The Barista’s Guide to Espionage

by Dave Sinclair

  “Joking?”

  “He always had a weird sense of humour.”

  “Apparently.” Paul mulled the new information over. “Maybe I was right after all.”

  “With what?”

  “We’ve got an office sweep about what Lancing’s really after. I’ve put my money on world dictator. I guess I could win after all.”

  Eva scoffed. “Whoever heard of an Australian dictator?”

  “Are you familiar with the work of Rupert Murdoch?”

  “Point taken.”

  Eva jiggled like a five year old on Christmas morning. She couldn’t help it. Bishop didn’t share her enthusiasm. In fact, the more she became excited, the more dour he became.

  “It’s really not that exciting,” he assured her.

  “Shut up. Don’t spoil it.”

  Finally the brown-coated technician placed a small wooden box on the counter. She’d left Eva and Bishop in the small waiting area while she went to process the requisition request.

  Eva stopped jiggling. “That’s it?”

  The young technician pushed back her thick rimmed glasses and checked her Lancing Corp tablet. “Yes. That’s all that was in the order.”

  She harrumphed. Still, it was something. An unknown something. She was still excited.

  She beamed at the technician. “Thanks, Q.”

  Bishop shook his head. “Stop doing that.”

  The name badge proclaiming the technician’s name said it was Charlie, but Eva couldn’t help herself.

  She flipped open the lid and failed to hide her disappointment.

  “A pen?” She tilted her head at the technician, her enthusiasm waning. “What does it do?”

  “You click it and it activates. The device tells us exactly where you are, anywhere in the world.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Eva picked up the pen. It looked like an expensive writing implement, nothing more. She turned it over in her hands several times. The technician drummed her unvarnished fingers on the counter and checked her watch.

  She held the device up. “Would someone be able to detect the GPS signal?”

  The technician shook her head. “This doesn’t use GPS. Similar, but the next step. This uses quantum positioning. Far more accurate.”

  Okay. Eva was slightly more impressed. She glanced behind the technician to the labyrinth of shelves and doors to the unknown. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can have?”

  The technician sighed. “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, an underwater breathing apparatus, a magnetic watch, a lipstick rocket launcher, flamethrower bagpipes, radioactive lint, something, anything.”

  The technician turned to Bishop. “She watches a lot of movies, doesn’t she?”

  “Quite so. Especially for a self-proclaimed book nerd, a staggering amount.”

  Eva ignored the digs. “So, this pen, what exactly does it do?”

  Like I said, “It tracks your movements.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s it.”

  She screwed up her face. Not entirely sure what she was hoping for. In fact, she was utterly deflated. It was as if she’d caught her parents putting out Santa’s presents on Christmas Eve.

  She thanked the technician who was already on her way back to her tech warren. Eva placed the pen in the case and tucked it under her arm. Bishop held the door open for her.

  “Not as fun as I thought it would be,” she said.

  “Welcome to the Secret Service.”

  As they stepped into the hall the technician called out. “Excuse me, Miss!”

  Eva turned. The technician behind the counter held an odd-looking object. In her hands was a bright pink frilly umbrella.

  It took her a while, but she finally determined the only parts of her body that didn’t hurt were her eyelids. She’d deliberated if she was still alive and the answer came back, ‘possibly’.

  She’d collapsed onto the bed of her MI6 sleeping quarters face first and fully clothed. She didn’t have the energy to take her shoes off. The thought of removing her bra was bliss, but that would involve moving in some capacity and her muscles were on strike. Or dead.

  There was a knock at the door but she didn’t have the strength to answer. Perhaps it was an undertaker. The door opened with a creak. She didn’t lift her head to see who it was. It could be an assassin for all she knew. The fact that she was incapable of movement rendered all the martial arts training she’d received over the last few days useless.

  “Why hello, I was wondering if you’d be up for an evening jog?”

  If Eva could have summoned the energy she would have given Bishop the finger. She decided to respond with the most devastating repartee she was capable of flinging in his direction. “Ugghhhhh.”

  That’ll teach him.

  She really didn’t need a reminder on how much she despised Bishop.

  “Indeed.” She could hear the pleasure in his voice. He was enjoying seeing her suffer. “Glad to see our little training regime is having the desired effect. We have recruits who would literally kill to have the intensive instruction you’re receiving. Tomorrow we’ll step it up a notch. I’m sure you’ll agree we’ve been taking it far too easy on you.”

  With her face mashed into the pillow, she replied with, “Bwasted.”

  “That’s the spirit!” She could hear Bishop pacing about the room. He was probably checking out the complete mess she’d made of it in such a short amount of time. She wasn’t one for domestic cleanliness. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Vodka, a masseuse and vodka.”

  “It will surprise you that alcohol is not encouraged in the sleeping quarters. Shocking, I know. But I might be able to source some massage oil. I’ve been thinking you could use some lubrication for quite some time.”

  It appeared Bishop’s code of not hitting on his fellow employees was a fluid thing.

  Eva turned her head in order to speak. “Bishop, as flattering as that comment isn’t, please don’t confuse my current predicament as a come on.”

  “You needn’t worry, fair maiden. I’m far too much of a gentleman to take advantage of a woman in such a delicate state.” There was silence and she wondered if he’d left the room. That was, until he spoke. “I am, however, enjoying the view.”

  Eva’s last session had been a high-intensity Krav Maga class. She’d worn the appropriate attire of Lycra gym gear. It was practical, but hardly the right outfit to rebuff a sexist pig. Even her straight-laced instructor had checked out her arse. The arse that was currently directed at Bishop.

  She managed to summon the energy to move one hand and waved it around her behind, as if she was swatting away his glare. At least that was the intent. The physical effort made her exhausted and she buried her head in the pillow again.

  “Are…are you slapping your arse at me?”

  “Nwo.”

  “Because I have to say I approve.”

  “Uhhhggghhh!”

  “Is there anything of mine I can slap around for you?”

  “Just your face.”

  “I’m blessed, but not that blessed, Eva.”

  “Is there a reason you’re here, Bishop? Besides the sexual harassment, of course.”

  “Of course. That’s just a bonus. You’ve received a message. From Lancing. He left a voice message advising where you are to meet. Prague.”

  It was as if Eva’s heart clenched. Everything was real again all of a sudden.

  Bishop went on. “That means we’ll need to ramp up your training. With the travel to the Czech Republic we’ll lose a day’s training, so we’ll need to make that up.”

  “Oh goody.”

  “I thought you’d approve.”

  A thought hit her. The cheeky bastard. She grinned.

  “What is it?” Bishop asked. “You seem happy. I’m worried.”

  “Prague. Harry’s being a smartarse. It’s an old joke of o
urs. I once told him I’d always wanted to go to Prague but he said it was only because of INXS.”

  “I don’t follow. What’s in excess?”

  “The band. The Aussie band? INXS. They made a video in the eighties for ‘Never Tear Us Apart’.” Bishop stared at her blankly. “What am I thinking? Of course you missed that, you were born in a lab. Anyway, they made a music film clip, it was huge, and Harry reckoned that the only reason I wanted to go there is INXS made it look cool. He always refused to take me. It was one of those ongoing little niggly fun arguments couples have.”

  Bishop didn’t respond. Guilt stabbed her for bringing up such a fond memory. As far as he was concerned, Harry was the enemy and there was no fond anything.

  Bishop straightened his back and resumed his casual demeanour. He gave her a slight bow before opening the door. “So, about the training. I’ll be here again at five a.m. Be dressed and ready to go. Or just ready to go.”

  “Say goodbye, Bishop.”

  “Goodbye Bishop.”

  The door closed and Eva remained motionless. She had no idea how much more they could pack into a day. She was mentally and physically exhausted. The last few days had comprised of weapons training, surveillance and counter-surveillance, computer hacking, martial arts and self-defence training. As well as specific sessions like communications equipment, sending messages that couldn’t be traced. There had been more, but in her current state couldn’t recall what they were.

  Apparently they hadn’t even scratched the surface on what Eva would learn. She certainly hoped not. She still hadn’t had her juggling classes.

  Finally managing to roll over, she stared at the plain white ceiling.

  It was probably for the best she hadn’t answered when Harry called. There was something she hadn’t told Bishop about the first call. Something she’d never tell Bishop. Hearing Harry’s voice, hearing the genuine concern in his tone, her rational boundaries had begun to crumble.

  Paul was more right than he knew. Eva had tried to shake Harry off and had failed. More than once. Even before she saw him again at his penthouse, the mere sound of his name made her shake and break into a sweat. That wasn’t the reaction of a woman who was over anyone.

  She’d had her doubts before, but hearing him, letting their memories together wash over her, she wavered more than ever. The longer she’d spoken to Harry, the less confident she’d became. She’d hoped the more distance she had from that first call, the more rational she would feel. She was wrong.

  Eva’s misgivings about what she’d committed to were growing. Would she be able to give away Harry so easily? What would happen when she met him again?

  Could she give up Harry for forcing the world to do the right thing? She tended to lose her self-control when in his presence, but if she was already wavering, it didn’t bode well for the mission. Would she crumble before his many charms like she had countless times before? Eva assumed she’d have the answer soon enough.

  She blinked her non-painful eyelids. Was all this training for nothing? Was she going to give everything up to be with the man she still loved? The ceiling blurred as tears formed. Without knowing precisely why, she sobbed and couldn’t stop. Curling into a ball, for the first time in a very long time, Eva cried.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Normally Eva avoided clichés like the plague, but it really was like a fairy tale. The architecture ranged from Romanesque, to Gothic to Baroque to Art Nouveau. She had to wonder what the rest of Europe would have been like if it had been spared like Prague during the Second World War.

  Surprisingly it was more beautiful than she’d imagined. Photos could never convey the sheer breathtaking magnificence that greeted the visitor at every turn. The light snowfall only added to the surreal nature of the scenery. There was meant to be a storm overnight but the early evening skies didn’t appear menacing.

  She could see herself spending months there and never scratching the surface. With her face against the glass of the limo, she must look like an overeager child to Bishop and Paul, but didn’t care. Driving through the city she’d fantasised about for so long she cared little for the thoughts of the others.

  Eva wished she’d come under different circumstances. She wanted to stop at every street corner, get out and explore. That’s what she loved to do in new cities, drop off her bags, pick a random direction and set out to discover the real city. It was the way she’d uncovered hidden gems in many foreign cities. And in one case, get mugged.

  Perhaps she was so in love with the city at first sight, as it was in direct contrast to her last few weeks. Her training had been relentless and gruelling. She’d never been pushed so hard, or been so challenged in her life. Or frightened. The nearer she came to the inevitable conclusion of her training, the more worried she’d become.

  Sleep was no longer a thing. She imagined her teeth would soon be flat from her incessant grinding. She’d need to find a way to release the building stress, one way or another.

  “If you ask me, it was a dick move,” Paul said breaking the silence. Arms folded, he ignored the passing scenery.

  “Huh?”

  “Lancing never taking you here. He dragged you all around the world, but not the one place you wanted to go. Therefore, dick.”

  A grin. “I wouldn’t call it drag, but, it was always a joke. It wasn’t malicious.”

  “Uhuh.”

  “Oh come on, you know how it goes in relationships. You have your little play digs. They don’t mean anything, but it’s a cute way to get a rise out of your partner. Like you do with Nance and her unnatural fear of salsa, or how she’s always ribbing you about your unbridled love of Frozen. All couples do it, maybe not as much as you two, but I’m pretty sure everyone has their little good-humoured taunts.”

  She stopped, unsure if Bishop was aware of how well she knew Paul. If she was going to be a spy she had to be more careful about what she said.

  Eva sensed she’d been given a test and failed. Paul must have picked up on it.

  “It’s okay, Bishop knows. He’s even met Nance.”

  “You met her?”

  “Yes,” Bishop sighed. “But I was Clive from the office.” He didn’t seem pleased about it.

  “You’re so not a Clive.”

  Bishop held his hands up to Paul and frowned a see face. “Thank you, at least someone thinks so.”

  The limo slowed as they reached a five-storey hotel. It had a grand elegance that spoke of refined expense. It appeared MI6 wasn’t as cash-strapped as other government departments. Bishop opened the door and got out. After checking the street he gave a brisk nod. Eva picked up her history of MI6 book and exited.

  On Paul’s way out of the limo, Bishop said, “Frozen? Really?”

  Paul scowled. “Shut up.”

  “OK. I’ll let it go.”

  “You’re the dick.”

  Eva glowered at Bishop. “You’ve never seen a Star Wars or James Bond but you can make a Frozen joke? You seriously need to reassess your priorities.”

  On closer inspection the hotel wasn’t as lavish as it first appeared. Up close it seemed dated and definitely in need of renovation. Once great, it had fallen on hard times. If Norma Desmond was a hotel, this would be it. At least it would be a good place to avoid prying eyes.

  Through the revolving door emerged a tall stocky black man with a closely shaven head. His movements were precise and his course to the car was a series of straight lines. There was a slight limp in his gait. The suit cut was stylish, yet conservative. His eyes darted along the street, outwardly casually but deliberately vigilant.

  Paul and he hugged like old friends. He gave Bishop a terse handshake. It was the greeting of men who’d had clashes before. It seemed Bishop had the unique ability to piss everyone off. Maybe Eva could form a club.

  Finally he turned to her and smiled. It was warm but guarded. He had a friendly face, but there was concern in his manner.

  “Ms Destruction, a pleasure.” He shook her h
and firmly. “My name is Angelis Travers. I am Station Chief in Prague.”

  The words ‘Station Chief’ brought the whole exercise back into sharp focus. She was all too aware that she had been turning into a spy. A real spy. Complete with a handler, gadgets and all the associated danger. A real life Station Chief standing before her reminded Eva that this wasn’t an old spy novel, this was her life and it was in very real danger.

  Angelis bowed slightly. “Welcome. Please,” he said gesturing to the entrance, “we have prepared everything for your arrival.”

  All four headed into the foyer where it was thankfully warm. The interior of the hotel matched the exterior. Dated opulence, décor out of step with time. They sat in a deserted lobby on well-worn couches before a raging fire.

  They discussed the mission the higher ups at MI6 had planned. The strategy was to lure Harry out into the open with Eva as the bait. A message had been sent for Harry to meet her at the Old Town Square. They had every operative in the city ready. If Harry didn’t appear in person, she was to go with Lancing’s representative while Angelis and his men tracked her. All she had to do was click on the pen and they’d take care of the rest. As soon as they could positively identify Harry they would nab him. It all sounded too loose for her liking.

  Once the broad plan had been explained, the four of them dissected the smaller detail, well, three of them. At every turn Angelis excluded her from the conversation. For a solid five minutes he had his back turned to her. She wasn’t sure if it was sexism or her inexperience. Either way, Eva wasn’t having any of it.

  “Do we have a problem?”

  All three men turned to her.

  “Excuse me?” Angelis asked, annoyed at the interruption.

  “I’m just asking if I’ve done something wrong.”

  He scowled. “Not yet, but I find it highly likely.”

  “And what does that mean exactly?”

  A sigh. “Please allow me to be blunt, Ms Destruction. I think this mission is a mistake. It’s foolhardy and ill-considered. To have such an assignment hinge on the actions of an amateur in a skirt is nothing short of reckless. You’re in my town. Anything that goes wrong in my town reflects poorly on me. And right now, your inexperience places us all in danger. I’m not prepared to put my men in harm’s way without feeling one hundred percent comfortable, and to be honest I’m far from it. Far from it. You know nothing of spy craft. How to read a scenario, a person, or how to act naturally when the situation is anything but. There are thousands of things that can go wrong, and to be frank, that’s all I’m seeing right now.”