She stepped silently through into the night air and the pouring rain to see Harry standing under a huge umbrella propped against one shoulder. His free hand holding the cigarette that curled smoke up to roll round the underside of the material. She stayed in the lee of the building, protected from the drenching rainfall. Harry smoked. Facing away. Huge, yet passive.
Thoughts whirled through her mind. She is an agent. Alpha told her to do what it takes. Mother tried to kill her. The portal is open. Harry is alone.
She took a further step out to let the rain drench her hair and run down her face to drip from her nose and chin, and she waited. She waited for the rain to soak her top to make it cling to her body. She waited for the chill of the water to cause the physical reaction to her nipples under the flimsy, sodden material. She arched her back slightly and lifted her chin to show the slenderness of her neck while widening her eyes like a doe. They were taught this. They were given lessons on how to look and appear vulnerable and alluring. Alpha said to do what it takes. She is an agent. She has duty and allegiance.
‘Hey,’ she said softly, quietly.
‘Miss,’ Harry said without turning to look.
She opened her mouth slightly, tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and waited for him to look at her.
‘The bolt broke on my door,’ she said when he didn’t turn.
Harry tutted as though mildly irritated. He took a drag on his cigarette and plumed the smoke to curl up into the sky. ‘Didn’t go through it then.’
She moved into his peripheral vision. ‘No . . .’ She trailed off and waited while her hair became slick against her scalp and the top clung to her frame. Still he didn’t look. Still he didn’t react. ‘Should I?’
A pause. A second in time passing as he lifted the cigarette to his lips. ‘Not for me to say now, is it?’
She blinked and felt the confusion tugging at the back of her mind again. The confusion that comes each time she thinks she knows what to do. ‘Do you miss home, Harry?’
He finally turned to look at her with a glance down and a sadness showing in his eyes. ‘Got a job to do.’
‘What job?’ she asked. She moved closer, arching her back a bit more, showing the vulnerability, biting her bottom lip, but seeing only calmness and decency coming back. A sudden feeling of guilt surged through her. A feeling of being dirty and cheap. Crimson bloomed in her cheeks.
‘You’re getting wet, miss.’
She tried to brave it out for another few seconds. Her nipples were hard and straining through the top. Her neck was slender and shapely. Her eyes large, but tears pricked and fell down her cheeks with the rivers of rain. She folded her arms quickly and lowered her head to stoop with shame. ‘I’m so sorry . . .’
‘Ach,’ he moved next to her, sheltering her with the umbrella as a huge arm went over her shoulders, drawing her in as the sobs threatened to break from her chest.
‘They’ll kill me.’ She drew a quavering breath. Not acting now. No pretence either. Just raw confusion and emotions pouring out. ‘If I go back . . . they’ll kill me . . .’
‘But you’re here. Not there.’
‘I can’t stay here, Harry. I’m an agent. I don’t know what to do . . .’
‘What’s your name?’
She snorted a humourless laugh at someone finally asking who she is. ‘Emily. Emily Rose.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Nice name.’
‘I’ve never done that before,’ she said suddenly, searching his eyes. ‘Thank you.’
‘No bother.’ He smiled down as she closed her eyes and felt the weight of his arm resting on her shoulders. His calmness spread through her. His aura soothing her frantic mind.
‘I bet Safa thinks my name is fake.’
‘Aye, probably.’
Twenty
Miri walks from the portal room to her office and places the brown paper bag on the table, then slides the smartphone from her back pocket, connects the wire and pushes the earpiece into her ear.
It’s been twenty-five days since Cavendish Manor. Twenty-five days for Ben to become increasingly frustrated at not knowing what Miri is doing. Twenty-five days for everyone to heal from their injuries.
Miri switches the phone off, winds the cable round the middle, picks up the tablet and the large brown paper bag and heads down the corridor to the back door and out into the inky blackness of a Cretaceous night.
‘Ah, Miri,’ Doctor Watson says, sitting up in his chair. ‘All well?’
‘Doctor.’
She moves to the wooden table used to strip the weapons and places the bag and tablet down. ‘Eaten?’ she asks no one in particular.
‘We had a lovely meal,’ Doctor Watson says, ‘and heard an incredible story of a stolen frigate ramming a German battleship.’
Miri roots in the bag. The atmosphere is friendly and relaxed. She looks round to see Harry at the end closest to the corner. Ben next to him. Emily, then Safa and the doctor at the other end. Good positioning. She takes in the stretched-out legs from Harry and Ben that tell her they are both relaxed in the company they keep. Same with the doctor, who did sit up straighter, but now eases back down. Safa and Emily are more upright, but that is due to their natural manner rather than any show of being guarded or pensive. All of them barefooted, relaxed and conversing with warmth and humour.
The thrill is there. The thrill at taking the next step in the game.
‘Strawberries,’ Miri says, pulling the first punnet out. ‘Got a few,’ she adds, placing more down. ‘And chocolate.’ Big bars of milk chocolate come out of the bag.
‘Seriously?’ Safa asks, rising from the chair to walk over.
‘You said you wanted strawberries and chocolate,’ Miri says, as though confused, but using that second to take in the ever-so-slight blanch on Tango Two’s face that confirms more than the agent will ever know or realise.
‘No, it’s great,’ Safa says. ‘Fuck me, we’ve got strawberries and chocolate,’ she adds with a grin at Emily. ‘Bet you’re glad you didn’t escape now, eh? Ah shit, you said you were allergic . . . Never mind, more for me.’
‘Allergic?’ Ben asks, looking at Emily.
‘Um?’ Emily says, holding a mock-questioning look.
‘Oh,’ Ben chuckles, ‘I thought you actually were then. Thanks for this, Miri.’
‘Enjoy,’ Miri says, turning to walk back. ‘Oh, I have a problem.’ She holds the tablet up. ‘I loaded this with some data and footage, but I can’t make it work now. The tech is from your era,’ Miri says, looking at Emily.
‘Would you like me to try?’ Emily says as Safa starts handing out the punnets. Harry takes his with a smile as Ben holds his thoughtful gaze on Miri for a second.
‘Thanks,’ Miri says, handing the tablet to Emily. ‘Can switch it on, but the operating system is unfamiliar.’
‘How did you load the data then?’ Ben asks, immediately regretting asking such a stupid question when Miri is clearly playing a hand.
‘Asked a kid in a café,’ Miri says in that flat American drawl.
Emily swipes the screen to see familiar icons glowing within the square, then looks up at Miri. ‘It’s working – what was it you wanted?’
‘Loaded images. Can’t find them.’
‘In the images folder, which is through here . . .’
‘Can you make them 3D?’ Miri asks.
‘Er, sure.’