The May sun tried to trickle through the window of Controller's office at the headquarters of Criminal Intelligence 5. George Cowley, the head of CI5, more used to British nature, directed mildly compassionate thoughts towards his subordinate, who not only had endured making her first internal evaluations, but also clearly wanted to be outdoors. The fair-haired female trainer looked lost in her thoughts, looking out from the window. Judging by the fanciful look in her eyes she maybe dreamed about going riding, but probably it would be raining again before she'd be home, ach, English weather showing its less charming features – again. It had been quite a miserable month, probably most frustrating for someone used to heat and sun, like this woman, Anna Ashton, who had lived her past life in South-West of the USA, and in Mexico.
Too bad even agent Ray Doyle was out of town now, the Controller knew Anna loved going riding with him, and Doyle seemed to genuinely enjoy her company. Anna's best friend, another agent, William Bodie was not as interested in horses as Doyle and Anna were, and it looked like horses had helped Doyle and Anna revive their comeraderie, which had suffered a great deal during the worst first weeks of Anna's recuperation-period, when the two hotheads had often clashed about Anna's persistence in starting to co-operate with the chief trainer Macklin.
Past life... the Controller mused about that momentarily. Aye. His present companion had met the end of a life; in form of bullets hitting her body. Anna had been seriously wounded by a dirty MI5 agent during assassination attempt against the Controller. Ironically enough, she had only been a pure civilian by that time, learned in combat and weapons, yes, but, only a civilian being on a visit to meet her British friends in the CI5. Another incident of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and again, she had helped to save a life; this time the Controller's, yet, this time, with a terrible price for herself with severe harm to both her body and her mind.
Mr Cowley often thought about the days around last Christmas, when Bodie and Doyle had in the nick of time grabbed Anna, who had left the hospital she had spent weeks in, without medical consent, and brought her to him to spend her house-arrest. For days they had feared for her, both because of her injuries and fragile health, and – even more – because of her depression and death-wish. That had been a very extraordinary Yuletide for the Controller, to share his house with this woman, whom he had broken in order to make her confess the real intention behind leaving the hospital, and then, moment by moment, day by day, witness her start gathering together pieces for a new life, shard by shard.
Eventually, mr Cowley had agreed to Macklin's suggestion of asking Anna if she was willing to help Macklin at the shooting-range, especially with a new female agent, Jackson, and also with the physical training of some CI5-workers who were interested in joining field-work. Seeing the desperate situation of agents being drawn to their limits with not enough back-up in their duties, she had agreed, even against the advice of mr Cowley and definitely against the will of the two agents, who were afraid the woman would cause herself irrevocable health-problems. Especially Doyle had been vehemently against the idea, and the curly-haired man had more than once left the premises with slamming doors behind him.
But eventually Doyle had realised that the chief trainer, Macklin was the perfect watch-dog, who didn't hesitate a second to send Anna to have a lie down or a snack, ruthlessly using his sharp sarcasm and irony and even force, to keep the pigheaded woman in the limits they had agreed on with dr Stephen Hoskins who had agreed to supervise Anna's health even after she had decided to settle in London. Actually, there had been an incident in January, when Macklin had literally carried Anna out from the range before Jackson had arrived, as to his eyes Anna had not been in the condition to use any time at the HQ. Macklin's reply to Anna's infuriated protests had been that he'd do that every time Anna was being an idiot and not even able to give one decent punch, and unless she didn't give in and shut up, he'd carry her across the yard, through the main doors, and drop her on the Controller's desk. By the range's front door Anna had realised the man would do exactly what he threatened, and had yielded and promised to go to have re-fuelling by drip, at Stephen's clinic, and return to her apartment to lie down. Luckily only Charlie had witnessed that incident, he had told the Controller but wouldn't gossip to others, and Macklin himself had never said a word about it, maybe due to his will to be loyal to a person who he considered his partner now.
Anna had after that taken better care of herself, and followed Macklin's orders – grudginly, but nevertheless. Smythe's bullets had caused a lot of damage to her body and long-lasting problems in her metabolism, but her brother's hunch had been right and Anna's mind seemed to have benefited from work, and that gave also a needed support to her physical recovery. She still was recuperating though, and had only recently got permission from Stephen, an old friend of mr Cowley, to work full-time without restrictions, yet with regular check-ups at the clinic. And with Anna's help they had got agent Jackson to full field service already in February, which indeed had been another major relief.
The Scot had already read through the papers, and coughed to pull the trainer back to the office from the sunny fields. "This doesn't look bad at all, I must say. You've made nice progress with these people, as Macklin already informed me, especially miss Patil seems to have made astonishing progress both physically and at the range. When do you think you could start teaching them combat?"
Anna was clearly startled. "Combat? But... I thought I was meant only to help at the range, and to get these people to better physical shape, and then hand them over to that new karate-teacher and Mac for the combat-training."
George Cowley looked over the rims of his glasses. "Why do you think Macklin asked you to survey their fighting skills among other things when they filled the questionnaire last winter? Beckett is completely all right starting karate from scratches, she doesn't mind, and they are now good enough to continue at the range using other weapons with Macklin, but you know just as well as I do, that put any woman or penpusher on the floor with Macklin or Towser, and in 15 minutes we are lacking one more employee." Anna looked embarrassed.
"Now, lass, what I and Macklin would like you to do at first, is to simply see what these people are able to do at the moment. Training-wise, for the start we'd be happy if they learned enough to be able to simply brush off an ordinary bloke, defend themselves some if they are attacked by someone unarmed. And if you could teach them to at least speak the same language with Macklin, and prepare them for him if you don't want to continue further with them yourself. Basics of karate is, naturally, already something, but it's always best to have a wider range in your use, as you well know."
"Sir... I'm not sure if I can. I've never taught combat to anyone. Only done assessing."
The Controller hemmed again, amused, and tapped the pile of papers with his finger. "You hadn't taught shooting either, and see how great results you've got already!"
Anna was biting her lip, and the Scot wondered once again how it was possible she hadn't chewed bits off it, as that was something Anna did very often, and in different moods and situations. "But shooting is a whole different matter, Sir. A lot simpler, just pointing with a gun and pulling the trigger. And the manner I've learned to fight, it's a... mixture. Of everything I've learned during almost 25 years, practising usually several hours a week since I was a kid. I don't know if I would be able to pick up anything useful from there for beginners." She was silent for a moment. "Or if I am even capable of doing it myself anymore."
That was something unexpected, and her chief took his glasses away. "You haven't tried?"
She shook her head. "Not really, no. We're still trying to figure out with my physio, how we could get around those torn muscles. My mobility and muscle tonus is not yet near to what it used to be."
The Controller gave her a long, piercing look. He suspected there was something more to that reluctance, than a feeling of mere physical inadequacy. But they could talk about it later. And he would need to talk about it also with Macklin and the lads. And with the CI5 psychiatrist Kate Ross. But especially with Macklin. He put the papers into a file. "All right, we will talk about it later. Maybe next week. À propos your trainees, I talked with Bodie before he left today, and he told me that Jackson has been doing very well on the field."
Anna smiled. "Nice to hear, although nothing surprising. You knew all along that she is a good policewoman, a bit timid only, and had that old problem with shooting, but that's completely sorted out now. A propos Bodie then, Sir, who are you taking with you to Swindon tomorrow, now as he and Ray had to rush to Birmingham?"
He leaned back. "Ach, I go alone. That meeting is not so important, I only thought to take the lads there as a bit of a training for them."
Anna was frowning. "Alone? I don't like that. Not with those Soviets around."
The Scot got amused. "Now, lass, you can't seriously believe the Soviets would plan anything there! For heaven's sake, they do have some sense! Besides, MI6 is responsible for the security, and we were assured that not an ant will walk in that house without their knowing."
Still her frown stayed. "Sir, I don't have a good feeling about this at all. Do take someone there with you, Murphy, Susan, anyone!"
Now the man started to get a little annoyed. "Now stop that, lass. I told you the Soviets are not planning anything there, and besides, am I so old and senile in your opinion, that I can't handle one damn meeting without a babysitter?"
The trainer took a deep breath. "That's not what I mean, Sir, and you know that. But I simply don't have a good feeling about you going there alone. I'd feel a lot better if any one of the agents was there with you."
He dropped the file on the desk with a slam. "There are no agents to spare at such short notice, and I'm not calling anyone in from their days off, ergo: I go alone. And stop being silly."
Calling her silly was a guaranteed way to make the female trainer snarl. "I am not being silly. I simply don't want you to go there alone! There's nothing bloody silly about that!"
He tapped the desk with his pencil. "Well, do you think the Soviets are going to try and kill me?"
Her reply was instant. "No, of course not." She was again biting his lip.
"Och, then you must think that someone in MI6 would try to remove me."
She shook her head. "No."
Now the Controller really started to get annoyed. "Listen to yourself then! There will not be people from any other agencies, or anyone outside some hotel staff, and Soviet and our delegations. So stop fretting, for crying out loud!"
She jumped on her feet. "I'm not bloody fretting! Just take someone there with you, that's all I want!"
The Controller also rose to his feet, very slowly and decidedly. "Now, let's put one thing straight, shall we? I am still the only one who decides for, and on, and about myself, inside this building. Did I make myself clear?"
Anna was grinding her teeth. "Yes. Perfectly clear. Sir."
The Controller's gaze was cold and angry. "Then you go home. And that's an order."
After a moment she nodded. "Have a nice day, Sir." And she left.
George Cowley was baffled. Och, they had argued many times alright, and banter was their favourite game anyway when they were safely among each other. Usually their arguments ended with agreement or compromise, sometimes after the proper amount of mental fencing they graciously agreed to disagree, but this was the first time they really had clashed seriously. It bothered him. It bothered him very much. It bothered him so much, that he couldn't even remember when or if ever, an argument with someone had bothered him as greatly. He didn't regret reminding Anna of his position, and he also knew that she would understand that and not bear a grudge. But still... This was a most strange occurrence. This was the first time, during the few months Anna had worked for CI5 – hell, during all the time, over a year, that he had known her – when Anna had behaved this way. It was so out of her character, that for once, the old Scot tossed his status and position aside.
It was 5.30 pm when his finger pressed the doorbell's button.
"Oh. Come in, Sir." She still was cool and reserved. And she didn't ask why he was there. Although she seldom visibly pouted, she still was just as good at it as Doyle and Bodie.
"Now, what on earth was that about in the office?" The woman merely shrugged and the Controller couldn't understand her sudden inability to express her thoughts, as usually she was – for a woman – very much capable of giving out rationally founded opinions and ideas. "Do you have something solid to back up your opinion I should have an agent with me? Have you seen or heard something that makes you think there could be some trouble?"
Anna was again chewing on her lip. "No, Sir."
The Scot sighed. "Now listen, lass. You yourself said that you don't think MI6 or Soviets are up to something. What is it then? Hm? Do you think I'm too old or fragile, or something like that? You can say it straight in my face, lass." He tried to stay patient, yet Anna was exasperated.
"No, dammit no, Sir! It's nothing like that! It's just... a feeling. Feeling of... trouble. Danger. Cold pit in my stomach. I can't pinpoint anything."
Now mr Cowley was shaking his head, still trying to hold on to his patience, which started to run low though. "There simply can't happen anything. Is it that you're bored and want to come along, hm? You can say that too." He could ask Malcolm to come up with something for her entertainment, some mental challenge for her, the old friend was an expert in such things as he had needed to entertain himself for years already, being bound to his wheelchair, and the two got along wonderfully. But Anna exploded immediately.
"No! I wouldn't care a shit who comes with you for as long as it's some experienced agent! I can't bloody hell explain why I feel the way I feel, but I want someone, anyone, go there with you or then, you should stay home!"
The Controller's eyes were flaming now. This was too much! "Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? Hm? I'm sorry but I won't come as one of my trainers is afraid I may sit on a nuclear bomb! And do you plan to continue fretting each time I go somewhere alone?"
The woman snarled. "Of course not, don't be absurd!"
He raised his finger. "Me absurd? Bloody hell, woman, you are really making yourself look ludicrous here!"
She threw away the ladies' magazine she had been holding in her hand. "I don't bloody care how ludicrous I look, I bloody care that you come out from there alive!"
They stared at each other in silence before mr Cowley took a deep breath. "So you don't care? Let's see about that. Be ready to leave at 7 am sharp, we won't stay overnight. And I won't take any such nonsense from you ever again." He gave her his most ice-cold stare, and his eyes met a pair just as cold.
"Fine."
He turned his back and left, barely managing to suppress his lust to slam the door. Women!
All right. She had had it coming. And the worst was that she really wasn't able to tell why she was so anxious. She couldn't blame the Controller for losing his temper, especially as she had lost hers first. But something the man had said really disturbed her. Do you plan to continue fretting each time I go somewhere alone? She wished she knew. She wished she knew why this irrational anxiety, fear, had overcome her. Would it really be this way every time her chief, or Bodie, or Ray would go somewhere without a partner?
She knew the risks of their work. Since her childhood she had lived in the shadow of the knowledge that some day a person she loved would maybe not come home any more, or would be in a hospital, maybe maimed for life. She knew that it was not what could be called an ordinary life, not for maybe 99,9 per cent of other people, but she had learned to live with it in a way, she had accepted it. It was how her life had been as a daughter, sister and wife of military men, and now as a friend of these British CI5-men, and all she hoped for was, that the few people she cared about would be good enough, skillful enough, wise enough, to minimize the risks themselves. Bloody hell, she had got entangled to people she shouldn't have anything to do with. Definitely. She slammed shut the door of a closet and sat on her bed.
Maybe she had made the worst possible mistake in returning to UK after her daughter's death.
Maybe she should have returned to States instead, suffer the heartache of breaking the bonds of friendship, and turn her gaze to another kind of life, maybe more boring but also more secure. Yet there she was, trying to train new people who seriously wanted to risk their own hides too. People who had never before fought. Who had never been in danger. Who had never harmed anyone. Civilians.
Maybe she should concentrate on training them to run fast enough. To run hell out of there if something happened.
I won't take any such nonsense from you ever again. Oh hell... Maybe her job and the squad were simply proving too much for her, maybe she was losing her nerve. She would be of no use for anyone if that happened. And most definitely she didn't want to feel this sickening, cold fear constantly. Maybe an ocean would be wide enough to make the feeling go away in time.
She sat in her thoughts for a while, then went to search for a sheet of paper, wrote on it, and put it in an envelope. Half an hour later she had left it on Betty's desk at the HQ. After returning to her apartment Anna took a deep breath. There still was one thing to do. She would just love to know how the hell she was going to do it.
END OF CHAPTER 1
