The Nursery

by Asia Mackay

  ‘I’ve actioned a Six initiative that was still in the development stage,’ said Dugdale. ‘Lex, you will be the primary contact on the “We are Family” programme.’

  I frowned. ‘The what?’

  ‘ “We are Family” is designed to make the families of everyone at Six feel that they are all in this together. One big happy community. A series of meet-ups where they all get to bond over how tough it is having a partner who can’t talk to them about their work. A safe space where everyone understands the downsides as they are living it too.’

  ‘So that’s the fluffy HR version – what’s the truth?’

  ‘That you will be using it as cover to get to grips with the three Pigs’ home life. If there’s extra money coming from somewhere then their other halves are going to know. The Snake has been very good at covering their tracks at work, but with any luck they will be less careful at home. Frederick will continue to monitor them in the office. The two of you can use the nursery pick-ups to swap intel.’

  Hattie leaned forward as he looked at Frederick and Dugdale. ‘Joint missions with Pigeons never tend to work out well. I will not have egos and tantrums about who’s in charge. Let me state it once and once only: this is now Eight’s mission. You’ve brought it to us and we now take over. You abide by our rules. Our protocols. Frederick, I’ve seen your record. It’s impressive. But if you’re going to work with us you need to understand Lex is in charge. You report to her. You follow her orders. Is that clear?’

  ‘Completely.’ Frederick shrugged. ‘We’re in your hands.’ Frederick turned to me. ‘I have an informant inside the Chinese Embassy. Codename “Y”. I’ve been using him for the last two years. He’s a mid-level Embassy employee. I trust him. It’s best you take over as his handler. I can’t risk being seen with him. I’ll set up a meet for after the nursery’s Natural History Museum trip.’

  I remembered something in the diary about Gigi’s class going to a puppet show at the museum this afternoon. I had felt bad about missing her first trip to see the dinosaurs.

  ‘You mean . . . We need to go?’

  ‘Very much so. I set the whole visit up.’

  Duggers checked his watch. ‘You’d better leave now, Lex. The “We are Family” introductory meet and greet starts at ten a.m. at the Warehouse. You will be the Family Liaison for a group that will contain the three Pigs’ other halves. I’ll email you the info.’

  I stood up.

  Geraint pointed to my mobile phone. ‘Click on the latest email from me and your phone will download a WhatsApp group chat invite with a worm hidden inside. You just need to put in the targets’ numbers, get them to accept the invite and the worm will get to work. It will take twenty minutes or so to download everything off their phones and all future messages will automatically download to our server.’

  ‘Remember, Lex,’ said Hattie, ‘the quicker we find the Snake, the better the chance we have of Peng flying out of here in the comfort of her first-class cabin bed and not in a box in the hold.’

  From what Frederick had said it was clear Tenebris were actively recruiting from our Security Services. Stalking potential targets, getting to know their weaknesses, understanding who they could bully or tempt into turning over sensitive information. Frederick can’t have been the first they approached – he was just the first who was working to bring them down. How many Snakes could be within the services right now, turning our own people against us and attacking us from within?

  Tenebris were a formidable enemy. By incapacitating our Security Services they were putting the whole country at risk. We were vulnerable to not just terrorist attacks but information hacking, data mining and interference in our elections, our very government. Outside hostile forces could swoop down on our country, knowing we were running on a shell, that our Security Services were compromised, and they could wreak havoc not just with our safety but our everyday life. Tenebris had to be stopped. With so much at stake we couldn’t afford to fail.

  Part Two

  Play

  play, n.

  1. Activity engaged in for enjoyment and recreation, especially by children.

  2. The state of being active, operative, or effective.

  Chapter Four

  THE WAREHOUSE WAS A LARGE three-storey space in Vauxhall, situated close to the train lines. It used to be a sweet factory and was now officially a ‘storage facility’ for the Security Services. Unofficially it was an off-the-radar location for informants we wanted to hide, hostiles we wanted to interrogate or training events we wanted to hold. On the ground floor what used to be the factory floor was now just a vast empty room. It had hosted mental health initiatives like: ‘Fire then feel fine: How to cope with killing for your country’ and ‘Who are you? How to remember you when playing them’, as well as workshops such as: ‘Creative control: Killing using everyday objects’.

  Access to the Warehouse was usually in through one of the several back doors under the cover of darkness. As this was the first time non-Security Services personnel would be attending, an effort had been made to tidy up the front entrance. There were two drooping pot plants either side of the front door, where a suited Six employee I didn’t recognise ticked me off a list and handed me my ‘Alexis Tyler, Liaison Officer’ badge. I looked up at the sign announcing ‘We are Family!’– with the arrow pointing towards the factory floor, or the ‘conference room’ as we were now calling it.

  I opened the conference room’s double doors and took in the room packed with Sheep. A hundred or so innocent members of the public, mostly women. Apart from the three Pigs, Duggers had chosen certain other Six analysts and their partners to take part in the ‘We are Family’ initiative. He had clearly pulled out all the stops to get everything up and running, with enlarged posters of stock photos of happy families and a banqueting table set up with biscuits and tea and coffee cups laid out. A nice, no-frills conference where, according to the Liaison Officer ‘We are Family’ crib sheet, we should lead discussions with points such as: ‘They don’t tell you everything but they are giving you everything’ and ‘Their mouths may be sealed but their hearts are open’.

  I looked around the room and spotted a few familiar faces from Six. Junior analysts that had been drafted in to act as Liaison Officers. I clocked my name on the table plan and my assigned table number. Eight. Good to see Duggers still had a semblance of a sense of humour.

  ‘Hello, everyone, and welcome!’ came a loud, booming voice over the PA system. I glanced over my shoulder to see an elderly woman at the front of the large room holding a hand-held microphone.

  ‘I am Mrs Moulage,’ the woman announced.

  I swivelled round to look at her.

  Mrs Moulage was an Eight legend and, as the first female Rat to ever walk the hallowed halls of Platform Eight, a hero I had always wanted to meet.

  ‘I’m delighted to welcome you to this’ – she peered at her clipboard – ‘ “We are Family” initiative. This is the first time we’ve opened up our charming training location to non-Security Service personnel. Welcome to our world.’

  As Mrs Moulage launched into a description of the initiative I watched her talk. None of the people listening as she trotted out buzz words like ‘caring communication’, ‘social cohesion’ and ‘circle of trust’ would have any idea as to just how impressive this woman was. The only nod to the fact she wasn’t exactly your normal pensioner was her outfit. An emerald green silk trouser suit. Beautifully cut. And undoubtedly Christian Dior.

  The Dior Dame.

  Deadly, driven and always dressed in Dior. She may have been given this nickname by a scathing Cold War-era pack of Russians but she loved it. She took to scrawling DD in red lipstick across the foreheads of kills she wanted to lay claim to.

  Mrs Moulage was not her real name. Rumour had it she grew up in Birmingham – there was talk of abusive foster families, a difficult time on the streets and a trail of dead men who all had it coming, but no one really knew. Somewhere along the
way she came to Eight’s attention and became Mrs Moulage, an elegant, well-dressed assassin who spoke with no discernible accent and had no discernible problem with even the most violent of undertakings. No one ever knew if there was, or ever had been, a Mr Moulage – or whether the name just fitted the persona she adopted.

  Supposedly semi-retired, she now ran a crematorium in South London called Requiem. As well as being a legitimate business, which apparently ran a tidy profit, Requiem was also where all the bodies Eight needed disposing of would end up. There was also talk that even now Mrs Moulage was sometimes activated for certain missions. I wasn’t surprised. Finding her next to a dead body, no one would even think to suspect the delicate, grey-haired old lady of being anything other than a traumatised witness.

  The Dior Dame was someone everyone had an opinion on. Vicious, violent, uncontrollable, dangerous.

  I thought she was fucking fabulous.

  We were instructed to go to our designated tables. I wondered if Mrs Moulage knew who I was. The Rat among the Sheep. Was there something about me that shone? That would make it clear that we shared a secret? That I was just like her?

  I was the first to Table Eight. I took a seat and waited for my assigned charges to arrive. I had scanned over Dugdale’s email on the WAF initiative on the way. All our mobiles and laptops were set up so that Platform Eight encrypted emails looked like junk mail. What looked like a HORNY_AS_F$*K!!! announcement from a busty underwear-clad teenager could actually be decrypted by entering our unique authorisation code. We had five minutes to read it before it reverted to an image of someone promising all manner of things in exchange for a credit card number.

  Three potential Snakes. Three partners I needed to get to know in order to find out exactly who was hiding what. Gossiping that was really intelligence-gathering.

  I looked up as three women approached me, all holding cups of tea.

  The first to reach me was wearing a purple shirt, black trousers and a warm, open smile. She had a round face and long, curly hair.

  ‘Hiya! I’m Naomi Bowcott. We all actually found each other at the table plan.’ Naomi motioned to the two women beside her. ‘This is Kate Hicks and Dionne Patterson.’

  Kate had her long, brown hair down, long limbs encased in a black jumpsuit. Dionne was a blonder, younger, scruffier version, her hair up in a messy half-bun and wearing paint-stained dungarees.

  ‘Lovely to meet you all,’ I said as they all sat down at the table. ‘I’m Alexis. I work for the Government Communication and Data Specialisation Branch.’ I smiled at the three women in front of me. I was confident my job sounded dull enough they wouldn’t ask any questions.

  ‘I’m here as your “We are Family” liaison to help guide you through the process. Now, it’d be great if we could start by you saying a little about yourselves?’

  Naomi cleared her throat. ‘Well, I’ve been married to Ronald for nearly twenty years now. Two girls aged eight and thirteen . . . yes, teens are as terrible as everyone tells you!’ She gave a little laugh and quickly took a sip of her tea. I knew from their file that Naomi had met Daddy Pig when they worked together at an insurance company, and he had left to join Six a few years after they got married.

  ‘Right, so I’m Dionne,’ said the blonde, denim-dungareed woman next to her. She had an Australian – or was it New Zealand? – accent. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. I glanced down at my notes, trying to place her. ‘I work as a nanny for Suze Sheldon. Suze is a single mother, so yep, I guess I’m her significant other.’ She grinned round at us all. ‘Suze has a two-year-old called Bella. She’s at nursery right now so thought I might as well come and meet the gang.’ She reached for a biscuit. Peppa’s right-hand woman.

  ‘Great. Nice to meet you, Dionne.’ I kept my fingers crossed that Dionne was going to be one of those nannies that loved gossiping about their boss.

  The brunette in the jumpsuit next to her flicked her hair. ‘I’m Kate. I’m an actress. But you probably already know that.’ She swished back her long hair and graced us with a dazzling smile. Her dimples gave her a girlish sweetness that made me think she’d never age. George Pig and Kate had been childhood sweethearts who’d grown up on the same street. She liked to giggle ‘I’m the girl next door who married the boy next door’ in all her interviews.

  ‘Yeah, I thought I recognised you,’ said Dionne, staring up at her. ‘EastEnders?’

  ‘No.’ Kate winced.

  ‘Are you sure? You’re not messing with us?’

  Kate gave her a withering look and continued, ‘My husband Neil has been with MI6 for two years now. Before that he was in the army. I may play at saving the world but he really does.’ She held a hand to her chest.

  The military hero husband was clearly a line she liked to spin in press junkets.

  I had scanned Duggers’ summary of Kate’s acting career on the way over. A couple of leading roles in ITV dramas, one supporting role in a Hollywood movie, where she’d fought some kind of alien in a tank top and hot pants. She’d made big money from some lucrative advertising contracts.

  Kate continued, ‘We’ve got three boys. Twins who are nearly two and a seven-year-old.’

  A tall, blonde woman approached our table.

  ‘So sorry I’m late. I’m Camilla.’

  ‘Welcome, Camilla.’ I smiled.

  She sat down next to Dionne, her several silver charm bracelets jangling. She was wearing high-waisted tweed trousers with a white shirt. She looked familiar. Where had I seen her before? Why was she here? All the three Pigs’ other halves were here. I looked down at my notes, trying to place who she was. Naomi, Kate and Dionne introduced themselves to her. Camilla nodded at each of them with a faint smile. Her long, dainty fingers kept tapping against her knees as if playing an imaginary keyboard. I remembered what Dugdale’s email had said about having to make it groups of four. Camilla was a nobody. A buffer.

  ‘My husband Frederick Easton has been at MI6 for six years,’ she announced softly.

  Well, not quite a nobody.

  Frederick’s wife.

  Of course.

  The blonde head stuck on a pasta body.

  It made sense that if Dugdale had to allocate groups of four he would put in Frederick’s wife. If things went wrong, if more cover was needed, we had another ally in the group. Or at least someone easily manipulated

  I looked up at her again. She was beautiful. Of course she was. And so well put together. She was a perfect match to Frederick’s chiselled features and immaculately tailored suits. I bet their wedding photo looked like it came with the frame. I fingered the frayed hem of my shirt.

  ‘Alexis?’ said Naomi.

  ‘I . . . yes?’ I noticed everyone was staring at me. ‘Sorry, I missed that.’

  ‘I was just asking how come we meet so often this week and then nothing?’

  ‘Oh right. We’re calling this the Initiation Stage. For the programme to work we really need to spend a lot of intense time together in this first week. I will be here guiding the sessions and once the week is over it will all be up to you to arrange the meet-ups and keep in touch.’ I smiled round at everyone. ‘Now, if you could just whip out your phones and accept the WhatsApp invite I sent you all it will make planning things so much easier.’ I took out my mobile and they all followed suit. I clicked onto WhatsApp and watched as each one of them joined the group. ‘Wonderful. Here we all are. Linked together.’ I checked the settings and noted each of their numbers now had a download icon next to it. The worm was doing its work.

  *

  Ten minutes of getting-to-know-you chat and I was already flagging. I nodded as I tried to pay attention as Naomi droned on about the difficulty she was having with school choices.

  And then I heard it.

  The alarm.

  It was faint. It was coming from the corridor outside. Whoever had done up this room had the foresight to silence it in here. But they hadn’t disabled the light that was hidden behind one of the
family posters. A grinning mum’s white shirt was flashing red.

  There was an intruder.

  It had to be Tenebris. What were they after?

  I looked round the busy room. Or who were they after?

  Mrs Moulage had clearly heard it too. She had already stood up and was heading towards the double-doored exit.

  I got up. ‘Please excuse me a moment. I just need to check on something with a colleague. Do carry on.’

  Walking towards the exit I slipped my earpiece in. Jake crackled in on Eight’s secure channel. ‘We’re on our way. We got the alarm notification. There in seven.’

  ‘Copy that. I’m checking it out now.’

  Mrs Moulage had already gone out through the doors. I caught up with her in the long corridor.

  ‘Mrs Moulage?’

  She stopped and turned around, smile in place.

  ‘Oh, hello there, dear. If you’re wondering about the noise, it’s nothing to worry about. They’re just testing the alarm system.’

  ‘I’m Lex. I’m the Rat.’

  The fake smile dropped.

  ‘The unauthorised entry is at Door Three. How far away is back-up?’

  ‘Seven minutes.’

  ‘Do we know what they’re after?’

  ‘No idea. No one here is considered a target.’

  Mrs Moulage opened the green silk clutch she was carrying and pulled out a pistol. She tucked it into the waistband of her trousers. The peplum top neatly covered the bulk of the gun. Fashion and function.

  Jake crackled into my earpiece, ‘G confirms that four minutes ago two hostiles entered through Door Three.’ The Warehouse only had cameras outside the front and back entrances. There were none inside as we never wanted anything here recorded.

  I turned to Mrs Moulage. ‘Two hostiles in the building.’

  I opened my tote bag. R & D had inserted a false bottom into it that could only be opened with my thumbprint. Toddlers could get everywhere and empty everything. I pulled out my gun and secured it into the customised hole. The barrel now peeped out of what looked like a buckle on the side. Innocent-looking to a stray WAF delegate, deadly to an invading Ghost.