The Barista’s Guide to Espionage

by Dave Sinclair

  As she finished the bowl, he asked, “Can I make you a coffee?” and they both laughed.

  Harry knew better than to ever attempt to make Eva a coffee.

  “I flew in your favourite Ethiopian beans last week. There’s a Lamazoco in the main house.”

  “Thanks.” Eva licked the spoon. “How many buildings are there on this island?”

  “There’s the main house, five guest houses like this one. Staff quarters, the power plant and a couple of other buildings on the far side of the island.”

  Somewhat evasive, but she didn’t want to push too early. She remembered seeing the expanse of the island when they landed. It was larger than she’d imagined when he first told her he was taking her to a tropical hideaway. She still had no idea what ocean they were in. She thought it best not to appear too inquisitive.

  Eva thought she was doing well. She acted as natural as possible. Sure, it wasn’t an Oscar-worthy performance, but it would do. Perhaps a Daytime Emmy. The most important thing was that Harry thought she was genuine.

  The island was beautiful. And isolated. There seemed to be nothing to the horizon in any direction. Except for one thing.

  “What about the other island?”

  “Sorry?”

  “I saw another island when we were coming in. Is there anything there?”

  “No. I haven’t been over there, to be honest. We’ve had a hell of a time setting this lot up.”

  “Why did you exactly? I mean, set this up. I’m guessing you didn’t run an extension cord from your house.”

  “We tried the extension cord, it kept on getting snagged on chair legs and scared the cat when we tried to loop the cord over. No, we run off thermal power. Less of a carbon footprint, almost limitless supply. More than adequate for our needs.”

  “But the logistics to set this up would have been a bitch. Why go to all this trouble?”

  “Because everywhere else has been so hospitable? I think you recall the lovely reception I had last time I was in London.”

  They both looked away at that. Painful memories for them both.

  He continued. “I wanted somewhere I wouldn’t be swayed by the hosting government, or more likely dissuaded. We are a tiny nation unto ourselves here. It’s the last place anyone will look.”

  Eva’s heart sank at that. “Does it have a name, this island?”

  “It did once. I changed it. It is now known as Nice Bum.”

  “No it isn’t.”

  “You’re right, it’s not.” He put on his serious face. “I’ve always referred to it as Eva’s Island.”

  The path between the guest house and the main house was curved so there was no direct line of sight. Palms overhung the paved footpath providing shade, but they also made guests feel like they were walking through a tropical paradise. Which is exactly what it was.

  Harry had left her to get dressed and encouraged her to roam the island. She veered off the main path and followed an unmarked one. After a short distance she’d discovered a hidden oasis built next to a small stream. There was a fire pit and several hammocks strung between palm trees. It was far too inviting.

  Eva lay on a hammock. The wind meandering through the trees swung her gently. She listened to the brook and the distant sound of waves crashing on the beach. The chaos of her previous life seemed like a fever dream, someone else’s life. She could even forget her current deception towards Harry. Right then it was as if she’d always been there.

  For a brief moment she was content. Her mind clear.

  Eva was determined to complete her mission. She needed a plan. She needed to contact MI6. The only practical way she could determine was to find a computer and send a clandestine message. Her least favourite subjects at MI6 had been computer-related. Computers and Eva had never seen eye to eye. She never saw the point. Like leaf-blowers and white chocolate.

  She decided to turn her mind to the best way to gain access to a computer, tablet or phone. Thoughts of computers weren’t exactly stimulating and it was so lovely and warm. She drifted off to sleep.

  She awoke when a shadow fell across her.

  A deep guttural voice said, “You owe me an apology.”

  Eva shot up. Holding up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she asked, “For?”

  “For this damn scar, whore.”

  Van Buren loomed over her, which was an effort for the short troll. His disfigured face showing the recent prize for interrupting a screwing Eva. She still thought he’d gotten off lightly.

  “Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen for all sorts of reasons.”

  Her blissful moment of peace disappeared faster than anticipated.

  The Security Chief stood before her in barely restrained rage. If it wasn’t for Harry’s presence on the island she was sure Van Buren wouldn’t have hesitated to place a bullet between her eyes. With or without the use of a gun.

  But Harry was present. And if she was playing a role, she may as well play it to the hilt.

  “Listen VB, I suggest you stop blocking my sun and stow your homoerotic frustrations, okay? I’m on the island at Harry’s request. He wants me here, so get used to it. If you have an issue with it, how about we go up to the main house and let him choose. You or me. Do you have that much faith that Harry’s going to choose you? Wanna gamble on that one, buddy?”

  His knuckles turned white. “You’re nothing to him, bitch. You’re a pet. A distraction. Don’t dare to assume you mean anything to him. He knows you’re only good for one thing and that’s the shit between your legs.”

  Why did men continue to distil a woman’s worth down to only one thing? Had history not shown the countless wealth every woman brought to the world? That one thing was the most creative power humans had. Men could only destroy, it took a woman to create. Why did society continue to let it be so easily dismissed? Why did it not smash the trite worthless argument every time it reared its ugly head? Probably because weak spineless men like Van Buren continued to steal oxygen.

  Eva tilted her head and smiled a viper’s smile. “Good for one thing, eh? I have to congratulate you, VB. I underestimated you, I really did. I never thought you could count that high. Well done you.”

  She wondered if a pat on the head would be too much. Probably. She did it anyway.

  Van Buren reeled backwards swatting away Eva’s hand. His face flared fiery red.

  “Such the little Aussie wise ass, aren’t you? You think you know him. Think he trusts you, yeah?” He snorted. “I bet you believe he stumbled into your café by chance the day you met. Just wandered by for no reason. You really have no fucking clue, do you? Like hell he trusts you, you know nothing.” He sneered. “You think you’re untouchable, don’t you? Good, keep thinking that. I can bide my time. And when he’s bored with his skinny little bitch of a play thing, and he will, believe me, I’ll enjoy feeding you to the sharks. Feet first and slowly.”

  “You’re sweet, but I’m already spoken for. I’ll tell you what. You keep those sharks hungry. I’m sure they won’t discriminate between a bitch whore and an overcompensating Security Chief when the time’s right.”

  It was a good performance, the aggrieved girlfriend. Worthy of a Golden Globe, Eva thought.

  Van Buren pursed his lips and shook with anger. He must have determined that if he spoke to her for a moment longer he’d end up strangling her. He stormed off, a dark cloud hovering above his head.

  In direct contrast to her outward calm, her hands shook. Van Buren had terrified her. Never in her life had she been face to face with so much hatred, so much anger directed at her. He was scarcely under control. Given the slightest provocation, Eva had no doubt he’d kill her in an instant. Vomit rose in the back of her throat.

  The island paradise wasn’t as idyllic as it first appeared. A flock of tropical birds flew overhead. She needed to calm herself.

  Mumbling, she sang, “If you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain…”

  Cole rubbed his bloodshot eye
s. “At least we’re on the island. I was beginning to think this story would go on forever. Like Lord of the Rings or something.”

  Decker and Eva stared at him.

  “Because it was a long story.” Cole’s face took on a reddish tinge. “That never seemed to end…” He shifted in his seat and coughed into his hand. “Right. Can we get back to the explosions? I want to know why–”

  “Who attacked you in Prague, Ms Destruction?” Decker interrupted. “You never mentioned who it was. You said it wasn’t Lancing, then who?”

  Eva flexed her hands. The white cable ties were restricting her circulation.

  “I later learned it was the same group who attacked us in Iceland.”

  The two naval officers leaned forward.

  She needed a flick blade. Even a small one would do. If she could remove the ties she could grab the gun in front of Decker. She’d then have leverage to bargain with. She was in a far worse position than when she first woke up with Cole in the room. And worst of all, she was running out of story.

  She sniffed. “Before I answer, we’re trading information, remember? I told you about the spy like you asked. Now you tell me about this sham of an interrogation. Cole seems to be asking the right questions. What caused the explosions and such. Why don’t you care Decker? Why do you give a shit about how well I knew a spy or my feelings for Harry? Who are you reporting all this to? I’m certain it’s not Navy brass. Then who?”

  Decker’s index fingers rested on his chin in an attempt to appear contemplative. Eva didn’t buy it. She perceived the flash of panic in his eyes. What was he hiding?

  He blew out slowly. “If I tell you, will you tell us about the teams in Iceland and Prague?”

  “Yes.”

  Cole tilted his head. It seemed he wanted to know why the interview had gone off the rails as much as she did.

  She attempted to still every atom in her body.

  Decker took on a bombastic tone. “The person who has been feeding me these questions is the President of the United States of America.”

  “I’m…excuse…what now? And by what now, I mean what now?”

  Decker folded his arms. “That’s what I have been told. The line of questioning I’m following comes, indirectly, from the Big Man himself. If you have a problem with it, I suggest you take it up with him.”

  Eva repeated it in her head over and over. The President, the most powerful human being on the planet, was asking her questions. Indirectly, but even so…

  She wasn’t that important, surely? It was far too much to comprehend. Little Eva Destruction was being interrogated by proxy by the President of the United States. It had to be a ploy. Had to be.

  “So,” Decker said interrupting her disbelief, “if you don’t mind, how about we get on with it, eh? Where were the assassins from?”

  “Huh? Oh…” She tried to steady herself. “They, ah, they were Russian. Or at least a faction thereof.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to expand on that. Why were the Russians trying to assassinate you?”

  “No, not me, Harry. Iceland was a straight-up assassination attempt on him. Same with the Bulgarian in the alleyway, although that was pretty amateur. Prague was trying to get to him through me. At least, that’s how Harry explained it. Back when Iceland happened, the Russian government believed Harry was a threat. They must have known what he had on them and wanted him gone. The Prague thing was after the government had fallen, so Harry assumed it was an old faction left over that wanted him dead. That’s why they wanted me as bait. They were going to murder Harry. Their corrupt regime had already collapsed so all they had left was revenge.”

  For Eva, the wounds of her time in Prague would never heal. For a brief moment it had been her favourite city in the world. Now thoughts of it brought nothing but pain.

  “So you arrived on the island,” Decker resumed his business tone, “then what?”

  “Then,” Eva said with a sigh, “everything went to hell.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You’re invited to dinner at the main house, Milady,” Harry said with a bow and a large dollop of irony.

  Eva stretched on the guest house couch and scratched under her arm. Just like a lady.

  She felt better in herself, despite the run-in with Van Buren. The chocolate sundaes had worked miracles. Energised, she was ready to get cracking on her mission.

  She was more like her old self, and that self was in the mood to be cheeky.

  “That’s what you call it? The main house? Not anything else?”

  “What would you have me call it?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Something cool like the Forbidden Citadel or Skull Fortress. Something befitting an evil lair.”

  Harry asked mockingly, “You think I’m a supervillain?”

  Eva counted off her fingers, “Mysterious identity, check. Hideously rich, check. Brings down governments, check. Threatens world leaders, check. Has secret island hideaway and personal security force, check and check. Has slightly unstable and aggressive 2IC, check.”

  She hadn’t mentioned her run-in with Van Buren to Harry yet. She intended to hold that one close to her chest until needed. Also, not running to Harry might be the first of many steps to get Van Buren on side. Possibly not. She doubted they’d ever be poker buddies. If she never caught sight of the little weasel again she’d be happy, but at some stage she would need to deal with him, one way or the other.

  Eva took a sip of her ice tea and waved a finger at Harry. “Face it, dude, you have an evil lair. You’re Lex sodding Luther.”

  Harry did his best to appear offended, but it was mitigated when he failed to hide a smirk. For a fleeting moment, it was like old times. Good times. It didn’t last. There could be no future. Even if she was inclined to really be with Harry and not just act like it, the world would end it long before she managed to sabotage their relationship.

  If Eva were with a guy called Harry from Accounts they might have a shot. But with the world’s most wanted status, assassins, not to mention her own position as a temporary MI6 agent, she anticipated a few more hurdles than the usual relationship. Not that she was searching for one, of course. She had an assignment to complete. Van Buren had been the dose of ugly reality she needed.

  In spite of all this, Eva still enjoyed Harry’s company. He was magnetic, charming and made her feel like the most important person in the world. Hell, he’d named an island after her. And a castle.

  Besides the occasional reassuring caress Harry had kept his hands to himself. He was waiting for her to let him know when she was ready. Harry may have taken the lead on most things when they dated, their travel destinations, accommodation, where to eat, but Eva took care of the important things. In the bedroom she was the one to steer that particular ship. But she had to admit, Harry had brought some game to the table. And bed. And closet, bathroom, terrace, plane, cloakroom and opera balcony.

  Even with his years of isolation, she highly suspected he hadn’t lived like the monk he claimed. He was too skilful for that. Harry slowed everything down, taught her to take her time. She didn’t have to run headlong to reach her goal, and could slow up, enjoy the journey as much as the destination. The feel, the smell, the taste, the sensation; taken as a whole or in the minutest detail.

  He was, by far, the most considerate lover she’d ever known. Generous without being timid, he knew when to take control, when the moment called for it. Harry had also discovered a part of her neck, just below her ear, which when licked, sucked or nibbled at the right moment would send her crazy. No one had ever found it before. Even thinking about it made her toes curl.

  Realising her mind was wandering, Eva reminded herself that she was playing a part. Admittedly, she was playing it well. She may as well choose a dress and start writing her acceptance speech thanking The Academy because that baby was hers.

  That reminded her of something. “Is the dinner formal?”

  “Very,” he said in moc
k seriousness.

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “I don’t recall having an issue with that previously.” Harry did his best George Clooney. He strolled off to the right where he’d parked his golf cart, the island’s only mode of transport. He brought back a dress on a hanger. Actually, it wasn’t a dress. It was a work of art. Jade, silk, long and elegant. It was the most beautiful dress Eva had ever seen.

  “It’s from Elie Saab’s latest spring collection. Haute couture, daahling!” Harry carefully laid it beside her. “I thought you might also need a killer pair of heels to go with it.” He picked up a large box with Christian Louboutin, Paris on the lid.

  Eva may have squeaked. She wasn’t sure. Maybe Harry was reading her mind because this would be the perfect Oscars outfit. It was breathtaking.

  “I’ll see you for dinner in an hour. Enjoy your pretties.”

  Harry made to leave. She wondered if there was a law against making out with apparel.

  As he reached the golf cart Harry snapped his fingers, remembering something. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have something else for you.”

  “Listen, Harry, if it’s another dress, they’re really quite beautiful, but…”

  “Oh, no not that. Wait.”

  From the passenger side he lifted the black bag. It was filthy and torn. But intact. How?

  “Sorry, I should have had them leave it in your room when you first arrived, but it slipped my mind. I had a couple of things going on. I don’t know if there’s anything of use in there, but it’s all yours.”

  Harry held it out for her. Like Frankenstein’s monster she lumbered forward. She took it from him with a weak smile and held it at arm’s length. Finally she placed it on the couch, not believing it real.

  “My guys found it on the bridge in Prague. I assumed you’d want it. We don’t exactly have a vast library here.”

  Harry said his goodbye and drove off. Eva stared at the backpack.