Pandora

by Storm Chase

  Pandora

  By Storm Chase

  Text Copyright @ 2014 Storm Chase

  All rights reserved

  Final proof edited by David Lynch

  Although many of the places mentioned in this book exist, all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  License Statement

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Other books by Storm Chase

  Wildcat in Moscow

  Romance, action and suspense with Chelsea and Vladimir

  Murder in Moscow

  Romance, action and a murder mystery with Cassidy and Dmitri

  Chocolate: An Erotic Romance in Siberia

  With Star and Alexei

  Lost Weekend: An Erotic Romance in Wales

  With Micah and Bryony

  The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kiev

  With Max and Tony

  The Mule: An Erotic Romance in Colombia

  With Cleo and Connor

  Blackmail Bride: An Erotic Romance in Scotland

  With Lucy and Jack

  Sold!

  A Romance in The Sudan

  Charlotte and Byron Erotica Romances

  The Maid in the Cupboard

  The Knight and the Damsel in Distress

  The Musher and the Stringer

  For news of new releases, please visit:

  http://stormchasenovels.blogspot.com

  http://www.goodreads.com/StormChase

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  She’d messed up again. Sir Harry Bassington-Smythe was glaring at her. “Well?” he asked icily. “What do you have to say for yourself, Ms Fitchett?”

  “I didn’t want to do it,” Pandora stammered. “I had no choice. The order came from MI5.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Sir Harry snapped.

  Pandora could feel hot tears burning in her eyes but she was determined not to cry. “It’s true! Ask Brigadier Reeves!”

  “Never heard of him. What department is he in? Who’s his boss?”

  “He said, but I didn’t quite catch it.”

  Sir Harry stared at her. “You didn’t quite catch it?” he asked incredulously.

  “Brigadier Reeves talks like Pontius Pilot. You know, the one from Life of Brian,” Pandora stuttered. Clearly Sir Harry didn’t watch Monty Python films. “He had a badge. It said MI5.”

  “Maybe he gave you his card too?” Sir Harry asked, awfully.

  The sarcasm went straight over Pandora’s head. “I asked, but he said they don’t carry them.”

  Sir Harry stared at her, his watery blue eyes bloodshot from fury and too much gin at lunchtime. “It’s outrageous,” he snorted. “I come back to find you in my private office! Stealing files from my computer! You know you can go to jail for this?”

  “It was an official investigation,” Pandora said desperately. “He said it was purely routine but I couldn’t tell because of protocol.”

  “And how long have you been spying?”

  “Only one other time,” Pandora confessed.

  “And what did you take? The tenders for the new missile system? The proposals for the new aircraft carriers?”

  “He wanted to see your diary, that’s all.”

  “My diary? You handed over my diary to this chap?” Sir Harry spluttered.

  “Yes,” Pandora felt a wave of panic wash over her. She hoped she hadn’t messed up. “All they wanted was your diary for the last three months. Nothing else. It didn’t seem very important.”

  “That’s not for you to decide!” Sir Harry snapped.

  “I did check,” Pandora protested. “MI5 headquarters is in Thames House, so I called them and they confirmed Brigadier Reeves works there.”

  Sir Harry froze. A look of horror appeared in his eyes. Pandora wondered what she’d said that worried him so much. Sir Harry was a pompous ass but he had won medals in the Gulf and Bosnia. Surely he couldn’t be frightened of a routine investigation? Admiralty House was the clearinghouse for Royal Navy administration, and most particularly the highly secret tenders detailing plans for new weapons and ships. Security was always tight, so Sir Harry must be used to official checkups.

  “He may have been an impostor!” he snapped.

  “I knew it was him all right because we met in Thames House,” she offered nervously. “I wouldn’t email him, you see, because I thought it was too dangerous. He told me to come to his office instead. And he gave me a pen drive to use. A special one so that everything was encrypted. I know how important it is to maintain security.”

  Sir Harry went white. “I don’t believe it,” he blustered. His fingers tapped a nervous tattoo.

  Pandora shifted miserably in her chair. She devoutly wished herself elsewhere. Her stomach was churning with nerves and cold sweat was running in rivulets down her back. If only she could close her eyes and teleport to a tropical beach. She wanted to bake herself senseless in the hot sun. Instead she was in soggy London, dressed in three layers of clothes—and still chilly.

  “Stay here,” Sir Harry ordered. “I will have to investigate this.” His mobile rang. The ring tone was a jaunty version of Rule Britannia. He picked it up irritably. “What?” he barked. Then his face changed. He shot a cautious look at Pandora. “I can’t talk at the moment,” he mumbled.

  “Mistress,” Pandora thought. Sir Harry was known to be a ladies’ man. She wondered who on earth could find this balding man with the huge salt and pepper moustache attractive. She’d heard that power could make women lust after anyone but there wasn’t enough of it in the world to make her like Sir Harry.

  He’d made advances towards her when she’d started working in his office just over a month ago. For a first hideous week he’d dropped by her desk, pawing her shoulder and looking down her blouse while pretending to take an interest in her career development.

  She really wanted the job so she daren’t complain. Instead of confronting him, she’d tried to avoid him. One morning when she’d seen him ambling down the corridor, she’d dived into what she thought was the ladies - it had been a stationery cupboard. She’d been locked in until Gary from Accounts heard her banging on the door and let her out.

  Sir Harry must have heard everyone talking about it but he hadn’t said a word. To her relief, he’d taken the hint and left her alone. For days she’d half expected him to fire her on some sort of trumped up reason but funnily enough he hadn’t. He just snapped at her whenever she came within reach of his office. Now he’d caught her pilfering files from his computer, even if it had been at the orders of the Secret Service, things were bound to get much, much worse.

  If only she could get out of there. Permanently. She wasn’t cut out for this job. Pandora hated intrigue: being forced to spy on her boss and keeping secrets had been nerve-wracking. Being caught was worse. She’d never enjoy a James Bond film again.

  If only the kids would take her on! But while the Children With Special
Needs Home were grateful for her volunteering, they couldn’t offer her a paid position. Pandora sighed. She could go back to working shifts at Starbucks and Mickey Ds. It didn’t pay as much as Admiralty House but at least it was straightforward.

  Sir Harry was staring at her as he listened intently to the voice on the phone. There was a furtive look in his eye. “Yes, I understand,” he said abruptly. He slammed down the phone. “Stay here!” he barked.

  He marched out, leaving Pandora to slump over the desk. Whatever happened, she knew Sir Harry would find a way to fire her for this. Her father would be furious. He still hadn’t forgiven her for breaking off her engagement.

  “Useless, bloody girl!” he’d hissed at her. “I wanted Richard as one of my directors! How dare you mess this up? You’re throwing over a decent young man with excellent career prospects and for what? Because you can’t love him? You should be damn grateful he even looked at you!”

  When her mother had broken into equally damning lamentations, Pandora had been so upset that she’d rushed back to London. Distraught and worried about her future, she’d been relieved to find a job offer waiting for her: administrative clerk at Admiralty House. She was only temping for one of the girls who was off on maternity leave but at the time it seemed like an opening to a new life.

  Pandora accepted instantly and threw herself into the job with all the fervour of a convert. She didn’t mind the long hours or the tedium of paperwork; the responsibility cut down on the time she spent worrying.

  Pandora also found that her father’s endless stories about his military career were paying off. She adapted easily to the working style of the officers she came into contact with, had an instinctive grasp of protocol, and found herself enjoying the idea that she was serving her country in her own way.

  It should have been the perfect job, if it hadn’t been for Sir Harry. When the Brigadier had contacted her, she had suspected at once that she was embroiled in a power struggle or some other political tussle. Although the people in the office didn’t seem to care about Sir Harry’s roving eye and habitual bottom pinching, he had made enemies of most of the female staff, and a part of Pandora wondered if one of his old victims was planning to get him kicked out.

  The problem was that Sir Harry was the extremely well connected war hero and senior government official, while the shadowy people of MI5 had mysterious powers all of their own. For Pandora, a low level nobody, it was a no-win situation. Being stuck in the middle had been giving her nightmares for weeks, and now it seemed that her worst dreams were turning into reality.

  As Pandora frantically wiped away the tears that ran down her face, Miss Pickles, Sir Harry’s private secretary and chief sucker-upper, sailed in and put a cup of tea in front of her. Comfortably dressed in designer country tweeds, she looked like a yummy mummy who’d escaped from the pages of Tatler magazine.

  “This was sent in from the officer’s mess,” she sniffed. “I suppose Sir Harry is feeling sorry for you.”

  Pandora took the cup gratefully. Maybe it would be all right after all.

  “Sir Harry has given orders that you are to stay in this office and not contact anyone,” Miss Pickles smirked. She hadn’t liked Pandora since the day she started. She was clearly delighted that she was in trouble.

  Miss Pickles marched out, slamming the door behind her. Minutes later the outer office door opened. Pandora guessed Miss Pickles was taking the opportunity to leave before Sir Harry could return and ask her to stay even later.

  Glancing at her watch, Pandora saw that it was almost seven o’clock. It was dark outside and a sprinkling of rain signalled it was also wet. It was a typical cold winter night. Summer and the sun were months away.

  Pandora wiped away her tears, blew her nose and then picked up the tea. It was scalding hot and very strong; quite unlike the usual tepid weak brew that flowed through the office. Clearly Sir Harry had access to private stock. One of his perks, no doubt. Unfortunately it was loaded with sugar. Maybe fortune had no hand to play. Miss Pickles probably knew Pandora liked her tea black and unsweetened.

  Pandora drank a little but couldn’t finish it. She wondered what would happen next. Would Sir Harry just fire her? Could he? The Brigadier had reminded her that she’d signed the Official Secrets Act when he had given her his orders. Still, there was that bit in her contract with Admiralty House about maintaining confidentiality. As MI5 weren’t part of her organisation, could Sir Harry argue that he felt she was no longer trustworthy?

  Pandora sighed. She hadn’t a clue and didn’t even know who to ask. She’d been uncomfortably aware that since she’d come to London just over a year ago, she hadn’t made any friends.

  She’d hung out with a London clubbing crowd at first but that had ended badly. When she’d started dating Richard she’d met his friends but she didn’t like them very much. It was probably best, Pandora thought, seeing as none of them had called her after she’d left Richard. Pandora felt utterly alone.

  She was also exhausted. After she broke off her engagement, her father had made it clear that she was in disgrace and not to come home. At first her dreams were haunted by his cold strictures and after the brigadier had demanded her cooperation, her nightmares were augmented by the fear that Sir Harry would find out. Although she managed to keep herself busy with her work, her days were punctuated by calls from her mother moaning that she didn’t know how she’d face her friends since everyone assumed Richard had dumped her. Luckily there had been some snafu about bills and her mum’s phone had been cut off a week ago.

  Richard had been absolutely furious and he wasn’t the type to suffer silently. Pandora had listened to his rants and apologised until she was hoarse but it made no difference. When she’d started sneaking out of her flat at dawn, staying at work until late, and ignoring her doorbell, he’d phoned and then written to her. The deluge of recriminating email and texts had finally stopped but Pandora’s relief was cut short when she discovered the reason behind the sudden silence. As Richard was an up and coming lawyer at Simmons & Simmons, a massively successful legal firm, his rage was now manifesting itself in the law. She’d given him back his ring but a legal letter had arrived that morning, demanding she repay him the money he’d spent on her during their courtship.

  Courtship, Pandora thought woozily. More like a drawn-out siege. Richard said he loved her but he certainly hadn’t approved of her. Or anything she did. He had criticised everything from her clothes to her cooking. Admittedly her cooking was terrible but shouldn’t a man in love overlook toast that was a bit scorched and pasta that was still hard in the middle? Richard certainly hadn’t. He’d been as scathing as her father.

  “I wish you’d buck up, Pandora. How are you going to throw dinner parties when we’re married if you can hardly boil water? Marriage is a partnership and I do expect you to pull your weight. Promotion doesn’t come automatically, you know! You’ll have to do better!”

  Pandora hated arguments. Being told off in a cold voice was bad enough but being shouted at made her feel physically sick. She’d tried snapping back at him but that only made him angrier. After he’d reduced her to tears two nights in a row, she’d given up talking back. It had also helped crystallise the fact that she didn’t love him, couldn’t even bring herself to like him very much, and that she would have to tell him so.

  Pandora had rehearsed her speech for a week, drunk three glasses of wine in quick succession to give her courage, and had broken it off. At first Richard had been dismissive, putting it all down to nerves. Once he’d realised she really wasn’t going to marry him, he’d been so incensed that his roars of rage must have been heard over all of England. Now he was planning to take her to court, claiming that she’d led him on, defrauded him in fact, and then the whole world would hear how awful she’d been.

  Her stomach had been in continuous knots for weeks. Pandora had been so stressed, that she’d become almost used to the continuous diarrhoea and vomiting. Now, thinking about what Sir Harry m
ight do on top of all her other troubles, she could feel her gorge rise and her bowels clench. Stress had killed her appetite for breakfast and lunch but she thought she might lose the tea she’d just drunk. She’d been told to stay put, but maybe she ought to bolt to the toilet—just in case. Sir Harry wouldn’t thank her for throwing up on his green leather topped desk.

  Her smart phone beeped. She checked the message and smiled. Xavier had sent her a video clip of a cat swinging intrepidly into the freezer section of the fridge to liberate some fish. Thank God for Xavier. His funny messages were the only bright spark in her life these days.

  His first message arrived one day a few weeks ago, just after she’d been in tears after being chewed out by her mother over the phone. She had clicked to open the file, and had instantly cheered up as the video clip of a dog howling along to Rule Britannia. The dog had looked exactly like a canine Sir Harry. She’d texted back thinking someone in the office had sent the message. Xavier had replied, apologising for the misdirect but the next day he’d sent her a clip of a parrot playing piano.

  Pandora had wondered if Xavier would turn out to be one of those online Romeo con artists she’d read about. She’d waited with bristling suspicion for him to butter her up with a cyber romance but Xavier never asked anything personal. He kept the chat to friendly banter as he sent her a stream of funny videos, cheerful cartoons and photos of beautiful beaches from around the world. Ironically she now wished it had led to something more. She wouldn’t mind having a friend to talk to.

  She yawned again as the lights flickered and dimmed. Must be part of the drive to save money, Pandora thought vaguely. Cost cutting was so rife that she had to bring in her own pens and pencils because requesting stationery from the proper department required filling out half a dozen forms in triplicate.

  It was now a little past eight o’clock. The building would be deserted. Only a few night watchmen and cleaning staff would be around. Well, if she did get fired at least her exit wouldn’t be too publicly humiliating. A wave of exhaustion swept through her. She settled back in her chair and closed her eyes. She’d just rest for a moment. A tiny catnap.