Maggie reached the Unit headquarters in a blur, too lost in her troubled thoughts to take notice of how she got there.
Swiping her security pass at the doors of the five-story office building, masking as a stationery supplier named Inked International, she carried on past the foyer in a daze, not saying hello to anyone, and travelled up the elevators to her boss’s office.
Like always, Brice Bishop waited for her in the hallway when the doors pinged opened.
“Maggie,” he said, placing a paternal hand on her back and leading her into his office. “Thank you for coming in.”
“No problem.” Maggie kept her leather jacket on, unable to scare away the chill that enveloped her. It was cold outside, and any residual heat from the two weeks of sunshine they called Summer had up and left weeks ago.
Bishop held up a teapot adorned with the British flag on the sides, steam escaping from the spout. “Tea?”
“Yes, please,” said Maggie, taking a seat at the conference table.
Bishop had chosen a navy suit for the day, the tailoring impeccable on his frame. For a man in his late fifties, he was in great shape, still making sure to stay fit having left the field as an agent years ago to sit behind a desk and lead the Unit. Even his chestnut hair was kept army regulation short from his days in the military.
Fixing her tea just the way she liked, milk and no sugar, Bishop sat across from her and slid the mug over the table.
Maggie cupped the mug and let the heat seep into her hands.
“Is everything all right?” asked Bishop, his own mug hovering by his lips as he took her in, a little crease forming above his brow.
“Just tired, that’s all,” she lied, fixing her face into a smile. She should have known Bishop would spot something was wrong; he knew her too well by now. Their eleven years working together, four spent training Maggie and seven with her as an official agent, cemented an intimate knowledge of each other’s emotions, their little ticks and tells easily identified. She focused and hid her racing mind behind a cool façade.
Bishop studied her for a moment with his piercing brown eyes before getting back to business. “You can get some sleep on the plane.”
“Where am I going?” asked Maggie.
“New York City.”
It had been a while since Maggie spent time in the United States. When it came to covert intelligence work, the American’s were at the top of their game, having no need to ask for help from their British allies unless the situation impacted both nations.
Maggie sipped her tea, a nice English breakfast blend that made her stomach rumble for something nice to go with it. She placed her hand over her belly and fought the swell of emotion that grew inside her.
Recovering quick to avoid further suspicion from Bishop, Maggie gave herself an internal shake. “What’s the situation?” she asked.
Bishop gave a little laugh, though Maggie didn’t miss the thinning of his lips.
“I’m not quite sure, actually.”
Maggie frowned. “What?”
“It’s all very hush, hush.” Bishop shrugged and laced his fingers together. “The Director left orders for me to send you across the pond where you’ll be briefed.”
For a moment, Maggie just sat in confusion. She couldn’t recall another time where Bishop wasn’t briefed on an assignment. He oversaw the running of the Unit, and the agents within it, which meant he knew about all the missions the intelligence agency were allocated from Director General Helmsley and other higher ups. Given the strict and covert nature of the Unit, sometimes agents weren’t cleared to discuss their jobs with their colleagues. Being that they didn’t technically exist, everything was on a need-to-know basis to avoid any leaks from spilling out into the public domain. Bishop was the only one who knew about everything going on. At least, he was supposed to.
Maggie sat up in her chair, tea abandoned now. “Why haven’t you been briefed?”
“It’s above my pay grade, it seems.”
Part of her rigorous training in the early days involved lessons on reading people, a vital part to succeeding out in the field and in ensuring you came back alive. But Maggie didn’t need a degree in behavioral psychology to see how much Bishop bristled at not being deemed to have high enough clearance to be privy to the job at hand.
“What do you know?” she asked. Bishop should have been told something, at least. If only to know who best to send on what seemed to be a highly-classified mission.
Bishop leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Only that it concerns a key witness to something important, and that the mission is of the highest priority. Apparently, our national security is at a major risk and the Director wants my best agent on it as soon as possible.”
Even after all the years she’d worked under him, Bishop’s praise in choosing her for the job still invoked a sense of pride in Maggie. She’d worked hard during her time as an agent, never turning down an assignment or giving up and coming home when things got rough.
But could she accept the mission now?
Any job, especially something as important as the one presented to her, required immense focus. A dedicated drive that didn’t allow for any distractions, anything that could get you or others hurt or killed. Sure, there were curveballs and interruptions from time to time. Having to work with Leon in Venice complicated things, their rocky relationship and undeniable draw to each other an extra hurdle to overcome.
That was nothing compared to what Maggie was faced with now.
If she refused to go, she would need a good reason for doing so. Maggie may be a good liar, but Bishop had already noticed something was up, and he wouldn’t simply accept whatever story she could come up with. Especially given that she’d never refused a job before. They had butted heads a few times on how best to approach a mission, but even in those times Maggie found a way to make things work by using her own initiative to get the end result they both wanted.
Turning down the job meant telling Bishop she was pregnant.
She wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t ready for any of it.
Maggie wasn’t a doctor, but she was certain she was in shock. Having a child was never part of her plan, never something she allowed herself to think about for too long.
Given the nature of her job, not to mention the numerous dangers that came with it, meant a normal life wasn’t an option for her. It was major reason why things never worked between her and Leon, their lack of stability and never-ending trips around the world didn’t allow for anything even remotely close to a normal life.
Neither of them could guarantee they would make it home safe.
Agents died, a lot.
It was part of the job, a risk each member of the Unit was more than aware of and had to accept in order to do what they did. It was a sacrifice they chose, a willing toll to pay for the greater good, doing what others could not to keep the people of Britain safe.
Adding a baby to the mix just wouldn’t work.
Maggie couldn’t be a mother, preparing packed lunches and doing the school run. Attending sports days and parent-teacher nights. Plenty of women were more than able to successfully sustain a thriving career while still being a good parent, but Maggie wasn’t attending board meetings and looking over spreadsheets. Wet work was a bloody business, and didn’t tend to allow you to be home in time to put your kids to bed and read them a bedtime story.
Perhaps one day, if she graduated to a desk job like Bishop had, she could consider starting a family. Even then it was touch and go. Bishop’s daughters barely spoke to him now, a result of the messy divorce he and his ex-wife June dragged them through. Agents were married to the job.
Maggie refrained from tapping the table, gripping her mug as she ran over her options.
If she told Bishop now, she would have to tell Leon as soon as she could. As the father, he deserved to know before her boss. Before anyone.
With Leon out on assignment, she couldn’t reach him until he returned. Not without telling Bishop why she needed to break protocol and reach out to him while he was on a job. If she couldn’t tell Leon first, then she wouldn’t tell anyone.
Her mind brushed against another option. Would she tell Leon at all?
If she wasn’t planning on keeping the baby, would Leon even need to know?
Maggie shoved that thought back as quick as it arrived.
It was too much. Too soon.
She didn’t know what she was going to do about it. About anything.
Taking a prolonged drink of her tea, she made the decision. All of it could wait until she came back. She’d deal with it when she returned. Besides, whatever was going on with the mission was clearly a matter of urgency. If her skillset was needed, then she would give all the help she could, just as she had always done.
“When do I leave?” she asked Bishop.
“A car is waiting outside to take you to the airport.”
Maggie pushed her chair back and got up. “I’ll need to stop at my apartment for a few things first.”
“Already taken care of,” said Bishop with an apologetic smile. “Someone will be waiting at the airport with your things.”
“Well,” said Maggie, prickling at the idea of someone breaking into her apartment and rummaging through her belongings. “I guess I’m all set to go then.”
Bishop got up and walked her to the door. “Once you land, you are to report to the British Consulate.”
Maggie shot him a raised eyebrow. “This is all very cloak and dagger. Even by our standards.”
“Agreed,” said Bishop, a little weary now. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet and Maggie would bet the man had been at the office for hours already. If he even went home the night before.
“Thanks for the tea,” said Maggie, placing a hand on his shoulder before turning to leave. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Ring me if you need anything,” Bishop called as she stepped into the elevator to take her down to the awaiting car. “Oh, and Maggie?”
“Yes?” she asked, as the cart doors began to close.
Bishop’s face hardened, his eyes troubled. “Watch your back on this one.”
Maggie nodded. “I always do.”