the look on his face suggesting he didn’t consider the point open to debate.
Part of me knew that the only sensible way forward was to calm down and play the game; the other part – the bigger part – had absolutely no intention of giving in. With my training I could easily floor this man if I wanted. Stamp my heel onto his foot and his grip would lessen, the palm of my hand to the bridge of his nose, and job finished. I considered it.
‘The lady doesn’t need an apology,’ I told him, struggling to stay calm. I turned to face her and found myself looking at a frightened woman. She looked deeply uncomfortable, scared and desperate. I almost felt sorry for her. I hadn’t made a mistake though; she was definitely the woman I had met the night before, the woman who had tried her best to scare me off working for Section 37.
‘Looks to me like she’s owed one,’ the man insisted. I looked at him: big feller, tracksuit, a full, hard face that spoke of gym hours clocked and fights enjoyed.
We were starting to attract a crowd. I
had lost control of the situation.
The woman was backing away, though out of fear or a wish to avoid public spectacle I could no longer tell.
‘Fine,’ I said, swallowing both pride and anger, knowing that the professional way forward was to take the quickest escape route being offered. ‘I apologise if I worried you.’
Then, to the Knight Errant in sportswear, ‘Good enough?’
He looked to the woman. ‘Just let him go,’ she said. ‘He’s off his rocker – as long as he doesn’t follow me …’
‘He won’t be doing that, will you mate?’ The big feller stated, releasing my arms.
‘Not a chance,’ I replied, marching off quickly in the opposite direction before my anger got the better of me and I ended up making the situation worse.
I headed for the exit, aware that too many people were watching me as I weaved between the shoppers and out into the daylight.
Once outside, I released a held breath and leaned back against the railing between the pavement and the road. Twice now she had got the better of me in public. She was really beginning to make me mad.
‘That could have gone better,’ said a quiet voice next to me.
I looked down to see a tiny old man dishing out copies of the Evening Standard.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘She didn’t know you, did she?’ he said. ‘You were a complete stranger to her.’
‘She knew me well enough,’ I countered, then wondered how the hell this guy could even have seen what had happened. He smiled and there was a twinkle of malevolence behind his rheumy eyes.
‘Another lesson learned: we can be everywhere, we can be everyone,’ he said. ‘She no more remembers she’s talked to you before than this old fool will. We are Legion.’
‘Trying my bloody patience is what you are.’
‘Shining vanished, has he?’
This knocked the confidence from me. How the hell did he know that?
‘He’s not with us,’ he continued, ‘so there’s hope for him yet. If his little monkey can step up to the mark that is.’ He smiled again. ‘That would be you, by the way.’
I squared up to him.
‘I wouldn’t,’ he said, ‘unless you really want to make an idiot of yourself. I won’t resist, of course, but beating up an old man only seconds after threatening an innocent woman really isn’t going to get you far, is it?’
‘Who are you?’
‘August knows, though he won’t want to tell you. If you ever see him again perhaps you should ask him.’
‘Where is he?’
‘That’s for you to find out; it’s nothing to do with us. We’re just observers here. Tell you what though, just to show we can occasionally be helpful: when you get the phone call about the body outside St Mathew’s you need to give it your full attention. It’s important.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘You will.’
The old man looked away and momentarily lost his balance. I reached out instinctively, trying to keep him steady. He sighed and looked up at me.
‘Legs not what they were,’ he said, his voice somehow gentler, older. He held up a paper. ‘Evening Standard?’
‘No thanks.’ Whoever I had been talking to was gone. Somehow, I just knew that. Say what you like about Toby Greene but at least he’s not slow on the uptake.
I walked back to the office.
c) Section 37, Wood Green, London
Oman had returned to his shop by the time I reached it. At least dealing with him might temporarily push my confusion to one side. Who was it that had taken such an interest in me? And how was it possible they could talk through anyone they felt like, hopping from body to body like a communicative virus?
‘Where were you five minutes ago?’ I quizzed him.
‘Warming up my lunch,’ he said, holding up a steaming Tupperware box. ‘That allowed?’
‘Sorry – not having the best morning.’
‘You don’t know bad days until you have to deal with my customers. What can I do for you?’
‘I want the app that monitors the radio broadcast,’ I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. ‘Can you do that?’
He looked at my phone. ‘Where’s the boss?’
‘Busy.’ I had no idea how much I should trust anyone at this stage and I wasn’t about to blurt out everything that had happened.
He nodded. ‘Isn’t he always? I can’t put it on that without jailbreaking it.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just do it.’
‘Fine. And I’ll only charge you thirty quid, company discount as it were.’
Cheeky bastard.
‘Whatever. Can you do it straightaway?’
‘Yeah, but it’ll still take me a while.’
I thought about it. The idea of leaving my phone with him wasn’t comfortable but if Shining had trusted him then I supposed I should do the same. I needed that app.
‘OK, I’ll be upstairs. How long do you need?’
‘Come back in an hour, forty-five minutes – if you’re lucky.’
I left the phone on his desk and walked around the corner to the office entrance. Which is when I realised that I hadn’t been given a set of keys.
I didn’t have it in me to be angry anymore; I just pressed Tamar’s bell and steeled myself for an argument.
Eventually she appeared, this time she was at least properly clothed, in a pair of jeans and a crop top with ‘Superstar’ encrusted on it in gold sequins.
‘Remember me?’ I asked, ‘August’s friend.’
‘And I know you’re his friend because?’
‘Because I really am. In fact, I work with him.’
‘That doesn’t make you friend,’ she replied. ‘The men I “work with” – they are certainly not friends.’
‘Please let me in.’
‘Why you not call him?’
‘Because he’s not in.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I …’ I was spent by this point, frustrated and tired now the anger and panic had left me. ‘I don’t know. I need to try to find him. He’s in trouble and he needs me to help him.’
She looked at me and, after a moment, her entire mood softened. She reached out, took my hand and pulled me inside, shutting the door behind us.
‘I have a spare key for the office,’ she said, leading me up the stairs as if I was a child, ‘and I will help how I can. August is very dear.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I suppose he is.’
‘Well,’ said a voice from the landing above us, ‘I suppose that’s one word for him.’
And that was how I first met April Shining.
‘Might I suggest we let the poor boy sit down?’ April said, shooing me into the office ahead of both herself and Tamar.
‘I’m all right,’ I tried to say, but there is nothing as dominant as an April Shining in full flow. She’s a hostile weather front in a cardigan and beads.
‘Nonsense, it’s obviously all gone horrendously tits up and you need to take stock, bring us up to speed and then we can get on with getting things back on an even keel.’
Somehow, without planning it, I found myself seated behind the desk.
‘Get the kettle on, darling,’ April encouraged Tamar. ‘I dare say we’d all appreciate something warming and, as my brother never had the common sense to stock a reasonable supply of medicinal alcohol, we’ll have to make do with tea.’
Tamar didn’t argue. Like me, I’m not sure she quite knew how.
‘Look,’ I began, ‘this is all very kind, but I haven’t really got time for socialising. I’m afraid I have a lot of work to do.’
‘Naturally,’ April replied, ‘which is precisely why I said you should bring us up to speed.’
This was a step too far.
‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss anything,’ I insisted. ‘Your brother and I—’
‘Are the nation’s last great hope for survival against the forces of d
arkness,’ she said, collapsing onto the sofa in an eruption of patchouli scent. ‘It’s terribly exciting, and Tamar and I know all about it.’
‘I doubt that …’
‘Oh, my sweet little man, don’t imagine there’s a thing August doesn’t tell his two Valkyries. We are his rock, his last line of defence, his—’
‘Shocking breach of national security?’
‘Poo to that! You men and your secrets.’
‘Secrets are important. Even if you’re cleared to know what your brother does for a living, I can’t believe that he would give you any real information about it.’
‘Perhaps he just knew whom to trust?’
‘Apparently everyone in the Greater London area,’ I replied.
‘Oh hush now, my brother’s not an idiot – which you must have realised, however briefly you may have worked with him. The work you do here is unconventional on every level, so if you want to get anywhere, you have to go about it in an unconventional manner.’
I shrugged. I had hardly spent the morning behaving in an exemplary fashion and Shining’s lack of security protocol seemed my least important problem.
‘Besides,’ April continued, ‘you don’t really have the first idea who I am and what I do in the government. One doesn’t like to flash one’s credentials around – it’s vulgar and boring – but August isn’t the only Shining sibling to have ended up working behind the scenes on national business.’
‘And I am his bodyguard,’ announced Tamar as she returned with three mugs, one of which she dumped in front of me somewhat aggressively. ‘Head of security.’
‘Right.’ I had no idea what else to say. I had spent the last couple of days being surrounded by absurdity. Sooner or later you have to look to the bigger picture and let the little things go.
I told them what Shining and I had been doing and what had happened. If that was a mistake then, to hell with it, just one more my life was littered with. I was going to need all the help I could get to pull off a successful operation in the next forty-eight hours. When you no longer have a viable career to worry about, it’s amazing how quickly you home in on the important parts of the job. I began to understood why Shining had become the man he was.
