Paul must have swung some hefty influence to keep her rookie arse in the game. It was a lot of pressure, but the one thing that made an impact was that her friend had her back. That was all she needed for motivation.
“Seeing as I’ve been Shanghaied into this cross-agency arrangement, can I ask that you book me onto the next—”
“Flight to Vienna? Already booked. Accommodation, transport, surveillance and weapons packs will all be awaiting you on arrival. I’ll text the details to Ms Beart’s phone as soon as we’re done. I’ll require daily updates. You’re booked under the name of Chlamydia Phlegm.”
Eva sighed. “No I’m not.”
“No, you’re not.” Paul chuckled. “But that would be a pretty good code name, don’t you think? I’ll keep that one on file.”
She had to smile at her friend’s continued attempts to cheer her up, even though it had only partially worked.
“Keep your tuchus out of harm’s way, Evie. I don’t want any awkward conversations with unnamed parties.”
He wasn’t referring to the MI6 hierarchy; Paul was talking about his wife. He rang off and Eva returned to Isabella, who was enjoying another cigarette.
“How was Cavendish? I ’ave ’eard ’e can be quite priggish.”
Eva did her best not to smile. She’d seen her friend singing I will Survive while standing on a bar, dressed as a unicorn. Priggish he wasn’t.
“He’s a good egg. Not priggish. He’s actually quite modern in his opinions, especially about advancing women in the Secret Service.”
With a blank face, Isabella extinguished her cigarette. “There are two universal truths about the modern male. They are nowhere near the feminist they think they are, and their toilet aim is far worse than they think.”
Isabella made a good point. Not wanting to discuss Paul further, Eva changed the subject. She gave her new partner the news about the alias, credit card and Vienna link.
Isabella’s reaction was one of genuine surprise. Either that, or she was a world-class actress. Eva hoped for the former. After a few phone calls that was that, they were off to Vienna. The French spy picked up her handbag and headed for the front entrance.
Eva glanced at the table. “Don’t you need to pay the bill?”
Isabella scoffed, then inspected Eva’s face. “Oh, you are serious?” She shook her head. “We have different rules in the DGSE.”
Eva nodded, rubbing her wrists again.
Isabella continued. “As we are to be partners, there is one thing you must know about me.” She ran her fingernail down Eva’s bare arm, giving her goosebumps. “Rules, they are for the unimaginative, the wearisome and the classe inférieure. They are boring!” She elongated the last word. “We will ’ave much fun, you and I. Fate has drawn us together, but misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows, yes?”
Eva knew the quote. The Tempest. “You know Shakespeare?”
“Personally? Non.” Isabella wrinkled her nose. “But I am aware of his work. Just as I am aware you are no man, Eva Destruction.” She slid her hand across the small of Eva’s back. “Come, we ’ave only just started our journey. You and I will be great partners.”
Eva wasn’t sure if that would turn out to be true, but one thing was certain. Her time with the DGSE agent would be anything but boring.
Chapter Three
The Hotel Imperial wasn’t your regular terrorist hangout—not that Eva had been to many terrorist hangouts. The majestic Viennese hotel wasn’t your regular tourist trap, either. The hotel’s opulent surrounds, complete with marble statues and extravagant crystal chandeliers, were enough to make even a Kardashian step back and say, ‘Woah, tone it down, dude.’
The flight to Vienna had been uneventful, if Eva ignored the less-than-subtle innuendo from her travel companion. During take-off Isabella advised that her “landing strip is all clear”. She mentioned the benefits of “’ead in the clouds”, and upon landing she whispered that she “loved going down”. At times Eva wasn’t sure if her companion was a spy or a fourteen-year-old boy.
Eva still was uncertain if Isabella was flirting because that’s who she was, or if the DGSE agent was trying to keep her off-balance.
Regardless, Eva had a mission. The English press was in a frenzy about the cabinet ministers. Terrorist incidents were newsworthy enough, but with well-known politicians involved, the press were baying for blood. And a rabid English press was not a pretty thing.
As they sat in the palatial surrounds of the hotel foyer, Isabella impatiently tapped her foot. They had been waiting for the hotel manager for an hour. Meanwhile, hotel life went on about them, with elegantly dressed staff flitting about the aging clientele like remoras tending to elderly sharks.
Across the marble floor came the click-clack of sensible shoes. A prim woman marched towards them. She was dressed in a crisp pantsuit, her black hair tied back in a severe bun, her make-up thick, but perfectly applied. She looked like a stern governess crossed with Posh Spice.
After curt introductions, the manager said in accentless English, “I understand you wish to gain access to one of our executive suites?”
“That is correct,” Isabella stated in a manner that clearly conveyed her feelings about being kept waiting for so long.
“I’m afraid that is quite impossible at the current time.” The manager’s face remained unmoved.
Between clenched teeth, Isabella asked, “And may I ask why?”
“Are you an Austrian citizen?”
Eva stepped in before Isabella lost it. “I’m Australian, that’s close enough, right?” Her joke received no response. It was as if the woman was made of Botox. Eva could see where this was going. She added, “No, we’re not.”
“No. You are not.” The manager placed her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. “You have no jurisdiction here. You may not have access, but I am able to ensure that suite 513 remains unbooked, at great expense to the hotel.”
The manager’s tone suggested she expected them to bow in gratitude. There was no bowing. There was also no expense. Paul had advised Eva that the bomber had booked the suite for three weeks. Either the manager was ill-informed, or she was deliberately misleading them. Looking at the prissy manager, Eva suspected it was the latter.
The manager continued. “Until such time as the legitimate authorities present themselves, I will not let any Tom, Dick or Harriette into our suites without a warrant. Hotel policy.”
The good old “just following orders” defence. Their combined credentials meant nothing to her. Why would they? Spies were nothing new to Vienna.
A neutral country, straddling the divide between the East and the West and close to the Balkans, Vienna had always attracted secretive types. Austria had the most liberal spy laws in the world. Spying itself was not illegal unless it directly targeted Austrian interests. The place was basically a stock exchange for information.
Vienna was a city of secrets.
Surely there had to be a human somewhere underneath that thick veneer of make-up. Eva decided to try a new direction.
“Look, we’re obviously all working women here—”
“Working, yes, but you two,” the manager eyed their outfits, curling her upper lip in disdain, “appear to be from a whole other profession.”
She didn’t mean espionage.
Eva chose not to respond to the slight. “Listen, I know rules are import to folks like you—”
“Like me?” the manager spat. “What do you know about me?”
Eva assessed her, from her sensible shoes to her tight bun. “I know you reek of self-loathing, like someone who acts in infomercials for a living.”
Both the manager and Isabella stared at her in disbelief. Isabella was the first to move, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Posh Spice had riled Eva. They weren’t getting into that room today. The manager had been wasting their time.
She wasn’t done. “I don’t know why you’re so unhappy in life
. Is it because you realised Donkey Kong isn't an actual donkey?”
The manager vibrated with anger, and her face grew steadily redder. She was about to blow her tightly wound bun.
Isabella plastered on her best fake cordial sneer. “Thank you for your time,” she said, and ushered Eva away.
Eva was aghast. She hadn’t even used her good material yet.
The manager swivelled and marched back to her office. Despite her anger, Isabella’s gaze followed the woman’s arse as it snaked towards the door. Definitely gay.
“Come on,” Isabella said as she shoved her partner along. “We should ’ead back to our ’otel. We will not get in the ‘otel room today. Let us go.”
“I’m not letting the likes of that,” Eva pointed a thumb in the direction of the manager’s office, “determine if we succeed or fail.”
“Then what...?”
With a wrinkle of her nose, Eva said, “Give me a minute.”
Eva calmed herself and guided Isabella towards the luxurious couches facing the hotel bar. As they sat down, Eva selected an option on her new phone and waited for the software to download. The phone had been issued in her weapons pack on arrival.
She hadn’t really needed the hotel manager’s permission, although it would have been easier. Now they had to be sneaky. They had to be spies.
They sat in awkward silence, like an uncomfortable married couple.
“If you could travel to anywhere in the world right now,” Isabella began, “where would it be?”
Eva was intrigued by the change in topic. Clearly they were past the ‘And what do you do?’ stage. Eva had been to so many amazing destinations. She’d seen more of the world than most. And not the tourist-checklist spots, either. She’d been to many out-of-the-way exotic locations. But none of those were her answer.
“There’s a place a couple of hours away from my home town, called Jan Juc.”
Isabella nodded approvingly. “This sounds very French, I think, yes?”
“Not really. It’s a surf beach. I go there and the world falls away. It’s my safe place. You have one of those?”
Isabella nodded. “I understand the world falling away part. A little café, overlooking a park near my parents’ ’ome in Créteil. I used to go there when I was a child. I was bullied in school and it was my safe ’aven. It always made me feel protected, like a womb, yes? Ever since, I go there to make sense of the world, to feel safe. It is very special to me. We have these places ’alf a world away from one another, but I think we are similar, you and I.”
“Maybe we are, Isabella,” Eva agreed.
Eva thought this was a good opening to get to know her companion. On the brief flight to Vienna all their conversation had been about the mission—well, that and Isabella’s frequent innuendo. Now they had a few moments of downtime, it was time to figure out who she was really working with.
“So,” Eva began. “When I was nineteen, I was in love.”
Isabella crinkled her forehead, as if wondering where the statement had come from. “Was it a girl? Is this your way of coming on to me? I must say it is about time. It ’as been a whole twenty-four ’ours. I was believing I ’ad lost my touch.”
Eva grinned. “His name was Chad.”
“Boo.”
Eva chuckled and went on. “He was my world. I was beyond smitten. I’d given everything up for him. University, my family, my friends. Pretty much every dollar I earned was put towards our future. But when you’re in love none of that matters, right?”
Isabella said nothing, but nodded for her to continue.
“Here I am, madly in love with the bloke who I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, and he suggests we get a little kinky.”
Isabella leaned forward. “Please use as much detail as possible.”
“He suggests we tie each other up. I, of course, agreed. I’m always down for that sort of thing.”
“I am taking mental notes.”
Eva ignored her. “Chad is all loving, strips down and handcuffs me to the bed. And then…” Eva sighed. “Then he went and made a sandwich.”
“What? I think this is quite a foolish man.”
“I know, right? When he came back, he was fully dressed. He pulled out our suitcases and started loading them up with everything we owned.” Eva shuddered at the memory. “So, picture me, chained to the bed…”
“I can think of nothing else right now.”
“… and screaming blue murder while he casually packs up all our worldly possessions. Takes the lot. All my books, my CDs, my clothes. Everything. He cleaned out my purse, took my cards and cleaned out my accounts. He… was not a nice person.” A slow exhale. “I’d like to say that was an isolated incident, but I don’t like to lie.”
The truth was, Eva was gun-shy of any new relationship. Not just the likes of Chad, who littered the battlefield of her dating life like the first day of the Somme. The main reason was her recent ex had scarred her like no other man had, and hoped, ever would again. It would take an amazing person to make Eva trust once more. She would, but only when she was ready, and more importantly, when she could be certain the person wouldn't manipulate her into being someone she wasn't.
Eva caught herself. Did she just say person? She meant man, surely? She did, didn't she? She was pretty certain she did. Yeah, of course she did.
It was refreshing for Eva to be free of relationship dramas. A rare occurrence. She knew it would be temporary and she'd soon be back on the battlefield once more. But for now, she was thankful for the reprieve, or lull in the eye of the storm, or whatever it currently has was.
Isabella frowned. “I am unsure what it is you are saying.”
“What I’m saying is I have some trust issues. That, and I make the worst choices in men.”
“Maybe that is your meaning?” Isabella ran her fingers down Eva’s arm. “That men are the problem.”
“No, that’s not my point at all. It’s that people have to earn my trust, over and above normal folk, simply because of my past. I don’t know you, Isabella, I don’t know you at all. I know you’re a flirt, that you’re good at what you do, but I know nothing about you. Tell me something that defined you.”
Isabella gave a slight shake of her head. “You are a very strange spy, Eva Destruction.”
Eva shrugged. She wasn’t going to argue the point. Folding her arms, she waited for Isabella’s response.
“’er name was Alexis,” she started, staring off into the middle-distance. “She was everything. A spy, like me, but also unlike me in every way. She was smarter, braver, more loving than I could ever be. I was temperamental, ’ot ’eaded, hmmm? I made rash decisions. She calmed me, made me focused. She made me a better person, no?”
“This story doesn’t sound like it’s going to have a happy ending. Go on.”
“We were on a mission together. Our superiors, they did not know of our love. We were after a state scientist who was selling a small amount of nuclear material on the black market. We underestimated him. I was meant to have Alexis’s back, but I rushed in like an impetuous child. I was not covering my partner when things went bad…” There was a long pause. “She died.”
Eva saw the earnestness on Isabella’s face. She was on the verge of tears. Her gaze remained resolutely on the other side of the room. Was this the true Isabella?
Eva placed her hand on the spy’s knee. “Why did you tell me that story?”
Isabella sniffed, then straightened her spine as if hardening herself. “You see? I too ’ave learned from my mistakes. I would never let my partner down. My new partner should know this.”
Not quite knowing how to respond, Eva nodded. “I have to get back to work.”
Isabella pouted. The old Isabella seemed to have returned. She ran a finger along Eva’s thigh. “Such dedication. I wonder if you pursue all things with such passion?”
Eva gently moved the French woman’s hand away and held up a finger to silence her protest. With the same f
inger, she told her to wait.
She would digest Isabella’s story later. She was relieved to know there was a more human side to her partner. It would make working together easier. But she put it aside for now. Eva had a mission.
Eva rose and walked towards the bar. On the way, she tapped on her phone.
There was no way Eva could leave the hotel without answers. There were so many questions. How did Mustafa afford such a place? And why Vienna? The city had centuries of spy history, but why would that appeal to terrorists? Perhaps it made it a logical meeting point for them. Eva didn’t think so. There was something else at play here.
It was all supposition and gut feel. Eva had to provide more than that. There was a lot of pressure from her superiors at MI6 who thought hiring an Australian was ludicrous even before they met the mouthy, tattooed feminist. They had little faith in her abilities.
Then there were Isabella and the DGSE, who were probably of the same opinion. Eva could feel Isabella’s gaze boring into the back of her head and knew she had to succeed in order to gain the trust of her new partner.
Eva was never one to be defined by the opinions of others. She had a mission. She had a clear objective. She would prove to the grey haired, blue-tie set that she was a great secret service operative. That she deserved her position and their respect. Eva would show them all.
Spurred on with a righteous fire in her belly, Eva cleared the last of the stairs up to the bar with a spring in her step. Unfortunately, there was a bit too much spring, and she tripped over her own feet. With her phone in her hand she stumbled and went sprawling into a table of four middle-aged businessmen. Empty coffee mugs, plates and laptops went flying. Eva bounced off the table and landed ingloriously on her arse.
The Rookie?s Guide to Espionage: An Eva Destruction Espresso Shot Page 3