Licensed to Spy

by Barbara Davies

  “There’s a patch of woodland at the bottom of the garden,” she said. “Want to see it?”

  Ash arched an eyebrow. “Okay.”

  With a grin, Jemma hooked an arm through Ash’s and tugged her down the garden, then, under cover of a copse of silver birches, wrapped her arms around her neck and pulled her head down. What started out as an affectionate kiss quickly became something much more intense that made Jemma’s stomach lurch, her toes tingle, and her pulse race.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you kiss really well?” she said, when they came up for air.

  “You’re not too shabby yourself,” said Ash with a grin.

  “I’m a quick study.” To prove it they kissed again.

  “Jemma. Where are you?” The shout was distant, the voice her sister’s.

  Jemma broke the kiss. “What now?” Reluctantly, she disentangled herself from Ash’s embrace and walked out into the open.

  Maggie was jogging down the garden towards her. “There you are. Phone call for you. It’s Nat, about tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Jemma grimaced at Ash, who was standing under a tree watching her. “I’d better take it then.” Ash nodded, and Jemma hurried towards the house, passing Maggie on the way.

  Her parents were putting away the last of the dishes as she passed through the kitchen and went into the hall. The telephone receiver had been left off the hook. She picked it up.

  “Hi, Nat. What is it?”

  “You left your mobile off. Took me ages to track down your parents’ number.”

  “Sorry. Forgot. Anyway, I’m here now, so—”

  “Did we settle on meeting at the Eye at ten thirty or eleven? Only I can’t remember, and neither can Gary.”

  Jemma rolled her eyes. “Neither. We compromised on ten forty five.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Natalie. “Thanks.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Yep. That’s it. Why? Did I interrupt something important?”

  Only a nice kiss and cuddle. “Um. No. We’d finished eating and were just doing the dishes.”

  “Did she pass the audition?”

  “What?”

  “Blade? Did your parents like her?”

  “I think so. Maggie must have a bee in her bonnet about her though. She’s been positively churlish. Dad wants to take her over his knee and spank her.”

  Natalie chuckled. “Well, you do tend to overdo the ‘Blade is wonderful’ stuff.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Another chuckle. “Admit it, you always were a Blade groupie.”

  Jemma’s cheeks warmed. “A little respect here. She’s my partner now.”

  “And don’t we all know it.” In the background a man’s voice said something, and Natalie grunted. “I’ve got to go. Unlike some people, I have a job to do.”

  “Hey, I earned my leave.”

  “You keep telling yourself that. Bye.”

  “Bye.” Jemma put down the receiver.

  The sound of a car engine starting up close by piqued her interest, and she went into the front room and looked through the bay window. The Lotus was reversing out of the rather tricky drive, with Ash at the wheel. What the—Was it an emergency of some kind? Ash must have gone around by the side entrance. Why hadn’t she come to fetch Jemma?

  She rushed outside and ran to the end of the drive, in time to see the sports car disappearing into the distance. Disconsolate, she retraced her steps and met her parents coming out of the front porch.

  “Did Ash have to leave?” asked her mother.

  “Apparently.” Jemma frowned. “I was on the phone. Did she say anything before she went?”

  “To us?” asked her father. “No.”

  Maggie was lurking in the doorway, and something about her sister’s expression, half-defiant, half-guilty, made Jemma’s heart sink.

  “What did you say to her?” she demanded.

  “Nothing,” said Maggie, but her tone was defensive.

  “I don’t believe you.” Jemma locked gazes with her sister, and it was Maggie who broke first.

  “I may have told her a few home truths.” She toed the doormat. “But they needed saying.”

  Jemma folded her arms. “Such as?”

  “That she’s doing a lousy job of protecting you.”

  Jemma sucked in a breath. “You said what?”

  “Well, you’ve only been in the job a short while—it stands to reason she’s meant to look after you while you learn how to do the James Bond thing.” Maggie frowned at her parents’ expressions. “Don’t look at me like that. We pretend Jemma’s an ordinary civil servant, but we all know she isn’t. How many pen pushers go on self-defence courses and learn marksmanship? How many take trips at short notice to the Canaries and Rio?”

  Anger simmered in the pit of Jemma’s stomach. “And just what makes you think Ash is doing a lousy job?”

  “I’ve got eyes.” It was Maggie’s turn to fold her arms. “You came back from Tenerife with a bandage round your throat.” In reflex, Jemma’s fingers touched the recently healed cut. “You didn’t get that windsurfing. Then there’s this.” Maggie reached out and tugged up Jemma’s shirt, revealing the fading bruises. “Where was Miss Wonderful when you got that little lot, hm?”

  Her mother put a hand to her mouth. “Jemma.”

  Annoyed, Jemma yanked her shirt back down. “That had nothing to do with Ash not looking after me. If you must know, she’s saved my life several times over.”

  Her thoughts turned to Ash’s uncharacteristic behaviour. She never ran from anything, yet Maggie’s words had sent her fleeing? It didn’t make sense. “Dad, where are my car keys?”

  “On the hook in the kitchen.” He studied her. “I’ll open the garage doors for you, shall I?”

  “Please.” Jemma couldn’t look at Maggie—she was afraid she’d say or do something unforgivable.

  The keys to the Citroen Dyane were hanging in the kitchen just as her father had said. Jemma grabbed them and made her way round to her parents’ double garage. On the third attempt the engine started—not bad, considering it hadn’t had an outing for several months. Careful of the boxes and accumulated junk, she reversed out.

  “Jemma.” The open car window framed her father’s concerned face. “Is there any point in going after your friend? She’s driving a Lotus. If she doesn’t want you to catch up with her, you won’t.”

  “That’s what I’m banking on, Dad.” That deep down, Ash wants me to catch her.

  Her mother’s face joined his. “It was nice seeing you, love, even if things didn’t go as planned. Come again soon, and tell Ash she’s always welcome.” She frowned. “I hope she’s all right.”

  “So do I,” muttered Jemma. Then with a wave and a blown kiss, she turned her attention to the tricky task of backing out the drive.

  “WHERE ARE YOU?” asked Jemma.

  “Sitting in a field.” Ash sounded sheepish.

  “Did you say field?”

  “Yeah. With cows in.”

  That Ash had answered her mobile at last was a good sign, she decided. That Ash was attempting humour was even better.

  She had quickly realised that trying to track Ash down was hopeless—she could have ended up anywhere. So, after driving aimlessly for half an hour, she parked and tried contacting Ash by phone. It had taken her five attempts.

  “If I’m going to find you, you have to be more specific.” She crossed her fingers that Ash wouldn’t put her off, or worse, hang up on her.

  “The B269,” said Ash. “There’s a lay-by.”

  Not far, thought Jemma with relief. “There must be lots of lay-bys.”

  “The one with a white hotdog van parked at one end.”

  “Urk! You didn’t eat anything from it, did you?” Jemma swapped her phone to her other ear and switched on the ignition.

  “I’m not that crazy.”

  “Glad to hear it.” She glanced both ways and pulled out into the traffic. “Stay put, love.
I’ll be with you in a bit, Okay?”

  “Okay.” Ash rang off.

  As she drove, Jemma pondered what she should say. Should she tear Ash off a strip for rushing off without a word, or commiserate with her for Maggie’s rudeness. She turned onto the B269. A little of both, maybe.

  She came to a lay-by, but there was no hotdog van, so she drove on past and two miles further on found what she was looking for. She parked next to the deserted red sports car and got out, ignoring the disappointed gaze of the hotdog seller.

  Hm. No field with cows in. Unless it’s on the other side of that fence.

  Scrub and long grass fringed the gravelled stretch of lay-by. Jemma waded through it to the fence and peered over. There was indeed a field, and towards its far side several brown-and-white cows were chewing the cud.

  Jemma vaulted the fence and walked towards the brooding figure sitting on the grass. Ash’s arms were wrapped around one drawn up knee, on which her chin was resting.

  “Hey there,” called Jemma, avoiding a cowpat.

  Ash turned her head and looked at her. “Hey there yourself.”

  Jemma plopped down onto the grass beside her. Ash looked vaguely embarrassed and bemused, but otherwise okay. Jemma gave her a heartfelt hug. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.” To Jemma’s relief, Ash leaned into the hug and returned it. “You?”

  “I am now.”

  “Don’t know what came over me. Sorry. I … I just had to get out of there.”

  For a long moment, they held each other, then Jemma released Ash, sat back, and took in her surroundings. At that moment, a cow decided to answer the call of nature, raising its tail and producing a jet of steaming liquid.

  “Nice view,” said Jemma.

  “The countryside in all its glory.”

  Silence fell.

  “Your parents must think I’m crazy.” Ash grimaced. “Running off without a word.”

  “They were worried. Maggie told us what she said to you.” It was Jemma’s turn to grimace. “I can’t believe she was so rude.”

  Ash shrugged. “She was just looking out for you. It’s in the sister’s job description, I believe.”

  “Even so.”

  “I’m a big girl, Jemma. I can take care of myself. Normally your sister’s sniping wouldn’t have got to me, but today, for some reason …” She trailed off.

  A thought struck Jemma. “Aston.”

  Ash gave her a puzzled look. “What about him?”

  “You came straight from your appointment with him. He talked to you about Sam, didn’t he?”

  “As a matter of fact he did. Kept harping on about his death until I could have bashed his brains in.”

  “That explains it.”

  “It does?”

  “I noticed after my session yesterday I felt unsettled, off balance. In my case it was about Remington. That’s why I went to see him.”

  Ash’s brows drew together. “You’re saying he softened me up, so Maggie’s accusations about losing another partner if I’m not careful got through?”

  Maggie said that? Oh boy! Jemma nodded. “Counselling makes you drop your shields. It can take a little while to get them back up.” She chewed the inside of her lip. “I thought you were acting more subdued than usual when you arrived.”

  “I was feeling low,” admitted Ash. “All that stuff he brought up about Sam. Damn it. I knew seeing a quack was going to mess with my head.”

  “But you’re feeling better now, more … yourself?”

  Ash gave her a warm smile. “Yeah. It’s worn off. I don’t think Maggie would get the same reaction now.”

  She reached out an arm, and Jemma snuggled under it. They sat in contented silence, until a cow wandered closer, raised its tail, and began to produce a cowpat.

  “Oi.” Jemma waved her hand. Eyes widening with panic, it stopped midshit and bolted.

  “Now it’ll be constipated forever,” said Ash. “And need several sessions with Aston to get over the trauma.”

  Jemma chuckled. Ash must be feeling better.

  “Don’t blame Maggie,” said Ash, after a while. “She was just protecting you. If I was your big sis, I’d protect you too.”

  “I’m glad you’re not. My feelings for you definitely aren’t sisterly.”

  Ash mimed shock, then grinned and gave Jemma’s shoulders a squeeze. “Mine too.”

  Above them, dark clouds were gathering. Looks like it’s going to rain. As if the weather gods had heard her, small droplets began to fall.

  “We’d better get going.” Ash got to her feet and pulled Jemma up.

  “Yeah.” They walked back towards the fence. Ash helped Jemma over it, before clambering over it herself. The hotdog seller’s van had gone.

  At the sight of Jemma’s car, Ash froze. “Orange?”

  “Hey. I was feeling sunny that day.” Jemma put her hands on her hips. “You’re lucky I didn’t paint flower petals all over it. Want to make something of it?”

  Ash’s lips twitched. “No no. To each her own … Are you going to drive it back to your parents’ house, or bring it up to London?”

  “I don’t have anywhere to park it in London, so—”

  “You do now. There’s a parking spot free in the garage that goes with my flat.” Ash chuckled. “Can’t wait to see Ted’s face.”

  Jemma let that insult go. “Ted?”

  “The parking attendant.”

  “Ah.” The rain was heavier now, and Jemma hunched her shoulders against it and put her hand on the door handle. “I’ll take you up on that offer, then. It would be nice not to always have to get the tube or bus, or to depend on you to ferry me around.”

  “I don’t mind,” said Ash.

  “But I do.”

  Ash shrugged and slid into the Lotus’s driving seat. “Follow me,” she shouted across. Then she gave Jemma a wide grin. “I’ll drive slowly so you can keep up.”

  Chapter 7

  TED’S FACE WHEN he saw Jemma’s car had indeed been a picture.

  Ash stifled a smile at the memory and stretched out next to Jemma on the sofa. “Any plans for the evening?”

  Jemma looked up from the free local newspaper she had picked up from Ash’s doormat. “I thought we were going to the hospital.”

  A phone call to say that Janus was expected to regain consciousness at any moment had brought Ash much needed relief. The hospital had downgraded his status from critical to comfortable—at last something was going their way. Now if he could confirm that KA did indeed stand for Khaleb Abdusamad and give her a clue as to the Libyan’s whereabouts …

  “That won’t take long,” she said.

  “Hmm.” Jemma scratched her nose. “Friday night. We could go to the pictures.”

  “And snuggle in the back row?” Ash grinned. “We could. Got a film in mind?”

  “Let’s see.” Jemma turned to the paper’s entertainment section. “There’s that new one with Sandra Bullock.”

  Ash’s grin froze. “You’d like to see that?”

  Jemma nodded. “If it’s okay with you.”

  Sitting through two-and-a-half-hours of inanity wouldn’t compensate for Ash’s behaviour at Jemma’s parents’ house, but it was a start. “Okay.” Jemma’s pleased smile made the upcoming sacrifice worthwhile.

  The phone rang, and Ash rose and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Blade,” said a familiar voice.

  Thompson. A prickle of apprehension shot up her spine.

  “There’s no easy way to tell you this. Morand’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “Cork killed him.”

  A hand on her biceps, and Jemma’s voice asking, “Are you all right?” brought Ash back to her surroundings. “I’m okay,” she mouthed. Jemma looked a question mark at the speaker button on the phone, and Ash pressed it. “Sorry, boss. For a moment I thought you said Corky had killed Jeff.” Jemma’s eyes widened, and she put a hand to her mouth.

  “He
did.” Thompson’s voice echoed round the kitchen.

  “Jesus!” It was like a bad dream, but Ash was wide awake. “How?”

  “An enquiry’s underway as we speak. But it looks like Morand sneaked into Cork’s cell during shift change and untied his straitjacket. Must have thought their bond was strong enough that Cork would merely rough him up.”

  “That was a hell of a risk.”

  “Yes.” Thompson sighed. “He must have hoped that allowing Cork to complete his programming—as much as he could, anyway—would snap him out of it. The irony of it is, it did.”

  Ash blinked. “Corky’s sane?”

  “As the rest of us, according to Dr. Aston. Which isn’t saying much, of course. Pity, really. If he were still off his trolley he’d be unaware of what he’s done.”

  “Does he know why he killed Jeff?”

  “He believed he was saving Morand from a hostile.”

  Ash shuddered. And all the time Corky was killing his own partner.

  “Anyway, I thought you’d like to know.”

  “Thanks.” She bit her lip. “Can I see him?”

  “It won’t do any good. The debriefers have had a crack at him already, but we’re no closer to knowing the where, when, who, why, or how.”

  “For God’s sake, I didn’t mean interrogate him. Corky’s a friend.”

  There was a long pause then a chastened Thompson said, “Sorry, Blade. Of course you can see him. I’ll add your name to the visitor’s list.”

  Ash looked at Jemma. “Corky first, something to eat, then the hospital?” she mouthed. Jemma nodded. “Thanks,” she told Thompson.

  “Give my regards to Jemma.”

  “You just gave them yourself,” called Jemma.

  “Ah, you’re there? Sorry I had to spoil your leave again.”

  “Me too,” growled Ash.

  “Well. I’ll see about that visitor’s list.” With that he rang off.

  They returned to the sofa and regarded each other bleakly. Jemma ran a hand through her hair.

  “I can’t imagine what your friend must be going through, Ash.”

  “I can, unfortunately.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  Ash sighed and took Jemma’s hand. “No way to avoid it really, is there?”