Astrid took faltering steps down the stairs to the garage. They didn’t use the lift because it was too small. The only sounds were boots hitting the concrete and the cogs inside her head working through the gears. She stumbled between two slabs of Agency meat, a security protocol reserved for only the worst prisoners. Enough cold sweat dripped from her bodyguards for her to guess they’d waited around all day.
‘You guys stink.’ She wanted a reaction but got nothing.
How well trained are you?
When they reached the bottom, Laurel pushed the door open. Astrid searched the dark corners of her brain to find her escape map torn into a thousand pieces.
The van was just ahead, back doors wide apart and waiting for them. Two guards climbed into the vehicle, checking the insides. Laurel followed them with Astrid, then the rest of the security. Astrid sat next to Laurel, with four guards opposite, while the other two were near the door. She considered escape, but it appeared impossible. If she was lucky, she could wrestle a weapon from one of them, but there wasn’t enough room to do anything beyond injuring one guard.
Kids will ruin your life.
The flash of Lawrence’s voice inside her head sent electric tendrils into her stomach, so she lurched to the side before Laurel could catch her. She tried to push the memory into the abyss at the pit of her gut, but it was hopeless, an image of his face burning through the back of her eyes.
‘I should’ve killed him when I had the chance,’ she whispered into the metal stuck to her head. If she’d done that when she was fifteen, how different would her life have been?
‘What?’ Laurel said. The van jerked forward and pulled away. Lawrence continued to grin at her from the shadows of her mind. Astrid unglued her face from the wall and turned to Laurel.
‘I said I’m innocent.’
At least of these crimes.
‘I’m sorry.’ Laurel spoke as the van picked up speed.
‘Sorry for what?’
‘The way they treated you in there.’
‘Which part, being stuck in isolation for eternity or the façade you put me through?’
‘All of it, and...’ Laurel hesitated, watching the guards staring at them through their masks and security goggles.
‘And?’
‘And I think you’re innocent.’
‘I’d prefer an automatic rifle.’
She shot the guards a mischievous smile. Lawrence lived inside her head, whistling some awful nursery rhyme which signalled him taking his belt to her. After a time, she’d grown to prefer the belt to his fists; it seemed more impersonal. Now she had a complicated relationship with leather.
‘Why would anybody do this to you?’ It was the question on everybody’s lips.
‘Either somebody hates me, or…’ a thought struck Astrid like a lightning bolt.
‘Or what?’
They hit a bump, and everyone jumped a few inches in the air. She ruminated on what a perfect opportunity it would have been if there weren’t so many damn guards there.
‘Are you convinced by the investigation into the murders?’ She continued to stare at the men opposite her. The shunt in the road indicated their reflexes were lacking for professionals. It gave her a tiny slither of hope, helped by the fact Laurel appeared to be on her side. ‘Be honest.’
‘It’s as you mentioned. Most of the evidence is circumstantial. And I don’t think Agent Lincoln is qualified to be part of it. Or me.’
‘Lincoln hates me because I turned his advances down a long time ago.’
‘That seems… overly sensitive.’
‘I might have broken his nose.’
‘Oh.’
‘So, either somebody detests me with a passion, or we have an Agency-wide conspiracy, and someone wants me gone.’
Astrid’s mind returned to Director George Cross and the plans they’d devised a year ago. Her friend’s warm smile pushed the image of Lawrence and his vile whistling from her skull.
‘Why would that be?’ Laurel said.
‘I’ve made plenty of enemies over the years, so it’s difficult to pick out a name, but a few things could narrow it down.’
As they talked, a smaller version of Astrid scrambled around inside her skull, throwing maps into the air to find something to help. The Agency had two secure units close to the main building, each an hour away in opposite directions. It meant the best opportunity would be thirty minutes into the journey when they were equal distance from any backup. It was bad enough with six of them in the van, but reinforcements would be the end of her.
‘What would narrow it down?’ Laurel shifted in her seat.
‘Whoever it is, they’re ruthless, clever and with access to plenty of resources.’
‘Are they working on their own?’
‘Considering the logistics of what happened in Europe, I wouldn’t rule it out, but it seems unlikely. Five murders with no clues, and then the worst investigation team, no offence, gathered for the case, and all when Director Cross has disappeared.’ Astrid struggled to identify who hated her so profoundly.
‘Is it possible your father is responsible?’
She would only have been more shocked if Lee had suggested Santa Claus as the designer of her current fate, not because she hadn’t considered Lawrence as the culprit, but because Laurel had too.
‘I haven’t seen him in over ten years.’ Astrid’s voice was dry, the back of her throat craving water. ‘Why and how would he do this now?’
Every one of Astrid’s words was thick with scepticism. Dozens of lights illuminated the van, but it was as if darkness hovered below the roof. Her shoulders stiffened as her eyes narrowed, ready to broach a subject difficult to talk about.
‘Maybe because of what happened between the two of you.’ Laurel dodged around the specifics. Bitterness crept over Astrid’s face.
‘You think he hates his younger daughter because…’
She wouldn’t make this easy for Laurel. It wasn’t easy for her, so why should it be for anyone else?
‘He’s a callous and conscienceless brute,’ Laurel said.
Astrid laughed at the words, surprised to find humour in anything connected to him.
‘You’re quoting me now?’
Laurel’s voice wavered. ‘I remember it from your file. It was the only thing you told the Agency therapists about him.’
‘They didn’t want to know; most of them, anyway.’ A crop of disappointments grew in her memories, but she scythed them down swiftly. ‘All they cared about was getting me into the best shape as quickly as possible to work for them. I was eighteen, my childhood over, and none of it mattered anymore. They told me to forget the past and concentrate on the future. So I did.’
‘You can never abandon your past, Astrid.’ Once again, she observed something lurking behind the younger woman’s eyes. ‘Your father lost his career, his reputation. He could have blamed you for that.’ Laurel pushed beyond her hesitancy.
Astrid laughed louder than she wanted, a raucous noise originating from the pit of her stomach. It was a cold laugh, enough to chill the bones. None of the guards reacted.
‘He did blame me for it. Twenty-five years as a copper, respect and admiration everywhere he went. And then he lost it all in an instant because of some girl and her wild accusations.’
A flame of scarlet crept in a swift diagonal across Astrid’s cheeks. Her voice was shaky, nails digging into her palms. She cursed herself as more submerged emotions rose from the shadows in her mind.
‘It wasn’t just some girl. It was his daughter; it was you.’
‘Well, thank you, agent. I’m glad I’ve got you around to keep me informed about my life, especially now it’s all gone to shit.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Laurel looked like a child saddened by the death of a pet. ‘What about the people you worked with before you joined the Agency, the criminal gang who left you to rot in prison?’
Memories of Ramon Sheen drifted into Astrid’s head as something hit the vehicle, sending ripples through the van like a bowl of jelly. Then a large object battered the side, throwing her and Laurel into the guard opposite.
Her training kicked in, holding up her arm so it received most of the force as she fell into the synthetic fibre protecting the man. The cuffs hung loose on her wrists as instinct took over. She grabbed his jacket and threw him to her left, where he nose-dived into the guards at the door. Her attention switched to the right without a moment’s hesitation. Grabbing hold of the confused man’s weapon, she pushed it into his chin. He let go of it. Astrid turned the gun on to the last two guards and shook her head at them.
‘Throw your guns down.’
There would only be a split second before the others behind regained their composure. Astrid didn’t know what was happening outside, but she was aware this could be her only chance to escape. Before she acted, they were hit again, the vehicle spinning and rolling over. She was dizzy as her eyes scanned the van’s insides while they continued rotating like a motorised guinea pig ball.
She tried to grab hold of the sides as people kept on falling around her. Laurel flapped at the bulky arms of the nearest security guard. There was a pause as they moved, before the final fall and crash which smashed a massive dent into the side of the van. Eight bodies tumbled over as if inside a drunken washing machine.
Astrid reacted before anybody else, throwing both arms over her head for protection, landing next to Laurel, whose eyes were glazed. Lee moaned as tiny bits of blood dripped from a cut above her eye. Astrid had no time for concern, using the confusion to check on the rest of the guards. Before she could react, the back doors opened.
‘Follow me.’
It was a voice thick and heavy behind the mask, a male physique underneath the uniform of dark clothes. ‘And bring Lee with you.’
Astrid’s senses recovered before anybody else’s. Grabbing hold of Laurel, she dragged the unsuspecting agent with her. She climbed over displaced guards and jumped out the van. A large black SUV waited for them, doors open, its front dented and a crack in one of the side windows.
‘This could be the Reaper?’ Laurel snapped awake and wiped the blood from her eyes.
‘I’d rather take my chances with him than stuck in a high-security prison.’
Astrid didn’t give a second thought to Laurel’s safety and pushed her into the SUV. She was about to follow when a shadow loomed behind her in the reflection of the window. She moved to one side as a clenched fist missed her by inches and struck the car with a thump. Astrid swivelled her hips and brought her arm into the neck of her attacker. The guard dropped to the ground like a stone.
Before she could praise herself for her quick reactions, something hard hit her across the knees. She smashed her hip against the concrete, rolling to the side while a bloke stuck to her like glue. He’d lost his gun, but had a knife pointed at her throat. Aiming to plunge it into her, but he hesitated. His wavering was his undoing as she lifted her arms and grabbed his wrist. She pushed it back, bone snapping as the wind blew around her head. She flung him from her as he cried, lifting up and towards the van.
Astrid jumped into the car, falling into Agent Lee. It sped off before the back doors closed, and the Agency van disappeared in the distance. She peered out the window, hoping to get a sense of location, but the gloom meant they could have been anywhere on the outskirts of London.
‘Who are you?’ Laurel was more curious about their new friend's identity than Astrid, who focused on overpowering him if she needed to. Her safety odds had improved considerably in the last five minutes, but the danger was still present. The driver didn’t answer, cutting back on the speed as they entered a part of the road with more traffic, and more cameras.
‘Are you okay?’ The bleeding hadn’t stopped, and Laurel’s face had turned into an unpleasant shade of light red where she’d struggled to keep the blood from her eyes.
‘It’s just a small cut; I’ll be fine.’ Astrid wasn’t too sure, noticing the tremor in Laurel’s hand as she placed it on her cheek to wipe away the blood. She peered at her, searching for stability but finding slight traces of shock in her pupils.
‘We have to get somewhere safe; she might need medical attention.’
The mystery man ignored Astrid’s words and kept driving. Outside the window, the sign for the M25 heading south whizzed past them.
Laurel handed Astrid the keys to the handcuffs. ‘You need these.’
Astrid smiled as she pressed her fingers into her wrists. ‘If you don’t tell me where we’re going, I’ll kick the doors out and we’ll jump.’
The car hit sixty miles an hour, but she didn’t care. His heavy sigh echoed in the back as she caught the smell of a recognisable aroma.
‘We have to avoid the toll roads, so it’ll take longer than it should; about ninety minutes. Will she be okay?’
Laurel had drifted into sleep, her chest rising and falling in a constant rhythm. Astrid removed the last of the blood with the sleeve of her previously white shirt. She knew Laurel would be okay with a bit of rest, laying her head on her lap in the back of the car. She returned her attention to the driver, his body odour and breath revealing his identity to her.
‘Is this revenge for your sister, Frank?’