The Pretender- Escaping the Past

by C R Martens

  “Shouldn’t you be following up on the Copenhagen file?” he asked dryly. “That’s the priority.”

  “I’m working on it, or rather Sam is,” Eve explained. “He’s making a profile for me. If I have to go back to Copenhagen, I want to go undetected.”

  “Sam only works on profiles for deep cover.” Eve had his full attention now. “This is technically a cold case.”

  “It was Harlow’s final case; she put everything on hold for this case.” Eve sighed. “And then she died of an accidental poisoning. I am not going over there making waves. I am going to finish everything as quietly as I can. Besides, I don’t want any unexpected interference from my past.”

  “Fine,” he said after a pause. Eve had made a sound point and he knew it.

  “By the way, the last person she spoke to when she was alive wasn’t me or you,” Eve said. “It was Frank Hughes, her informant. That’s why I am looking at a seemingly unimportant case.”

  Eve had barely finished her sentence before Cain interjected, changing her plans completely.

  “Meet me at Onslow Square in an hour,” he said. “Don’t go to the informant yet.”

  He hung up before Eve had a chance to accept or decline. She looked down at what she had found in Harlow’s flat. She grabbed the rolled-up documents and pulled off the rubber band; she had to know what they were before going to meet Cain.

  To Eve’s relief, it was all of Harlow’s missing notes from the Copenhagen file. But the notes only confirmed Eve’s suspicion, that Harlow’s death wasn’t accidental. Something was being covered up. Harlow’s notes stated that she had found Hellström alive and well. They didn’t say if she had made contact with him and her notes didn’t go further. Her final entry was the day before she came to Eve with the flash drive. Two days later she was found dead in her hotel room in Copenhagen. Harlow hadn’t even said she was going back there. Why had Harlow gone to see her informant right after leaving Eve?

  Eve picked up the CD. Her work laptop had a CD insert but she also knew it was being monitored – all work laptops were. And if Harlow thought she needed to conceal these items, Eve didn’t want anyone to know about them either. Eve packed her bag and she got ready to meet Cain, not a hair was out of place and Harlow’s signature red lipstick was her final trick before she closed the door behind her. She didn’t need the lipstick to do her job, but it was part of the illusion, part of the mask Eve wore when on an assignment. It was a part of the fantasy she so often had to create to lure vital information out of a target.

  ***

  When she got to Onslow Square, Cain was already there. He was a big firm pillar standing there in his dark grey suit and black trench coat. He too had made an effort, looking very different from his usual office version that Eve knew so well. His hair was mostly sliver-grey but you could see streaks of black running through it. He was in his late 40s and he was handsome, but it was wasted on her. He had one hand in his trouser pocket, the other clenched something small and for a split-second, Eve considered if this might be an ambush. Something felt odd and out of place, but it was too late to turn around as Cain had already seen her.

  “Well, this is unusual,” she said, putting her hand on his arm and leaning in to kiss his cheek as if they knew each other intimately. “There’s an excellent little café down here, which is much more comfortable for a chat.”

  “If you wish.” Cain instantly got into character and placed his hand on her back. “You haven’t been home?”

  “No, I left the office at two this morning,” Eve replied, as they crossed the road. “I figured it best to just go to the hotel on the next street. But how did you know I haven’t been home?”

  “It’s my business to know where my agents are. Have this,” Cain said, handing her a key as they sat at a table outside the café. “It’s for a safe house in Denmark. It’s unofficial and not been used since the early nineties.”

  “You know something?” she asked. Eve could see it in his face. “I need to know everything I can before I go to Denmark.”

  “I can’t help you more than this,” he said, looking down the street. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. Who was he looking for? “Because Harlow’s death was nothing more than a tragic accident. Your job is to close her cases as fast as possible and, you know what, it might help you move on.”

  “Then why give me this?” Eve asked in a hushed voice. She knew Cain and Harlow had a close working relationship so why was he holding back information? “If this is as simple as closing Harlow’s old cases, why give me keys to a safe house?”

  “Use the key or not, that is up to you.” Cain’s voice changed, his voice was low but tense. “But I do expect as your superior that you close the cases that I have passed on to you and that you do it fast. Do you know Frank Hughes?”

  “No.” She replied, “Do you?

  “Only that he was Harlow’s informant and that she had used him in a drugs smugglings case.” He said.

  “He seems an odd person to meet, when she wasn’t working on any drugs related cases. Don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps.” Cain replied. He finished his coffee, got up and straightened his trench coat. They were both very aware of the people around them.

  “Right,” she said, tightening her grip on the key.

  “Goodbye, dear, have a safe trip to Copenhagen,” he said. He leaned in and kissed her cheek and then whispered, “Don’t trust what you hear.”

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling back at him. “Bye, darling.”

  Eve sat at the café and watched him walk away. She was left perplexed at what he had said. What did he mean by that? Why shouldn’t she trust what she hears? There was a great contrast between what he said and what he did. She had already gone against her instincts when she trusted Harlow; She wasn’t about to go against everything she had learnt in training. He clearly didn’t want to help but for some reason, he had anyway. One thing is for sure, he had triggered Eve’s curiosity even more. And her definitely knew more about Frank Hughes than he said.

  Eve hurried home to change her clothes; she didn’t want to stand out when she went looking for Frank. When she got to her front door, she knew something was wrong. A normal person wouldn’t have seen the tiny scratches on the lock but she did. She inserted her key in the lock and opened the door ever so slightly. She was positive no one would be in there, but instincts are, after all, a heightened state of feeling and feelings can be wrong. With fight mode on and her hand on her gun, she entered her flat. Nothing happened, no one was there, but someone had set off all of the little traps she had placed around the flat. Eve had placed tiny flecks of brown paper under all her drawers so if someone had been in her flat she would know. She did that every time she left the flat. It was a work thing. Now they lay strewn around the flat; it looked like, whoever it was, had been in every drawer. Had it been Cain? Had he wanted her out of her flat for a reason? What information had she given him that got him spooked and why? How was he involved in Harlow’s death? Was he at all? Then Eve realised she had told him about the hotel. She flicked off her heels in the living room, donned a pair of sneakers and then rushed out of the flat.

  Eve ran the mile and a half through the tangled streets of London to the hotel. When she arrived at the Hotel she stopped at the corner of the hotel building when she saw Landen exit the front doors. Confused and perplexed at seeing Landen, she hurried out of sight and down a small side street. She went in through the side entrance of the hotel, grabbing one of the food trollies, and then she headed for the lifts where she grabbed an employee uniform out of a dirty laundry trolley. Her heart was in her throat as she waited. Eve hadn’t been anxious like this since she was a child, but for some reason all her senses were heightened, not just her fight mode, but her urge to flight was slowly kicking in too.

  She stood alone in the lift and watched the numbers go up as the doors pinged open on the fourth floor. With a deep breath, she exited with the trolley and walked norma
lly down the corridor. She slowed down just before she came to her room to listen for voices or any strange noises. It seemed quiet, but then the light flickered ever so slightly underneath the door. She left the trolley outside the door. The ‘don’t clean my room’ card had been removed. She took off the employee uniform, pushed in her key card and opened the door, only to find an immaculately clean and tidy room, not the room she had left. Nothing was missing, everything had been put neatly on the desk. All of a sudden, she realised she wasn’t alone. She saw his reflection in the mirror staring back at her from behind the bathroom door.

  “I saw you at work,” Eve said, staring at the eyes in the mirror. “You were working on the ghost team last night. You couldn’t have gotten much sleep. What are you doing in my room?”

  “Well, it’s funny you should ask because I am not here at all,” he said, stepping out of the bathroom. He had a thick eastern European accent. “You weren’t supposed to know I’d been here. You got here faster than expected.”

  “I would have known with or without seeing you here,” she said. “You cleaned the room. I asked for it to not be cleaned. Why are you in my room?”

  “Housekeeping can make mistakes,” he replied. His eyes were distant as if he wasn’t really there. The same couldn’t be said for his arrogance, which was unmistakably present.

  “Why are you in my room?” she asked again.

  “I can’t tell you the specifics,” he said, removing his latex gloves and throwing them in the trash.

  “Did you get what you were looking for?” Eve asked him. He smiled maliciously and shook his head. “What about at my flat?

  “What?” he said. His face said it all, he had definitely been there too; his face saying more than his mouth. “I don’t know where you live. That wasn’t me.”

  “Right,” she said sarcastically. “Well, if you are not going to give me any information then, by all means, get the fuck out of my room before I throw you out of the window.”

  “That’s no way to talk to a colleague.” He smiled and took a step back.

  “You’re not my colleague,” she replied. He walked out of the room never turning his back towards her. When the door closed, Eve walked over and put the door chain on. She then started to look around for cameras and wires but after half an hour’s search found nothing. She opened the door into the bathroom and saw what little beauty products she had left there standing neatly next to the sink. Eve took a plastic shower cap from the bathroom, fitted it over her hand, walked over to the trash and carefully removed his latex gloves. She obviously needed to figure out who this man was. She took all of her things and left the hotel and went home.

  Luckily for her, Harlow had been an excellent mentor after Eve had finished her training at FIA, so Eve had left nothing of importance in the hotel room when she went to meet Cain. Harlow had taught Eve more than her training could have and with no social life, Eve found it a comfort to talk about work with Harlow. They had spent a few long nights talking strategy on difficult cases over a bottle of wine. Harlow was an only child; her parents had died in an accident when she was in her first year of college. She had told Eve that that was her tipping point. She had started to push boundaries, looking for something to distract her from all the hurt she felt inside. Eventually she ended up unintentionally being involved in one of Cain’s cases working for FIA. And that’s how she came to FIA. Harlow had always seemed open and shared stories and experiences from her cases, but Eve always knew she was holding much of her story back.

  ***

  Late that afternoon, Eve went looking for Frank Hughes but after a few hours of asking around it became very clear that he wasn’t around, nor had he been for several months. She was standing at the end of Bancroft Road when it dawned on her that she was fuming with anger. She felt like she was grasping at straws, blindfolded. She had no real leads and she didn’t know who she could trust anymore. She didn’t storm off to the office to confront Cain; instead, she went to someone outside the firm.

  She made sure to avoid streets that were overcrowded with CCTV and kept to the shadows, which meant walking for an hour across town to get to Harris’ house. Harris was a techie and he wasn’t with the firm, which was why Eve trusted him. Harlow had introduced Eve to him about a year ago. Whenever Harlow needed something done off the books, she would go to him. Harris had worked for FIA briefly but had left the firm quite abruptly. Harlow never said why but she had obviously seen his talent and kept him on retainer. Sam, at the firm, was already working on a background profile for her, but Eve felt the need to have another cover prepared by someone outside of the firm. The past 24 hours had rattled her, something she wasn’t used to in her line of work. She was used to being the one having the advantage over others. She knocked on the tatty-looking door, the red paint was peeling off it, and she waited a good few minutes before it creaked slightly open.

  “It’s only me,” Eve said to the half-face she could see. “I need your help with Harlow.”

  The door opened quickly and Harris walked back into the flat. Eve hesitantly walked in, closing the door behind her.

  “Where is she?” he asked, sitting down at his computers. “And what does she need?”

  “What?” Eve was surprised by his question. It had been so many months since Harlow had died that Eve thought everyone knew by now.

  “Harlow. You said she needed help.” Harris sat behind his many computers. “Where is she?”

  “Harlow is dead.”

  Harris stopped instantly and turned around to face her.

  “She died a little over four months ago.”

  “Of what?” He was shocked and Eve could see his mind working, his breathing becoming heavy and strained.

  “Well, officially she died from an accidental poisoning,” Eve said. She pushed some papers away from the sofa and sat down.

  “Officially?” Harris asked. His eyes locked in on Eve. “You don’t think that’s what killed her?”

  “I do think she died of poisoning,” Eve started. “I just don’t think it was accidental. Harlow wouldn’t be that careless.”

  “No, she wouldn’t.” Harris thought for a moment. “What do you need?”

  “I need a second cover that the firm won’t know about,” Eve said.

  “You think it’s FIA?” he asked.

  “You don’t seem too surprised,” Eve replied, studying his face and movements. “Why would you go straight to that assumption?”

  “Harlow never trusted FIA,” he said, turning in his chair. He started typing away at several keyboards. “That’s why she came to me for back-up covers, also for me to double-check the covers FIA made for her. You don’t seem to put a lot of faith in them either.”

  “Why did she trust you?” Eve asked. Harris briefly paused in his typing. “You used to work there too.”

  “I left because I am good at what I do,” he replied. “It didn’t take more than a few days to figure out they weren’t entirely clean. So, I faked a psychological meltdown, which is the only way you can leave the firm with your life intact. They still think I am locked away in some asylum up north.”

  “So, you created your own ‘life’ cover?” Eve asked suspiciously. “But how did Harlow know that you faked it?”

  “She helped me,” he said. “She was the one who brought me in.”

  “She brought you in?” Eve was puzzled. Harris was at least in his mid to late thirties. “How could she have brought you in? She was only a few years older than I am.”

  “No, she isn’t.” Harris smiled. “She is…was…37. She aged better than me.”

  Eve sat there is silence, with the tapping of the keyboard in the background. How could she have thought Harlow was close to her in age when she was 10 years older?

  “Give me three base facts to your cover,” Harris asked.

  “Danish, 27 years old, art student,” she replied, still heavily engrossed in her thoughts. “Why are you trusting me with this information?”


  “Student? Quite an old student, isn’t she?” he asked. “I trust you because Harlow told me I could.”

  “No, not too old to do a Masters degree,” she replied. “Make it for Copenhagen University. Do you know Frank Hughes?”

  “Frank, yes, he was a former agent too.” He said.

  “What?” Eve was taken aback. ”He was Harlow’s drugs informant.”

  “That was their cover story.” Harris continued, “Frank Hughes is really Ben Stock.”

  “Ben Stock the firm traitor, whom Harlow hunted down and killed?” Eve couldn’t believe it.

  “Yes. He had some damning evidence against the firm and was going to turn them over to the attorney general in the States, but he made a mistake and threatened someone at the firm with this first and Harlow was sent to deal with him.” Harris said.

  “But she didn’t?” Eve asked.

  “No she took him to me instead and I created a new identity for him.” He said. “He and Harlow made a deal and he didn’t go to his meeting in the States and she let him live.”

  For the next hour, Eve sat on Harris’ sofa while he made her an airtight new identity. She didn’t have the strength to leave before she had gone over everything in her head. Two days later she picked up the finished package. Passport, credit card, healthcare card – everything you’d need to start a new life. Maybe she should just do that and forget about it all, forget about FIA. But Eve couldn’t do that to Harlow.

  “What did you find out about FIA?” Eve finally asked Harris. All the information’s were finally starting to come together, but it was turning into something much bigger than Eve could have ever imagined.

  11.

  With freedom comes responsibility. You will never forget your first undercover assignment, we were told as recruits, but it was my second when I did something I will regret forever. I told myself I was committed to my job and back then I would have done anything to prove my worth to them. How wrong I was.