‘Ach. Probably.’
Ben drums his fingers and stares at the door. Harry exhales noisily through his nose and smiles wryly to himself at Ben’s increasing frustration. Voices sudden and loud. Safa laughing as she walks through the corridor and pushes into the main room with Emily close behind her. Ben immediately spots the butt of the pistol poking out of the holster in the small of Safa’s back and the complete lack of attention Emily is paying to it. An energy between them. The glow of a post-adrenalin rush.
‘Everything okay?’ he asks needlessly as Harry lowers his book.
‘Fuck, yes,’ Safa says. ‘Apart from the five bad guys we killed,’ she adds, trying to sound and look sad for a second. ‘But, oh my god, Emily was so cool . . .’
‘Yeah?’ Ben asks, watching the two women grinning from ear to ear. ‘What happened?’
‘Miri said she wants a coffee,’ Emily says. ‘Anyone else?’
‘Love one,’ Ben says.
‘Tea, please, Emily,’ Harry says.
‘Big willy,’ Emily laughs, walking over with Safa to the main table.
Ben thinks while watching them, the way they laugh and joke with each other. It’s nice to see. Safa is changing. Becoming more open and friendly. Emily is drawing Safa out of herself, and for her part, Safa has Emily laughing most of the time with the blunt way she speaks.
It was Safa who pulled him through his decline. The pressure on her must have been immense. To sustain belief in him day after day for six months was incredible. Now she is slowly relaxing and becoming more human. Safa even admitted quietly, when they were alone, that she’d never really had friends before. Not proper mates. You know what I mean?
Emily is still a prisoner though, and that situation is still to be resolved. Ben knows everything Miri does is for a reason. This mission tonight was done for a reason, and while everyone has been worried about cultivation, maybe the cultivation has been happening on another level.
‘What about the girl and the phone?’ he calls out.
‘Killed,’ Emily says, grimacing as she turns to reply. ‘Two Chinese and three Russian agents were arguing over her as we arrived . . .’
‘Oh, right,’ Ben says, leaning forward on his chair and listening intently.
‘Two Russian agents,’ Safa says.
‘No, three. The one you took out at the door was Russian too.’
‘She was already dead then?’ Ben asks.
‘Sadly not,’ Emily says. ‘Killed when they opened fire. We took them out quickly, but . . . well, not quickly enough. The phone Miri wanted was shot too, but she might be able to retrieve data from the chip.’
‘Thanks,’ he says, as Emily carries his coffee over.
‘Seriously, Ben. I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as Safa . . .’
‘Sure,’ Ben says, thinking hard. ‘Sorry . . . tell me again what happened . . .’
‘Safa . . .’ Emily’s voice, groaning with humour.
Miri cocks her head slightly. The wire stretching from her ear to the smartphone on the desk in front of her.
‘What?’ Safa’s voice. Humour.
‘You’re presenting your pistol to me again.’ Emily’s voice, humour.
‘So?’ Safa’s voice.
‘Seriously, Safa.’ Emily’s voice. ‘You are, like, the worst guard ever.’
‘Hang on.’ Ben’s voice. Concerned. Inquisitive. ‘Where was this? Where did it happen?’
Miri listens as Emily and Safa recount the mission. The way they both speak in turn and fill in gaps the other left out. The tone of their voices, and both speaking a little faster than normal from the excitement of the mission.
‘You went to her house? This being the woman who worked in the clinic Malc and Kon took the guards to . . .’
‘Yeah, her house.’ Safa’s voice. ‘What’s that look for? You going all egghead again?’
‘You went to her house?’
‘Fuck me, Ben. Yes, we went to her house.’
‘And the other . . . agent people were already there?’
‘Yes!’
‘And that seems normal to you, does it?’ An edge to Ben’s voice. Miri stiffens, ready to rise from the chair. She’s pushed Ben as far as he can go.
‘Er . . . well, she kinda lives there?’ Safa’s voice, still with humour.
‘Why? What’s wrong with that?’ Emily asks.
‘Ben? Where’re you going?’
It’s time.
Miri pulls the earpiece from her ear, slides the phone off and stands up to head into the main room to see Ben already on his feet walking towards her.
‘We need to talk,’ he says, his eyes brooding, his whole manner set with a decision formed.
‘Later.’
‘No.’
‘Mr Ryder . . .’
‘Now.’
Miri glares at him. He glares back. She about-turns to stride into her office with Ben right behind her.
‘Close the door,’ Miri says, stopping to stand with her arms folded across her chest.
‘What the fuck was that?’
‘What?’
‘You know damn well what, Miri. You took them to that woman’s house with five agents inside.’
‘Poor luck, Mr Ryder.’
‘Poor luck, my arse. We’ve got a time machine. We could go anytime. You would have cased it out. You would have known they were inside.’
‘I am honoured by your opinion of my capabilities, but . . .’
‘Don’t patronise me. That girl died . . . That might not mean anything to you, but it . . .’
‘That girl sold the lives of six men under her care for money. Greed and stupidity killed her by playing multiple agencies, each of which warned her exactly not to do that very thing. Yes, I knew they were there. Yes, I had already completed my investigation, but this is my work, Mr Ryder. These are my methods and this is what I do.’ The passion in her voice makes him blanch. ‘Do not question me. Do not question my methods. You are smart and your frustrations are duly noted, but therein lies the discipline you need to work at this level and the stomach to cope with it.’
‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?’
She widens her eyes and bursts out laughing with a sound so unexpected it robs the heat from his temper. She looks away, then bursts out laughing again when she turns back to him. ‘Seriously, Ben? Who polices the police?’
He shrugs. ‘Sorry, bit trite.’
‘That was beneath you.’ Her whole manner suddenly animated and alive with humour. ‘It will be concluded tonight.’
Ben chuckles softly at himself and the situation. He can’t help it. The sudden warmth of the woman invites him to break the tension. That he is being played is obvious. ‘What about Emily?’
The smile fades away, taking the warmth from her face with it. The eyes grow cold and hard again with an instant transformation that sends a chill down his spine. He gets the sense he is being shown what she can do. A glimpse of the master. ‘I need to speak to her . . .’