The Barista’s Guide to Espionage

by Dave Sinclair

  “Trouble?”

  “Not yet, but possibly. Two black Suburbans have been tailing us and they’ve blocked the road behind. That makes me nervous. So…”

  Horatio pulled out his phone. “Calling him now.” The phone was answered instantly. “Van, we’ve got two vehicles blocking the road behind. Is it possible to have the boys dispatched to…how far away? Well, that’s hardly helpful.” He smiled sweetly at Eva. “Is there any way to…? Marvellous. So we’re on our own then?” Horatio ran his fingers through his hair. “No, no, there’s nothing you can do about that now. Okay, I’ve got to go.” Horatio hung up.

  “Should I be worried?” Eva asked with mounting dread.

  “Not at all, just adding some excitement to the day. You spoilt my surprise, so I thought I’d change things up a bit.”

  Eva was far from convinced. She hoped Mark was paid to be paranoid. If Horatio was at ease, maybe there was nothing to worry about. She relaxed slightly. That was until there was a crack and the chauffeur’s head exploded in puff of red.

  The limo lurched forward in a burst of speed and hurtled towards the side of the highway. The speed of the impact plunged the front of the limo into a ditch. With a terrifying crunch, the vehicle rolled. Eva’s world spun. Everything became orange and deafening. The limo tumbled over again and again. She was thrown around like a ragdoll in a washing machine. She hit her head on something solid and everything went black.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sunlight hit her like a slap to the face. As did the slap to the face.

  Eva jolted awake. There was so much to take in at once. The luminescent sun shone through the limo’s shattered sunroof. They had miraculously landed the right way up. Her ears rung. The smell of gasoline assaulted her nose. Horatio knelt above her, blood pouring from a cut on his temple. His face was stony and clear-eyed, like the day of the riot.

  Eva rubbed her cheek. “Did you…did you fucking hit me?”

  No man had ever laid a hand on her and walked away with anything less than stitches.

  “Slap you, yes. There weren’t any smelling salts handy. We have to run, now.”

  There was no apology. “We need to get Mark.”

  “He’s dead, Eva.”

  Instinctively she knew that. She’d seen his head explode but she didn’t want to hear it. Eva sat up and saw the wreckage that was the front of the vehicle. It was mostly a grotesquely twisted abomination. Part of the driver’s side had been torn open as if a T-Rex had ripped it apart.

  “Who…who shot him?”

  “A question for another time. We need to go now.”

  Eva didn’t know why, but she had to see Mark. Horatio cried out in protest and tried to hold her back. She broke free and scrambled forward. If there was some small chance that…

  The thought dropped away as she crawled over the remains of the driver’s partition.

  Most of the engine was crumpled from the impact, there was no door on the driver’s side. For an instant she couldn’t see where Mark was. When she did, her stomach convulsed and she dry retched. There were shoulders attached to what had once been a human head. He was held in place by his seatbelt. Snow had already begun to land on his lifeless form.

  Instead of falling apart, the horrific sight steeled her. She dropped into survival mode. Mark would be mourned later. First she had to live.

  The jacket on the blood-splattered torso of Mark was open and Eva spied something metallic poking out. With Horatio protesting behind her, she realised what it was. As objectionable as it was, she retrieved it.

  She squinted through where the windscreen once was. Outside, the snow was moving. White shapes slithered in a way snow shouldn’t. Three figures emerged from the landscape caked in white camouflage. Crouching. Advancing. Their raised assault rifles were wrapped in white material. The only colour came from the orange lenses of their snow goggles. They’d been hiding in the snow waiting to ambush them. Their movements precise. All rifles were aimed at the limo.

  Eva ducked and crawled back to Horatio. “We have to go!”

  “I wish I’d said that.”

  There was nowhere to run in the barren wasteland, but they had to try. Staying in the limo was a guaranteed form of violent suicide.

  She pushed past Horatio and opened the side door. Without waiting for him, she leapt out. The gunmen approached from the other side, spanning out in an attempt to encircle the vehicle. If the two of them didn’t move, people would be mourning more than a good-natured driver and pilot by the end of the day.

  Snow swirled around the featureless landscape. No tree or bush could be seen. Only the occasional low mound and snowbank. There wasn’t a single building to be seen. All of which would be fine, unless you were faced with encroaching heavily armed assassins planning to propel projectile ammunition into your person.

  Eva took refuge behind the engine block as it offered the greatest protection. Horatio sidled up to her and landed with a thud. The vapour from his breath floated into the air. “If we can make it to that embankment, at least we’ll have some space between us. They’ll have to come at us uphill…”

  He stopped talking as Eva tore off what was left of the limo’s rear-view mirror. His plan wouldn’t work. There was no way they could cover that amount of ground without re-enacting the final scene of Bonnie and Clyde. Eva positioned the rear-view mirror to peek above the roof so she could see how close their foes were.

  Too close.

  The three were positioned behind low embankments. Their exact hand gestures were directed at the remains of the limousine. While obviously highly trained, they were far too visible above the snowbanks. They probably assumed whoever had survived the crash posed no great threat. Good.

  Horatio lay his head next to Eva’s to share her view. “I’ll distract them, you make a run for it.”

  She shook her head and slid off her bright orange coat. No use making it too easy for them. She didn’t notice the cold.

  Deep within Eva’s core she knew that she had to protect this man she’d just met with everything she had. Including her life. Had she ever felt that before? Eva knew the answer was no. She also knew it was the worst possible time for such a revelation. “How about I distract them and we both make a run for it?”

  “You go,” he said. “The snow’s not that thick on the ground. I’m a very good runner, I’ll catch up. When I was ten I was a wiz at Little Athletics.”

  Against her better judgement, she grinned. There was something in his nature that always put her at ease. She shook her head. “You run over to that ditch and dive in. They’ll need to come across the road to get to us and they’ll be exposed. I’ll be doing the distracting today.”

  He was about to protest when Eva pulled out the gun she’d taken from the corpse of the driver. It had been tucked into Mark’s shoulder holster. Horatio’s eyes went wide.

  “I call him Captain Distracty.”

  Horatio stared at the pistol in her hands and said, “What would a barista know about–?”

  Ignoring him, Eva cocked the Desert Eagle and spun to place the gun on the roof of the limo. “Go!”

  If the gunmen were shocked that a raven-haired woman was aiming a gun in their direction, they didn’t show it. They repointed their weapons. They weren’t fast enough.

  The first two shots went wide but her third found its target. The right-most assassin’s arm splattered red across his white camouflage. He fell out of view. Eva re-aimed and fired at the second target. He’d been distracted, out of position and standing exposed.

  Her shot caught him dead centre of the chest. There was no burst of blood like his compatriot. Bulletproof vest. He was thrown backwards and out of sight. The third had far longer to react than his partners. He managed to fire off a wild shot before Eva delivered bullets in his direction.

  Her trigger finger spasmed and she fired off four successive shots that buried themselves into the snowbank with a puff. He dove for cover.

  Not needing an
y further encouragement, she turned to run. Horatio was still crouched beside her. He appeared part stunned, part impressed.

  She had no time to determine the appropriate ratio. Eva pulled him up by the collar. “Move!”

  They ducked low using the bulk of the limo as cover and sprinted towards the ditch. Eva fired over her shoulder as they did.

  They dived in and landed hard. The rocky gravel under the thin layer of snow was sharp volcanic rock that cut into their clothing. She assessed their position. The results weren’t encouraging. In fact, they would probably result in their demise.

  They were protected, sure, but there was nowhere to fall back to. It was safe to assume their opponents possessed more bullets than whatever remained in her handgun. All the gunmen had to do was keep her firing and they were done.

  From the expression on his face, Horatio didn’t seem overjoyed with their options either. With a shrug, he said, “And to think my other first date option was a knitting circle in Slough.”

  “Well, this is just about as exciting. You really didn’t have to splash out on the terrorist package, though.”

  “I know, but the salesman was rather persuasive. It came with a free sun hat.”

  “Any idea who they are?”

  “If I were to make a wild guess I’d say GRU. The Russians discovered a teensy data breach the other day. Apparently they’re not overjoyed.”

  More shots were fired and they both ducked. Horatio shielded Eva’s body. The warmth of his body was a welcome relief.

  They were out of options. Eva had at best one or two bullets left. It wouldn’t be enough. At least one of the gunmen, probably two, was unharmed. The one with the bulletproof vest would still be a threat. The first gunman had been winged, but she didn’t know how badly. Either way, her shooting hadn’t saved them. They were cornered, outnumbered and outgunned.

  Eva wasn’t waiting for death, but it was on its way. If she had any bullets left, she wasn’t going alone. She’d make the bastards pay. Her grip on the pistol tightened.

  Nothing happened.

  Was Death caught in traffic? Did he do afternoon tea?

  The faint sound of wheels on asphalt. Reinforcements? They had more than enough to finish them off. Were they rubbing it in?

  There was more gunfire, but it was short-lived. The explosion saw to that. Frantic shouting. None of it seemed directed at them. Repeated shouts of, “Clear!” overlapped one another. One voice could be heard over all others. He only repeated one word. “Horatio!”

  Not making any movement or sound, Horatio remained motionless as he lay protectively over Eva. She rolled to see his face, and he ended up on top of her. His face mere centimetres from hers.

  “I think…I think they’re your people,” she whispered. “You’re not going to tell them you’re okay?”

  He gave a slight wriggle of his hips. “I’m kind of comfortable here, to be honest.”

  “Horatio…”

  “Can you start calling me Harry again?”

  “I…why?”

  “It keeps me grounded…you keep me grounded. You’re one of the few people who knows my real name. And, well, when we first met, and I told you my name, you weren’t aware of who or what I was. It was genuine. You’re the most authentic thing in my life in a very long time. To be honest, you calling me Harry makes me want to be better. Better for you.”

  He ran his hand gently along her cheek. Eva was sure she blushed like a lovesick teenager.

  Further shouts of his name were unanswered and they became more frantic and dispersed.

  “You’d better…” she said nodding to the voices.

  “I know.” He made no move. He stared into her eyes.

  “Harry…”

  He grinned. “Better.” He kissed her, lingering on her lips before pushing himself up. “Van! Over here! We’re unhurt.”

  Eva raised herself and made out six heavy-set men rounding up the white-clad assassins. Their guns pointed skyward, there was no urgency in their movements. The immediate threat neutralised.

  “Mark’s family…,” Eva whispered hoarsely. She’d blacked out the memory of the kindly driver in order to survive, but the horrific vision returned tenfold. Eva wanted to throw up all over again.

  “Will be looked after. It can never replace a husband and father, but they’ll have no mortgage, no need for money ever again.”

  “Small compensation…”

  “Insignificant. He was a good man. A good friend.”

  The snow swirled around them for a while. What could you say? They watched silently as each of the assassins was forced to kneel before large black van. Each had their feet and hands bound with plastic ties.

  “Eva?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?”

  She shrugged. “Virtua Cop II.” Harry stared blankly at her. “It’s a video game. There was a pub I frequented far too often in my teens, had one in the back room. I was the diva. Smashed all usurpers. Unbeatable, I was. Also, I had a boyfriend who worked at a shooting range. But mostly the first one.”

  Before Harry answered a squat angry-appearing man with more grey hairs than was warranted for his age, came running towards the two of them. To Eva’s mind, he had a face like a kicked-in door. Breathlessly, he said, “Horatio, you’re unhurt?”

  “We both are, thank you, Van.” Harry patted her backside. “Thanks to Eva here.”

  Sneering, the man analysed her. Harry made his introductions. Van Buren was his security chief. Had been for many years apparently. As soon as his eyes fell on the pistol Van Buren’s hand instinctively went to his holster.

  He nodded at the gun and asked, “What did you think you were going to do with that?”

  Eva gazed at the gun in her hand. It was far more comfortable and natural than she would have expected. She shrugged. “Give out free hugs.”

  The two of them stared at one another for the longest time. He must have concluded that she wasn’t going to shoot anyone and relaxed enough to hand a silver thermal blanket to Harry. After less than subtle hints from his employer he reluctantly supplied another to Eva. Van Buren acted more like a jealous lover than a security chief.

  Harry picked up the tension and broke in. “Any injuries? How are their men?”

  “We rounded them up pretty quickly. Tossing a stun grenade into a party tends to do that. Police are on their way. Could take a while, none of us speak Icelandic. We’ve all got permits. No major injuries on either side. One of their lot was winged, must have caught in their own crossfire.”

  “No, that was Eva. She fought them off. She saved my life, Van.”

  Van Buren blinked repeatedly at her. It was if he’d been asked to solve an algebra problem while wearing boxing gloves and the test was written in Sanskrit. It didn’t compute.

  Eventually he nodded towards the Desert Eagle. “I’d feel a lot more comfortable if you handed that over. You’re likely to do yourself an injury.”

  Eva growled. She ejected the magazine and cocked the weapon, expelling a bullet from the chamber. She turned the weapon over to Van Buren, handle first. “Knock yourself out.”

  Harry whistled, impressed. “I’d keep an eye on her, Van.”

  With a sneer to make Billy Idol proud, Van Buren said, “I intend to.”

  He stormed off and Harry went to follow, but Eva held his arm.

  “I’ve come to a conclusion.” She kissed him with all the passion she possessed, plus some added adrenaline. When she finally caught her breath, in his ear she whispered, “Definitely Geronimo.”

  “One day you’ll tell me what that means.”

  “One day. Not today.”

  Cole let out a frustrated sigh. He shook his head. “That’s all fine, Miss, but–”

  Decker cut him off. “You’re right, she’s not getting to the real point, is she, Cole?”

  Cole nodded, relief obvious on his face.

  Decker tilted his chair backwards and place
d his hands behind his head. “It’s clear that Ms Destruction here is lying through her teeth. Let’s ignore the whole Iceland thing, which, even if it is true, is a mere distraction. She said at the start she fell for a man, but in reality all she was after was his fortune.”

  Cole’s jaw dropped. Eva was pretty sure that wasn’t going to be his point at all.

  Decker’s brow furrowed, taking on a more aggressive persona. “In reality you were just seeing Lancing because he was rich and powerful. Time to cut the bullshit. That was really the reason wasn’t it? You said yourself you weren’t that interested in him, but all of a sudden he’s famous and rich and exciting and you’re all over him like cheap celebrity perfume.”

  It sounded familiar. Eva had featured on all kinds of gossip websites. She’d done her best to ignore them, but the occasional word had popped out and garnered her attention. ‘Gold-digger’ seemed popular. It only reinforced Eva’s distaste for computers. For once she was thankful for her technophobe ways.

  Decker was leading up to something. He was trying to play her. Regardless, the barbs hurt. What followed Iceland had been the most intense year of Eva’s life. She’d fallen for Harry. Hard. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, or even suspected she could. For most of it she had felt she was living someone else’s life, Harry keeping her draped in a luxury she was certain she didn’t deserve. Breakfast in Paris, dinner in New York, trips to Rio simply to buy shoes. Anything she wanted was hers. Not to mention the castle.

  Her old life and friends fell away, as did her business. She’d hastily drawn up a contract for Anchor to be a part-owner of the café and for him to run it in her absence. Basically, Eva had suspended her life for a man. She was a sell-out to the sisterhood and she knew it.

  But as much as she tried to hate herself for it, she couldn’t. She was so under Harry’s spell that her long-held convictions didn’t apply. They belonged to someone else, like a childhood superstition, an abstract concept long since abandoned.

  Not only did Eva’s other life disappear, so did her sense of right. For the longest time, if Harry had asked her to do anything, anything at all, she would have done it without hesitation.