The new safe house is bigger than the last one and I’m not the only occupant. In fact, the place is a high-rise block of flats in a very run-down part of London.
‘We’ll set you up somewhere else tomorrow,’ says one of the security men as they park the SUV outside the building. Not for the first time I wonder when I’ll be able to return to my own apartment.
‘This is a combined safe house. Sort of halfway until some of these people can be properly relocated,’ explains the agent. ‘This location is very “need to know” and so you have to forget being here after we leave tomorrow.’
‘We? You guys are staying here tonight too?’ I ask.
‘Security Agent Martin’s worried about you. Until we learn how much of a breach there’s been, you’re stuck with us.’
‘Right. You’d better tell me your names then, since we are going to be mates for a while,’ I say.
‘I’m Steve. This is Den and the two guys in the front are Will and Joe.’
There are several other empty high rises. With doors and windows of the lower floors boarded up and warning signs plastered across them. The security team flank me as we get out of the car and walk to the building. It occurs to me how obvious they are being, but as I look around, I notice that this is the only occupied building in what appears to be a condemned area.
‘There should be no one about, but we’re even more cautious here, as by the empty location, we are somewhat exposed,’ Steve says when he sees me looking around.
‘When are they knocking it down?’ I ask.
Steve shrugs.
‘This building is secure. The small apartments are stocked for sudden arrivals and kept clean. It’s not perfect, but the anonymity of the place works well for us.’
The reception area of the building is off-putting. Graffiti covers the walls and the lift doors. But when Den calls the lift using a key card that he waves before a scanner, the inside is clean and looks new.
‘I take it the graffiti is a red herring,’ I say.
Steve nods and as the lift ascends, I consider how much I don’t know about what happens in other areas of MI5. Like witness protection programmes. But then, as Steve had said, a lot of this is ‘need to know’ and it wasn’t an area I’d had to understand until I became at risk myself.
When we reach the tenth floor, Steve uses his card again on the scanner and the doors open onto a spotless corridor. I’m less surprised to see the passage looking clean and tidy, as the exterior of this building doesn’t reflect the interior, which has been made very comfortable.
‘Every floor requires a pass key to get onto it from the stairs,’ Steve tells me. ‘And of course, you need one to get in and out of the lift.’
He opens the door of the flat opposite the lift and ushers me inside.
The place is lit up with lamps in each room as though someone has come in and prepared it for my arrival. By the door is a small table and I see the pass key left for me there. Though it’s unlikely I’ll need it tonight.
‘This is you for tonight. We’ll give you your privacy but we’ll be in the flat next door.’
Steve leaves, closing the door behind him.
I’m surprised to find all modern conveniences and nice furniture set out in this one-bedroom flat. I look at my watch and realize it’s after ten. I’m tired and so, after getting a bottle of water from the fridge in the small galley kitchen, I make my way to the bedroom.
There I find the bedside lamp switched on and spare clothing – my size – left on top of the dresser. I look through the pile of clothes and find a T-shirt, two pairs of boxer shorts and a new white shirt still in the packaging. All of the clothing is new and still has labels inside.
In the bathroom, clean towels and some accessories have been left for me to use.
I strip off my suit and hang it up in the bedroom as I’ll need it for tomorrow. Then I take a shower. Afterwards I drag the T-shirt and a new pair of boxers on.
I yawn. Then I climb into the bed. It’s comfortable. And despite being taken, once again, into a new environment, I feel safe. It’s unlikely the Network or anyone else will be able to find me here.
On the bedside cabinet I notice that the lamp has a phone docking station. I place my phone on charge and switch off the lamp before turning over on my side.
Even though I’m tired, the events of the day encroach on my mind, pushing back the sleep that I really want. Bringing me here feels like something of an overreaction on Ray’s part. Yet I know it’s necessary until we bring down the Network once and for all. I hadn’t argued with him about this move of location, because it had been one of Ray’s stipulations when I declined to go into the witness protection programme with Mia and Ben. Ray had only agreed to allow me to continue working for Archive on the promise that I take the protection offered. I knew he hadn’t wanted to lose me from the team even as I tried to bargain with him for my freedom. But Ray had been stubborn in his refusal to budge on this point. I’d been left with little choice but to defer to him in regards to my safety. And so far, the Network hadn’t come after me. Or been able to find me thanks to these precautions. It also meant I was able to continue doing my job, which was still a very important part of my life.
Unable to sleep, I turn the lamp on again. I get out of the bed and go back into the kitchen. I haven’t eaten since lunchtime and I find some fresh bread and make myself some toast.
Everything in the fridge is new and sealed, and I suspect, anything opened will have to be replaced for the next occupant of this apartment. For this reason, I don’t open the jar of marmalade that’s in there because it would be wasteful for just one night in this place.
In one of the cupboards I find some tumblers and some mini-bar bottles of whisky. I open one and pour it into a glass. In the living room there is a modestly sized flat-screen television. I switch it on and discover there are several free channels.
Sipping the whisky, I watch the end of the news until, feeling that pull of sleep tugging at the corners of my eyes again, I stumble off to bed.
Like most nights I dream of Neva.
We’ve just left Mendez’s room, but the doctor wasn’t present when Neva and I were there. We were talking to the trainer, Tracey. As I come out of the room the conversation slips from my mind and I can no longer remember it.
We are children, but we don’t play, we don’t scream. Instead we walk back down the corridor and to the large hallway.
At the door I see a man in a chauffeur’s uniform. I should know his name but it eludes me that day, just like the reason I’m here at the house again. At the sight of the man, Neva takes my hand. I look at her. She’s the only one here who ever touches me and it seems so important that she does.
‘Come back to me,’ she whispers. Then she releases my hand and turns and walks away.
There’s a blur of time and another day at the house. I’m alone as I walk through the hallway. No chauffeur. No Mendez and no Tracey.
Mr Beech comes out of his office then. He’s carrying a cake. Behind him, Tracey and Mendez smile and clap.
‘Happy birthday, Michael,’ Beech says.
There are fifteen candles on the cake. I blow them out like any normal teenager but I know I’m not normal. And neither is this house. No. There’s something very wrong about all of it.
‘This is your heritage,’ Mr Beech says. ‘One day soon, it will all be yours.’
Later, outside, Neva meets me. I’ve brought my piece of cake out to share with her. We nibble at it together, huddled at the back of the garage.
‘You have to survive this place,’ she tells me. ‘We both do.’
I’m more afraid for her than I am for myself. I am, after all, chosen and Neva is merely one of Beech’s cannon fodder assassins.
‘You’ll forget me when you’ve gone,’ she says. ‘You always do. And I’ll forget you.’
I deny it but know it’s the truth. Most of the time, away from here, I’m asleep. I’m only ever ‘real’ when I come back.
Another time slip leads me back home: Mum, with her trademark flour smudge. Dad with his passion for gardening.
‘You have to work hard, Michael,’ Dad says. ‘You have to be recruited.’
I apply myself to my studies just as I’m supposed to. Opposite me, studying just as hard, is my sister Mia.
‘You both have to be the best,’ Mum says.