City Under Siege

by R. J. Prescott

  “If you think it will help, then I’ll make up the bed in the spare room. It might be easier anyway. If the Russians bring in their own man to work with the company, it’s not going to be safe trying to feed information back to MI5. This way, it will be easier giving them what they need out of hours,” I said softly.

  If he was surprised by my change of mind, he didn’t show it. Instead, he simply studied me through narrowed eyes, like he was trying to figure something out.

  “I’ll have Will pack up my equipment and some clothes and have it waiting in the car when Eli collects us.”

  “What do we do about their tech? You said I should assume the house was bugged and that they’re listening all the time,” I pointed out.

  “We’ve already been over the house, and yes, it’s bugged. But we leave them where they are. Better to feed them false information than to give them a reason to suspect you. You don’t need to give any Oscar-worthy performances. Just act like I’m your security and that you don’t know me that well. It’s not that far from the truth. You have to assume they’re listening outside of the house as well. The car is a safe place to talk, but only when we’re moving and a few miles away,” he instructed.

  I was tensed and already exhausted at the thought of having to live under a microscope, and as time ticked by, I realised that the car journey wasn’t helping. Stuck in the circle of hell that was central London congestion, I began to fidget, and I had no idea what to do with my hands. At first, I placed them on either side of me. But then I realised how close Tom’s hand was as it rested beside mine. When I started fantasising about how his calloused fingertips would feel, I moved them again. Finally, Tom’d had enough. As he’d done yesterday when he reached beneath the table, he passed me a sweet. Slowly, I peeled open the wrapper and popped the buttery toffee into my mouth. It wasn’t the most nutritious breakfast I’d ever had, but it made me smile.

  “Why toffee?”

  He was staring intently at the slow-moving vista and didn’t spare me a glance. “What are you thinking about right now?”

  “Honestly? I’m trying not to slurp with a mouth full of toffee and saliva, and I’m fighting the urge to pick it out of my gums before I’ve even finished eating it,” I said, and I swore I saw the smallest hint of a smile.

  “Exactly,” he replied. “Which is the exact opposite of what was probably racing through that pretty head of yours a minute ago.”

  I marvelled at how right he was. As I let the deliciously sweet treat roll around my mouth, I realised something else. All the groundwork he put in this morning to put things back on a professional footing, unravelled the minute he handed me the confectionery.

  “How come a hard-arsed, tough-as-nails SAS soldier has a pocket full of toffees anyway?” I asked, still holding onto a grin.

  “Trade secret,” he replied gruffly, and went back to ignoring me.

  Fifteen minutes later and we were pulling up in front of the office. This time Eli stepped out of the car and opened my door for me.

  “He has a sweet tooth,” he whispered to me conspiratorially as Tom let himself out. “If he gets pissy with you again, find him some chocolate. He’s like a premenstrual teenager when he doesn’t get his fix.”

  “You know he’d probably demote you for telling me that,” I whispered back.

  “Nah, kick my arse at best,” Eli replied. He flashed me a cheeky grin, and with a quick wink, he was back in the car and on his way.

  “You know, there’s underground parking spaces for executives here if he doesn’t want to drive around.” I said.

  “He’s fine,” Tom replied dismissively. Of course, he probably already knew every inch of this place. “Ready?”

  “Not in the slightest,” I replied.

  “Good, then let’s go.”

  We walked through the heavy entrance door to reception, my gut churning with every step.

  “Good morning, Alfred,” I said to the concierge. “This is Mr Harper. He’s new here and will be working alongside me from now on. If I send down his details later, can I trouble you to have an ID pass made up for him please?”

  “No problem at all, Miss Tatem. I’ll have it waiting for you tomorrow morning,” he replied warmly. “Hope your first day goes well,” he said, addressing Tom.

  “Thanks,” Tom replied, and placing his hand on the small of my back, manoeuvred me towards the elevators. He left it there as we waited for the lift to descend. Although it was impossible to feel the warmth of his touch through my thick winter coat, it was reassuring nonetheless. At least until the doors opened.

  “What the hell is this?” Aunt Elizabeth asked, thrusting the print out of an emailed memo into my hand. “My office now!” she demanded.

  Repressing the urge to give her my middle finger while simultaneously telling her to “fuck off,” I sighed and walked into what felt like the elevator of impending doom. My only comfort was the giant of a man behind me who promised to have my back.

  Sarah

  “When I said ‘my office now,’ I meant her, not you,” Aunt Elizabeth said, addressing Tom sternly. He crossed his huge arms over his chest, making him even more intimidating, and actually smirked at her.

  “I’d like him to stay, thank you. I think this concerns him as much as us,” I replied.

  “Why? Does he perhaps own shares in the company I don’t know about?” she asked sarcastically.

  “I’ll be honest. I don’t really understand your concern. You wanted me take the helm of Tatem Shipping to keep share prices afloat, and that’s exactly what I’m doing,” I pointed out.

  “What I wanted was for you to show up, smile nicely for pictures, and use your voting options in the best interests of the company.”

  “And who exactly am I supposed to listen to you when it comes to the best interests of the company? Because from where I’m sitting, the majority of the board can’t seem to agree on anything.”

  “You certainly don’t listen to some little upstart who doesn’t know the first thing about this business. I’ve certainly never heard his name in shipping circles,” she said. Her catty tone was scathing, but it didn’t seem to bother Tom in the slightest.

  “Thank you for your concern, but as you pointed out, Tom doesn’t have shares or voting rights and, therefore, no vested interest in the company. The reason that you’ve never heard of him is that he isn’t involved in transport or logistics. He’s a shipping lawyer who was recommended to me by a friend of mine. Tom’s been working in Oslo for the last five years. He’s starting a new contract here in London in three months, and as he has a little time on his hands, he was kind enough to allow me to contract him on a freelance basis, not to make decisions for me, but to interpret what I’m being told into layman’s terms.”

  “Why would you not just ask for my advice? I’ve been the guiding hand behind this firm for over thirty years. Besides which, we’re family,” she argued, becoming more and more venomous at my refusal to back down easily.

  “With the greatest of respect, it’s not advice I need, it’s clarity. You want me to act in the best interests of the business. Don’t you think I should understand what I’m hearing and reading before I make decisions?” I asked, becoming increasingly exasperated. Sneaking a quick peek at Tom, who’d been completely silent, I expected him to share my look of irritation. If anything, he simply seemed amused.

  “I want you to do as you’re told and stop worrying about things that don’t concern you. You don’t get to waltz into an empire I’ve spent my life building and poke and prod around things you know nothing about. Is it too much to ask that, for once in your life, you show some gratitude for a life of privilege that my hard work has given you and do as you’re asked?” She was practically screaming at me. I was so shocked from the tidal wave of malice, that I took a step back. It would be wrong to say that I was hurt. I’d have to have some semblance of feeling towards her for that. Stunned would be more appropriate. Stunned that Tom’s presence was enough for h
er to drop any veil of civility between us, especially with Tom himself as witness.

  I was still speechless when she seemed to collect herself as she patted down her flawless silver bobbed hair.

  “Regardless of my personal feelings on the subject, the company doesn’t sanction hirings that don’t have board approval. So, I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if you thank Mr Harper for his time and show him out.” She had the audacity to smile as she said it, as though that creepy expression could completely erase the last thirty seconds. After an awkward pause, my reply was barely more than a whisper.

  “Tom isn’t an employee of Tatem Shipping. He’s contracted to me. I will take care of his fee personally, so the board’s approval is no longer an issue. And if you expected me to be a society puppet for the next two years, I’m afraid you don’t know me at all. What you always called wilful and disobedient, I call independent and strong-minded. I’m grateful for everything you do, and I hope we can find some middle ground together, but I won’t be railroaded. Ever. I didn’t bend for my father, and I won’t bend for you,” I replied coolly and calmly. Her expression told me I may have won the battle, but I hadn’t won the war.

  “Very well. If that’s your final word on the subject, let’s see if we can find this middle ground that you speak of. After two years, when market shares are stable, if we find that we cannot work cohesively together, I’ll make you an offer for your shares. Does that seem reasonable?” she asked. It did, surprisingly, as nothing that ever came from her mouth had sounded reasonable before.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Tom held open the door to Aunt Elizabeth’s office and waited for me to walk through it before shutting it gently behind him. He followed me to my office, and only when I collapsed at my desk with my head buried in my arms did he speak.

  “A lawyer?”

  “I had a brain fart,” I replied. “It was literally the only explanation I could think of. We should have worked out more details for our backstory before we came in.”

  “You did great. You were quick thinking and calm. Totally believable if it weren’t for the fact that I look nothing like a lawyer.”

  “And what exactly are lawyers supposed to look like?” I asked with amusement.

  “I don’t know, but not like me. Maybe I should get some glasses,” he suggested.

  I lifted my head and took a moment to appreciate his fine form in a suit, and damn it was fine. The suit wasn’t bespoke, but that didn’t make a blind bit of difference. The charcoal jacket and crisp white shirt stretched snuggly over broad shoulders that tapered down into a flat, washboard stomach. His military-looking watch, the one that looked like it could do everything from tell the time to remote land a jet plane, had been replaced with a neat steel strapped timepiece. I didn’t get much further than that when I glanced up at his face and realised I was totally busted. He’d clocked me blatantly checking him out, and feeling my cheeks flood with colour, I buried my head once again to cover my embarrassment. My morning was clearly going from bad to worse. All I needed was another encounter with Vasili, and the day from hell would be complete.

  “Why didn’t you say anything in there?” I asked, as the use of my brain cells came back to me one by one.

  “Have you even met a soldier before? I’m pretty sure, as soon as I open my mouth, she’s going to realise I’m not a lawyer.”

  “You act like you’ve spent your entire career in the trenches. You’re an officer, surely you’ve spent time at mess dinners and all that stuff, talking shit with your superiors.”

  “I don’t bullshit with anyone, Buttercup. The SAS isn’t like any other regiment. I have a degree, which is why I joined the army as an officer, but I was promoted because of how I perform in combat. If you want me to bullshit your aunt into thinking I’m something I’m not, you’re out of luck. You want her silenced and incapacitated with a single throat punch, I’m your man,” he told me, matter-of-factly.

  The thought of him being my man in any capacity made parts of me come to life that I didn’t even know worked anymore. Even testy, sarcastic, and outright grumpy, my attraction to him was almost indescribable.

  Electric.

  Explosive.

  Addictive.

  My reaction to his presence was abnormal. Fear should override everything else, but it didn’t. If anything, it heightened the magnetism. His strength made me feel protected. In his presence, I could almost believe I was safe. It was a delusion of course. Ultimately, I was aware that I was expendable. If it came down to a choice, his mission, his country would always be first. The knowledge did nothing to lessen the chemistry between us. It only served to make him more honourable.

  “This is never going to work you know,” I told him softly.

  “Of course it is. Your aunt will believe what you tell her to believe, and who cares if she doesn’t? The Russians will think it’s a cover story to explain away your security. Stop borrowing worry. You did great with her today. Confrontations with the old bitch probably happen all the time. No point stressing over the next one,” he replied, making everything sound so easy.

  “I don’t get how she found out about it so fast. She was waving an email bearing my name that didn’t come from me.”

  “Best guess would be MI5. You can’t back out if you’re already committed.”

  “Shit! You think they deliberately threw me under the bus with her without giving me a chance to introduce you myself, without consulting me first?” I asked, feeling pretty pissed off, not only that they were making decisions like that without my permission, but also that they apparently had unfettered access to my email.

  “Like I said, best guess. But it’s done now, so let’s get on with it. I want to go over every shipping manifest for the past three months and for the next three months, but I want to do it discretely. We’re looking for any entries regarding shipments that may have come from Russia or countries close to it. Once we have those we need to look at the cargo manifests and compare them with dock records for anomalies. The Russians gave you one Company name, but they could be running this operation through any number of shell corporations. If we can locate any of the dirty shipments and track them, we’ll find what we’re looking for,” he said, bringing everything back to business.

  “I have access to all of that, but we’re talking hundreds of entries. The direct shipments are easy, but few of them are ever direct. They stop at as many ports as possible to pick up and drop off cargo. You’re looking for things like containers weighing more as they arrive in dock than they’re listed as weighing on the manifest. It’s going to take us weeks,” I explained.

  “Well, let’s get started before the Russians install their own man and things get a lot more complicated,” he replied.

  “I’m assuming it’s okay for us to talk freely in this office?” I said.

  “Bit fucking late now, wouldn’t you say?” he replied. I could only imagine the look of horror on my face, because he actually smirked.

  “Like I would have let you keep yapping if there was a chance this room was bugged.” Amusement coloured his tone.

  “Crash thoroughly swept the place first thing this morning, posing as one of the cleaning staff. It was clean, and it’ll be checked daily. MI5 installed a micro camera into your desk lamp. As and when you’re asked to sign anything, place the papers directly under the lamp and try and go through each page slowly so the tech guys have got a couple of seconds of frame on each page. That should be enough for them to work through the stuff later. They’ve also installed a blocker in here to stop signals being transmitted from the room, so your phone will pretty much be useless while you’re here,” he explained.

  “Great, so not even YouTube and Facebook can save me. If the Russians don’t kill me, boredom might,” I deadpanned.

  “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

  “If it goes along the lines of ‘suck it up, buttercup,’ I swear to God I’ll be the one doing the throat
punching,” I replied, and he actually laughed.

  “It’s a miracle! You do smile after all!” I exclaimed, make him instantly scowl.

  “When they train you guys, do they teach you that bad-arse glare and how to repress a smile? I have visions of you being tickled by your instructors while you try and hold a straight face,” I teased.

  “Of course,” he replied. “And after a hard day of blowing shit up and shooting people in the head, we toddle on back to the barracks for tea and biscuits.”

  “I totally thought so.” I nodded. “You should try a cucumber face mask with the tea. It’s very refreshing.”

  “You are different from how I thought you’d be, you know? I literally have no idea what’s going to come out of your mouth from one minute to the next.”

  By different, I, of course, interpreted that to mean he thought I was wonderfully novel, creative, and bohemian. I was nothing if not delusional.

  “Don’t worry. My dad and brother reminded me often of how strange I am. But what you call different, I call unique. I don’t mind being different. It sure as shit beats being the same as everyone else. Five generations of Tatems have been grey elephants. I guess I’m the Elmer.”

  “The what?” he asked.

  “Elmer! You know, like the children’s book. He’s a multi-coloured patchwork elephant, but all his family are grey. He paints his body like everyone else to blend in, but he hates being the same and learns to love his colours. I’m Elmer.” I beamed as I explained it to him, totally amazed with myself for having come up with such a brilliant analogy.

  He bent his head forward and pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a headache coming on.

  “This is going to be a long couple of months,” he muttered under his breath, but I was already wondering where I could shop for a stuffed elephant.