Love, Lies, and British Spies

by Selena Laurence

  Pilar laughed then, jumping up from her seat and bouncing on the balls of her feet a few times. “Oh, Eva! I have been waiting for this day! We will be magnificent together, will we not?”

  “Yes, Pilar, we will truly be magnificent, and as we say in America, they’ll never know what hit ’em.”

  • • •

  Owen Martin created a stir as he walked through the Alexandria airport, garnering giggles and whispers from young women as he passed by. His dark blond hair was on the long side, brushing the collar of his light linen jacket. His aviator sunglasses kept his green eyes hidden, but the open neck of his thin white linen button-up shirt showed enough of his well-muscled chest to keep the interest of several buxom flight attendants walking the opposite direction on the concourse.

  As a chirping noise erupted from his jacket pocket, Owen reached in and removed a cell phone that he answered without missing a step in his progress through the crowded airport.

  “This is Martin,” he said brusquely. “Yes, at 18:00. I’m to meet the contact at Orabi Square. Wait, what? You’re sure? All right then, I’ll be there.” He ended the call and swung his duffle bag onto his shoulder, smiling politely at a young woman who gazed at him with undisguised admiration.

  A few minutes later he emerged into the brilliant Egyptian sun, moving quickly to a dark sedan waiting at the curb of the passenger loading area. He slid into the passenger seat and said, “Long time no talk, mate! What the hell brings you into the field?”

  Vic smiled at Owen and adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses as he pulled the car out into the airport traffic. “Well, Herb wanted someone to make sure you were behaving yourself, and I wanted to get out of the bloody English rain for a few days. It’s good for those of us in the home office to brush up on our field skills once in a while anyway.”

  Owen leaned back against the seat of the car and muttered under his breath, “You thought I needed a damned babysitter, Herb? Bastard.”

  “You know it’s not like that, Owen,” Vic scolded him. “You’ve been a pissed wreck for a long time though and we all want to make sure you’re okay, especially considering the sensitive nature of this mission.”

  Owen huffed out a bitter laugh, “You mean the fact that I’ll be up against the man who ruined my life? Can’t imagine why you’d be concerned about that.”

  “Yes, just that, mate,” Vic responded.

  “I suppose Herb told you that he won’t let me kill the swine?” Owen asked.

  Vic laughed heartily then said, “Awww, that pesky Herb clipped your wings did he? Well, rest assured, you’ll have ample opportunity to ruin Hassam’s day by intercepting his arms shipment. Believe me, letting him live for another day will give you more opportunities to screw with him, and really isn’t that better than sending him off to the morgue?”

  “I suppose you’ve got a point,” Owen said sighing. “None of it matters anyway, it won’t get her back.”

  Vic reached over and patted Owen’s shoulder consolingly. “Hang in there; you never know what life will send your way. You just never know.”

  If it’s not Eva, Owen thought, I don’t want it.

  • • •

  The two men pulled up in front of the Hotel International in the heart of Alexandria and stepped out into nearly stifling heat. Vic handed the car keys to a waiting valet.

  They walked into the lobby of the large ornate building, and were greeted by cool clay tile floors and pale plaster walls, along with a veritable jungle of exotic plants both hanging and in large planters throughout the space. Filigree metal work ran along the half walls of the upper levels that were visible from a five story central atrium.

  Vic motioned Owen over to the registration desk, and waited while he signed in as “David Anderson” and collected his room key. Once they had entered the small brass appointed lift, Vic removed a thumb drive from the inside pocket of his lightweight khaki jacket.

  “This is what we have on the shipment,” he told Owen. “It’s supposed to come in tomorrow night at a warehouse at the Port of Dekheila. We’ve got a team watching it now. So far they’ve only reported one visitor. We figure he was just checking the setup, came in looked around, stayed for about five minutes and then left.”

  “Thanks, mate, I’ll look over this right away. Now, the agent I’m supposed to meet with later today … ”

  “Uh, yeah,” Vic scratched the back of his head and looked uncomfortable.

  “Who is it? No one will tell me anything except he’ll be wearing black. Is there some reason I can’t have a name for this guy?”

  “I don’t know the name, actually.” Vic shifted his weight from one leg to the other before sighing and leaning against the wall of the lift. “It’s someone new, nearly fresh out of training.”

  “Bugger that. Just because I’ve been in a rough patch shouldn’t mean I have to help train the babies,” Owen complained.

  “You’re on indefinite suspension, Owen; you aren’t even supposed to be here. If the Director ever finds out Herb and I did this it could mean our jobs.”

  The lift doors slid open at the tenth floor, and Vic gestured for Owen to exit ahead of him.

  “As long as we’ve got you here we want you to spread your superior knowledge to a new generation, 007,” Vic quipped.

  Owen snorted and stopped in front of a door with the number 226 on it. He scowled for a moment then checked his room key.

  “Something wrong?” Vic asked casually.

  “No, just a really awful coincidence,” Owen answered. “It’s nothing,” he sighed. “I’ll check in with you after my meet up.”

  “There is no such thing as coincidence, mate. Remember that,” Vic intoned as he strode off down the hallway leaving Owen standing outside a room with the same number as the honeymoon suite he’d shared with Eva in Paris all those months ago.

  • • •

  As Eva dressed that evening, she couldn’t help wondering how the meeting would go. She’d been mentally preparing herself for weeks, but that didn’t make her any less anxious. Once again she wondered if her judgment could be trusted now. She wanted to believe Herb and Vic that this situation would be different than Paris had been, but she still had doubts. Why they couldn’t find someone other than her former husband to work this case with her she’d never understand. How many agents did MI6 employ after all? She’d tried to envision what she’d say to him, but she couldn’t imagine even seeing him, much less speaking to him. Could she withstand the temptation to give in to her feelings without putting herself in a position to be deceived again?

  She put on a pair of narrow black linen pants and a long black tunic, then wrapped and tucked the hijab over her hair. She took extra time with her makeup — eyeliner, mascara, and a coat of berry red lipstick that popped against her fair skin and the black attire. When she was done she looked exotic, her skin pale against her dark clothing, her eyes bright blue and lined with black kohl, her lips shiny and red.

  She walked out of her fourth floor room and headed down the stairs, walking nearly silently in her flat black slippers. The only ornamentation she wore was a stack of silver bracelets on her left arm, and a diamond wedding ring she hadn’t been able to give up that now adorned her right ring finger.

  She took a short walk down the busy street in front of the hotel and quickly reached the large plaza that was named for a 19th century Egyptian military leader and nationalist. The long rectangular space sandwiched between two busy streets held memorials, palm trees, and fountains. Eva made her way to the statue of old Colonel Orabi and sat on the edge of the wall that surrounded the monument.

  She quickly sent a text to Vic telling him that she was at the meeting location and waiting for her partner to arrive. She looked around the square for a few brief minutes, practicing what she’d been taught about observation: noticing the people who lingered versus the people who passed through the area, watching for individuals who were alone, and those people who seemed to be lurking around the edges of the
square.

  As she scanned the east side of the space she saw him. Her breath caught and her heart nearly beat out of her chest. She practiced taking calming breaths, but she was mesmerized as he made his way through the throng towards where she waited. His strides were long and confidant, his body language casual, even though she knew he was anything but. His hair was somewhat longer than the last time she saw him, and she could see that he’d lost a few pounds as well. She shouldn’t have been surprised, they’d all told her that he’d been in dire straits, but it was distressing to see it written on his lovely body.

  He still had the golden skin and silky hair that she had loved to run her fingers through. His arms, uncovered in a short sleeved button up shirt were rounded with bunches of hard muscle, muscles that she used to feel under her hands as they made love. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath when he turned to watch someone walking by. A woman. She felt her heart hitch with the thought of what women he might have been with since her. Her stomach churned and she could feel the burning sensation build up behind her eyes. She took a deep breath to get herself under control before he reached her.

  • • •

  Owen strode through Orabi Square searching casually for the fellow agent he was scheduled to meet. He looked around for the all black outfit his colleague was supposed to be wearing. He thought he saw it out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to look more closely, quickly realizing that it was a woman in a navy blue burka, not his black clad contact.

  As he approached the fountain he noticed a woman searching through her handbag. She was of medium height and wore a slim tunic over slacks and a hijab, all in black. Bingo. He’d been foolish to assume the agent would be a man, and now he inspected the woman more closely as he approached, taking the opportunity while she seemed to be unaware of him.

  She was slim and average in height, but even under her androgynous clothing he could see that she had spectacular curves. He felt himself harden for what seemed like the first time in months, and cursed both his timing and the indication that Eva, the love of his life, was fading from his memory, because if she wasn’t, there was no way in hell he could ever be enticed by another woman’s body.

  As he got about six feet away from her, she finally looked up at him and he felt the breath leave his body. He came to a screeching halt looking into the most beautiful pair of crystal blue eyes he’d ever seen. He felt himself frantically searching her face for the clues he needed to confirm to his mind what his heart already knew. The pert nose, the classic high cheekbones, the flawless skin, the long inky lashes, even after six long months and even without her signature golden mane showing he knew her. Eva.

  He stepped toward her, his face a jumble of the emotions that were cycling through him at the speed of light. She gave him a small tight smile.

  “Hello, Owen,” she said quietly.

  “Eva?” he breathed, his heart in such pain he didn’t know if he’d be able to keep standing.

  “Yes,” she answered, the tremor in her voice noticeable. “It’s me.”

  He just stared at her for a moment, trying to collect himself. “Have you visited Orabi Square before?” he asked, remembering the code required for he and the fellow agent to contact one another.

  “Yes,” she answered as instructed. “I was here with my Aunt last October.”

  He nodded curtly and then asked, “I realize this was supposed to be brief, but would you have a cup of coffee with me? Please?” he added.

  She looked around, and he could almost hear the MI6 training speech on securing the current location before moving to another, playing in her mind. Finally, she nodded. “That’s fine, but let’s find somewhere indoors.”

  He tilted his head in agreement then walked alongside her. They were silent, not looking at one another and being very careful to keep several inches between them, even on the crowded sidewalk. His mind was spinning so quickly he couldn’t pay attention to his feet. His estranged wife, the interior decorator, was dressed like a Muslim woman walking the streets of Egypt with him on a mission for MI6. It was almost more than he could process, and he briefly thought maybe this was similar to what Eva felt when she was trapped in Hassam’s Paris lair learning that her husband was a spy.

  A block or so later they came to a small café that was lit inside. Owen finally looked at Eva and gestured at the door as he said, “Would this be all right?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “It looks fine.”

  They went inside and requested a table at the rear, in a darkened corner. Once they’d been seated and given menus, Owen laid his on the table unopened, and looked at Eva intensely.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked abruptly.

  Eva had opened her menu and was perusing it with seemingly intense concentration. “What exactly are you asking, Mr. Martin?”

  Owen’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together. “I am referring to your presence here, seemingly in the employ,” he leaned forward and whispered, “of the British government, Mrs. Martin.”

  At the use of her married name, Eva jerked visibly and finally looked up from the menu. Her eyes flashed for a moment, and Owen broke out in a smile knowing he’d hit a nerve.

  “Unless I’ve missed some important mail in the last two days, that is still your name, am I right?” he said.

  “Our marriage or the lack thereof, has nothing to do with this mission,” she replied curtly.

  “Wait, let me get this straight,” he gritted out. “You left me, threw me out of your life entirely, because of my job. Now, after no word for six months — and might I add, no divorce papers — you’ve gotten a job with my employer, but you tell me that our marriage has nothing to do with it?”

  Eva sat up straighter, her expression tightening. “Papers or no, we are not husband and wife anymore, and I did not throw you out of my life because of your job. I threw you out of my life because you lied to me.”

  Disappointment oozed through Owen; he rubbed his hand across his face in frustration. “God, Eva, this is not how I wanted this to go. I’ve dreamed about seeing you every day since you left, and now I finally do and I’m just botching it up. I’m sorry,” he said. “Can we please talk about what happened?”

  “I really don’t see the point,” she began.

  “You don’t see the point?” he choked out. “God, I love you, Eva. I’ve never stopped loving you. How can you not see the point in talking about what happened to us?”

  Eva reached down and started to gather her purse. “I knew this was a bad idea,” she said. “I told Herb it wouldn’t go well.”

  “Wait!” Owen said harshly, placing his hand over hers on the table.

  She looked down at his hand with an expression that made a sharp burning sensation rip through the center of Owen’s body. She truly couldn’t stand his touch and it hurt so badly he thought he might die. He removed his hand and muttered, “Sorry.”

  She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “No, I’m sorry, that was unprofessional of me. We have a job to do, and I promised Herb I could handle it, so handle it I will.”

  “Can you at least tell me how you’ve ended up here?” he asked quietly.

  “Of course,” she answered carefully. “After we … last saw each other, Herb and Vic came to me and discussed what happened. They discovered I’d become close to Hassam’s sister … ” Eva cleared her throat, glancing up at Owen who suddenly found it difficult to look back. “They asked me if I could provide some information about his operation.”

  “The bloody opportunists,” Owen cursed under his breath.

  “No, it’s all right, really. Once I started talking to them, we realized that I could get even more information for them just by staying in contact with Pilar. I adore her, and I don’t even mind Hassam, but I know that he’s a threat to national security … ”

  “Whose national security, Eva? You were an American the last time I checked.”

  She glared at him for a moment. “Yes, however, I
’m a British citizen now as well.”

  “You’re … wait … you’re British? How the bloody hell did that happen?”

  Eva shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “There’s this little provision in the naturalization code. If you’re the spouse of a British citizen who works for the crown, etc., etc. … ”

  He huffed out a laugh and gave her a disbelieving look. “You mean to tell me that after leaving me because of my employment with the ‘crown,’ you didn’t serve me with divorce papers in order to get British citizenship so you could get yourself hired by my employer? You’ll have to excuse me if the irony here is simply too much.”

  “That’s not how it happened, Owen … ”

  “Oh, really? Do tell then, love.” The minute the word was out of his mouth he knew he’d made a grave error. Her head shot up, and he snapped his mouth shut abruptly.

  “I. Am. Not. Your. Love,” she spat. “Not now. Not ever again.”

  He leaned forward and darted his hand out to grab her chin. Ignoring the warning growl that seemed to come from her throat and made her sound like a very untamed and dangerous animal, he spoke in a rough voice. “Let’s get something straight here. You can tell me to fuck off, you can refuse to see me, refuse to speak to me, you can even divorce me now that you’ve got your citizenship and your job,” he said bitterly. “But you cannot tell me to stop loving you.”

  He swallowed hard. “You are the love of my life Eva Martin, no matter how far apart we are, no matter if we’re married or not, speaking or not. You can be with one hundred other men; you can live with them, have their children, and grow old with them. You can walk out of this café and not see me again for forty years. It won’t matter. I will still love you. I will always love you and only you.”

  Her blue eyes locked with his green, and he saw the tears start to well up, but then her nostrils flared, and she jerked her face out of his grasp, blinking rapidly and taking a deep breath.

  “We need to get down to business, Owen,” she replied, her voice husky and faint. “We’ve got one day to decide how we’re going to stop this shipment, and we can’t blow it.”