Jessica yawned and swayed on her feet as she was stitched into her gown. Last night, she’d had rehearsals for Saint Laurent, Chanel and Alexander McQueen until one a.m. She’d managed to grab a few hours’ sleep before she was back again at five a.m. having fittings, make-up and hair tests for all three designers ahead of the day’s shows. Haute Couture Week was exhausting. It was hardly surprising the make-up artists had to slap lots of under-eye concealer on all the models. Everyone looked shattered.

It was ten a.m. and she’d already been sewn into an exquisite green floor-length gown with a long train and a traffic-stopping ruffled red dress with a huge corsage at Saint Laurent. Her line-up at Chanel included a jewel-encrusted silver lace gown with layers of hand-beaded tulle and a shimmering white sequinned creation. Seamstresses had checked all the dresses fitted perfectly and taken Polaroids of her wearing each outfit. They stuck the pictures to the clothes hangers to help assistants remember who was wearing which gown during the frantic mid-show outfit changes.

Now she was at Alexander McQueen: her final fitting. She closed her eyes as she stood in front of the mirror. What were Margaret and Nathan up to? She hadn’t heard a peep out of either of them despite leaving messages on both their mobiles. Had they re-interviewed Allegra?

“Stop slouching, s’il vous plait,” a seamstress said.

She straightened up. Apart from the short taxi rides between the couture houses earlier, she’d been standing in front of mirrors or practising walking for the last four hours. She longed to escape. This fitting was dragging on for ever as the stylists experimented with different ways of doing her hair while Camille watched, hawklike.

“You look amazing,” she said, peering over her shoulder.

Jessica looked up and gaped at her astonishing appearance in the full-length mirror. A gothic princess stared back. She was squeezed into a royal blue boned corset that produced a tiny eighteen-inch waist. The blue silk skirt had a massive train, which was so heavy it felt like she was dragging a small child after her, and her rose gold stilettos had the most vertiginous heels she’d ever tried on. She resembled a skyscraper, standing at almost seven feet tall.

Hairstylists busied themselves around her. They’d decided on a massive beehive, which would be studded with Cartier diamond clips tonight, making her look even taller. A woman stood on a chair and perched a gold crown precariously on the top of her bird’s nest hair.

“Voila!”

The whole effect was amazing yet bizarre.

“Wow!” Camille stared admiringly at her.

Jessica tried to turn around and lost her balance, almost toppling over the seamstresses who knelt at her feet, pinning the hem.

“I can’t get used to wearing these heels,” she groaned. “They’re too high and a size too big. I know I’m going to land flat on my face on the catwalk.”

“You’ll be fine,” Camille said. “You need to keep your eyes fixed straight ahead as you come down the runway. Don’t worry. I’ll be there tonight and I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

Jessica sighed. Of course she would.

 

She had a few hours to spare before the first show. Camille had accompanied her back to her hotel room, but Jessica had fled minutes later and flagged down a taxi in the street without being caught. She made the driver take a detour past AKSC, hoping to catch a glimpse of Nathan’s car, but the street was empty. She hesitated as the taxi pulled up outside. She had the key card in her bag. It was tempting to blag her way in but it was too risky. She’d probably get caught, then sacked, and maybe even arrested. She’d certainly be packed off back to London. She had to find out what Nathan and Margaret were doing now that she’d managed to shake off the limpet.

She fished out the card Nathan had given her. Margaret hadn’t told her where she was staying, but she was probably at the Ritz too. She checked her emails and surfed websites until they arrived at 15 Place Vendôme. She paid the driver and jumped out. The hotel was as breathtaking as she’d expected, with gleaming marble floors and glittering chandeliers. It was also busy enough for her to blend in without drawing too much attention to herself.

She marched straight past the front desk and up the massive, red-carpeted staircase to the second floor. Nathan had helpfully given her his room number: 222. She knocked on the door. No answer. Even better. She looked up and down the corridor for the housekeeping trolley. He might have left some useful documents lying about. She went in search of a maid and found her in a nearby suite. She explained in French that it was her dad’s room. The maid smiled and swiped her in before she could even pretend to be locked out.

That was frighteningly easy.

The suite was huge and decorated in soft green pastel tones, with gold fittings and a luxurious carpet that had to be Persian. It was so soft, her feet sank into it. She spotted Nathan’s laptop on the large ornate oak desk and walked over to check it out. It was switched off and she knew it was pointless to try and guess his passwords. She’d need to be a super hacker to get into an MI6 laptop.

His gun and passport lay next to it, on top of a pile of interior design magazines. She examined the passport. Talk about grim-faced. Anyone would think he was standing in front of a firing squad.

Cheer up, Nathan. Working for Mrs T couldn’t be that bad.

Then again, it probably was.

Her foot nudged something under the desk. She fished out a battered brown leather briefcase. The gold clasp was open. Delving inside, she pulled out a sheaf of files. They were all stamped MI 6 CONFIDENTIAL. She flicked through them. One contained a list of Algerian agents. She also found the file of French agents and Vectra’s photos. That was odd. These were the files she’d discovered on the floor of her dad’s study. But why did Nathan have them?

Her mouth fell open as she stared at the images in another file. They were of her – taken with a long-lens camera as she travelled to her underwater modelling shoot in east London. Here she was again after the shoot, running from the bus stop to school. She remembered the camera in Nathan’s car when he’d intercepted her outside the AKSC building. Why had he been spying on her on Monday morning? She shivered. It was creepy to think he’d been watching her every move without her even realizing it. What was his game?

She went through the rest of the briefcase but there wasn’t anything useful. She opened the top left desk drawer and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside was a pink, crystal mobile phone and a backstage pass for Haute Couture Week marked Lara Hopkins. She examined the phone through the plastic. On the back, crystals formed the letter “L” for Lara. Luckily it was turned off; otherwise Nathan could have picked up when she’d tried ringing it a couple of days ago.

Her heart raced as she fished out a brown wallet from the other drawer. Quickly, she checked the credit cards. It was definitely Nathan’s. But why didn’t he have it with him? Maybe he’d just popped down to reception, which meant she probably didn’t have much time before he returned. She went through the wallet. Tucked in the back pouch was a piece of folded, dog-eared paper.

She gasped as she smoothed it out. It was another picture of her, except this time it wasn’t taken with a long lens. It was a family shot. She balanced on one leg at her mum and dad’s feet, wearing a floppy pink hat and sundress. She looked about four. It must have been taken shortly before her mum’s death. She touched her pendant. Mum wore it around her neck in the photo. The picture looked like it had been well-thumbed; both her mum and dad’s faces had faded beneath white crease marks, giving them a ghostly appearance, while she grinned brightly.

This was beyond creepy. Why was he so interested in her family? Why was he collecting photos of her?

Jessica froze. A muffled voice drifted out from behind a door on the far side of the room. Her eyes darted around, taking in the clues. She’d been distracted by its sheer opulence. Now she noticed the shoes on the floor. His jacket, gun and wallet were here too. Why hadn’t she figured it out already? Nathan hadn’t gone anywhere. He must still be in the suite. She stuffed the picture back into the wallet and threw it in the drawer. She shoved the briefcase under the desk before creeping to the bedroom door, which was ajar. She couldn’t see him through the gap. She pushed the door open wider and caught her breath. He was on his mobile in the en suite marble bathroom.

“I’m telling you, she’s guessed where her dad is and she could blow this whole thing wide open if we’re not careful. We can’t let that happen.” He listened intently while the other person spoke for a few seconds. “So Lily and Jack were expendable and now Jessica is? Right?” He spat the words out angrily.

A shiver passed down her back. Who was he talking to and why were they discussing Mum? Why were they talking about her as if she were a piece of worthless rubbish about to be thrown away?

“I disagree,” Nathan continued. “We need to get rid of Jessica. Surely you can see that? She’s getting in the way. I can be with her in 20 minutes and end this thing right now.”

She crept back through the room, quietly closed the suite door behind her and fled down the corridor to the staircase.

Expendable, expendable, expendable.

The word pounded in her head with every footstep.

We need to get rid of Jessica. She’s getting in the way.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and gripped the handrail tightly. Her hands shook with rage. She’d go back to Nathan’s room and grab his gun. She’d point it at him and demand to know why he wasn’t doing anything about rescuing Dad. She’d ask why he wanted to get rid of her so badly and why he claimed her mum was expendable. She didn’t have anything to do with this. What on earth was he talking about?

Somehow they were all expendable to him.

The photos in his file and wallet were really worrying. What did he want with her? And why did he have the incriminating files from Dad’s study? When he stared down the barrel of a gun, he’d have to tell her the truth. She started back up the stairs again and stopped. She could hear her dad’s voice in her head.

A good spy always thinks things through logically, without losing control of their emotions.

He was right, as usual. She had to calm down. It’d be tough, but she couldn’t let Nathan suspect she knew something was up. She had to play along with him if she wanted to find out what was really going on. If she confronted him, he’d deny, deny, deny. He’d been trained to tell lies. It was what he did for a living.

She sat in the foyer waiting for him, her eyes glued to the lift.

The lift door opened and a group of businessmen and an elderly Japanese couple walked out, followed by Nathan. She closed her eyes. She had to put on an act, the way she did when she was modelling. She stopped being Jessica Cole and became a mermaid, a rock chick or a gothic princess in front of the camera. Today, she had to be a naïve, grateful teenager who believed everything she was told.

“Nathan!” she called. “Over here!”

He jumped and gave her a piercing scowl. He barged past a businessman, knocking his newspaper to the marble floor. He thundered towards her without apologizing to the startled man. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You gave me your hotel card. Remember?” She waved it gaily at him.

He stared back suspiciously. “What’s up with you?”

She lost the grin. She had to tone it down. He wasn’t used to bright, cheerful Jessica. He’d only met the stroppy, disobedient one so far.

“I had a break before the shows so I thought I’d come and find out if you’ve looked into Allegra Knight yet,” she said loudly.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet. Now they were back on familiar territory: her challenging everything he said.

“Not here,” he snapped.

He held her arm tightly as he led her to the lift and back upstairs to his suite. She followed him inside. He’d tidied his laptop and gun away but the briefcase now sat in its place. She rubbed her arm. It still smarted from where he’d gripped her.

“Have you been in here?” he said abruptly.

“Of course not. Why?” She managed to keep her best poker face. Maybe she’d left the briefcase a fraction of an inch too far to the left or right. He was the kind of person who’d notice if the tiniest detail was out of place.

He scrutinized her. “Never mind. I just don’t like being surprised, that’s all.”

“Really?” Jessica said. “I love surprises. I remember when—”

“I’ve just got off the phone with Mrs T and she agrees with me,” he interrupted. “There’s a slim possibility that your dad and Sam could be inside AKSC, but we can’t go storming in. It would scare Vectra and the real Starfish away before they do the pickup. We can’t risk that happening. We need to catch both of them red-handed.”

She stared at him. It was a plausible enough explanation, but she didn’t believe a word he said. Not now she’d seen his secret stash of photos and knew how little her family meant to him.

“What about Dad? Where does he fit into all this?” Her fingers made tight fists. She felt like screaming or hitting him. Or both.

“Apparently that’s where you come in. We’ve tried to get an undercover MI6 agent embedded inside AKSC but the mission’s failed and we don’t have time to build up new contacts again.”

He cracked his knuckles one after another, setting her teeth on edge. Couldn’t he give his medieval torture methods a rest?

“This goes against all my better judgements, but Mrs T has been persuaded that you’re our best shot at getting into AKSC. She thinks there’s a good chance you could be invited back by Allegra after tomorrow’s shoot.”

“So now you do want me to investigate?” She crossed her arms. “After everything you’ve said; your threats to send me home?”

Nathan instantly jumped down her throat. “Mrs T wants you to do this. Margaret too. I’d send you back home right now if it were left to me. Unfortunately, it’s not my call.”

Was that what he meant when he said he wanted to get rid of her right now? Or was he referring to something more sinister?

“What does Mrs T want me to do?”

“Just what your father’s taught you – be alert and notice your surroundings. Don’t do anything that puts you at risk but report back anything that looks out of the ordinary. How does that sound?”

He looked even more annoyed when she didn’t reply. “I thought you’d be pleased. What is it with you teenagers? You said you wanted to help, or have you changed your mind? Do you have something better to do?”

“Not at all,” she said hastily.

Nathan’s eyes burned into her face. “Nerves are good,” he said finally, misinterpreting her hesitation. “They mean you’re not going to do something rash. This should help too.” He handed her a large silver make-up bag. “I can’t let you go in there unequipped. This was prepared in advance for our undercover agent. Mrs T agreed you should have it now.”

“What’s inside? Do I get a gun?”

“Of course not.” He looked horrified as she emptied the bag on to the table. Lipsticks and powders spilled out.

“Oh great. More make-up. Like I don’t have enough of this stuff already,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“This is make-up with a difference. It comes from MI6’s gadget department.”

Her eyes lit up. This was more like it. Now she could protect herself. Possibly even from him.

“I thought this would get your attention for once,” he said drily.

“What does this do?” She picked up a silver powder compact. It had a large blue stone set in the middle. He whipped it off her.

“Watch and learn. I don’t have time to run through it all twice.”

He pressed the stone and lifted the lid, aiming it at the wall.

“Wow!” Jessica squinted over his shoulder. She could see straight into the room next door through the compact lid. A man lay on the bed, watching TV and holding a glass. He got up and walked into the bathroom.

“Awesome!”

“The lid has X-ray vision,” Nathan explained. “Play around with it, but don’t mess with the powder unless you really need it. If you blow it into someone’s eyes they’ll be temporarily blinded.”

He placed it back in the bag before she had chance to try that function out. Maybe he sensed she was sorely tempted to use it on him.

“The blue stone is also removable and contains a mini electromagnetic pulse which disables any electrical device within two metres,” Nathan continued. “Make sure you keep it away from your mobile and laptop.”

“And this?” She picked up a can of hairspray.

“Careful!” He snatched it off her. “It’s a flame-thrower and has a range of three metres.”

If only he’d hand it over. He stood right in front of her. She couldn’t possibly miss.

“Try this on.” He clamped a chunky silver bracelet around her wrist.

Wow. She might actually get to use something.

“Does it detonate in twenty seconds?” She was only half-joking. He could actually be trying to kill her.

“This turns you into Spider-Woman,” Nathan said coldly. “You pull the catch here and take aim. It shoots out a tensile wire which attaches to any surface and acts as a safety harness. The compound of carbon nanotubes makes it ten times stronger than steel even though it has the thickness of a piece of thread. It’ll carry the weight of at least ten men.”

He swiftly undid the bracelet and then ran through the rest of the gadgets. It was mind-blowing stuff. The eyeshadow palette was also a mini computer, which he’d programmed to send emails to a protected MI6 account. A huge emerald ring hid a laser, a lipstick doubled as a torch and a tracking device and a bottle of perfume sprayed a foam solution that expanded and solidified within sixty seconds. It made it useful for copying keys in locks or taking out CCTV cameras. The best part was that after an hour or two the foam melted, leaving no trace that it had ever been there.

She secretly liked the diamond stud the best. She’d got her belly button pierced one Saturday afternoon with Becky but hadn’t dared tell her dad or Mattie yet. She knew they’d hit the roof. She turned around and put the stud in straight away before Nathan could take that off her too.

“Hold the stem and turn the stud clockwise until it clicks,” Nathan said. “Rubbing the diamond on any surface releases particles which can cut through glass and even steel. We use similar devices in hostage situations.”

She pulled her top down and faced him, hands on hips. “I thought you said you didn’t want me to do anything risky? It seems like you’re equipping me for a mini-war with this arsenal. What’s inside AKSC? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

His face reddened. “As I said, these gadgets were put together for one of our agents, just to be on the safe side.”

“Well, I don’t feel particularly safe when you haven’t let me try a single one out,” Jessica said. “What if I can’t remember how they work once I’m inside AKSC?”

“You will. You’re bright. But don’t worry. You’ll probably never need any of these gadgets. I’d just prefer you to have them for my own peace of mind.”

She rammed the emerald ring on to her index finger. He sounded like he was genuinely concerned for her safety, but who was he kidding? As if he cared about her. She was expendable, just like Mum and Dad.

“Thanks,” she said stiffly, “but I need to shoot off. I’ve got to get ready for the shows.”

“OK, but let’s speak again tomorrow after the shoot. Good luck, Jessica, and be careful.”

Yeah, right. Like he meant it. What a hypocrite.