THE MARBLE ARCH UNDERPASS was surprisingly quiet for rush hour.
‘Looking good, beautiful.’
A man stood in the middle of the underpass staring at me. He was skinny with pockmarked skin, peroxided hair and wearing a long dark coat. I dismissed him as a random sleaze.
‘Come on, give me a smile.’
I gave him the finger over my shoulder as I carried on walking.
‘I’ll be seeing you, Alexis Tyler.’
I stopped, spun around and rammed him up against the wall, my right hand clutching his throat.
‘Who are you? Who sent you? How do you know my name?’
He shakily pointed down to my jacket lapel.
‘You’re . . . you’re . . . wearing a name label.’
‘Right.’ I released him. ‘Stop fucking catcalling women. We don’t like it. And some of us will enjoy showing you just how much.’ I made a jolt towards him. He ran.
I looked down at my lapel and tore off the label.
First and last time being harassed had actually been useful. The creep had at least stopped me from attending a covert meeting with a Chinese Embassy informant with my real name pinned to my breast.
Bloody name badges.
A hazard of my dual life.
*
Y was late. I walked up and down the underpass. I could see why it was a good meeting place. No one would be able to get close to us without making themselves known.
I leaned back against the wall and watched each person that walked past. In the distance I saw a Chinese man coming towards me. Was it Y? I waited until he got closer. Thin eyebrows. Mole on his right cheek. Identity confirmed. I waited for him to catch my eye. He was walking slowly, staring at the ground. He was in a suit with a navy duffle coat on top, a battered satchel slung over his shoulder. He was nearly next to me when he finally looked up. I gave him a small nod and started walking alongside him.
‘I talk. You listen,’ he said quietly. He looked straight ahead.
‘The Ambassador will meet Minister Peng at Heathrow VIP arrival suite. There they discuss the itinerary for her trip and any other upcoming business. You need to listen in. That is important meeting. Very important,’ he repeated. ‘No more contact with me again. Too dangerous now.’
‘But we need—’
‘Peng’s PA, Ling Ling. She records all meetings with her Dictaphone so can type up later. Dictaphone always in her bag. You get the Dictaphone you always know what’s been happening.’ We approached the beginning of the ramp leading back up onto the street. ‘That’s it. No more contact. No more.’ He kept walking as I stopped and turned round.
I needed to get back to the Platform. We had less than twenty-four hours until Peng and the delegation arrived into Heathrow, and we needed to find a way to bug their arrival suite.
*
‘Time for an update briefing,’ said Hattie as I walked into the meeting room. Hattie was in his position at the head of the dining table. Both Robin and Cameron were missing, presumably still out on their ops. ‘Jake, let’s start with you.’
‘Cameron is unhinged,’ said Jake. ‘She punched four hackers in the face this afternoon. One of them made the mistake of asking if she was on her period so he got punched twice.’
I didn’t often agree with Cameron but I thought that was fair enough.
‘They’d all heard of the Tenebris Network. They knew it was a headhunting website on the dark web and that it was causing a bit of a stir. A few thought they were hunting actual heads. Which in fairness is more fitting in terms of the sick shit you find online.’
‘Do any of them know anyone who actually took a job there?’
Jake shook his head. ‘What they did say seems to match Frederick’s intel that Tenebris’s technological set-up points to a London-based operation.’
‘Where’s Cameron now?’
‘Quite a few of the names on the master list of hackers are Americans supposedly living in London – she’s over at the American Embassy making sure we have the most up-to-date information on all of them.’ Jake shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I’m working with someone that makes me the calm, restrained one.’ Despite the darkness in him, Jake worked hard to be a consummate professional. He carefully planned and executed his duties and rarely lost control. If he ever teetered on the edge that was when I reined him in.
‘Keep an eye on her. We don’t want her going rogue.’ Hattie bridged his hands together on the table. ‘My update on the Coyote is that no known aliases – of any of the assassins we have records on – have entered the country in the last week. It was naïve to hope they would be an easy spot. I’m continuing to speak to my sources to see if we can get any clue as to who or where we should be looking.’ Hattie looked down at his iPad on the table. ‘Now let’s talk about the Pigs.’
‘Robin has successfully installed the listening devices and phone worm at Daddy Pig’s house,’ said Geraint. ‘We’ve started an initial download of their phone and internet history, and the audio is transmitting clearly. He’s just finished Peppa Pig’s house and is on his way to George’s now.’
‘Frederick told me Daddy Pig never went to Birmingham. We need to look into his movements last Tuesday.’
Pixie looked up from her laptop. ‘I’ll go through his mobile phone history. That’ll show us where he really was.’
Hattie turned to me. ‘Tell us about your meeting with Y.’
‘Y stated that we should try and tap Peng’s PA’s Dictaphone as she uses it in all important meetings. He also confirmed that Peng and the delegation will be met in the Heathrow VIP Arrivals Suite by the Chinese Ambassador, who will go over their itinerary for the week and no doubt confirm any extra meetings not on the official schedule. We find out her plans for the whole stay and we have a better chance of working out when the Coyote will be likely to strike. We need to get ears into that room.’
‘G, what are Peng’s flight details?’
There was a pause as Geraint tapped a few buttons on his laptop. ‘Peng’s plane lands at Heathrow Terminal Three tomorrow at 12.35.’
Jake shook his head. ‘It doesn’t leave us much time to do the usual maintenance route and sort out getting in as an approved supplier.’
I had an idea. ‘Peng and the delegation will be put in Suite One, won’t they? The one reserved for heads of state and A-listers?’
Geraint’s fingers flew across his laptop as he scanned the screen. ‘I’ve hacked the bookings spreadsheet for Suite One and Peng is the only one listed for that day.’
‘We have to use a Golden Wolf to get in there,’ I said. ‘One of us can join them as part of their entourage and we fix the room with listening devices. G-Force, scan the list of anyone we have currently abroad that we can get on a flight landing back into Heathrow tomorrow morning.’
Metal Wolves were celebrities. They did the same job as Wolves just with an added sprinkling of star status. Ranked according to their level of fame: Gold, Silver and Bronze. Metal Wolves were sometimes recruited but often made. In exchange for a deal with the devil they were given the career of their dreams – with just a small sideline in serving their country as and when requested.
‘There’s only one Golden Wolf with status high enough they’d definitely be guaranteed Suite One. He’s currently in Dubai and there’s a flight we can get him on landing into Heathrow at 9.05 a.m.’
‘Who is it?’ asked Hattie.
Geraint cleared his throat and looked at me. ‘Johnnie Mac.’
Brilliant.
I needed to think fast. ‘Can’t we get Cameron to talk to Track 101 and send us a Kardashian? That would work?’
Hattie shook his head. ‘We only turn to Track 101 for emergency favours. We can do this with Johnnie Mac.’
Jake laughed. ‘So the success of this operation relies on Johnnie and Lex working together. Boss, you do realise these two can’t manage to be in the same room together without there being sex, shouting, screaming and swearing. Sometimes all at the same time.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jake. What do you—’
‘I was in the next-door hotel room on that tour in 2012. Remember?’
Hattie observed us quietly. ‘I note there is history there, Lex.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘We want no drama. You just need to greet him off the flight, accompany him to Suite One, get the audio transmitting devices and the receiver installed, and then get out of there. I’ll talk to Demon and make sure he’s been briefed too. We don’t want any undue attention.’
‘Does it have to be me? Maybe it’d be better if Jake did it?’
Jake shook his head. ‘Johnnie’s a platinum-album-selling rockstar – he always travels with an entourage, which at last count was a team of about six people. To ditch them all and head to Suite One alone would be pretty strange unless it was you greeting him off the plane and requesting a private catch-up.’
I saw his point.
I sighed. Nothing like adding spending time with an ex who hated me to an already stressful week.
*
Standing outside my front door I could hear my daughter laughing. The best sound in the world. I let myself in and followed the squeals and giggles to the sitting room.
Will was in an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt, lying on his back with his legs in the air, holding hands with Gigi, who was balanced on her stomach on his feet.
‘Hello, Mama. Me flying!’ She grinned. Her hair was in a lopsided ponytail, her favourite Frozen pyjamas on.
‘Wow. Look at you go.’ I walked up and kissed her cheek.
‘Uh oh, turbulence,’ shouted Will as he shook his legs up and down. Gigi kept giggling as she wobbled about.
‘Have you been back a while?’
‘Meeting finished early so got back in time for her dinner.’
‘We had pizza and choccy milkshake,’ said Gigi proudly.
‘Two more take-off and landings and then bed, little miss.’
‘No, Dada. No. You do twenty-five one hundred more.’
I listened as the two of them negotiated and tidied up the toy explosion round the living room.
*
By the time Gigi was splashing in the bath, Will had already opened a bottle of red wine. We were each clasping a large glass of it on the floor outside the bathroom, watching Gigi sing songs and dunk her mermaid.
‘What’s happening at work? Are you about to disappear again?’ asked Will.
‘The next week or so will be very busy but then things will calm down. Might actually be getting a lot of time off soon.’
It was a sign of how serious a threat Tenebris were if I thought it was worth mentioning to Will work could be about to get very, very quiet.
‘I’m not going to get my hopes up. It’s not like your job has ever been particularly reliable when it comes to working hours.’
Will still hadn’t forgiven me for having to cancel our summer holiday. What would’ve been the three of us spending ten days in Tenerife in the sunshine was replaced with four days staying with my parents in Berkshire. And it rained. Every single day. An urgent operation had come in and I’d had no choice but to go. The only proper time off I could get was a long weekend. When my parents found out we weren’t actually going to be abroad for Mum’s sixty-third birthday we were told that the long overdue visit we’d kept promising needed to happen during the family celebration she had planned. Will looking over and hissing: ‘Mojitos on the beach’ as my great-aunt regaled him in graphic detail about the effect the menopause was having on her sex-drive was a particular low point.
As I’d kept repeating to his stony face, if it had been his work stopping us going, I would’ve understood. My vague explanation of it being something to do with Brexit had not gone down well. In fairness, I had overused that excuse but it was such an easy go-to as it had just the right combination of utter fucked-up mess but being so boring no one wanted to talk about it.
‘I know things have been busy this year. But it’s all about to get better and I’m going to have a long period of time off for Christmas.’
I knew I’d been working too much the last few months and with any luck the blower I’d applied for would be approved so I could have most of December off. Blowers were Platform-approved extended periods of time off. They were so called as, considering the intense high-pressure nature of our work, it was mandated we needed weeks away from the Platform to blow off steam. And to stop us blowing off our own heads.
‘Lex, it’s got to get better. You’re hardly present. Last month my mother spent more time with Gigi in this house than you.’
That stung.
Will’s mother Gillian now lived nearby and was a huge help with Gigi. She didn’t keep track of the hours she helped with nursery pick-ups and bedtime when we were working late. But it seemed Will did.
‘I do the best I can. Yes, I work full-time, just like you, but I come home every night . . . Nearly every night.’ There were times work had taken me out of the country. Just like it had for Will. The double standard was becoming clearer and clearer. I was expected to be here. He wasn’t.
‘Wheels bus round roundy round,’ Gigi sang on flatly from the bathroom.
It was a great soundtrack to a tense marital stand-off.
‘You’re never really here. Even when you make it home you’re tired and rundown and just want to cuddle Gigi. You barely want to talk.’
Will never got to see me at work. He never got to see me at my best. Those moments where I felt like the world was mine for the taking. The confidence of being armed, dangerous and able to take down anyone who got in my way. The immediate post-mission adrenaline high of feeling invincible.
He just got the aftermath. The crash. The exhaustion, the aching body, the not having the energy to speak and just wanting to hold or be held.
‘I understand that your work is hard. My work is hard too. But when I’m home I’m fully here. That’s all I want from you. Your full attention. I’ve never felt more distant to you and it’s because we don’t spend any proper time together. Things need to change. We can’t carry on like this.’
He was saying we were in trouble.
And I hadn’t even noticed.
I remembered a Russian couple we had once known. We’d come home from a sparkling dinner party at their palatial Notting Hill mansion and Will had commented on how they weren’t even playing on the same side. To be fair he’d been right. They weren’t – to the point where she was conspiring with the Platform to have him killed. But I had felt smug. Will and I were together. A team. Us against the world. Our marriage was strong. We were a winning combination.
But it didn’t feel like that now. If felt more like we were on opposing sides. Battling each other, not alongside each other.
I loved him. Of course I did. He was the one, the only one, who’d been able to make me give up the stumble-home single life. He was the one who’d shown me that being in a couple didn’t have to mean the death of fun. It could be more fun. It had been a long time since we had one of those nights where we’d get drunk over dinner, then charge into an irritatingly cool club and dance about with the carefree abandon of people who were getting laid no matter how much of a tit they made of themselves on the dance floor. Will was right. We needed to reclaim some time for us.
It was just that right now, it was near impossible to be thinking of anything outside work.
This was not the time to have a marriage breakdown.
But if I cared enough surely I would drop everything?
I imagined announcing to Hattie and my team: ‘Sorry, guys, I just need to take a little couple-time, disappear off on a mini-break. Good luck and all.’
‘Other people would be considering another baby about now,’ said Will.
‘I . . .’
‘I can tell by the look on your face you clearly haven’t.’
‘I . . . no . . . Well . . . Of course I’ve thought about it. Just not quite yet.’
It hadn’t even occurred to me.
I was finally fit again. I was enjoying my work. Getting more sleep. I couldn’t imagine going back to the new baby stage. The childbirth-ravaged body, the sleepless nights, the non-stop feeding. And then starting again. Trying to reclaim normalcy. I was exhausted even thinking about it.
But then that’s what most couples did. They went on to have more kids.
I was an only child. Having one child was my normal. Besides, I was stretched as it was now. Between work and Gigi and clearly Will. How could I fit in another person to love? Another person to keep safe? I didn’t know if I had it in me.
‘Mummy on the bus say, shhhh shhh shhhhhh!’ Gigi continued to sing on.
‘I’m not just another problem to deal with. I’m your husband. If things are bad at work, tell me about it. If things are stressing you out, tell me about it. I want to help you. I want to be there for you. We’re meant to be a team.’
‘Out now, out now!’ shouted Gigi. She stood up in the bath.
Will went to her, plucking her out and onto the bathmat. ‘Rub a dub dub, three men in a tub,’ he said as he wrapped her in a towel, tickling her as she squealed.
I took another sip of wine. Peng was due to leave London in a week. With any luck she’d still be alive and Tenebris shut down. Or if we failed I’d pretty much not have a job anyway. And then with all that downtime I could really focus on my marriage.
*
I woke with a jolt. I could feel someone there, in the darkness. Silently watching us. I tensed and braced myself.
A soft whisper of, ‘Mamaaaaa,’ then again, a little more insistently, ‘Mammmaaaaa.’
I wondered if I kept feigning sleep she might just wander back to her own room.
There was a pause and then, ‘PSSSST. MAMA,’ she shouted.
‘What? Huh? Hello?’ Will sat up with a start.
‘Bad dweam. Very, very, very bad dweam,’ said Gigi, already climbing into our bed.
‘What was it about, Gigi?’ I asked.
‘Can’t ’member.’ She got in between us and pulled the covers over her.
Ping.
The faint sound of a text message alert came in. Will grappled at his bedside table and picked up his phone.
I looked over Gigi’s head as I saw him stare at the screen, switch it to silent and put it back down.
‘Gigi, you know this is naughty.’ I nudged her. ‘You’re a big girl. You need to sleep in your bed.’
‘I just want to be with you,’ was the plaintive response.
Parenting books had taught me that boundaries were important. I may be desperate to get back to sleep but a tense twenty-minute negotiation now was worth it for the future nights of unbroken sleep and a bed to ourselves. It was going to be tough but it was going to be worth it.
Will rolled over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. ‘It’s OK, we’re here, Gigi. No bad dreams in this bed. You sleep tight, little girl.’
Or there was that tactic.
Surrender.
I couldn’t be the bad guy now. I listened as Will seemingly drifted straight back to sleep. Gigi swiftly followed suit.
I stroked her cheek and cuddled up to her. Soft skin and washing-powder scented Paw Patrol pyjamas. I felt her warm body beside me and listened to the gentle sound of her breathing and tried to forget about the stresses of work, the dangers that lay ahead, and the fact my husband was receiving text messages in the middle of the night.
From: dodgycompanywants@yourbankdetails.com
To: lex.tyler@platform-eight.co.uk
Subject: $$$ MAKE MONEY FAST $$$
MISSION: #80521
UNIT: WHISTLE
DATE: Tuesday 1st October
ALERT: PENG ARRIVES TODAY