He tuts and shakes his head, refusing the urge to be cowed in her presence. ‘You’re not giving anything away, are you?’
Miri reads him closely. His reactions to her sudden humour, then the ease in which she took that warmth away. That he can overcome nerves and retain his focus is testament to his natural abilities. She draws a breath. Slow and long. Her lips purse with a thoughtful gaze that flits over her features. ‘Has to be that way. For what it’s worth, you’ve probably worked it out correctly.’
‘Wow. Now that was patronising,’ he counters, and earns a twitch at the corner of her mouth. ‘Has she worked it out? Emily, I mean. Has she said anything to you? She’s asked us loads of times.’
‘She hasn’t worked it out.’
‘But she’s an agent.’
‘Tango Two has a range of exceptional skills, but is lacking in advanced cognitive function.’
Ben can’t help but smile at the reply. ‘So she’s a bit thick then.’
‘She is a highly trained agent . . . Just not a very good one.’
‘Roland? Bertie and Ria?’
‘Let me get through tonight, Ben. We can talk more tomorrow. Send Emily in, please.’
Twenty-Four
‘Debrief,’ Miri says, sitting down behind her desk.
Emily sits down. She feels hot. The mission, and now laughing with Safa, has made her cheeks flushed. She waits. Staring over the desk at the older woman. Nerves kick in. The overwhelming sense that Miri is always ten steps ahead in every conversation they have, which is how she imagines it would be meeting Mother face-to-face.
‘Why did they try to kill you?’ Miri goes straight in with the question and watches the agent closely. Examining every nuance of reaction. The direction of the eyes, the posture, the breaths taken, if the woman swallows, if she tilts or inclines her head. The tone of voice; if it is made stronger or weaker with effort. This is the game, and the thrill of being back is strong.
‘I don’t know,’ Emily says quickly.
Miri waits. Questioning a trained agent is entirely different to debriefing a normal person. Emily is trained to not only withstand questioning, but to read the interviewer as much in return to gain leverage and understanding. The whole thing is a mind game. A pitting of mental agility.
Or so Miri thought when she first started debriefing Emily.
In the end, it comes down to the simplicity of the fact that although both are trained, Miri has decades of experience and Emily really has not worked it out yet.
Emily knows this process is coming to a close. The pressure builds. Her heart rate rises slightly as she looks across at Miri, with a sense of foreboding and dread growing inside.
‘Our debriefs are concluded.’ A cold voice, a hard voice. The dread grows. Emily swallows and blinks several times. ‘You will meet me in the portal room in five minutes,’ Miri says, rising from the chair.
The power of Miri hits her. A surge of worry inside. The mystery of the woman, the aura of utter authority. She searches the older woman for any sign of emotion, but sees only cold grey eyes staring back, and an absolute belief grows in Emily that Miri would kill her without hesitation.
‘Where am I going?’ Emily asks. ‘Do I need to say goodbye to the others? Safa has been a friend to me. I owe her a goodbye if I am . . .’
‘Five minutes, portal room.’
‘Miri, if you are going to execute me then you can do it here.’
‘Do not tell me what to do. Five minutes, portal room,’ Miri says, walking from the office to her own set of rooms. Emily pushes her hands through her hair, that feeling of dread growing. She knows what’s going to happen. She is an agent. She is not one of them. She is the enemy within. Tonight was a test that she’s failed somehow. She did something wrong. Maybe Miri thought she was aiming at Safa. She turns to explain, but realises Miri has gone, leaving her entirely alone. She thinks of the footage of the end of the world and the hologram image of Cavendish Manor they saw outside. Why did Mother order her to be killed? Miri knows something. Does Miri work for Mother? Thoughts flash through her whirling mind as her stomach flips and plunges.
She turns for the door. Not seeing and not looking at the pistol left on Miri’s desk. In the corridor, she pauses to stare into the portal room at the shimmering blue light of the time machine left open, and thinks only of not being here. Of not training with the others outside and eating eggs and fruit. Of not joking with Safa and talking about missions and the things they’ve done. Emily never had a friend before. Not a real one. Her role was so serious she couldn’t bond with anyone outside of her organisation. This is it. She did something wrong tonight. She failed somehow, but she knows she is still a trained agent who was taken captive, and the end was always going to come.
She pushes into the main room, ashen-faced and with all trace of the post-mission buzz now gone from her manner.
‘Miri told me to meet her in the portal room in five minutes.’
‘Why, what’s going on?’ Safa asks, her own grin fading at seeing Emily’s state.
‘She said . . . She said the debriefs are concluded.’
‘Like, finished?’ Safa asks.
‘She left me in her office,’ Emily says, blinking several times before moving across the room towards the others. Harry looks up from his book. ‘And the portal is open. I just walked past it . . .’
‘Fuck knows,’ Safa says. ‘She say where you’re going?’
‘No, just to meet her in the portal room. I said if she is going to execute me to do it now . . .’
Harry rises from his chair. ‘There’ll be none of that now,’ he rumbles.
‘I said . . .’ Emily says, feeling a rush of emotion. ‘I said . . . I said I wanted to say goodbye if I was going . . .’
‘She wouldn’t,’ Safa says firmly, shaking her head, but then glancing at Ben with worry in her eyes. ‘We just did a mission together . . . You had a weapon and . . .’
‘I mean, if she is going to do that, then . . .’ Emily’s voice breaks as she fights the urge to cry. ‘I’m the enemy and . . . But . . . I’d rather die here than . . . And Mother told them to kill me. If I go back, they’ll kill me . . . I . . . I like it here . . .’
‘Ach,’ Harry says, deeper and stronger as he moves towards her, seeing the tears spilling down her cheeks.
‘I’m an agent.’ Emily’s voice, trying to inject some firmness in her tone, but just sounding more scared. Miri walks back to her office, listening intently and spotting the pistol is where she left it. She rolls her eyes and tuts softly. ‘I know the risks . . . But listen, thank you for being my friends . . .’
‘Hey, no, stop that.’ Ben’s voice. ‘She won’t do that . . .’
‘Like fuck she will.’ Safa’s voice, the aggression rising. ‘I’ll ask her . . . Where is she?’
‘Safa, no.’ Emily’s voice, speaking quickly.