The Barista’s Guide to Espionage

by Dave Sinclair

  He’d agreed, eagerly. Harry had said he understood there were to be no romantic connotations, but she didn’t think he believed it. She didn’t. For all her talk and self-flagellation, deep down she was captivated by the mysterious and dangerous stranger.

  “I ‘spose your wine’s alright, Harry,” Paul said after taking a sip. Eva hadn’t even seen him open the bottle. “Pretty bitter though.”

  Nancy snorted. “Says the guy who gets his wine from one-eyed blokes in seedy pubs.”

  Harry motioned to Paul. “You might want to let it breathe a bit.”

  Eva picked up the bottle and virtually snatched the glass out of Paul’s hand. She placed it delicately on the bench as one would with a ticking bomb. Poking the bottle in Harry’s direction she asked, “Is this legit?”

  Harry nodded.

  “Christ on a bike.” She cradled the bottle as if was a newborn. Eva addressed the visibly perturbed Paul, miffed at his wine being snatched away so suddenly. “This is,” she sighed, “an ’86 Grange.”

  “Couldn’t afford a new one?” Paul asked.

  Assessing Harry, Eva could tell he didn’t know if Paul was joking or not.

  Incredulously, she said, “It’s probably worth a few thousand quid.”

  Paul’s complexion turned pallid.

  Harry nodded. “Something like that.”

  Nancy sidled up to her and admired the bottle. In a stage whisper she said to Eva, “If you don’t marry him, I will.”

  Paul recovered enough to say, “Hey!”

  Eva slid into the tiny kitchen and opened a high cupboard. “I’ll put it in the decanter for a bit, shall I?”

  “We have a decanter?” Nancy asked.

  Eva waived it above her head “I gave it to you last Christmas. You thought it was a vase.”

  Nancy went to the fridge, pulled out several lagers and handed them about, including to Harry, who she hadn’t asked. She motioned everyone to sit on the lounges. “So Harry, you’re a bit well-known now, eh?” and promptly plopped next to him.

  “I guess so. It wasn’t intentional. Just kind of happened.”

  “Oh, so I gather from our girl here. You did a good thing, the whole city thanks you.” Nancy raised her bottle in salute. “Going to have a tell-all book or reality TV show next?”

  “Not really my style. I think there’s enough vapidity in the world, I’m pretty sure we don’t need any more, particularly with me involved.”

  She threaded her arm though his and leaned in. “So, family?”

  “Yes, I have one of those.”

  “Anyone in it?”

  “Parents. Two of them. A male and a female.”

  “Well, aren’t we getting somewhere?” Nancy grimaced. “Are they Australian too?”

  “Yes.”

  Nancy waited for more, but nothing came. She let out a frustrated sigh. “So what is it you do, Eva has no bloody idea.”

  “Nance!”

  “Oh come on, you don’t mind me asking do you, Harry?” She issued her trademark wicked wink. In spite of the unusual introductions, Harry didn’t seem offended. In fact, he appeared to like her nutty friends. She loved them, but realised they could be off-putting for newcomers.

  Paul was a man out of sync with time. His movements were slow, as were his reactions, but he somehow made it endearing, as if he was operating in his own timeline and was happy with that. Nancy was her Irish pocket rocket, fiercely loyal and loving. No one ever made the mistake of crossing her twice.

  “Acquisitions, mostly.”

  Nancy nodded. “She said you were evasive too. Acquisitions could be anything from antique teapots, to white slavery, to plutonium for a flux capacitor.” Nancy’s face took on a hard edge. “So how’s about you talk to us like we’re not idiots and give us some answers.”

  Harry might have figured out Nancy was straight to the point, but this was extremely direct. Eva wasn’t comfortable with her friend’s change of tack.

  “Let’s just say I’m in a business that has a lot of government dealings and contracts. I’m a small cog in the big machine and being evasive comes with the territory. I’m not being vague or misleading to be insensitive or deliberately obtuse, but there’s some important work going on, and unfortunately that requires some level of secrecy, at least initially, so my caginess has less to do with deception and more to do with protecting people.”

  Nancy nodded and frowned. She raised an appreciative eyebrow in Eva’s direction. “Good enough for me. I hope you like pot roast government boy Harry, because that’s what you’re getting.”

  “It smells good.”

  Nancy headed towards the kitchenette. She leaned towards Eva. “He’s got a gifted tongue. Always comes in handy.”

  For the first time Eva saw Harry blush.

  “Wait, wait,” Eva put down her knife and fork and wiped away a tear. “You just left him there?”

  Paul frowned. “What else could we do? We didn’t get him in, why the hell would we want to get him out?”

  Harry put down his empty glass, a huge grin creasing his red wine-stained lips. “Yes, but he was naked–”

  “Then he could find his own way out of the toilets.” Paul shrugged. “We weren’t stopping him.”

  “What time was this?”

  “A bit after eight. Everyone was coming into work, reception was rather busy. He was in quite the pickle.” Paul topped up his glass with the not-entirely-Bordeaux wine, seemingly having forgotten about his story.

  “And?”

  “Oh, right. So after a few minutes the door opens, he strolls out completely bollocking starkers, asks one of his subordinates for his coat, puts it on and strides out the front door with his head held high. If there’s one thing us private school boys can pull off, it’s false dignity in the face of adversity.”

  The three of them stared at Paul, imagining the scene, but not wholly believing it could happen in the Department of Treasury.

  Eva had to ask, “So how exactly did your HR manager get to be naked in the work toilets first thing on a Thursday?”

  “Uh, don’t know.” An expression slid across Paul’s face that said, maybe I should have asked. It only made Eva laugh harder.

  “Not exactly the end to the storly I was looking for,” Harry said.

  “Did you just say storly?” Nancy asked, punching him in the arm. “Lightweight.”

  Harry let out another riotous belly laugh. Eva liked his laugh. There was no pretence, no act. It was honest. He said, “I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in years, possibly ever.” He touched his cheeks. “My jaw’s sore.”

  The night had been filled with so much laughter. Eva and Harry had bonded while reminiscing about childhood TV back in Australia. They’d utterly bamboozled Nancy and Paul trying to explain the appeal of Monkey – a poorly dubbed Japanese live-action show starring a monkey born from an egg on a mountain top, which also starred a talking pig. When Eva and Harry had recited lines and re-enacted a slow motion kung-fu fight Nancy had brought out dessert in order to shut them up. That was when Paul had launched into his work story.

  Managing to compose himself, Harry said, “How long have you worked at Treasury, Paul?”

  “On and off for fifteen years.”

  “Off?”

  “When he sleeps,” Nancy answered for him.

  Harry stretched his arms above his head. “You know, back in the day anyone who worked for MI6 used to say they worked at Treasury.”

  All motion at the table stopped. Nancy’s and Paul’s features turned grey.

  “Harry…” Eva started.

  Still smiling, Harry either hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t cared about the sudden chill he’d brought to the table. “I’m just saying that’s what I heard somewhere.”

  “No, Harry… You don’t…” Eva turned to Nancy and said, “Look, Nance, I’m sorry, he didn’t…”

  Nancy waved her friend’s apology away. “He didn’t know.” She turned to Harry with a grin she reserved fo
r shopkeepers who advised they had nothing in her size. “Our sudden silence isn’t due to my husband’s wine. It’s just MI6 is a touchy subject in this house.” She steadied herself. “Paul’s father was executed as a spy in Warsaw in 1982.”

  All colour drained from Harry’s face. “Jesus, I’m so–”

  Nancy wasn’t finished. “You weren’t to know, but the whole spy thing is a bit of a minefield.”

  “Of course, of course.” Harry pursed his lips in apology to Paul who tilted his glass, as if to say, don’t worry about it.

  Paul did his best to appear nonplussed and licked the remainder of a delicious crème brûlée off his spoon. “So what’s it like to be the most famous man in London, Harry?”

  “I hardly think that’s the case. There were hundreds there, and I’m sure people wouldn’t have the foggiest–”

  “You’re a meme,” Paul said cutting in.

  “–and I…I’m a what?”

  “A meme. On the internet.” He paused. “A meme.”

  “Just because you keep saying it, Sweetie,” Nancy spoke quietly to her husband, “it doesn’t make it any clearer.”

  “Oh, right.” Paul reached over to the couch for his Lancing tablet computer. After a few moments of tinkering, he turned it around for all to see. It was a news site with the image seen throughout the world; Harry standing above the first of the attackers, with bold lettering: Not. In. My. Town.

  “That’s a meme?” Harry asked.

  Paul grinned. “Nah, this is.”

  He scrolled down. The same picture, but the youth’s face had been replaced with the mayor, who hadn’t fared well in the aftermath of the riot. The appalling emergency response was put down to computer glitches and understaffed services after severe budget cuts. Paul scrolled through the rest, the PM, the London Eye, the King, the Wimpy Burger logo, Hitler and various members of One Direction all came in for the Harry-punching treatment. The One Direction picture made Eva laugh.

  “So that’s a meme, then,” Harry said. “Right.” He seemed genuinely shaken.

  “There’s hundreds of these, check it out, you’ve got your own hashtag too, and about a bazillion fake accounts, and…”

  “He gets it, Paul,” Eva said.

  “Oh, right.” He pointed to the TV and asked his wife. “Mind if I–?”

  Nancy tutted. “Go on, news junky.” She gently pushed her husband. “It’s just going to be the same again. The riot’s all they can talk about at the moment. At least it’s a break from the usual who’s Horatio Lancing crap and, oh, another story about another government he’s helped out and now here’s a cat that counts. Repeat.”

  Harry choked on his wine. Eva should have warned him about the impending hangover but decided to leave it. She suspected he didn’t get many chances to let loose.

  Paul kissed the top of his wife’s head and went searching for the remote. “I know it’s here somewhere.”

  “Not a fan of Lancing, Nancy?” Harry asked. He kept his pleasant air, but Eva detected an underlying current of seriousness. Him again?

  “Like most plebs, I’m still a bit sceptical, way less than at the start, but I still don’t think he’s as good as they make out, you know? Loads of businesses, charity work, propping up struggling European countries, all good, right, but it doesn’t affect me one dot, so why should I care who the bloke is?”

  Eva filled her glass with Paul’s toxic wine, knowing full well she’d pay for it the next day. “You didn’t seem to mind when your charity got a slice of the funding pie.”

  The expression Nancy gave her was one only good friends could give each other when they’d been caught out. One of Nancy’s side projects at HSBC was to run a charity for women’s literature in the Middle East. They’d received a grand from the Lancing Foundation.

  “Yes,” she said reluctantly. “There was that. Made me think Lancing was a chick. I mean, we’ve never seen her, heard her speak, could be.”

  Paul became animated. “Could be a giant space monkey for all we know.”

  Harry waved his glass in Paul’s direction. “How cool would that be?”

  “I know, right! Now where’s that sodding remote?”

  Nancy shook her head. “Don’t encourage him.”

  Harry grinned with good nature. “So, that’s your take away from all this? You’re happy to take his money when it suits but you don’t care about the good he’s trying to do? Just leave that betterment of the world to someone else?”

  She recognised the change in Nancy’s face, but she doubted Harry did. Her eyes became slits and Eva could see she was about to hurl a bucket of abuse. Before she could, Harry leaned over and kissed Nancy on the top of the head totally disarming her. “It’s alright, politically I should put the fact that he’s ensuring private corporations stay out of African water supplies at the top of my list, but if I was to be honest my favourite is taking down that minister for culture who was secretly funding the militant anti-immigration group. What can I say, I’m still a troublemaker at heart.”

  Nancy did her best to stifle a smirk. She failed dismally. Coyly, she said, “I can be a bit opinionated sometimes.”

  “Nooooooo,” Harry said.

  “Listen Buster, do we know each other well enough for you to be taking the piss?”

  Harry tilted his head. “I’d like to think so.”

  “Alright then.” Nancy unleashed her pinball smile, only slightly lessened by the coriander between her teeth. “I like a man who can stand his ground. I think you’re overqualified.”

  When Harry offered his help to find the remote with Paul, Nancy gave Eva’s leg a pinch. Her eyes went wide and she nodded in Harry’s direction. She’d given her approval. A first.

  Paul made a passing comment about how he wanted to show how the newsreader on CNN looked like a cartoon turtle and Harry laughed his manly laugh. His face lit up and Eva let out the smallest of sighs. Eva clenched her eyes closed. No, no, no. She wasn’t developing feelings for Harry. It wasn’t possible. He was far too reserved and measured for her. And nice. Notwithstanding his baseball bat-wielding behaviour, he seemed far more introverted than the usual blokes she hooked up with. Was that such an awful thing?

  Eva’s dating history was patchy at best. Or as Nancy had referred to it on more than one occasion, ‘a toxic waste dump of losers and abusers’. She did love a bad boy. Harry certainly didn’t fit that mould. Badass, yes, but not a bad boy. Could she suspend her bad-boy addiction, even temporarily? What would it be like to be with a nice guy?

  Maybe she should give Harry a chance? Nancy had certainly dropped enough hints. He did have a lovely mouth. It could have been the cabernet sauvignon merlot pinot, but from deep within, Eva sensed the long dormant warmth of attraction clawing at some sadly neglected parts of her anatomy. She highly suspected it wasn’t the wine talking.

  “Isn’t it time you were heading off Harry?” Eva asked.

  “Uh, is it?” Harry asked, confused. “Alright.” He stepped away from hunting behind the cushions and adjusted his shirt.

  Paul let out a childish, “Awwww.”

  Nancy displayed her best poker face, which is to say, she made it perfectly clear that Eva was ruining it with Harry. She was an easy beat at card games.

  Collecting his jacket, Harry went to shake Paul’s hand, but Paul had other ideas. Leaping to his feet, Paul wrapped his tree trunk arms around Harry and enveloped him in a hug with so much force Harry’s feet lifted off the ground.

  Harry leaned down to hug Nancy. Before he could release her, Nancy held him long enough to whisper something in his ear that Eva was unable to make out. He stepped back and gave Nancy a terse nod of understanding. Eva fought the feeling to roll her eyes at her best friend. Subtle, she wasn’t.

  Harry thanked Nancy and Paul profusely and complimented them on their hospitality, fantastic meal and wine. Though, Eva was certain the last one was him being polite, especially after the Grange.

  On the way out Harry paused at the
entry to the lounge. He picked up a small black device behind the door. “Paul, I seem to have found your remote control.”

  “My beloved!” Paul said, launching himself at it. “How the hell did it get there?”

  Harry shrugged. Eva led him quickly out of the flat and closed the door behind her. They were motionless on the small landing, staring at one another.

  “Well.” Eva rocked on her heels.

  “Well,” Harry said with a slight nod.

  They both grinned.

  Kiss me. Kiss me now you fucker before I change my mind.

  “I really like them. They’re so loving and…real. Totally utterly one hundred percent real. You have no idea how much I miss that, Eva.”

  She liked it when he said her name.

  “You’ve created a couple more fans,” she said not knowing what else to say.

  “As long as they don’t create any memes about me and by meme, I mean my meme.” He grinned, showing off his red wine-tinged teeth. “Thank you, Eva, for dinner. Tonight of all nights, I really needed this.”

  “What’s so special about tonight?”

  He tilted his head and leaned down. “This.”

  Gently lifting her chin, he kissed her tenderly on the lips. Eva was sure she’d never been kissed so lightly, so delicately. Perhaps it was the uniqueness of his touch, or the man that made her desperate for more. Either way, it worked.

  In a whisper, Eva said, “Screw it, Geronimo.”

  “Come again?”

  Eva answered with her lips. Like some damsel in a 1950s Hollywood flick, she melted into his arms. There was no denying it. She’d fallen for Harry and there was no going back.

  Gripping the back of his head, she forced the kiss into less tame, more lustful territory. He seemed to approve of the change of direction.

  Hands slid around bodies, legs wove amongst legs, and kisses became more frantic, more passionate.

  Unexpectedly Harry broke from the embrace and breathlessly said, “Eva, before we–”

  Interrupting him, she kissed him hard and he fought to get his words out.

  “–I have to tell you something–”

  The more she kissed him, the more his resolve fell away.