by Sam Nash
“Oh right, yes. You’d prefer me to be as docile as a kitten, so that you and Yelena can use me instead of Visser.” She moved closer to Dan and sat on the side of his chair. “You have no idea what I have had to do to survive. No concept of the distress and agony that they put me through. I have half a mind to walk right out of here, right now. And take Dan with me too.” Her nails dug into her palms as she screwed up her fingers into tight fists resting on her knees. Parth observed the dual force of fury mounting against him. He was under no illusions as to their combined strength.
“Mary, please. Why are you getting so angry? I have done nothing to put you in jeopardy. Yelena needs your help… and Dan’s. Think of all the innocent people at risk in Utah. Let’s take a break while the techies are doing their thing. Why don’t we all go for a bite to eat? There is no need for this to become hostile.” Parth hopped up and walked with feigned confidence to the door. Standing in the open doorway, he looked back at his wife and held out his hand. “Please?”
An unregistered black Range Rover pulled up and collected them from the entrance of the pyramidal building, driven by an armed officer in a black suit. His confidence alone, conveyed his high level of security clearance. Dan sidled around the two military guards, who had escorted them from the windowless room to the roadside, and jumped into the front seat. Parth opened the rear door for Mary and slid onto the backseat beside her. He reached across for her hand, but she snatched it away. “I’m still mad at you.” She barked.
I’m mad about him switching off life support to clinically dead patients when I have killed three soldiers and caused the deaths of ten innocent New Zealand residents. I’m the monster here. Perhaps they do need to keep me caged for everyone’s safety. God, I feel sick.
“When this is over, we will sit and talk about everything. No more secrets, I promise.” He tried again to hold her hand. She shuffled further away and rested her forehead on the car window.
“You are right about that. There won’t be any more secrets – from Dan and me at least.”
Black clouds scudded overhead with stark luminescent outlines where the sun wrestled against its cumulous barriers. They passed a grassed enclosure, surrounded by barbed wire and sub machine gun toting guards. At the heart of the lawn was a concrete path leading to a staircase down to an unknown destination. A base within a base, Mary thought. Wonder what they have squirrelled away down there? A bit of an over kill. Like anyone could get inside this installation, let alone into one of these buildings without authorisation. As their Range Rover passed the eight-foot-high gated entrance, the guards changed stance abruptly, holding their guns at the ready. It made Mary shudder.
The entire area felt like something left over from the Cold War. As if years of political intimidation had ingrained an oppressive state of readiness, with hair trigger reactions to attack. She spotted an algae covered satellite dish sitting in its own square of brittle concrete. A brass plaque, mounted on a wooden board stood beneath it, a monument to the grandfathers of technology. It was too far away for her to read it, but she could guess its sentiment.
“Where are we going?” Mary said, shaking off the feeling of impending trouble. She shifted in her seat and readjusted the safety belt several times.
“The nicest food is in the Foreign and Commonwealth Office restaurant, madam. There is a cafeteria, but they only serve sandwiches and snacks. I thought you would like a hot meal before things start to kick off.” The driver looked in his rear view mirror and saw Mary shiver. “It’s always lovely and warm in there.” Mary looked up to meet the driver’s reflected gaze and smiled. He winked back. “First time at the base is always a little unnerving, madam, but you’ll get used to it. We aren’t all miserable hard arses.”
Mary snorted. Was he reading her mind or just guessing from her body language? Parth did a double take at the exchanges between his wife and the driver, folding his arms and harrumphing his discontent.
They arrived at the restaurant moments later, parking their vehicle in a bay reserved for government gentry and important personages. The driver jumped out of the car and opened the rear door for Mary to climb out. He flashed his lustrous blue eyes at her and smiled. Her hand slipped on the doorframe. He reached out and gently held her by the elbow until she alighted. An infinitesimal spark of frisson passed between them. “I will need to accompany you while you eat, but I will try and keep my distance, as difficult as that may be for me.” He guided her to the entrance, leaving Dan and a glowering Parth to trail behind them.
The driver spoke to the maître’d, handing over his identification to authorise a request that their order be charged to hospitality. While the driver sat at the bar area and ordered coffee, a waiter directed them to a table. Mary looked on the striped waistcoat of the young man walking in front of her. There was a loud guffaw, a heavy thud and the sound of clinking silverware ricocheting from plates. Something about the bellowing laugh reminded her of awkward dancing. She craned her neck over the waiter’s shoulder and squinted.
A portly man with immense greying whiskers was holding court three tables ahead. Mary could not believe what she was seeing. There before her, looking the picture of ruddy health was The Walrus, Professor Florian Haas.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mary stopped walking when she reached Haas’s table. Fragments of left over dinner encrusted the stacks of crockery that leaned against two empty bottles of Merlot.
“Professor Haas. What on earth are you doing here?” She glanced at the collection of suited women in his entourage. One of them pulled at his handlebar moustache cheekily before they said their farewells and returned to their administration positions within the FCO building opposite.
“My dear Mary. How good it is to see you. Oh, look at your poor neck. We will make those animals pay for what they have done to you. Come, sit with me. Assure me that you are unharmed and forestall the indigestion that will inevitably follow.” Haas signalled the waiter to remove the clutter of dead plates and wine glasses and reset the table. Dan and Parth squeezed themselves uncomfortably into the seats facing Mary and The Walrus. Dan introduced himself.
“If only you had been in my department, instead of with that twisted tosser Plender, we could have kept a closer eye on you. You must try the duck. The sauce is a little rich but it complements the Merlot very well.” Haas opened the menu folder, directing Mary to his recommendations.
“Haven’t you heard?” Parth leaned across the table and whispered. “Plender is dead. Shot through the face by Mary’s captors.”
“Plender is dead? Oops, said that a bit loud. Had a little drinkypoo too many. How is Yelena taking it?” He downed the last gulp of red wine from his glass and shook it aloft at the waiter for more.
“With her usual steely aplomb” Parth said, pointing to his choice of Sea Bass on the menu for the waiter. Dan asked for the same. Mary played safe with the grilled halloumi.
“Professor, how long have you worked for British Intelligence?” Mary asked, gathering the menu folders up and handing them back to the youth in the striped waistcoat.
“Oh, you know, forever. I had a couple of exciting overseas missions back in my day. One or two with your father, Mary. He was a good man – a bloody good man. Why don’t you call me Florian?”
“You knew my father? What missions – he was a Physics lecturer?” Mary nervously shuffled the salt and pepper shakers, aligning them with the place mats and cutlery on the table.
Haas sucked at the droplets trickling down his upturned, empty glass and straightened his back to look over the heads of diners for the waiter. “Yes, bloody marvellous physicist, but approached by Six during his fresher year at Uni. Brilliant agent but a bit too engaged, if you know what I mean. There was a spell, a year or so after he was recruited when your mother and he broke up. What a stunning woman she was and you have inherited all her charms and more, Mary dear.” One of his eyelids drooped involuntarily, while he attempted to focus on Mary’s face.
&nbs
p; “Please go on, Florian.” The sound of his name, ignited his smile and loosened his tongue.
“I don’t know all the details, my dear, but I suspect that your mother couldn’t tolerate his frequent unexplained absences – assumed he was cheating on her. He wasn’t of course…utterly devoted. Your mother took a year out after that.”
“Parth believes that Dan could be my brother. There are five years between us, do you think she could have given birth during her year out?” She stopped fidgeting.
“That’s possible. Anything is possible.”
Dan sat opposite Haas engrossed in his account.
“I’ll have to ask Grampy about it.” Mary urged Haas to continue.
“Your dad had a bit of a silver tongue when he was young. Got back into your mum’s good graces and they married shortly after graduation. At some point, your dad took a sideways step in the organisation to spend more time with your mum, especially after you came along, dearest Mary.”
The waiter arrived with another bottle of red wine and plonked it down in the centre of the table. Haas scooped it up and aimed the neck at Mary’s glass.
She placed her hand over the top. “No thank you, I don’t.”
Dan and Parth shook their heads and muttered their thanks in declining his offer.
“Oh well, more for me.” He sloshed the dark red liquid in, filling the glass to the brim.
“Shouldn’t you be careful with what you eat and drink, Professor? It’s not long since, well you know, since the incident at the ball.” Mary considered her choice of words. She had not had an opportunity to discuss Plender’s involvement, and his use of the mysterious electrical device, with Parth.
“It takes more than a heart attack to put this old dog down I can tell you. Do you know, the medical team reckon that I am as fit as fiddle? Had the whole bloody lot of ‘em amazed. Poking and prodding bits they had no right to prod. Shoved a nasty camera up the blood vessels in my groin and had a good gander at my heart, they did. Can’t seem to find the cause of the heart failure. See Mary, you aren’t the only one with peculiar abilities.” He slapped the table, his raucous laugh echoing in the restaurant again.
Their driver heard the commotion over at the bar and winced. His pocket vibrated with a smartphone text from Yelena. He hurried over to their table.
“Sorry to interrupt, folks, but Yelena needs you to return immediately. I will have your meals packaged up and sent over to you.” He stepped aside as Mary rose from the table.
“I’ll just powder my nose first. Won’t be long.” Mary said, moving towards the restroom. She could hear the booming tenor of Haas as she strode away.
“I should come with you to Tactical. I could lend my voice of experience to the cause.” Haas gazed up at the driver hopefully.
“Yelena says she will contact you if we get in a tricky spot.” He gestured for Parth and Dan to move to the exit.
“That’d be right. Nobody needs old Florrie anymore…”
Mary took her time in the Ladies’ Room, assimilating all that she had learned. Her father had been a British Intelligence Agent all along. Not just a respected scientist, but also a spy. Now his periodic absences and mutterings about conspiracies started to make sense. The lecture trips to foreign universities, even during the long summer vacation; the strained silences between her parents while he packed his cases behind closed doors and the strictly enforced rule barring her unaccompanied entry to her father’s study. She splashed cold water on her face and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Grasping a braid of hair from either side of her face, she pulled them backwards and examined her features. Mary was often told of how much she resembled her mother. The high cheekbones, the widow’s peak hairline and natural wavy hair. The way her wide eyes could turn her father to mush and make him concede to any, and all requests.
Did she inherit her gifts from them? Was her father able to project himself out of his body or read minds? Was that the reason MI6 recruited him? Was he rushing back to Brighton on her graduation day for college work or for a mission? What little she knew about her parents seem to be unravelling by the hour. How could she now separate the facts from the myths?
***
On their return, Yelena called Parth into Tactical, while their driver escorted Dan and Mary back to the windowless room that served as a temporary laboratory. They adjusted their reclining chairs to the upright position and sat opposite each other.
“It’s a lot to take in.” Dan said, looking at Mary with fresh eyes. “I always used to imagine what it would be like to have a sister. I had an active imagination as a child. I would envy friends who had little siblings, watching them bicker and argue and have their tantrums, but when the chips were down, they knew that they had each other to rely on.” He took his jacket off and draped it over the back of the seat.
Mary sat still, with her hands relaxed and folded in her lap. The muddle of new information ran laps around her brain, tangling her synaptic transmissions and overlaying thoughts. “I don’t know how to be a sister. I have two sisters-in-law, but I rarely see them. I mean, I am pleased that you and I get along so well, but other than birthday and Christmas presents, I’m not sure what a sister is supposed to do.”
“If you are willing to find out, so am I. I have been an only child – an adopted only child for so long, it would be nice to have a sense of belonging for once. And, strange though it may seem, I do feel protective towards you.” His mouth wrinkled into an embarrassed grin. There was a brief pause, allowing them to fortify their emotions.
“I should like you to meet Grampy. Other than Parth, he’s the most important person in my life. And he’s your grandfather too.” Her head tilted. Were Dan’s eyes misting up? “Perhaps we should all visit him when Connie has recovered. Maybe he can explain what happened during mum’s sabbatical from Uni.” Dan nodded, dipping his head low and clearing his throat.
An agent wheeled in a trolley of covered hotplates containing their meals, along with a selection of juices, tea and coffee. “Ah, meals on wheels.” Mary said, breaking the atmospheric seal of tender sentiments. She jumped up and began lifting the lids and exploring the compartment beneath. They ate their meals on lap trays mostly in silence, keeping Parth’s congealing sea bass on the warming plate awaiting his return.
“What is your – our – grandfather’s name? I mean, your surname is only Arora because you married Parth. What was our family’s name?” Dan kept his eyes on his dinner. He couldn’t lose control at a time like this.
“The family name is Lawrence. David and Lily Lawrence were my - our parents.” She shovelled another forkful of food into her mouth and bit down. The squeaky cheese reverberated right up to her ears.
“And grandfather?” Dan mopped the last of the buttery sauce up with a new potato and munched it hungrily.
“Phillip Lawrence, people call him…”
“Pip. It’s not Doctor Pip Lawrence, is it?” Dan slid the knife and fork together on his plate and glanced up at Mary.
“It is, yes. How do you know him?” She hesitated between sips of her tea, balancing the mug back down on the tray.
“He’s my godfather.”
***
Parth’s food had desiccated to an inedible husk of white flesh by the time he returned to them in the temporary laboratory. He looked drawn and his posture tense. Mary and Dan each inferred the same conclusion - events were not going well in the Tactical Room. They waited for Parth to stop pacing around the lab, tidying his computer station and winding up spare cables. Their driver and armed escort tapped gently on the door, levering the handle at the same time. He was clutching a Perspex box.
Mary strained to look through the glass panel in the door. She could just make out a small black device with an attached battery. Parth rushed over and pushed the man back through the opening, pulling the door closed behind them. They conducted their discussion in hushed tones, but Dan and Mary could hear enough to realise that Parth was refusing to coop
erate with a direct order from high up in the organisation. Parth returned to the lab. Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip and brow and he was panting with indignation. Resting his hands on his hips, he took deep, slow breaths to steady himself.
“What’s going on?” Mary demanded, twisting around in her chair to maintain eye contact with her husband.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. You both need to concentrate on helping to locate Visser.” He started pacing again.
“You said no more secrets. Tell us immediately, Parth, or we will have to resort to other methods to find out.” Mary and Dan both slid from their seats like cheetahs homing in on their quarry with quiet, imperceptible but deliberate steps, moving in telepathic coordination.
“That’s just it.” Parth wailed bitterly, throwing his arms in the air. “They want to block your Other Methods. Neuter you both with untested prototypes.”
“What are you talking about?” Mary peered deep into his amber flecked eyes. An exhausted, defeated shell of a being, stared back.
“They consider you a threat to national security.”
Parth moved closer to Mary, resting his hands on her shoulders. Dan instinctively backed away, giving the couple their space. She locked his gaze, experiencing the medley of feelings welling up behind her husband’s submissive exterior. Training her brainwaves to his rhythms and thought patterns. Fragments of an argument with Yelena replayed in his mind; you can’t do this to her, after everything she has been through… She is not a weapon, she is my wife!
His fear and anger amalgamated into a corrosive molten malevolence, eating away at his mind. Images of interrogation rooms with Mary probing the deepest regions of a prisoner’s consciousness, without them having the slightest clue as to the reason for their incarceration. Thoughts about forcing Mary into infiltrating the minds of foreign dignitaries. Directing them to take their own lives or vote in policies against their conscious wishes. Visions of her compelling security teams to turn traitor and discharge their firearms into the brains of presidents, prime ministers and members of royalty.