Chapter 2

The first week seemed to pass very quickly. In Amber's mind, the days had blurred at the edges and had merged with each other. It wasn't that the days had been repetitive, just that they had somehow all seemed linked to something else. Life in the terrorist world had been remarkably quiet; there had been nothing of great importance to do, so Amber had helped Connie sift through old documents from the past and then copied some onto the database, then, as she was fluent in a fair few languages, she had helped Jo translate some chatter on the web and some 'documents of interest' that GCHQ had sent them. Because she had worked a lot with Jo and Lucas, she decided that she liked them both very much, although whenever Lucas spoke to her she suddenly felt very nervous. Malcolm seemed genial and Connie vaguely reminded Amber of her grandmother, in the sense that she was warm and calm. Ros terrified Amber every time they passed each other, she was still remarkably cold around her; perhaps Ros had been told about the incident with Harry. They hadn't spoken much, and Amber was almost glad for the lack of communication between the two of them.

Harry spent most of his days in his office, trawling through the piles of God knows what that were on his desk every morning. To Amber, he seemed slightly reclusive, the shadow of a once great man and spy. Amber also hadn't spent very much time with Ben – who still insisted on calling her 'newbie' – but from what she had gathered, he was funny and open (with the added bonus of not terrifying her). Although she hadn't been doing much, Amber still felt exhausted every night and longed for the weekend where she could, with any luck, have a break.

She was also looking forward to Friday evening, as it was her friend Angela's birthday and Amber had agreed to join her and a few other friends for a night out. It would be the first time since Amber had started training with MI5 three years ago that she would be able to go out with her friends. Her carefree days before a life of secrecy seemed so far away.

Unfortunately for Amber, on the Thursday, Ros came racing into the Grid, her short blond hair swinging slightly from side to side, and her brown eyes filled with anger. As Amber passed her, she automatically moved out of the way, for fear of being sent flying or shouted at. But as it was, Ros completely ignored everyone and barged into Harry's office, without knocking.

"Harry, we've got a problem."

Harry looked up from his computer. He was about to scold her for not knocking, but seeing the expression on her face, he decided against it. "What is it?" he asked.

Ros held up a photograph of a man. "Do you know who this is?"

Harry shook his head. "No, who is it?"

"This is the man that is going to tear us apart."

Harry jumped up from his seat and strode out of his office. His voice was sharp and clear as he said, "Meeting. Now." A faint smile played on his lips as everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and grouped in the conference room. He liked how he had power over them, how they would obey his every word no matter what. That was something that Adam had never done. Adam had always followed his own thoughts, and had had a tendency for going off by himself. Harry always regretted not telling Adam how brilliant he was. Still, Harry sighed, it was too late now. Pushing away the wave of sadness, he followed his team into the conference room and took his place at the head of the table.

As everyone took their seats, Ros handed everyone a brown folder. Stamped on the front in bold, black lettering was 'Tehran'. Beneath that, in even larger, red letter were the words 'Eyes-only'.

"These are for you to read in your own time," Ros said as the handed the last one to Harry. "Just over a year ago," she continued, "MI5 blew up a train in Tehran, which proved to be a catalyst in one of the worst cases we've ever had. You see, by blowing up the train, MI5 unintentionally unleashed a biological weapon into the air. We blew up the train because we were given false information, and the disease reached the UK. It infected over two hundred people. Thankfully, of that number, very few died, as we were able to administer an antidote, thanks to the Russians."

Ros paused and looked around the room as she gave everyone time for the information to sink in. She then continued, "We managed to cover up that the bomb was us, and we thought that we'd heard the end of it. We were wrong."

A picture flashed up onto the presentation board. It was of a man; he was roughly Amber's age, with sandy coloured hair and a tanned face. His eyes were brown and shrouded by a shadow. His body language suggested that he was on edge, or worried about something. It was hard to tell from the picture but it seemed that he was sat on the edge of his seat.

"This man," said Ros, pointing at the screen, "is threatening to expose what happened. His name is Christian Defoct, and he was working as a freelance journalist and photographer in Tehran at the time. Unfortunately for us, he got a bit too interested and managed to dig up the whole story. God knows how, but we have to do something about it." Ros sat on the edge of the table, looking at everyone's faces.

"And now he's going to publish the story, in exchange for rather a lot of money," Harry said flatly while Ros nodded.

"So what do we do?" Jo asked.

"We bring him in."

"Alpha one, he's entering the building." Malcolm spoke into the microphone that was directly connected to Lucas' earpiece.

"Copy that control."

Connie and Jo stood by Malcolm's computer, watching the patchy CCTV footage of Christian Defcot's flat. They watched as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. They watched as his eyes travelled around the room, resting on the tall, slender man who was lounging on his sofa.

"Come quietly and I promise not to hurt you," Lucas said lazily.

He's far too relaxed, thought Malcolm to himself.

Lucas had an enigmatic way of working, calm and cool on the exterior but with a harsh, domineering interior. He would remain laid back as long as Defcot cooperated. It seemed that Defcot didn't believe what Lucas had said, as he ran to his cupboard and pulled a gun from one of the drawers.

Quick as a flash, Lucas was on his feet. "You really don't want to be doing that. Trust me." He pulled his own gun – a PPK – from his belt. "Put it down."

Defcot dropped his gun almost instantly. It seemed that he realised in the way that Lucas stood and held his gun that he was far more professional than himself. Lucas put his gun back in its holder and pulled Defcot from the room.

The interrogation room was cold and plain: the walls were grey, as was the floor. In the centre was a rectangular table and four chairs. Defcot sat on one side, opposite Harry, while Lucas stood behind the empty chair. He preferred to stand as his height always intimidated others; in most cases it was a bad thing, but when interrogating others it proved useful.

"Ich werde nicht sagen, was Sie hören möchten." (I will not say what you would like to hear)

"Get Amber," Harry said, boredom making his voice flat and expressionless. Lucas left at once and returned moments later, Amber in tow.

"Here, have a seat." Lucas pulled out the chair for her and Amber cautiously sat down. His hand brushed her arm briefly and she glanced at him. His expression looked as hers felt: slightly shocked and embarrassed.

"Ich werde nichts sagen." Defcot looked defiant. (I will not say anything)

"Oh, so Sie Deutsch sprechen?" Amber leant forwards in her chair. "So kann ich" (So you speak German? So do I)

"Dan zal ik spreken in het Nederlands." (Then I'll speak in Dutch)

"Heb je alleen spreken, talen met een Germaanse oorsprong?" (Do you only speak in languages with a Germanic origin?)

Defcot looked shocked, then defeated. He fell silent and looked up at Lucas, then to Harry, then to Amber.

"I win," Amber smiled triumphantly.

"Nicely done," Harry said appreciatively.

"Thank you." Amber glanced briefly behind her at Lucas, who smiled. She felt her heart flutter.

"So tell me," Lucas leant forward over Amber's chair, his hands resting on the back, "What do you know about Tehran?"