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Two years later.
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THE CRYSTAL BLUE WATERS of the Mediterranean bobbed beneath my yacht, stretched out for miles on either side of me. I was spending a relaxing day between missions enjoying the fruits of my labors. While my work took me to hell and back some days, others I appreciated the luxuries it afforded me.
I bought the yacht a year ago to celebrate the end of a particularly trying mission. But while I had been afforded some success, I still couldn’t forget the one great failure of my lifetime. The Sleeper was still out there, able to attack foreign agents at will. I kept my ear to the ground to pick up any chatter, but so far, there was nothing actionable.
Late nights I caught myself remembering her with a mixture of anger and regret. Anger because she’d nearly killed me and regret because I hadn’t gotten to know her better. Whatever her story was, I was sure it was riveting. For someone so beautiful and mysterious to turn to intelligence work spoke of heartache. Spies never had comfortable home lives.
I wondered what set of circumstances had led her to be in the murder business. Was she abandoned as a child? Forced to grow up in the foster system? Was she groomed for a life of crime from an early age only to find a way to sell her services to the government? All options were on the table, and nothing seemed too outlandish to be real. It bothered me that I couldn’t get her out of my head, but I was doing my best.
Sunshine helped. I set up a fishing pole against the railing to look like I was doing something, but the truth was, it was an excuse to sit out in the sun. I pulled a wide-brimmed hat down over my eyes and let my mind drift. In a couple years at this rate, I would be able to retire. Not many spies ever made it that far.
I was determined to be one of the lucky few who made it back to civilian life. Maybe I would buy myself a villa in Greece or set out on a cross country tour of Europe, without all the international intrigue of course.
I was deep into my private fantasy when the phone rang. Glancing up, I wished I could turn it off altogether. MI6 should know enough not to call me when I was on vacation, but of course, that wasn’t the case. Crises didn’t wait for an opportune time, they just struck. And it was the nature of my job to be first on the scene to avoid a greater tragedy.
“Hello?” I asked, waiting patiently for the line to connect.
“Theo,” my handler, Reg, said.
“I’m on vacation,” I informed him.
“I need you back in London ASAP,” Reg instructed me, ignoring my childish behavior.
There was very little point in arguing, and even less point in asking for details over the phone. Whatever Reg had to say to me was obviously classified and as such, demanded an in-person meeting. I would have to reel in my line, set sail for the shore and hop a plane to learn what new horror had occurred while I was off the clock.
“Right,” I said, hanging up.
It took me six hours to arrive at MI6 headquarters, and I didn’t even take the time to shave. I breezed through the door, looking like a man who had been out in the middle of the sea on a private yacht only moments ago. Where I habitually wore dark suits, that day I was dressed in a casual white shirt, open at the front as befit any self-respecting Italian man.
I got a few looks from the desk jockeys as I walked through the bullpen. I ignored them all. We were deeply compartmentalized, and I didn’t share personal information with anyone. Not that I believed any of them were threats, per se, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. The fewer people who knew about my hobbies, the better.
Reg was in his office, on the phone with someone when I entered. He looked up, narrowed his eyes, and ended the conversation immediately. I was about to take a seat opposite his desk when he stood up, waving me back into the hall.
I followed him to the conference room where three other administrators were busy collaborating on something. Reg shut the door, pointing out a seat. I recognized only one of the people in the meeting, but that wasn’t unusual. Both agents and supervisors operated with a high degree of secrecy and “need to know” criteria. I could potentially work with someone for years without ever seeing their face.
“It’s been over twenty-seven hours since we’ve heard from Agent Burke,” one of the administrators said.
I knew they weren’t going to slow down or go over points they had already covered. It was up to me to get up to speed as quickly as possible simply by listening in.
“And forty-eight since there’s been any word from Agent Hatfield,” another confirmed.
“They were last seen in Istanbul, working on a cover operation in cooperation with Washington,” the third administrator said, filling in the gaps.
“Burke’s last communication indicated that The Sleeper may have been in the area, but the details are vague,” Reg offered, sitting down beside me and lifting an encoded tablet from the desk. “These are the last known whereabouts of the two agents,” he said, handing me the device.
In the branded company colors, I could see two highlighted pinpricks on a map of Turkey. According to the latest satellite data, it was a hotel for foreigners. I knew then exactly what my assignment would be: Go to Turkey and track down the missing agents, find out what happened to them, and confirm whether The Sleeper was involved.
The thought of coming face to face with her again was invigorating. I was sick with the thought that she might have killed more of our men but relieved that I would finally have a chance to correct my only mistake.
“Who’s my partner on this?” I asked, interrupting.
“You’ll meet her in Istanbul,” Reg said.
“Her?” I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.
“Yes, her,” he confirmed, tapping my screen to display the plane tickets.
I put my old phone up on the table, assuming I would be issued another one. Trading out devices was standard operating procedure so that no one could trace me from one job to the next. I didn’t own a personal phone other than the burners I kept on hand for emergencies. Regg collected it from me and offered me another. I knew it came preloaded with all the information I would need to complete the job. That data was encrypted and would be erased at the slightest hint of a problem. We had come a long way from the exploding recordings of James Bond’s era.
I left the meeting, knowing that there was nothing more they would offer me. I could study the briefing on my own time and according to the travel arrangements, I wasn’t scheduled to fly out until the morning. I thought I would take advantage of a night in London to catch up with two old friends.
They had been junior agents when I signed on to MI6, but each had taken safer, domestic jobs in the country. I couldn’t tell them that I was still active with the agency, but they knew it. Luckily, we were all adult enough not to go asking questions that couldn’t be answered.
“Nigel, Terry,” I said, locating my friends at an upscale bar in Chelsea.
“Theo,” Nigel said, opening his arms to welcome me into a hug. “It’s been far too long. Where are they keeping you nowadays?”
“You know I can’t answer that.” I shrugged it off.
“Did you catch the latest Manchester United match?” Terry asked, sidestepping all work conversation entirely.
“It was a derby,” I said. I might have been off the grid, but I wasn’t living in a hole.
“Four to two,” Terry said, as if the score said it all.
“Are you drowning your sorrows?” I asked, teasing him.
“Not if you’re celebrating,” he reacted. We both cheered for different teams, and it was a good-natured matter of contention between us. Brits were very territorial about their soccer teams, and there was no end to the fun when my team won.
“I’ll have another,” Terry called to the bartender. “He’s paying.”
The bartender looked to me to confirm it, and I nodded. It was the least I could do to soothe his wounded ego and enjoy my last night off duty. In the morning, I would ship off to Istanbul to meet this new partner and hopefully bag some bad guys. I might even get a second chance at The Sleeper, although the circumstances could have been better.
I was paying for the drinks when a leggy brunette walked by in a blue dress. The fabric clung to her hips and draped artistically across her breasts, leaving little to the imagination. She found my eyes with beautiful coffee-colored irises and smiled, inviting me to make a move. I gave her a curt nod and turned back to my friends.
Nigel caught the whole transaction and looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “What are you thinking?” he whispered when the woman had gone.
“What?” I asked.
“She was begging you to talk to her,” Nigel insisted.
“I don’t think so,” I scoffed.
“The last time a woman looked at me that way, I married her,” Nigel joked.
“I don’t think your wife ever looked at you that way,” Terry piped up.
“Hey!” Nigel objected, reaching around me to take a swipe at him.
As much as I tried to hide it, I knew exactly what Nigel was talking about. The brunette was stunning, and she seemed very interested in having a conversation. But where would that lead? Would I spend the night with her in a hotel room? Make excuses why I could never see her again after a night of carnal bliss? It all seemed like too much work.
I couldn’t get the shape of The Sleeper out of my mind. So much so that I hadn’t been with a woman in a long time—unless I got frustrated and way too drunk. Even then, I imagined that I was making love to her, instead of the living, breathing woman I was with at the time.
That wasn’t fair to the female of the species. I was a broken man who could only heal by going to the source. I had to find The Sleeper and make her pay for what she’d done to me. Getting justice for the men she’d killed was only a bonus.
I couldn’t wait to get started on my mission, but in the meantime, I meant to enjoy myself as much as I could. Unfortunately, that meant putting up with Nigel and Terry rather than seductive strangers.
