Pervade Duet: Pervade London & Pervade Montego Bay

by Vanessa Fewings

  After losing Victoria, I’d found being on a submarine for long periods of time suffocating. Something had changed and I’d been unable to define what it was exactly, so I’d looked for an out. It had been Farmer who’d given me an exit plan.

  Inside this secret agency, I’d discreetly dug around in my wife’s old files. She had served here after leaving Cambridge, right up until her death. My work, and looking for anything that would lead me to understand what had happened to her, had kept me busy. Not having personal relationships was a side effect of my efforts to understand why my life had gone downhill so fast.

  Right now, Terrance and I were at an impasse.

  He leaned back in his office chair. “You left quite the mess, James.”

  My still being alive didn’t factor in, apparently. Though this was standard for my profession so no surprise there.

  “Can we talk about the lieutenant?” I moved over to the chair in front of his desk.

  He gestured to stop me from sitting. “I’m expecting a call from the Prime Minister. Let’s meet at the club later.”

  “Don’t you want to be debriefed?”

  “Not necessary.”

  “I have questions of my own.”

  “I’m sure you do. Let’s not get into them now.”

  “The vehicle that crashed into my Jeep—it was being driven by one of our operatives?”

  “Who told you that?”

  I stood my ground. “My report—”

  “Unnecessary. We’ve cleaned up the damage.” He sat forward. “Take time off.”

  “Xavier hinted there could be something nefarious—”

  “Xavier?”

  “That’s his real name, right? The lieutenant involved?”

  He pushed to his feet. “Forget this one, James.”

  His way of ordering me out.

  I gave a nod. “Give my love to Chelsea.”

  “Of course.”

  I felt his stare on me until I was out the door.

  The old-boys club had closed ranks and I hated the way they’d disregarded a man’s career in the process. A man’s life, even. Xavier deserved better.

  I bloody well deserved better.

  Pausing before his secretary’s desk, I gave Katherine Adair a nod of respect. This time next year she’d be promoted to field work. As a civil servant who worked under Farmer’s purview, she’d be fast-tracked into more interesting pursuits for Queen and Country.

  It was also a hard fact these operatives were getting younger, and my bruised ribs and aching body reminded me why.

  Adair rose out of her chair to acknowledge my rank. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

  “James.” I gestured for her to sit. “Please.”

  “I’m glad you’re back, James.” She sounded sincere.

  I gave her a brilliant smile. “The old man appears extra grumpy.”

  “Can’t imagine why.”

  Her Nepalese heritage gave her the versatility she would need as an agent. Though in my book she was too pretty for field work. She was damn well safer behind a desk.

  Christ. I could be a chauvinist at times.

  She smirked. “The boss has been in a bad mood for a while.”

  “Hope you’re not blaming me.” I arched a devious brow. “Sure it’s not his gout?”

  She narrowed her eyes in playful chastisement.

  “Where did they take him?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “You know who.”

  Seriously, Xavier would have had all the ovaries exploding in this place.

  I studied her reaction. “He was here for a while. Then moved to GCHQ?”

  “For his tech skills,” she agreed. “Do you remember him from here?”

  “Before my time.”

  She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I have a friend at GCHQ who saw Xavier’s personal records. She told me his IQ was unrecordable.”

  It amused me that she’d dug into his background. “He failed to sit still for the test?”

  “He was amazing with languages. I mean, I know you’re a linguist, James, but he could speak at least ten. And he had this whole Alan Turing thing going on. He could hack into any computer.”

  “Did he hack into any of the ones here?”

  She looked aghast. “He wouldn’t do it here.”

  “Right.” I feigned agreement.

  Xavier had told me otherwise.

  Katherine smiled. “His memory was impressive.”

  “How?”

  She seemed to realize she’d revealed too much. “I heard it was you who brought him back?”

  “He was airlifted out of my hands. Any chance you know where to?”

  “I imagine that would be classified.”

  “Ah.”

  “Have a lovely day, Sir Ballad.”

  “It’s Mr. Ballad.”

  “Of course. Sorry.”

  “Anything you can remember would be appreciated. I need closure on a couple of matters connected to him.”

  “I’ll have a think.”

  With my right hand tucked inside my trouser pocket, I made my way toward the hallway, leaving Katherine with her interest piqued. I only hoped I’d appealed to her empathetic side.

  Predictably, an hour later, Katherine arrived at my office door.

  I gestured for her to sit opposite my swivel chair. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

  She leaned forward in the seat with her face in her hands. “What am I doing?”

  “I’m good with secrets,” I reassured her.

  “I signed the Official Secrets Act.”

  “We both did.”

  She stared at the wall opposite as though gathering her confidence, then turned to look at me. “He came straight here from Sandhurst.” Her eyes watered with emotion. “We all liked him.”

  “There’s a lot to like.”

  She munched on her lower lip nervously. “Did Xavier go rogue?”

  “I’m trying to figure that out.”

  “Do you know anything yet?”

  I blew out a sigh of frustration.

  “James, I’m worried about him.” She glanced toward the door. “There was a coded email.”

  “From?”

  “The Prime Minister’s office. I have a knack for code-breaking.” She leaned forward. “Either Farmer forgot that detail or he was careless.”

  “What was in it?”

  “It mentioned a request for someone to silence him.” Katherine looked at me nervously. “The request came from Farmer.”

  “I see.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you,” she mumbled.

  “What do you know about Xavier?”

  “He’s very private. Though I know that he was awarded best cadet at Sandhurst. I did learn his father was a diplomat. His mum is Scandinavian and worked for the U.N. He was an only child. He’s a proud Brit, I can tell you that.”

  The vision of Xavier being drawn into the belly of the helicopter flashed into my consciousness, and I felt again a dreadful sense of loss at seeing him being taken away under nefarious circumstances.

  She caressed her brow. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “We never talked.”

  “Cameras are everywhere.”

  “I borrowed a pen. You wanted it back.”

  She smiled weakly and for a split second I saw her younger self before the Secret Service had snagged her out of Oxford and showed her…things. Lifted the veil to what the world is really like. You see that same disturbed look on the faces of new recruits, once they get a glimpse inside Pandora’s Box—and realize that lid will never close again.

  Her smile faded with the weight of it all.

  “It was good seeing you, Katherine. Thank you for stopping by.”

  She was up on her feet again. “It’s a burden, James. To know what we know and not act on it.”

  “That’s the job.”

  “There was some talk…”

  I leaned forward. “Go on. You know you can t
rust me.”

  “Farmer was on the phone talking about how Xavier had betrayed his country.”

  “You personally overheard that?”

  “That just isn’t Xavier. I’m sure there’s some misunderstanding.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “Xavier was on the Underground when an explosion went off. You remember that one? The terrorist attack a year ago. He helped commuters find their way down a deserted track. Xavier saved countless lives that day. He didn’t just run off and save himself. He stayed to help. That shows compassion. I’m a good judge of character. He’s a good man.”

  Recalling my time with him certainly reflected this. Though men changed and motives evolved. Still, I was sitting here alive because of him.

  “Katherine, when I walked into Farmer’s office you looked surprised to see me, why?”

  Her nervousness showed. “We weren’t sure you’d…make it back.”

  I placed my hands behind my head in a casual pose. “That old gout making trouble again.”

  Her eyes widened with hope. “My friends call me Kitty.”

  “Kitty, thank you for your honesty. It really helps me see this through a clearer perspective.” I reached into my drawer and pulled out a mobile phone.

  I handed it to her.

  “Is this a burner?”

  “Just in case.”

  She looked unsure, but then threw it into her handbag anyway. Reaching for a post-it note on my desk, she scribbled down a number. “If you need anything.”

  I took it from her.

  Kitty paused in the doorway and without looking back, whispered, “They’re holding him in a military prison. He’s being moved to an undisclosed location today.”

  She closed the door behind her.

  I felt the brunt of her words. They were holding Xavier illegally—the equivalent of throwing away the key.

  James

  I doubted I’d ever call her.

  But for some reason, I memorized Kitty’s phone number before shredding the post-it note. Sitting back, I took a deep breath, feeling everything was about to change.

  I kept thinking about those conversations I’d had with Xavier—his implication that he could help me resolve the issue I’d been working on since I’d arrived in this place. My research into Victoria’s private files had turned up nothing. All I’d found were redacted documents, which led me to suspect that someone here knew more about her death than they were willing to share with me.

  Me…her husband, who worked for the same agency and had virtually the same clearance.

  Resting my face in my hands, I sank into the despair I knew so well…a dark hole I had no way of climbing out of it. On the surface, I feigned all was fine, but I felt dead inside.

  If I walked out that door I’d never return.

  Don’t do it.

  This world has gone to hell and you know it—nothing can be done.

  What I was thinking of doing was professional suicide: following through on this impulse risked my sanity. I had a family name to live up to. My father had been close to royalty. That had brought me a certain privilege…an access to the echelons of power.

  The kill switch on my downward spiral was inaccessible.

  I made my way over to the quartermaster’s supply room. Interestingly enough, my actions reflected a calm man, a reasoned man, who was meant to be here rummaging through wardrobes with countless uniforms, all of them used at one time or another for covert operations. I found one that would be most useful—a senior Army officer’s garb that carried the authority needed to pull off my precarious ruse. It fit well enough. I slipped it into the suit carrier. With no QM currently on duty to sign me out, there’d be no record of me stealing this Brigadier’s uniform—with campaign medals, no less.

  I was certifiable.

  Probably nothing that a few rounds of therapy couldn’t cure—if I still gave a fuck. Trouble was I’d been pushed to the brink. Pulling back from the edge towards reason seemed an unlikely choice.

  This is not about you.

  This is for Victoria.

  Without her I might as well be dead.

  You have nothing left to lose.

  I left the building with that sentiment guiding my way, feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience.

  I soon reached the parking structure, where I threw the uniform carrier onto the backseat of my car.

  Driving my Aston Martin V12, I made it from London to Colchester in less than two hours. As each mile carried me closer to my destination, I felt the inevitability of how this day was going to end.

  On the way, I stopped to change into the uniform I’d stolen.

  For some reason, I already held a deep affection for that compromised agent I was risking my life for. He was the opposite of all I’d known. There was a rebellious streak in him that appealed to my more sensible side—a side that was now fading. I was a man of order and logic and yet this felt right. Or maybe this was the suicide mission I’d been pining for. I couldn’t live without Victoria, and that was a hard fact. Since her death I’d been half the man I was before.

  Since her death all I’d felt was emptiness.

  My concern for Xavier increased with each passing second. He didn’t strike me as the kind who could survive prison. Or carry the burden of being wrongly accused. He was probably feeling the same futility. I could be a bastard sometimes, but I had yet to hang up my humanity.

  My fake I.D., and the uniform of a Brigadier in the Royal Army Medical Corp, got me into The Glasshouse, the military’s only prison based in Colchester. Getting into the restrictive area was going to take a little more fenagling.

  If Kitty’s intel was right my man was here.

  I pulled out my phone and called her.

  She answered the burner phone after one ring.

  “It’s James,” I said.

  “I didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon,” she quipped. “Hold on.”

  I heard the muffled sound of her moving to a more private area. “Okay, I can talk.”

  “If you don’t hear from me in the next few hours, can you retrieve my Aston Martin V12?”

  I would be stepping into a high security facility—getting out was going to be a challenge. In fact, my fate could be aligned with Xavier’s if I took one more step.

  “What’s going on?”

  I gave her the number plate. “Keep my car out of MI6’s hands, will you?”

  “Where is it?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “James?” She sounded nervous. “Where would I hide it?”

  “Consider this a command task, Kitty. If you do well it’ll be an open invitation to work for me in the future.”

  “I already have a job.”

  “Working for a grumpy old misogynist bastard with gout?”

  She chuckled.

  “Maybe consider working for another misogynist bastard who’s easier on the eyes.”

  She went quiet, realizing I was serious.

  “Thank you, Katherine. The keys are under the hood.”

  “Be careful. Whatever you’re up to.”

  “Just so you know…you’re the best thing about that place,” I said, and hung up.

  I was asking so very much of Kitty Adair. Our paths would cross again. I felt sure of it.

  A young Private escorted me to the main office. The soldier led me into the station’s HQ.

  Entering the Captain’s office, I learned that his commanding officer, Colonel Flaherty, was up at Milbank. And his second-in-command, Major Howard, was also in London. A pleasant advantage that meant I could pull rank.

  I reached out to shake the hand of the officer left in charge and delivered the lie, “I’m Brigadier Henley.”

  “I’m Captain Rawley, sir.” He returned a strong handshake. “Welcome.”

  I glanced at his nametag. “And the E stands for?”

  “Edward, sir.”

  “Edward, I’m from the RAMC. I’ve been requested to provide a psycholog
ical profile on one of your prisoners…Xavier Rothschild.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “On paper or otherwise?”

  He looked nervous. “Colonel Flaherty comes back tomorrow.”

  “That will be too late.”

  “For what?”

  “To get my report in.” I waved it off. “Rothschild isn’t on record as being here, but of course I know that he is. I respect the fact that puts you under a lot of pressure. You’re under a great deal of stress keeping this covert. Especially from his family, who will no doubt be distraught that he’s MIA. If you ever want to talk with me, I’m up at Milbank.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Who’s representing him?”

  “In what regard, sir?”

  “His barrister?” Then I realized the truth. “He doesn’t have one?”

  The captain looked vexed. “We’ve been advised that no visitors will be allowed.”

  “I’ve driven all the way from London,” I said.

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “No, that’s quite all right. My concern is that our officer shuts down and those vital secrets become irretrievable. Countless lives could be lost because I didn’t have access. I’ll just put that in my report.” I glanced at his nametag. “National Security can be a prickly business.”

  “I’ll have to make a call.”

  “I’ll explain your concerns to Field Marshal Pembridge.” I checked my watch. “I’ll just miss the traffic on the A12, so I’ll meet him back in the office to debrief him on how things went with you, Captain.”

  And there it was—a look of fear on the man’s face that went bone deep.

  We were soon walking across the barracks heading into the prison’s medical facility. Nothing like a threat from the highest-ranking officer in the Army to make another officer compliant.

  The hallway was long. Depression drenched the atmosphere. It smelled like hope had abandoned this place. Guilt hit me like a punch to the chest that I’d let Xavier slip through my fingers back on the sub. I’d promised him safe passage to the U.K. The delivery into the hands of a military barrister hadn’t happened. Which meant they were keeping him from talking. The question was, why?