The Whisper of Persia (The Girl in the Mirror Book 3)

by Philip J. Gould

  Thoughts of Miami sprung into Sophie’s mind, and with them, Barry. The man had stayed with her after the GYGES operation, offering to help Sophie find and rescue her father. They’d shared a hotel room in Miami, and he’d comforted her after learning of her father’s death. Then they’d flown to Cuba together. Two days later he was dead, killed in the line of duty, sacrificing himself to facilitate Sophie’s escape.

  As Mac was about to protest, the doors to the office smoothly slid open and in stepped Brayden Scott, followed close behind by Christina Mullins.

  Alarm flashed up onto Sophie’s face before the Americans had a proper chance to clock her. Instantly, she vanished, but not without notice.

  “Soph–” Emily started, noticing the younger woman’s disappearance. For a moment she’d forgotten Sophie could do that. The last time she had been present when the younger woman had used her ability, it had been back in George Jennings’ apartment in Chelsea just after she had returned from America.

  “What... just... happened?” asked Mac somewhat baffled.

  “She’s here.” Initially Brayden had thought he’d imagined the blonde haired woman, so swift was her vanishing act, but Emily − beginning to speak her name − all but confirmed it. Effortlessly a handgun appeared in the CIA agent’s hand.

  “Wait! STOP!” Emily demanded.

  “I thought I recognised you. It’s been bugging me for ages... you were with her in Washington. You had different colour hair then... lighter.”

  “What’s going on Brayden?” Christina who had walked in behind the CIA man hadn’t seen anything. “Who’s here?” Proactively she unholstered her own weapon sensing the other man’s anxiety.

  “Our girl... Sophie,” replied Brayden triumphantly, sweeping his weapon from one side of the office to the other. “And this... Emily Porter is her accomplice.”

  “Agent Scott, we can explain,” started Emily, walking so that she was standing directly in front of the man, between − she believed − him and where Sophie was now likely standing.

  “I think you’d better!”

  “Lower your gun first,” requested Emily, “and then we will.”

  Brayden held his weapon fast making no signs of re-holstering it. After a long moment he sighed and slipped the gun back in its place beneath his jacket. “Okay. I’ll hear you out. And it better be good, your agency is going to be in a whole heap of trouble after this.” He moved in closer and sat on the edge of a desk. “After you’ve finished, you will assist me by letting us take Sophie Jennings into custody.” To emphasise the point, a pair of standard FBI-issue metal cuffs appeared in Christina’s hand. She twirled one of the rings around her middle finger playfully. “Now, show yourself, Sophie. I like to be seeing who it is I’m speaking with.”

  As effortlessly as she had vanished, Sophie reappeared. To blink, you would miss the transformation.

  After drinking the contents of the glass vial back at her old apartment in October, Sophie’s DNA had been irrevocably altered. Initially she had faded back into existence, a warm, euphoric feeling spreading through her body. At first, she was so pleased to have a physical appearance, she hadn’t noticed that the effect did not wear off, unlike the serum she’d had to inject herself with three or four times a day. After three days of being ‘visible’, Sophie wondered whether her normal look was permanent, she tried to make herself disappear again. Concentrating hard, she had discovered that the ability, for so long considered a curse, was still available to her − only now under her full control. She vanished as suddenly as light would disappear from a bulb after clicking a switch. A couple of minutes later she concentrated hard again, this time thinking herself ‘real’. Instantly she had watched herself casually reappear. It had been exhilarating, and, for the first time, Sophie actually appreciated the gift she had been born with.

  “Does it hurt?” Brayden watched as Sophie’s physical appearance was restored. She was standing next to Emily, exactly where she had been before the FBI and CIA agents had entered the room. Seeing the lanyard draped around the young woman’s neck and the ID card hanging from it, he added with a nod: “Agent Jennings.”

  “Not if I don’t hit you,” replied Sophie, seriously.

  Brayden smiled. The broad is funny, he mused.

  “So, you were going to explain to us. What’s going on?” Mullins directed the question to Emily. She had re-holstered her gun just after Brayden.

  Emily pulled up an office chair on castors and sat down. Firmly, she said: “First, you tell us what really happened to Barry.”

  A look of sadness and, something else, flashed across Sophie’s face. The muscles in her cheekbones tensed and her eyes hardened.

  “You’ve read the report no doubt,” replied Brayden dismissively.

  “A little too contrived,” Emily criticised. “What REALLY happened?”

  Brayden sighed, dropping his guard. “Really, there’s not much else to add. I went to get him a coffee, when I got back, he was having a heart attack and a nurse was sounding the alarm. I called for help, and then watched as the doctors worked to save his life. I watched him die from the corridor,” adding, sardonically, “front row seat.”

  Sophie shied away. Coupled with her earlier thoughts of the man, it took a lot of effort to fight back the tears that threatened to leak from her eyes. It felt silly. She had hardly known the young agent, but in the few days they’d travelled together after meeting for the first time on the jet at Dulles International Airport, strange emotions and feelings had engulfed her, sensations that she’d never known existed and could never have learned from a computer programme. Two months had passed since Barry had died and those feelings, interlaced with grief, continued to spit and flame beneath the surface.

  Accepting Brayden’s response, Emily’s steadfastness softened. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

  Mirroring his boss, Mac also sat down, though on the other side of a desk partition behind two work areas and Emily’s office space.

  Relieved the tension in the young woman’s voice had lessened, the CIA agent relaxed. “Your involvement with Dominic Schilling?” asked Brayden, propping himself up against a desk.

  “Nothing like cutting to the chase,” replied Emily stiffly.

  “He murdered my mother,” interjected Sophie, pain still evident in her tone. “After you kidnapped her... and did whatever...” She couldn’t finish. Breaking the seal to her emotions allowed heartache to flow flagrantly. The loss of her mother, her father, and then Barry... it was overwhelming.

  “Yes, I know that... and I’m deeply sorry. Truly… Sincerely…” They just sounded like words being reeled off an autocue, there was no candour in his voice. “It wasn’t part of the plan, I get it. It seems Dominic had his own ulterior motives, of which you surprisingly became allied to, a couple of months later.”

  “It’s a long story,” said Emily.

  “Oh? I’ve got plenty of time... it’s New Year’s Day. There’s little on the TV. What about you Mullins?”

  “Ditto,” she muttered. “It’s not like we’ve any place better to be, stuck over here... away from our families, at Christmas, an’ all.”

  Ignoring the sarcasm in the FBI agent’s comment, Emily took a moment to compose herself, to clear her thoughts and to get her story straight. Clearly she couldn’t divulge everything; to do so would be an admission of guilt and draw attention to their recent operations in Washington, California and Nevada. The fallout would cause a political disaster for Great Britain, tarnish the reputation of MI6 and likely start hostilities between the USA and the British nation. But Emily knew the Americans were not stupid and that they already suspected MI6 were involved somehow. Sophie’s presence in the room all but confirmed it.

  “Dominic had been made Director of Intelligence at Kaplan Ratcliff,” started Emily confidently. “Our org
anisations had a joint interest and it was felt that we could work together with him to achieve a mutually beneficial outcome.”

  “And you were happy with that?” Brayden asked Sophie incredulously.

  “I would hardly say ‘happy’,” replied Sophie haughtily. “Far from it. I wanted to kill him. STILL want to kill him...”

  “We persuaded Sophie to put aside her differences... for the greater good,” offered Emily by way of explanation.

  “Greater good? You mean destroying George Jennings’ work? Killing countless American soldiers? Killing George, Sophie’s father?”

  “No, nothing like that,” she lied. Quickly she relayed a concocted story which she hoped would exonerate them and bring the CIA on side. “We had received intelligence that Kaplan Ratcliff wanted to steal back their research from America, and at the same time put the American project back in the dark ages.”

  “Were they equipped to do that?” asked Mullins who had been quietly digesting Emily’s explanation.

  “Yes,” replied Emily. “As their former Assistant Intelligence Officer, I know what they are capable of. Militarily, they have enough resources to take on a small country and beat them in a war; weapons, personnel, you name it, they have it.”

  “But they’re a biochemical company?” Brayden didn’t sound convinced.

  “On the face of it, sure. Genetics and biochemistry is their main bread and butter, but behind the scenes they undertake a number of other activities. Security and intelligence gathering; fighting private wars is a lucrative business.” Emily paused, allowing Brayden an opportunity to challenge her further. He didn’t, so she continued. “Our intel indicated that Kaplan Ratcliff were going to use George Jennings’ research to better themselves, and enrich their own army for nefarious means.”

  “Okay,” seeming to accept what she said. “How does that tie-in with your involvement?” asked Brayden, folding his arms across his chest and listening intently. His expression indicated that he was finding it difficult to believe the tale.

  “We read the danger signs early. As a result, we felt the best cause of action would be to neutralise the threat from within. We set up a unit headed by Sir Marty Heywood, who feigned allegiance with Dominic Schilling − so we thought − to infiltrate Kaplan Ratcliff and sabotage their plans. We’ve since discovered that Marty had gone rogue and had sided with them instead. Sophie and myself were sent to America to assist with intercepting Dominic, to putting a stop to what they intended to do.”

  “Sir Marty Heywood?” Brayden wore a puzzled expression.

  “Knighted for his charity work, amongst things,” replied Emily a little sheepishly.

  “It appears he was too charitable,” grunted Brayden.

  “Quite,” Emily replied disappointedly. “We had contact with Dominic in Washington, and went along with the charade, helping him evade capture at Dulles Airport as we had no idea where the planned attack was going to happen. It was shortly after that he discovered our true intentions, presumably from Marty Heywood, and ditched us in California.

  “The next we heard there’d been an attack on US soil at an airbase in Nevada. Area 51. We then heard reports that George had been killed by the former CIA agent Mitch Youngs. It didn’t take too much to work out that both incidents were linked. It turned out Youngs had been collaborating with Marty Heywood, and had been for some years. It appears he was enlisted to carry out the deed. The fact that he was in the ideal place at the right time was amazing luck.”

  Brayden’s jaw line tensed at the mention of his former partner’s name, and Emily observed the man clench both his fists in anger.

  “But we got to him, and handed him over to you. Of course, not before we’d done with him first.”

  “So it was YOU guys who gifted him to me at Guantanamo?”

  “It was our pleasure. Sophie and...” Emily couldn’t bring herself to say his name, “... another agent apprehended him; Sophie had been driven by revenge for the death of her father.”

  “It took a lot of restraint not to put a bullet in his head,” interrupted Sophie, saying it as though she had done the world a favour.

  “We found him in Cuba,” Emily continued. “It was under interrogation that Mitch Youngs admitted getting his orders from Marty, and the rest ‘as they say’ is history.”

  Brayden saw that Emily was finished with her account of events and started a slow clap. “A good story,” he said, smiling. “Really, it is.” He stopped with the clapping. “What I don’t understand is: why didn’t you inform us beforehand? We could’ve been prepared; we could’ve been ready and protected ourselves!”

  Emily shrugged. “It was Marty’s call. He wanted to keep it low-key, under the radar.” It was easy to pin full blame on the man now that he was dead. “He said he thought Kaplan Ratcliff could be stopped before you would ever know. Of course, it turns out he was a traitorous arse-hole; hindsight is an amazing thing.”

  “Hmph,” grunted Brayden, unconvinced. “Sounds too...” he struggled with the word, “... contrived. I’m not buying it.”

  “It’s the truth!” insisted Emily, gazing into Brayden’s eyes, holding his glare. “And now, Dominic Schilling is back in the UK, seemingly with a force of invisible burglars...”

  “A force?” Brayden appeared puzzled. He turned towards Sophie. “We believed you were somehow responsible.”

  “What? All of them?” Sophie’s tone carried a note of ridicule. “Hardly... haven’t you listened to anything Emily said? I’m not involved, how could I be? I’m one of the good guys.”

  “Our belief... after Dominic − and Marty − had orchestrated the attack against Area 51, Dominic escaped back here to Britain, bringing with him some of your specimens.” Emily couldn’t fight the urge to add further clarification, fearing Brayden was never going to accept their version of events.

  “Specimens?” queried Mullins, not understanding what the MI6 agent meant.

  “Invisible children,” replied Emily gloomily. “We think he took some; now,” she looked reluctant, “they are working for him.”

  The spate of burglaries across Scotland had been featured heavily in the news broadcasts that day. Although details of invisible thieves had not made the hourly bulletins, Emily had learned of the full facts whilst en route to London during a phone call with the Chief.

  “And it doesn’t stop there,” said Sophie ominously.

  “I guess you’ve heard about Ryan?” asked Emily.

  “Getting shot? Yes,” confirmed Brayden breezily. Thanks to Christina it was old news.

  “We believe it is somehow linked to what’s happening in Scotland.”

  “Why?” asked Mullins. The link was tenuous she thought.

  “Because whoever shot Ryan has kidnapped my brothers and sister too,” answered Sophie gravely.

  “And,” Emily joined in, “Ryan told me he’d received a veiled threat over the phone a couple of months ago. If he − or anyone in the agency − did anything to scupper Dominic’s plans, or seek out the sons of GYGES, something was going to happen to me,” added Emily, recalling Ryan’s confession when she had discovered and confronted him about his involvement. “So you see, it sort of makes it difficult to tell anyone anything of what we knew... including the CIA.”

  “Okay. Is that it?” asked Brayden stiffly.

  “Yes, I believe so,” answered Emily without emotion.

  “Good... okay then.” Brayden stood up and smiled. “I’ll take everything you have said under advisement. Now that you’ve finished, I believe we had come up with an agreement. Time to hold up your end of the bargain.”

  “What?”

  “What I said at the beginning. I’ve heard you out, now I’m taking Sophie into custody under the authority afforded me under special licence granted by the British government...” answere
d Brayden self-righteously. He turned to his partner. “Mullins...” He indicated for the FBI agent to make use of the handcuffs she was still holding.

  “You can’t do this,” Emily protested. “Not after what I’ve just said.”

  “You admitted she aided Dominic Schilling at Dulles International Airport. There’s also the incident in Fresno, California to discuss. There’s more than enough to warrant an arrest. I’m sorry, this changes nothing.” He looked directly towards the blonde woman. “Sophie Jennings. Place your hands behind your back please.”

  Mullins stepped forward brandishing the metal cuffs, one loop opened ready to receive Sophie’s wrist. She proceeded to read the woman her Miranda rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you...”

  Sophie didn’t listen to anything more. She instantly vanished and immediately used the surprise it evoked to her advantage.

  Moving swiftly to the side of Special Agent Mullins, she tugged out the woman’s handgun and in one fluid movement, used the butt of the weapon against the back of her head, knocking her down hard.

  Mullins crumpled to the floor like a Premiership footballer hard-tackled, momentarily unconscious and likely concussed.

  Seeing his partner felled to the ground, Brayden eased his own handgun free, released the safety and aimed it ahead of him.

  “Sophie, halt! I don’t want to hurt you!” he shouted, unable to see his target.

  BANG!

  Brayden dropped his gun and threw his hands to the side of his face, inextricable pain lancing into his brain. Sophie had discharged Mullins’ weapon next to the left side of his head, the bullet smashing harmlessly into the ceiling above him. The detonation was so loud, it deafened him to external sounds. All he could hear was a shrill ringing from within his skull, so intense it blurred his vision.