The Barista’s Guide to Espionage

by Dave Sinclair

An ear-splitting siren shattered the stillness of the yawning cavern. Red flashing lights blazed in every corner. A thunderous hissing sound seemed to come from everywhere. From the rooftop pipes a pallid fog descended rapidly.

  Bishop had triggered the fire suppression system. Clever bastard.

  Everything turned white. Visibility disappeared. Eva held up her palm and couldn’t see it. Harry’s men shouted but were soon muffled by coughing fits.

  Bishop’s strong hand gripped her wrist and wrenched her away. They ran into the labyrinth of servers. Eva was completely blind, following Bishop wherever he was headed. He pulled her hand low, forcing her into a stooped run. She hoped he knew where he was going. She was completely disorientated.

  They had to be careful. There was at least one guard lurking around the floor. Possibly more.

  She tried to ask a question, but choked on the fumes before she got a syllable out. Bishop stopped his run, turned to her and grasped either side of her face. A few centimetres inch away from her nose, he shook his head. No talking. Before she could respond, he was off again, dragging her with him.

  Each turn was deliberate. His course ceaseless. Did he know where he was going? How was that possible?

  The flashing lights and siren suddenly ceased. The fog remained. Things were infinitely more difficult. There was a huge droning sound like an airplane turbine starting up. They’d started the gas extraction. Any advantage would soon be lost.

  He increased his pace.

  Navigating around a server rack Bishop bounced off a huge black shadow. A guard. A big one. The guard’s first punch was high and Bishop ducked easily. That was all he needed. His entire body leaned into a punch to the guard’s sternum. The guard doubled over and Bishop didn’t spare a moment. His second blow connected with the side of the guard’s head, the succession of blows was so fast it became impossible to distinguish one from another. Bishop was unrelenting. Despite his size, the giant guard collapsed to the ground like a felled grizzly bear. Out cold.

  Her hand yanked, they were off again. They neared an outer wall, opposite to where they’d come from. Headed for a door labelled, ‘Explosives – Keep Out!’

  Bishop tried the door. Locked. He stepped back as if ready to kick it down, but Eva shook her head. She pointed to her ears. Too loud. In a flash she had her lock picking kit out and went to work. Taking longer than she wanted, she eventually heard the satisfying click as the tension wrench turned in the unlocked deadbolt.

  Without hesitating, Bishop hustled them in and shut the door.

  The room was larger than she thought. Wooden crates were stacked to the roof behind a series of chain-link gates.

  In hushed tones Eva asked, “What is all this?”

  “This data centre isn’t in a natural cavern.”

  “So?”

  “So, it means it was probably blasted out.”

  “And if it was blasted out…”

  “…they would need things that go bang somewhere.”

  “Okay. But why keep them down here, isn’t it dangerous to be close to the servers?”

  “Temperature-controlled, away from the natural elements, heavily-guarded, fire suppression systems. I’d say it’s the ideal position.”

  “How did you know it was here?”

  “My superior spy training, intuitive ability and countless hours of honing my skill.” He paused. “Plus there was a map on the wall near where we were standing. But mostly the spy thing.”

  Bishop held out his hand. “Hand me the umbrella, please.”

  “Greta.”

  “Hand me the umbrella please, Greta.”

  “No, the umbrella’s called…whatever.” She handed him Greta.

  Bishop wedged Greta into the chain binding the fence to the gate. He gave it a sharp twist. The ridiculously strong umbrella broke the chain and it fell to the floor.

  The next few minutes entailed Bishop investigating the contents of boxes marked with warnings, exclamation points, and skull and crossbones.

  When he had piled a succession of explosives and gadgets on a desk, Eva asked, “So what are we going to do?”

  A droll grin crossed his lips. “Make things go explodey.”

  Twenty minutes later Bishop had assembled an impressive arsenal of weapons. He knew his explosives. Sticks of dynamite were attached by wire to small electronic devices. Eva was disappointed there was no big red digital readout like they had in movies. She’d been informed that never happens. It was a bomb. It went off when it went off, no need to advertise the fact.

  Every movement Bishop made was precise and deliberate. There never seemed to be any danger of explosion, so complete was Bishop’s mastery of bomb-making. He had split the bombs into two groups; those on timers and those detonated by remote control. Both triggers were plentiful. They all served a specific purpose. She had to admit it was more professional than some sparklers and an aerosol can.

  Eventually he stood back with folded arms, admiring his work. He gave a curt nod and said, “Let’s not dilly-dally, time to cause a ruckus.” He turned to Eva, his face soft. “Oh, and Eva. I do apologise for being a chauvinistic windbag before. I am thankful for you saving my worthless hide. I know this experience must have been incredibly hard for you, working against a man you once loved only for him to…have turned on you. I keep forgetting you haven’t been trained for this…uh…that is not a dig, I mean, I… In short, you are exceptional.”

  “And…?”

  “Very exceptional?”

  “No. I mean I’m waiting for the sexist punchline.”

  “No punchline. No inappropriate kissing. No towel stealing. Just me being genuine for once.”

  Eva rocked on her heels. “It’s a bit weird, you not saying something inappropriate.”

  “I know. It is, isn’t it? Would it help if I fondled your bottom?”

  “In a weird way, it might.” Eva grinned. “But seriously, don’t. You look better with two arms attached.”

  He nodded.

  “And Bishop…”

  “Mmmm?”

  “Thank you for saving me back there. That was some nice work. And I hate to tell you, but with that whole bra burning thing, you’re positively Germaine Greer.”

  “Scary isn’t it?”

  “Incredibly.”

  He picked up a bomb and asked, “Are you ready to do something ridiculously dangerous and stupid?”

  “Have you met me?”

  Eva checked the watch. Did the second hand go backwards? It seemed like it. Time had slowed. The stupid thing said Bishop had left an hour and a half before, but it obviously lied. It seemed like at least a day to her.

  The lack of gunfire was a good thing. She put that in the pro column. No unscheduled explosions, also pro. The fact that Bishop said he’d contact her via walkie talky in an hour ‘at absolute most’ was definitely in the con column. Underlined. With an exclamation point for emphasis.

  Eva checked the battery on the walkie talky. Still good. She tried calling Bishop, for the tenth time, no answer. Every second that ticked by brought her closer to the detonation of the timed devices. She stared at Bishop’s expensive oversized black dive watch. He’d given it to her so she’d know when the explosions would occur. When he handed it over it was as if she was receiving his first born child, such was his reluctance to relinquish his grip. She could only stare at it knowing he was long overdue.

  It had been risky enough to place bombs in the facility they were in, it was far riskier for him to go back to the main island and place bombs there. The longer Eva waited, the more dangerous it seemed.

  Beside her was the detonator for the remote-controlled bombs. They would be the first to go. As soon as Bishop told her he was on the surface of the island, Eva would be clear to find her way out of the data centre to meet him on the surface. Then they’d blow it to pieces. Bishop should have already placed the bombs at the base of the wall where they had been confronted by Van Buren and his goons.

  Bishop had told
her repeatedly that she wasn’t to detonate them early or she’d die. Once the first bomb went off every living thing in the manufactured cave would be dead. No escape. She had to be nowhere near it. That’s why the first bombs needed to be remotely controlled, they couldn’t risk mistiming their escape and being caught in the aftermath.

  After the first set of bombs, Harry’s evil scheme would be all but destroyed. The timed devices would see to the rest of his operation. The power plant, the main house and anything else Bishop could find on the main island would go up to be sure. Harry’s carefully constructed empire would be destroyed.

  The rational part of Eva’s mind had been steadily working on her loathing of Harry. The emotional side lagged behind, but was running to catch up. It’s not every day the man who purported to love you gives the order to have you killed, real or imagined. Normally they’d just unfriend you from Facebook. Add to that the whole invasion of privacy on a global scale and the trifling little issue of killing innocent people in a mock-terrorist attack. The man was a megalomaniac, plain and simple.

  Eva tried not to backtrack their relationship and find more times when he’d obviously lied to or manipulated her but she failed. The time in Rome when they’d been spotted by a pack of paparazzi and photographed having a romantic dinner happened to coincide with a few negative news stories. In retrospect the ‘He can’t be all bad, he’s in love’ stories made her sick. Of course they were in Lancing newspapers. The times Harry had been ‘stuck’ in Hawaii were probably him taking side trips to the island.

  Their relationship wasn’t just built on a bedrock of deceit, it was constructed with it too. Take away the bricks of lies, did she have anything worth salvaging left? She’d loved the man once, not as long ago as she should have. Eva was going to need some intensive therapy. And booze. And Nancy.

  Adjusting her bikini, she checked the stupid watch again. It ticked mockingly slowly. She’d changed into the bikini from the backpack just in case. There was a high likelihood they’d need to do some swimming in the near future so swimwear was more practical than a turtleneck and leggings.

  The main drawback was she would be forced to ditch the backpack. She’d have to move fast and would need her hands free to carry the detonator and the two guns Bishop had found in the armoury. Sig Sauers. Nice find. Exceptionally-balanced and superbly-crafted pieces of machinery. They cried out to be fired.

  Faint footsteps approached and the handle of the door jiggled. She was relieved at Bishop’s return. It was short-lived. It wasn’t Bishop.

  In the doorway stood Harry. Behind him were two heavily-armed guards. Eva went to lunge for the guns.

  “Don’t. Please.”

  The pistols were too far away. Harry’s plea appeared genuine. If she dove for the guns she’d be cut down before she was halfway.

  Eva straightened her back. “How did you find me?”

  “It was Van Buren who came up with the idea. Simply turn off the lights in the main hall and see if any rooms still have lights turned on. I knew there was a reason I kept him around.”

  “Not his winning personality and faultless personal hygiene?”

  “Always with the jokes.”

  “Always with the condescension.”

  “Eva, you know that’s not true. I loved you from the moment we met.”

  “Lied from then on, too.” Running her fingers through her hair, Eva frowned. “All this,” she pointed behind him, “is wrong, Harry. It’s evil and against everything you said you believed in. You always said you needed me. I never knew until now that was actually true. You said you needed a moral compass, so here I am telling you that what you’re doing is immoral. What you’re trying to do goes against everything I thought you stood for. You’re no longer the truth’s guardian, you’re its oppressor.”

  Harry’s face was unmoved. Her impassioned plea was too late. A decade too late. He was too far down the rabbit hole to come back. The opinion of an ex-girlfriend who had betrayed him counted for nothing.

  Eva readied herself to dive for the guns, damn the consequences. She must have telegraphed her move because the guards tightened the grip on their weapons. Harry didn’t stop them. Van Buren must have won. She would be executed.

  Harry Lancing, the man she’d loved more than any other, the man she’d suspended her values for, her Geronimo Man, was lost to her. In a way, he may as well have put a bullet in her. Eva’s insides were ripped apart.

  The situation was grim. No sign of Bishop. Harry and his guards stood in her way. She couldn’t take them all down, even if she had the guns. The larger guard’s head was bandaged, the other sported a charred uniform. They’d been in the house when she’d set off her homemade bombs. She doubted they’d be signing up for her fan club newsletter.

  Harry bowed his head. When he raised it, his face was gentler, like the man she once fell in love with. “I’m truly sorry, Eva. This has all gotten out of hand. You were never a prop. Honestly, I’ve always loved you and only ever wanted to be with you. I know I’m the one who screwed it up with all this.” He waved his hand behind him. “Every day I wish I’d done things differently with you, been more open, told you about this place. I was stupid. I see that now.”

  She didn’t know where he was going with his apology. As she listened with her hands behind her back, Eva’s fingers caressed the detonator for the remote-controlled bombs. Her finger hovered over the trigger.

  In a strange kind of way she held the fate of the world, literally, in her hands. She had the ability to save Harry’s vision or destroy it. The future of Europe, the world, could be irrevocably changed depending on Eva’s actions. It was a lot for an everyday barista to take in.

  Even with his soothing words, she could no longer trust a single word from the man standing before her. He was making apologies with armed men at his back. There was no way she could have a life with him.

  She had to escape, not just from the room, but from the planet-sized pull of Harry Lancing. Even after all she’d been through and all she knew he made Eva doubt herself. She was stronger than that. No man had made her concede her values like he had. She should have been tougher than that, but wasn’t. Her mother hadn’t raised someone so easily bent to the will of any man. Eva was an amazon, a fighter. No one should ever gauge their worth by the opinion of another.

  No more.

  She had no idea where Bishop was. She was cornered.

  Harry was still talking. “We were close, though, weren’t we?” His face tender. “We were almost happy. We almost had the life we both wanted.”

  She held out the detonator. The panicked guards aimed guns at her.

  “Harry…”

  “Yes, Eva.”

  She looked him dead in the eye. “Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

  Eva pressed the trigger. The bombs exploded.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The sound of the explosion was horrific. The blast inside the expansive chamber reverberated with ear-shattering intensity. The guards were knocked off their feet. Harry only managed to remain standing by clinging to the door frame.

  There was no chance Eva would let the slightest of cracks of opportunity go wanting. Grabbing Greta, she lowered her shoulder and charged. Still disorientated, Harry never saw her coming. The man she had shared countless embraces with received one last less intimate one.

  Her shoulder connected with his ribs. The wind knocked from his lungs, Harry flew backwards. Greta swung like a sword and connected to the side of the head of the already bandaged guard. At least it was the other side. Pivoting, Eva continued the swing and connected with the other guard’s head as he raised it.

  Both down, Eva went back to pick up the pistols and tuck Greta into the straps of her bikini like a samurai sword. She planned to race to the train station but something held her leg.

  “Let me go, Harry.”

  “If only I could.”

  He didn’t know what was coming next.

  Eva did.<
br />
  She glanced at the watch. “About high tide, right?

  “Yes,” Harry said, confused. His face contorted. “Oh, Eva, no.”

  The roar of water was deafening, its devastation total. The tsunami engulfed row upon row of servers knocking them over like children’s sandcastles.

  The only sound that could be heard above the tumultuous waters was the cry of grief from Harry. Eva turned her back on him and ran.

  The train station was thankfully elevated and hadn’t been hit by the first surge of encroaching sea water. It didn’t mean it was safe. The underground monorail wasn’t a great option in a flooding facility but she didn’t have time to find another exit. There was a chance that the slight incline before the railway descended into the tunnel would be enough to hold back the waters. If she was lucky she’d make it from one island to the other before the tunnel flooded. Or lose power first. She had to concede it wasn’t a great plan.

  As she dashed she searched for any sign of Bishop. It would be impossible for him to have lived if he was on the floor of the data centre. Barely a server stack survived the initial wave. Debris littered the chaotic waters. Eva prayed he was topside when she’d detonated the bombs. She couldn’t bear to lose him to raging waters twice.

  Sprinting, Eva was relieved there was a train carriage at the first warehouse platform. On the control panel, she pressed Main House Entrance B and leapt in.

  Behind her another rush of water engulfing what was once the data centre. The ruin she had brought was total. Nothing had survived.

  Regardless of how right she thought her actions were, Eva had caused this. She had brought this destruction on Harry and his dreams. What have I done? Eva wanted to throw up.

  Her plan was to get to the main island, commandeer a boat back to the second island and begin her search for Bishop. If he was even alive. He was meant to be somewhere on the surface. She glanced at the watch. The power would be cut via the timed detonations in forty-five minutes. If Bishop had managed to place the explosives in time. It would be pushing it to get back before then. She had to try. Eva owed him that much.