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THEO WAS UNDER THE impression that I had gone back to the United States. I didn’t disabuse him of that idea until I was certain that I wanted to connect. Apparently, his handler told him that the CIA recalled me, and that the mission was on pause until further notice. Nothing could be further from the truth.
I’d woken up in the Athens safehouse alone. It was a bit disconcerting because I had allowed myself to fall into a deeper sleep than usual. I habitually slept with one eye open, knowing that at any second, there could be a break-in or an emergency to attend to. But I thought that Theo was with me and that he would wake me up when it was time to move.
I could tell instantly that he had left the building. Something about the quality of the air and the stillness of the morning alerted me to the fact that I was alone. Without even getting up to investigate, I took a moment to mourn.
I had been so stupid to assume that I meant anything to him. Obviously, this was just part of the job, and though I might be able to trust him in the field, trusting him with my heart was a different story.
I packed my bags, noticing that the car was still in the driveway. That was a classy touch, though it meant I had no idea what happened to Theo. I assumed he had just moved on, maybe gone back to Athens for something or maybe been transferred to another location.
Vinny had given us two names: Southie and Lukas. I didn’t know anything about Southie, but Lukas was one of the Dark Sparrow operatives I had my eye on. If only Vinny had been able to give us an address, or at the very least a specific country. But Vinny was long gone. Either he had been killed by his own people or captured by the cops. I doubted we would see any more of him, even though Theo thought it was important to leave him alive.
After several hours waiting for Theo to return, I got a call from Jasmine. “It’s wheels up for London,” she said succinctly.
“Roger that,” I replied, knowing better than to ask for more specifics.
I took the car into the city and dropped it off before getting to the airport. It wouldn’t do to arrive at the liftoff in a stolen vehicle. The local police could pick it up and return it to its owner, largely unscathed aside from a broken window.
I walked into the terminal with one bag, looking just like every other vacationer. Luckily, I didn’t have to travel coach. I went straight to the other side of the runway where the private planes loaded and unloaded affluent passengers. There I found my own flight to London waiting for me.
I was the only traveler, and due to the sensitive nature of my journey, only the pilot joined me onboard. He took me directly to Heathrow, where he allowed me to get off and blend in with the rest of the tourists. I skipped the car service because I didn’t want to create a paper trail.
Instead of calling for a rideshare, I opted for an old school taxi and paid in cash. I didn’t need to go to the currency exchange because I was in the habit of carrying small amounts of bills with me at all times. I had enough money to pay for a cab ride to the outskirts of London, where I purchased a room for one night in a crappy motel.
The room consisted of one bed with questionable sheets, a stained carpet, a single lamp, and a bathroom from the 1970s. I set my suitcase on the mattress and went to take a shower. It was a grueling experience. I was sure that something horrific had happened in the motel room prior to my occupancy. The place just had that kind of vibe. If ever you were going to get murdered in London, that hotel had the perfect ambiance.
Toweling off, I got dressed as quickly as possible. I had to laugh at myself for allowing my imagination to run wild. I should have been immune to such considerations since I was a killer myself. No mere junkie was going to break into the room and surprise me in my sleep. Still, I would have been happier with better accommodations, and I told Jasmine so when I phoned her later that night.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “We don’t want anyone to know you’re in London at the moment.”
“Why?” I demanded. If the CIA had a problem with MI6, I needed to know. This kind of sneaking around couldn’t be good for the mission. Was there something going on with Theo? Did Jasmine know more about the missing agents than she was letting on?
“We’ve told them you’ll be in London in several days,” Jasmine replied. “In the meantime, we want you to look into this Southie character.”
“Got it,” I said.
My secrecy in the capital of the world was devised so that I could get a better look at what was going on between Dark Sparrow and MI6. The indication Vinny gave was that someone had infiltrated British Intelligence and was acting on behalf of the terrorist organization from the inside. My job would be to see if I could discover more about the plot before officially “landing” at Heathrow.
I hung up with Jasmine, feeling a little bit better. It always helped to have information. Conversely, in the intelligence game, information was hard to come by. I was constantly working with half-truths and darkened landscapes, only realizing long after what the full picture looked like.
There was another reason for my uplifted spirits. I had been worried that Theo was to blame. In the few days we spent working together, we’d become close, and I didn’t want my covert activities to involve him. It took an extraordinary amount of courage to tear down the wall I had built around my heart after Ryan disappeared. I couldn’t imagine how much it would hurt to know that Theo was working for the enemy. At least with this mysterious Southie to blame, I knew I could still trust my instincts and believe in the man I was rapidly falling in love with.
Theo called not a moment later, and I decided to pick up. I knew that I shouldn’t tell him I was in London. I had been given express orders not to reveal my location. But I also knew that he was on my side. So eventually I let him in on the secret and agreed to meet him at a pub.
“This is highly classified,” I warned him.
“Of course,” he agreed. “Have you heard of the Birddog?”
“No,” I said. I didn’t know every pub and watering hole in the city, unlike Theo.
He gave me the address before hanging up, leaving me with precious few minutes to get ready. Even though he had seen me at my worst, I wanted to look my best for our date. I tried to tell myself that it was just a meeting between colleagues, just a rendezvous off the beaten path, but my heart knew otherwise. This was an opportunity to spend some time together off the clock. No one would be aware that we were meeting, and that meant we were free to indulge in whatever activities we wanted.
I was a big girl, and Theo was a gentleman. If things got romantic, I wasn’t going to stand in the way. I had plenty of experience sleeping with people to gain the upper hand. The idea that I might do it out of genuine affection made me tingle all over like a schoolgirl.
I picked out the best dress I had. It wasn’t anywhere near as fancy as the one Theo had brought me, but it would have to do. A cheaper fabric, it clung to my hips and my rear end in a way designed to make men’s mouths water. The neckline scooped low, exposing the upper half of my breasts. In it, I was sure I looked like a cheap thrill, but Theo would know otherwise. He would appreciate all the facets of the diamond in the rough that made me who I was. He would see the beauty, not only in my form, but also in my soul.
I left the motel room taking only a clutch purse with me. It contained the usual implements of death and destruction. Just because I was going out for the evening didn’t mean I was going to walk around unprepared. I also had a gun strapped to my inner thigh because I never went anywhere without it.
I took the metro across town and hopped a bus to the pub in question. I burned through all my remaining cash in the process and would have to switch to euros. Luckily, many establishments in London still took the European currency, even though they were no longer part of the EU. After my euros were depleted, I would move on to US dollars, which likewise, had significant universal value.
The pub was dark but pleasant as I walked through the door. I was expecting a bunch of drunk British bankers from the looks of the sign outside, but most of the customers still had their wits about them. There were a few college students at one table and a group of women who might have been celebrating a bachelorette party at the bar.
Televisions throughout the intimate space showed sports highlights, but it wasn’t exactly a sports bar. It was an eclectic mix of high society and blue collar, with an easy vibe that discouraged fighting of any kind.
I was almost reminded of the place where Theo and I had first met in Casablanca, but there had been only rough and tumble elements present. Here, it was much more laid back with everyone focused on themselves and the people they’d come with. No one so much blinked an eye at me, even though I was dressed to draw attention.
“Clark,” Theo said, using my real name.
He stood up from the table he was sitting at and kissed my cheek. I blushed, feeling like I had stepped into a romantic film, complete with friendly bartender and happy background chatter.
There was a swinging light above the table, illuminating Theo’s face as he sat opposite me. There was a stout beer on the table, halfway full, indicating that he had been waiting for some time. I reached for his hand, wanting to reassure myself that we were actually together. It felt like it had been so long, when in reality, it had only been a matter of hours.
We spent a moment sitting there, just holding hands. It was absurd, and yet at the same time, sweet and comforting. He was the one person in the whole world that I felt I could relax around. I had no reservations when it came to him. That might have been a liability in the field, but here in London at some anonymous pub, it was a thrill. It felt more dangerous simply holding his hand than fighting off the terrorists in Athens. What we were doing was that serious.
“How was your flight?” I asked finally.
“Huh,” he huffed, doing that British thing with his nose that meant whatever had happened was beneath him. “It was horrific. How was yours?”
“Mine was fine,” I said. “Turbulence?” I asked, attempting to get to the bottom of his complaint.
“Coors Light,” he replied seriously, as if that single phrase summed up everything that was wrong with the world.
