Emily aims and fires. She doesn’t hesitate. She is a trained agent. The bullet leaves the pistol, spinning through the air at a velocity too fast to see. Safa tries to move, but the round whizzes millimetres past her ear to strike the closest one of the four men bringing his aim at Safa.
‘DOWN,’ Emily shouts.
Safa drops to her back, aims up and fires into another with a double-tap to his centre of mass that sends him flying back off his feet. The men return fire with wild shots.
Miri fires once from the doorway into the man Safa hit on the way in as he tugs a secondary pistol from a holster on his belt. She kills him outright. Emily fires twice more into the third man in the room. Safa rolls to aim and shoot into the last.
‘Two down,’ Emily reports.
‘Two down,’ Safa calls out.
‘One down,’ Miri shouts.
Silence. Ears ringing.
‘Clear the house,’ Miri orders. ‘Less than two minutes.’
‘Cover me.’ Safa surges up to her feet and strides forward into the room. Emily at her back, covering the points of danger.
‘Shit,’ Safa hisses. ‘The woman’s dead.’ Safa drops to check and be sure, but she can see the position of the entry wounds in her back means the rounds would have gone through her heart, spine and lungs, killing her instantly.
‘All dead,’ Emily says, checking the other bodies in the room.
Safa moves across the room to the doorway at the end that leads into the kitchen. Emily stays close, but leaves enough reaction space while factoring for crossfire, angles, escape routes and points of potential attack.
‘Clear,’ Safa says, sweeping through the kitchen with her pistol held double-handed as she tracks round.
‘Upstairs,’ Miri says.
‘Go,’ Safa says to Emily.
Emily takes the lead, sweeping back through the front room to the hallway and over a bloodied corpse to mount the stairs. Everything on instinct. Everything on gut reaction. No time for thought. No time for thinking. She aims as she rises. Safa close behind her, but leaving space for reaction while instinctually factoring for crossfire, angles, escape routes and points of potential attack.
‘Three rooms. One ahead. Two to the right.’
‘Covering,’ Safa says, aiming towards the two doorways on the right at the top of the stairs. Emily goes forward to the one ahead.
‘Bathroom, clear.’
‘Proceeding,’ Safa says, moving to the first door on the right. She kicks it open and surges in. ‘Bedroom, clear.’
‘Proceeding,’ Emily says, moving on to the last door as Safa comes out and covers the hallway. ‘Bedroom, clear.’
‘House clear,’ Safa calls down.
They move swiftly down the stairs to Miri in the front room standing over the dead body of Clara Jacobsen. ‘Silly girl,’ she says quietly, almost sadly.
‘You get her phone?’ Safa asks.
Miri holds it out, or what remains of it anyway. ‘Destroyed.’
Safa takes in the device, smashed and broken from a stray shot. ‘Not our day then,’ she mutters.
‘These are Chinese and Russian agents,’ Emily says, holding passports taken from the pockets of the dead men. ‘Looks like they were arguing over the woman.’
Miri looks at her, then round at the bodies. ‘Clearly,’ she states.
‘Chinese, Russians . . . the Yanks we walked past,’ Safa says. ‘How many people are after us?’
‘Everyone, by the looks of it,’ Emily says.
‘Exfil,’ Miri says, glancing at her watch. ‘One minute twenty.’
‘We might be able to retrieve data from that phone,’ Emily says. ‘Keep it.’
They run from the house into the street, using a burst of speed to create distance. Safa and Miri re-holster. Emily tucks hers into the front of her waistband and pulls her T-shirt out to cover the bulge. ‘See it?’ she asks.
‘Looks like a big willy,’ Safa says.
Safa starts smiling. She tries to stop, but can’t help it. She coughs to clear her throat. Emily stares ahead, the corners of her mouth twitching. She looks to Safa, who suddenly snorts a laugh and covers her mouth while looking away. Emily grins, then tries to stop grinning.
‘Big willy?’ Emily asks as Safa snorts again.
They get into the alley, one older woman wincing from the pain of running and two younger ones trying not to giggle.
Miri knows their reactions are caused by endorphins and adrenalin kicking in. To anyone else, it would look cold, callous even. A lack of care for human life. It isn’t that at all. This is normal to the people in her world. People just died, but Safa and Emily are highly trained professionals doing what they have been trained to do, and what’s more, they did it very well.
Very damn well.
As the first drones whir overhead, fitted with tiny flashing blue and red lights, so they reach the alley and run down to stop at the blue, shimmering light. As they slow down, Emily pulls the pistol out, pops the magazine, slides back to empty the chamber and holds it all out to Miri.
‘Thank you for your assistance,’ Miri says, taking the gun.
‘Anytime,’ Emily says as Safa walks through the blue light then sticks her hand back out with her middle finger sticking up again. Emily snorts a laugh, then covers her mouth in embarrassment. ‘Sorry. She is funny though,’ she says.
‘Safa is unique,’ Miri says quietly, studying the agent. Emily looks back at her, at the cold grey eyes that are impossible to read.
Miri nods at the blue light. ‘After you, Tango Two. Perhaps you could make me a coffee.’
Twenty-Three
Ben drums his fingers on the table. Harry turns a page. Ben stares at the door and continues drumming his fingers on the table.
‘Miri doesn’t do anything without a reason.’
Harry looks over the top of his book, then goes back to reading.
Ben drums his fingers. Harry turns a page.
‘She’s doing something.’
‘Ach. Probably.’
Ben drums his fingers and stares at the door. Harry exhales noisily through his nose and smiles wryly to himself at Ben’s increasing frustration. Voices sudden and loud. Safa laughing as she walks through the corridor and pushes into the main room with Emily close behind her. Ben immediately spots the butt of the pistol poking out of the holster in the small of Safa’s back and the complete lack of attention Emily is paying to it. An energy between them. The glow of a post-adrenalin rush.
‘Everything okay?’ he asks needlessly as Harry lowers his book.
‘Fuck, yes,’ Safa says. ‘Apart from the five bad guys we killed,’ she adds, trying to sound and look sad for a second. ‘But, oh my god, Emily was so cool . . .’
‘Yeah?’ Ben asks, watching the two women grinning from ear to ear. ‘What happened?’
‘Miri said she wants a coffee,’ Emily says. ‘Anyone else?’
‘Love one,’ Ben says.
‘Tea, please, Emily,’ Harry says.
‘Big willy,’ Emily laughs, walking over with Safa to the main table.
Ben thinks while watching them, the way they laugh and joke with each other. It’s nice to see. Safa is changing. Becoming more open and friendly. Emily is drawing Safa out of herself, and for her part, Safa has Emily laughing most of the time with the blunt way she speaks.
It was Safa who pulled him through his decline. The pressure on her must have been immense. To sustain belief in him day after day for six months was incredible. Now she is slowly relaxing and becoming more human. Safa even admitted quietly, when they were alone, that she’d never really had friends before. Not proper mates. You know what I mean?
Emily is still a prisoner though, and that situation is still to be resolved. Ben knows everything Miri does is for a reason. This mission tonight was done for a reason, and while everyone has been worried about cultivation, maybe the cultivation has been happening on another level.
‘What about the girl and the phon
e?’ he calls out.
‘Killed,’ Emily says, grimacing as she turns to reply. ‘Two Chinese and three Russian agents were arguing over her as we arrived . . .’
‘Oh, right,’ Ben says, leaning forward on his chair and listening intently.
‘Two Russian agents,’ Safa says.
‘No, three. The one you took out at the door was Russian too.’
‘She was already dead then?’ Ben asks.
‘Sadly not,’ Emily says. ‘Killed when they opened fire. We took them out quickly, but . . . well, not quickly enough. The phone Miri wanted was shot too, but she might be able to retrieve data from the chip.’
‘Thanks,’ he says, as Emily carries his coffee over.
‘Seriously, Ben. I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as Safa . . .’
‘Sure,’ Ben says, thinking hard. ‘Sorry . . . tell me again what happened . . .’
‘Safa . . .’ Emily’s voice, groaning with humour.
Miri cocks her head slightly. The wire stretching from her ear to the smartphone on the desk in front of her.
‘What?’ Safa’s voice. Humour.
‘You’re presenting your pistol to me again.’ Emily’s voice, humour.
‘So?’ Safa’s voice.
‘Seriously, Safa.’ Emily’s voice. ‘You are, like, the worst guard ever.’
‘Hang on.’ Ben’s voice. Concerned. Inquisitive. ‘Where was this? Where did it happen?’
Miri listens as Emily and Safa recount the mission. The way they both speak in turn and fill in gaps the other left out. The tone of their voices, and both speaking a little faster than normal from the excitement of the mission.
‘You went to her house? This being the woman who worked in the clinic Malc and Kon took the guards to . . .’
‘Yeah, her house.’ Safa’s voice. ‘What’s that look for? You going all egghead again?’
‘You went to her house?’
‘Fuck me, Ben. Yes, we went to her house.’
‘And the other . . . agent people were already there?’
‘Yes!’
‘And that seems normal to you, does it?’ An edge to Ben’s voice. Miri stiffens, ready to rise from the chair. She’s pushed Ben as far as he can go.
‘Er . . . well, she kinda lives there?’ Safa’s voice, still with humour.
‘Why? What’s wrong with that?’ Emily asks.
‘Ben? Where’re you going?’
It’s time.
Miri pulls the earpiece from her ear, slides the phone off and stands up to head into the main room to see Ben already on his feet walking towards her.
‘We need to talk,’ he says, his eyes brooding, his whole manner set with a decision formed.
‘Later.’
‘No.’
‘Mr Ryder . . .’
‘Now.’
Miri glares at him. He glares back. She about-turns to stride into her office with Ben right behind her.
‘Close the door,’ Miri says, stopping to stand with her arms folded across her chest.
‘What the fuck was that?’
‘What?’
‘You know damn well what, Miri. You took them to that woman’s house with five agents inside.’
‘Poor luck, Mr Ryder.’
‘Poor luck, my arse. We’ve got a time machine. We could go anytime. You would have cased it out. You would have known they were inside.’
‘I am honoured by your opinion of my capabilities, but . . .’
‘Don’t patronise me. That girl died . . . That might not mean anything to you, but it . . .’
‘That girl sold the lives of six men under her care for money. Greed and stupidity killed her by playing multiple agencies, each of which warned her exactly not to do that very thing. Yes, I knew they were there. Yes, I had already completed my investigation, but this is my work, Mr Ryder. These are my methods and this is what I do.’ The passion in her voice makes him blanch. ‘Do not question me. Do not question my methods. You are smart and your frustrations are duly noted, but therein lies the discipline you need to work at this level and the stomach to cope with it.’
‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?’
She widens her eyes and bursts out laughing with a sound so unexpected it robs the heat from his temper. She looks away, then bursts out laughing again when she turns back to him. ‘Seriously, Ben? Who polices the police?’
He shrugs. ‘Sorry, bit trite.’
‘That was beneath you.’ Her whole manner suddenly animated and alive with humour. ‘It will be concluded tonight.’
Ben chuckles softly at himself and the situation. He can’t help it. The sudden warmth of the woman invites him to break the tension. That he is being played is obvious. ‘What about Emily?’
The smile fades away, taking the warmth from her face with it. The eyes grow cold and hard again with an instant transformation that sends a chill down his spine. He gets the sense he is being shown what she can do. A glimpse of the master. ‘I need to speak to her . . .’
He tuts and shakes his head, refusing the urge to be cowed in her presence. ‘You’re not giving anything away, are you?’
Miri reads him closely. His reactions to her sudden humour, then the ease in which she took that warmth away. That he can overcome nerves and retain his focus is testament to his natural abilities. She draws a breath. Slow and long. Her lips purse with a thoughtful gaze that flits over her features. ‘Has to be that way. For what it’s worth, you’ve probably worked it out correctly.’
‘Wow. Now that was patronising,’ he counters, and earns a twitch at the corner of her mouth. ‘Has she worked it out? Emily, I mean. Has she said anything to you? She’s asked us loads of times.’
‘She hasn’t worked it out.’
‘But she’s an agent.’
‘Tango Two has a range of exceptional skills, but is lacking in advanced cognitive function.’
Ben can’t help but smile at the reply. ‘So she’s a bit thick then.’
‘She is a highly trained agent . . . Just not a very good one.’
‘Roland? Bertie and Ria?’
‘Let me get through tonight, Ben. We can talk more tomorrow. Send Emily in, please.’
Twenty-Four
‘Debrief,’ Miri says, sitting down behind her desk.
Emily sits down. She feels hot. The mission, and now laughing with Safa, has made her cheeks flushed. She waits. Staring over the desk at the older woman. Nerves kick in. The overwhelming sense that Miri is always ten steps ahead in every conversation they have, which is how she imagines it would be meeting Mother face-to-face.
‘Why did they try to kill you?’ Miri goes straight in with the question and watches the agent closely. Examining every nuance of reaction. The direction of the eyes, the posture, the breaths taken, if the woman swallows, if she tilts or inclines her head. The tone of voice; if it is made stronger or weaker with effort. This is the game, and the thrill of being back is strong.
‘I don’t know,’ Emily says quickly.
Miri waits. Questioning a trained agent is entirely different to debriefing a normal person. Emily is trained to not only withstand questioning, but to read the interviewer as much in return to gain leverage and understanding. The whole thing is a mind game. A pitting of mental agility.
Or so Miri thought when she first started debriefing Emily.
In the end, it comes down to the simplicity of the fact that although both are trained, Miri has decades of experience and Emily really has not worked it out yet.
Emily knows this process is coming to a close. The pressure builds. Her heart rate rises slightly as she looks across at Miri, with a sense of foreboding and dread growing inside.
‘Our debriefs are concluded.’ A cold voice, a hard voice. The dread grows. Emily swallows and blinks several times. ‘You will meet me in the portal room in five minutes,’ Miri says, rising from the chair.
The power of Miri hits her. A surge of worry inside. The mystery of the woman, the aura of utter au
thority. She searches the older woman for any sign of emotion, but sees only cold grey eyes staring back, and an absolute belief grows in Emily that Miri would kill her without hesitation.
‘Where am I going?’ Emily asks. ‘Do I need to say goodbye to the others? Safa has been a friend to me. I owe her a goodbye if I am . . .’
‘Five minutes, portal room.’
‘Miri, if you are going to execute me then you can do it here.’
‘Do not tell me what to do. Five minutes, portal room,’ Miri says, walking from the office to her own set of rooms. Emily pushes her hands through her hair, that feeling of dread growing. She knows what’s going to happen. She is an agent. She is not one of them. She is the enemy within. Tonight was a test that she’s failed somehow. She did something wrong. Maybe Miri thought she was aiming at Safa. She turns to explain, but realises Miri has gone, leaving her entirely alone. She thinks of the footage of the end of the world and the hologram image of Cavendish Manor they saw outside. Why did Mother order her to be killed? Miri knows something. Does Miri work for Mother? Thoughts flash through her whirling mind as her stomach flips and plunges.
She turns for the door. Not seeing and not looking at the pistol left on Miri’s desk. In the corridor, she pauses to stare into the portal room at the shimmering blue light of the time machine left open, and thinks only of not being here. Of not training with the others outside and eating eggs and fruit. Of not joking with Safa and talking about missions and the things they’ve done. Emily never had a friend before. Not a real one. Her role was so serious she couldn’t bond with anyone outside of her organisation. This is it. She did something wrong tonight. She failed somehow, but she knows she is still a trained agent who was taken captive, and the end was always going to come.
She pushes into the main room, ashen-faced and with all trace of the post-mission buzz now gone from her manner.
‘Miri told me to meet her in the portal room in five minutes.’
‘Why, what’s going on?’ Safa asks, her own grin fading at seeing Emily’s state.
Extracted Trilogy (Book 2): Executed Page 20