In truth, those thoughts were simply her climbing into his bed so he could sleep next to her. That’s all it was. That sleepy fug of wanting someone to hold. Now he feels like a creep for thinking it, and looks away. She came into his room when he was sick. He remembers it vaguely. No, he remembers it perfectly; the vagueness comes from his state of mind at that time, like it wasn’t him. Safa is beautiful, but she is more than that. She is perhaps the single most incredible person he has ever met. Just to know her is an honour, and for that reason he banishes any thoughts of anything else. The memory of the ocean pops into his mind. Did they kiss? He thought so at the time, but now, looking back and remembering the waves and the noise, the fear, the adrenalin and pure frenzy of it all, he isn’t so sure. Ah. Be a decent human being. Don’t be a dick.
‘Fucking fuck, that was so fucking good,’ Safa exclaims to the world as she finally stops. Ben chuckles and turns back to see her bent over with her hands on her knees. She stands straight, breathing deep to regulate her diaphragm. A look from her to Tango Two. A simple glance that Tango Two immediately understands. She pours a cup of water as Safa walks over. ‘Thanks, shithead,’ Safa says, still breathing hard, but only sweating lightly.
People in service used to do this all the time. Give abuse by way of endearment. The British Secret Service doesn’t promote the use of banter. Instead, it promotes individual excellence and an allegiance to the service itself. Is being called a shithead a term of endearment, or is Safa actually being abusive?
‘Few circuits?’ Safa asks everyone.
‘Yep,’ Ben says.
‘Aye,’ Harry says.
‘Thank you,’ Tango Two says.
Miri moves back from the window. The wire stretches from her left ear to the smartphone in her hand. At the desk, she puts the device down, and sits with her palms flat against the rough-hewn wood.
Time passes. Time will always pass, but time is not fixed. Every action has a reaction. Every behaviour elicits a behaviour in response. Understanding behaviours is what she does. Stripping away all the frills to scrutinise the bare bones of the individual. To see them react when passive and when threatened. To see the perception of them through their own eyes and through the eyes of others. To know all those things and apply them to everything else.
She stays motionless. Focussed. Entirely and utterly focussed, and loving every minute of it.
After a time, she hears them filing in through the back door and grabs the top newspaper from the pile beside her desk. She opens it somewhere near the middle and adopts a perfect persona of being absorbed.
‘. . . yes, but I am still sore,’ Ben says, humour in his voice.
‘So how does it feel knowing both women did more press-ups than you?’ Safa asks. Miri listens to the tones and inflections. She hears Tango Two laugh and a comment from Harry.
‘Ma’am,’ Harry says, passing by her door with the prisoner behind him. Tango Two looks flushed and rosy. Smiling broadly from the endorphins released by exercise and the humour of the others.
‘Mr Ryder, Miss Patel. A word. Sergeant Madden, take Tango Two into the main room.’
‘Roger,’ Harry says. Miri clocks the uncertainty that flits across Tango Two’s face at hearing she will be alone with Harry. The chemistry between Ben and Safa is strong. Tango Two will see that. The doctor is too old and not such an intrinsic part. Miri knows Harry is the viable option.
‘What’s up?’ Safa asks, breathing hard from the exercise and looking ridiculously healthy.
‘You okay?’ Ben asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.
‘Good training?’
‘Er, yeah, fine,’ Ben says. ‘Why?’
‘The prisoner? Any issues?’
‘Seems okay,’ Safa says. ‘Did more press-ups than Ben anyway.’
‘I said I was still sore.’
‘Sore loser,’ Safa coughs into her hand.
Miri folds the newspaper she was reading. ‘I will be going for supplies. What does the prisoner need?’
‘Everything,’ Safa replies.
‘What’s happening with her?’ Ben asks. ‘She’s been here six days now.’
‘I’m working on it.’
‘I appreciate that, Miri. I’d like to know your plans.’
‘And I will tell you when the time is right.’
‘Or, you know, maybe you could include us a bit more now. We’re debriefing with you every day. I guess you’re going to Roland, Bertie and Ria too. Tango Two is briefing with you. How long does that process take?’
‘As long as it takes.’
Ben draws breath. Safa stays quiet. She knows how frustrated Ben is at not knowing. They talk about it a lot.
‘We’re not idiots.’
‘No, you are intelligent people. You, Mr Ryder, are an exceptionally intelligent man, and I will include you when I can, but there is a process. Give me time to do my work.’
‘Fine,’ Ben says. It’s the same answer she always gives. ‘So it’s okay for the prisoner to spend time with us?’
‘For now, but you will understand, all of you will understand, that it is my decision what we do with the prisoner. The world is at risk. We will not lose sight of that.’
‘What’s that mean?’ Safa demands.
‘Means she’s not sure,’ Ben says.
‘You going to kill her?’ Safa asks, the alarm showing clear and obvious. ‘She seems really nice.’
Miri stares at them, letting the silence speak volumes. ‘Provide me with a list of the things you need. I will be going shortly. Thank you, Miss Patel and Mr Ryder.’
Seventeen
‘Trainers.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Normal clothes for chilling out and stuff.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Proper tracksuit bottoms for training.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Stop cultivating me.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Bras . . . So I forgot to ask what size you were. I’m 34B. Miri and me guessed you’d be 34C?’
‘I am.’
‘Alright, big boobs, don’t go on about them.’
‘I really wasn’t.’
‘Sports bras and a couple of normal ones . . . No lacy shit, so don’t try and honey-trap Ben or Harry.’
‘Right, of course not,’ Tango Two says, staring at the bed now piled with clothes.
‘It all looks okay,’ Safa says, standing next to her. ‘I was worried she might get crappy stuff. They went to a Walmart in Milwaukee. How messed-up is that? She got them with the doctor. Oh, that bag has loads of toiletry bits, shampoo and things. I said to get conditioner. If she got cheap stuff, just say, and you can use mine. Malc and Kon got decent kit for us before you killed them. She put tampons in there too.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Do women still have periods in the future?’
‘Yes.’
Safa tuts. ‘Bit shit. Do you get moody?’
‘Me? Er, well, we take medication, so we can . . . you know . . .’
‘What?’ Safa asks.
‘Not have a period if we’re on an active mission.’
‘Oh. They have that in my time, but doesn’t it mess your body up? I never took it, but then I don’t get that moody. Not like crying and things, like some women do. Bit of tummy pain. Do you get that?’
‘Yes, unfortunately,’ Tango Two says with a grimace.
‘Ha! Look at us, having girly period chats. Who is cultivating who?’
‘Indeed.’ Tango Two smiles back at her.
‘Is she debriefing you?’
‘Miri?’
‘She’s debriefing us, but she takes ages. But you’re . . .’
‘She’s debriefing you?’ Tango Two asks, cutting in without realising it.
‘Yeah, we only met the same day we got Bertie and Roland out.’
‘What?’ Tango Two says, clearly shocked.
‘Stop spying, shithead.’
‘I’m not! You just told me.’
‘I’m joking. Yeah, so she takes ages with us, but you’re done really quickly.’
‘She doesn’t ask me anything,’ Tango Two says, dropping her voice a little.
‘What, nothing?’ Safa asks.