The Barista’s Guide to Espionage

by Dave Sinclair

  “The man can keep a secret.”

  “Indeed.”

  “What’s the big threat? I mean, he’s a successful businessman, he does a ridiculous amount of charity work, his companies pay taxes in the countries they operate in. Smeg, all of London has a man-crush on him right now, he stopped a riot and made everyone fall in love with their city again. He’s a hero any way you slice it. As far as this secrets business is concerned, he’s only forcing shady politicians to do good things. What’s the problem?”

  There was a subtle shift in his eyes. The grin remained, but there was a hardening in him. “The problem, Ms Destruction, is that when one man deliberately sets out to steal governmental secrets, it’s doubtful he’s doing it for a lark. He’s deliberately accumulating the most sensitive of governmental files, for what end, we’re not sure, but let me assure you, it’s incredibly unlikely to be about paying the right amount of tax or feeding the needy. The man has an agenda, it’s apparent in all that he does.”

  Eva tried not to show the surprise. It echoed her own thoughts right before she had boarded.

  “But he does all the charity work and he saved a city when the authorities didn’t. Some might think you’re a touch cynical.”

  “You’ve summed me up perfectly. Some would suggest in my line of work that would be an asset.”

  She could see his point. It didn’t mean she liked it. Or him, for that matter. Cynical. Misogynistic. Aggressive. He was virtually the anti-Harry.

  They reached the top of the structure and lapsed into silence again. The spy placed his hand on hers. She flinched and balled her fists. He wisely retracted his hand. He straightened his back and gave a nod.

  “Ms Destruction, promise me one thing. If you decide not to trust me and select not to supply any information, I will understand. You seem like a woman of great integrity…”

  It was obviously a line and they both knew it.

  “…but promise me one thing – you’ll be careful. Whether you choose to believe it or not, Lancing is a dangerous man. Cogs are spinning in the background, he has grand plans that span the globe. He’s lighting the fuse to something gargantuan and you don’t want to be anywhere near it when it goes off. This is me as a human being, not a member of His Majesty’s Secret Service.” He leaned in. “Eva, look out for yourself. He’s not the man you think he is.”

  As much as she was inclined to, she couldn’t dismiss the statement out of hand. It was the earnestness of the delivery that made her actually listen to the words, even though she’d ultimately ignore them. One day the world would figure out that telling Eva not to do something never resulted in anything good.

  She crossed her arms firmly against her chest as an act of defiance, and so he couldn’t cop another look. At least he had the good sense not to try to talk her around again. They rode the remainder of the ride quietly. When it came to an end he gave her a white card with a single phone number, no name.

  Eva turned it over a few times. “Does this turn into a jet ski?”

  “No.”

  “A hovercraft?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “A hang glider?”

  “I have a feeling you’ve watched far too many films. No, it is simply a phone number, you call it, I answer.”

  “It’s a bit low tech.”

  “What can I say? I’m an old-fashioned kind of fellow.”

  “So I’ve discovered.”

  He extended his hand and out of reflex Eva shook it. He clicked his heels, gave a slight bow and departed at the exact instant the doors opened. Still in a daze, it took her a moment before she left. A large group of tourists were eagerly waiting for her to get out of the way and rushed past her.

  By the time the crowd cleared, the spy was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You look flushed,” Horatio said as he opened the limo door.

  Eva waved the statement away and kissed him on the cheek. She tried to show no outward signs, but the spy had rattled her. Everything had happened so quickly, the riot, finding out about Horatio, then his coming out to the world even before she’d really gotten to know him. It had all happened so fast. Her feet not only hadn’t touched the ground, she wasn’t even sure where the ground was any more.

  Eva didn’t even hear the limo. One moment she’d had her head down reading her book, and the next a car door had opened in front of her. The Lancing Corporation were big on their environmental credentials which apparently extended to their now-former CEO turning up in a hybrid limo. At least it wasn’t a stretch, but it was still on the large side.

  “Good morning, Horatio.” At least she got the name right.

  He gave her one of his beaming grins. “I trust you slept well?”

  “After I took care of things, yeah.”

  “Things?” He gave a slight shake of his head.

  “Yeah…things,” Eva replied wiggling her head from side to side and opening her eyes wide.

  He still didn’t get it.

  “Uh, because we were getting frisky and there was no payoff and a girl’s gotta sleep…”

  Horatio shook his head again, but abruptly stopped. He got it. The expression on his face was less one of shock, more embarrassment. Bless.

  Then she had a thought. Oh god, he’s not a virgin is he? If he had spent all his time in his mysterious bunker building an empire maybe he never found time for the opposite sex. Eva didn’t have the time or patience to train someone up from scratch. She tried to bury the thought, but it remained there, like a splinter in the back of her brain.

  To change the subject, Eva asked, “Where are we off to?” a little too eagerly.

  “Ah, now that’s a secret.”

  Great, she thought. More secrets.

  Noticing her downcast expression, Horatio added, “You remembered to bring your passport?” Eva nodded. “We’ll pick up a couple of things at the airport. Let’s just say you’ll need a new bathing suit, thermal gear, hiking boots and a taste for adventure. I hope you like things fermented.”

  “So, Iceland then?” Eva asked.

  Horatio’s face fell. “How the hell…? Have you been there before?”

  “No. I just read a lot.” She sheepishly held up her book. “Hiking, could be anywhere, I guess, well except the Netherlands. The swimsuit and the hiking stuff don’t usually go together, so that led me to thermal outdoor pools and hot tubs. Then the fermented food closed the deal. They’re mad for it, apparently.”

  The disappointment was palpable. He’d obviously spent time planning the surprise and she had come in and popped his metaphorical balloon. Compelled to say something, she said, “At least it wasn’t Paris. Whisking a girl off to la Ville Lumière is a cliché in the extreme.” Rolling her eyes to emphasise the point, she patted his arm. Eva smiled and wrinkled her nose. It did the trick and his shoulders straightened. His demeanour brightened and he cordially motioned with his hand to the limo.

  Did she just placate his ego? What the hell was she turning into? This wasn’t what she was about. It wasn’t in her nature to care if the man she was with felt at ease. That was his issue. She was herself, damn anyone who had a problem with that. She’d learned early on to be true to herself and moulding herself to fit a relationship was fraught with danger. Her partner, or more likely, Eva herself, wound up hating who she was trying to be. It had been many years since she’d even tried to be anyone but herself. She sure as hell wasn’t going down that track again.

  Attempting to dismiss the thought, she tried to focus on what the day held. It wasn’t every day someone picked her up to fly her to another country in an effort to woo her. It was foreign in all sorts of ways.

  The spy had rattled her, but she was determined to not let it affect her. She’d make up her own damned mind about Horatio. If she discovered things she didn’t like it could all change, but so far she’d liked what she’d seen. More than liked.

  Eva was still going through the motions of weighing up Horatio’s pros and
cons, but already knew where her heart was leading. She was developing feelings for a man unlike any she’d known before and she couldn’t get enough of him.

  Yes, he was ruffling feathers around the world but he seemed to be doing it for the betterment of the world, not himself. The morning newspaper had summed it up nicely. ‘Lancing is like Snowden with an agenda and Assange with charisma’. She liked that. A lot.

  Eva snuggled into the luxurious surroundings. If the limo wasn’t new, it was certainly newly appointed. It even had that new car smell. There were plenty of computer screens and other technology fastened to the interior, but they were thankfully all turned off.

  The limo set off silent and smooth, heading out of Westminster. It floated weightlessly above the road.

  She cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Is this meant to impress me?”

  “Would a tandem bike have been better?”

  “Actually, that would have been kinda funny.”

  “I briefly contemplated it, but peddling to Iceland would have been a bitch. You’d have to have done most of the hard work.”

  “So, Mr Bigshot, travel by limo much?”

  “Quite a bit, it’s my mobile office when I need.”

  “Even though you quit?”

  “One of the things I negotiated. I also kept a stapler.”

  She stared at the traffic. “Why did you?”

  “It was a really nice one, hardly ever jammed.”

  Eva regarded him flatly. “No, why did you quit?”

  “To be honest, the business was practically running itself and I got into the philanthropy side of things and found there were far too many roadblocks, or my funds were being pilfered by corrupt governments. I used my influence to see that didn’t happen. I enjoyed it, far more than I thought, then I decided to go full time, as it were.”

  “Caring for the starving is a noble pursuit, but it’s hardly the same as stealing state secrets and threatening governments.”

  “They are one and the same, Eva. They shouldn’t be, but they are. When governments channel aid money to build a bigger palace or buy another yacht, then that’s the same as forcing their people into a camp and watching them starve. When officials take a bribe to look the other way while a multi-national corporation pillages their resources and exploits their citizens, leaving the poor with nothing, it’s the same. People should expect more from their leaders, but most of them stopped leading long ago. It’s all about re-elections and taking cash from big business.”

  “You’re big business.”

  “Was, but yes, you have a point. There were plenty of times I could have set up a factory or opened a new market if I simply supported a particular party or politician. I chose not to but, sadly, I’m the minority. Politicians are about lining their own pockets and ignoring their own people. If the people need someone else to look out for them, then fine, I’ll take the job. I’m the guy with the bottomless chequebook, so if it’s not me, who will?”

  “Nobody uses chequebooks any more.” Eva issued a smirk, quickly followed by a frown. “So, what’s the end goal here? You have all these secrets that you intend to, ah, let’s call a spade a bloody shovel, blackmail governments with, is that it?”

  “Not really, no. It’s a small component. Basically all I want governments to do is what they said they’d do. Care for the people. If that means bandying about some truths, and they are truths, so a particular government concerns itself with the poor and the environment, so be it. It’s all for the greater good. My threats were only ever meant to be private, but when they hadn’t garnered a reply I was forced to go public and all hell broke loose. That’s when the governments of the world began baying for my blood.”

  “Can you blame them? You can’t go around blackmailing the world, Horatio. You earned a squillion brownie points as the face of the Battle of Trafalgar, but it won’t be enough. To some you’re still going to be a hero, others a pariah and to others, especially governments, you’ll be public enemy number one. You have to see that, surely?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “Western governments have changed in the last few decades. Compromise is a now a four-letter word. It’s seen as weakness. Everyone’s too busy shouting to hear anyone else. The problem isn’t that politicians aren’t talking, it’s that none of them are listening. They’re polarised, refuse to negotiate. They’re hell-bent on ideological stubbornness while people starve and die. They don’t care about who elected them, after all, they’re not the ones who funded their elections, that’s big business. So where do you think their loyalties lie? I don’t want power, Eva, I only want politicians to listen to their people again.”

  Regardless of Harry stepping down as the head of Lancing Corp, Eva assumed he would still hold influence over the media arms. Notwithstanding the nice stapler, he would still have connections to his former organisation. If he wanted an article or a favourable opinion piece, there was no doubt he would hold enough sway to have it at the click of his fingers. Harry was not a man to leave such things to chance.

  It sounded too good to be true. The spy had been so adamant that Horatio wasn’t what he seemed. Even if it was all factual, who was to say down the track Horatio’s good deeds couldn’t be used for more disreputable purposes? Or what if he changed his mind and decided that supporting only the good was boring him and self-interest was more fun?

  Eva drummed her fingernails on her jeans. “So Mr Bottomless Chequebook, what’s your limo driver’s name?”

  “Come again?”

  “Your driver. If you travel so much, do you actually talk to the help?”

  Horatio shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

  He pressed a button on his armrest. A low whir emanated from the front of the vehicle and the partition lowered revealing the back of a man’s head. Closely cropped grey hair sat neatly under a driver’s cap.

  “How goes it, Mark?”

  “Fine, thank you, Horatio. Good day for flying by the looks of it. The plane’s prepped and ready, so we’re on schedule for departure.”

  There was no hiding the smug expression on Horatio’s face. “Mark here has a very bright son.” He raised his voice. “Tom, isn’t it, Mark?”

  “Yes Sir, Tom.”

  “Well Tom is exceptionally gifted, top five percent, but his family were struggling to pay his tuition. That’s why Mark is my chauffeur, amongst other things. Before, he was working three separate jobs.”

  Horatio leaned over and whispered to Eva, “He doesn’t know that I’ve organised for his next pay to have a little bonus that means his son doesn’t have to worry about his tuition or anything about his education ever again.”

  She folded her arms. “Stop making it hard for me to hate you.”

  The Gulfstream touched down like a cotton ball landing on a pillow. Eva had to look out the window to confirm they were actually on the ground. The flight had been wonderful. There were no flight attendants and she hadn’t seen or heard from the pilot. They were self-contained in their own bubble. Horatio had prepared her a gourmet breakfast, complimented with a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. She couldn’t fault his taste. She couldn’t fault much about the man at all.

  He’d had her in hysterics with his awful impression of Jimmy Stewart impersonating Arnold Schwarzenegger which somehow made everyone sound Indian. He was charming, attentive and wanted her opinion on everything. He didn’t always necessarily agree, but he was eager to hear what she had to say. That in itself was a welcome change from her usual dating profile.

  The pilot’s door opened and a man wearing aviator glasses and peaked cap emerged.

  “Great flight. Thanks Mark,” Horatio said.

  Apparently being a limo driver qualified you as a jet pilot as well.

  “My pleasure, Horatio. The limo’s ready, but I suggest putting on coats. It’s five below.”

  “Positively balmy. Cheers.”

  They all put on bright orange thermal coats from the plane’s coat cupboard. Mark pressed a button and the cabin
door slid outward. An icy snow flurry invaded the cosy warmth of the cabin. Stairs had already been wheeled up and a black limo awaited them at the bottom. It was almost identical to the one in London, although it was slightly raised with bulkier tyres.

  The interior of the limo was familiar. Eva patted the plush leather and asked, “Do you get a discount for buying these things in bulk?”

  Horatio ignored the jibe and removed his coat. She kept hers on to warm up. Mark slid behind the wheel and started the engine. Horatio clicked his seatbelt in place. His eyes darted between Eva’s and the untouched buckle.

  She shrugged. “Dude, if we hit anything it will take me a good half hour to hit the front of this thing. Plus I’m pretty sure Iceland has slightly less traffic than Central London. I think I’ll be okay.”

  Horatio wisely decided not to say anything. The car took off and at the first turn Eva slipped across the length of the seat and straight into Horatio. She pushed herself away. In order to avoid an I told you so lecture, she peeked out the window and asked, “Where are we headed?”

  “Landmannalaugar.”

  “I dare you to say that drunk.”

  The road was thankfully clear of snow, but rough in places. They drove on and the scenery changed dramatically. From sparsely-located buildings the road morphed into an alien landscape. The gravel plains were a shocking wasteland of vivid orange, speckled with snow. The approaching mountains were coated in white. All the way to the horizon no man-made structure could be seen. No building, house, power line or telephone tower. The scenery resembled a stark alien landscape. The further they drove, the more snow dominated the countryside. The deserted road only added to the unnatural feel.

  It was ruggedly beautiful, unlike anything she’d ever seen. Definitely better than Paris. Eva was already falling in love with the country. And in deep like with other things…er…people…er… A particular person.

  The silence was broken by Mark. “Excuse me, Horatio. You might want to give Van Buren a call.”