In answer to Daughter of Olorin's question - no I have never mentioned
Hargreaves before, he just happens to live in the house opposite Ashleigh.
I found the last chapter one of the hardest to write (as the six different
versions I have saved will testify), and in the end relied on something my
creative writing lecturer told me - When you can't look through the eyes of
a major character, invent a minor one to describe the events. I did it
before with the delivery man at the compound. Very useful technique!
Quite frankly, my Italian is terrible. My fiancé helped me (unknowingly) with the translations. He is now wondering why I want to know how to say 'Place your bets' in Italian. I think he thinks I might be abandoning him to become a croupier in Naples. The idea is very tempting. If anyone does speak Italian, and if I have made a major error, would they please let me know so I can correct it?
Edit: Hoorah! I got one thing right! Thank you to Bea for her help (languages were never my strong point – even English is a bit dodgy at times), and her wonderful translations have replaced my appalling attempts.
The sun was setting over the bay, sending violently coloured streaks across the darkening sky. The temperature was at last dropping below something that could only be described as scorchingly hot, and the heat drained city was beginning to come to life as the stars began to appear high in the sky.
The car pulled to a stop, and the man got out, flanked by two guards. Dark suited, and dark tempered, they were a menacing pair. They waited patiently as the man adjusted his tie, and glanced around at the crowd on the street as if they had been waiting there to welcome him.
He ruled this place. This was his domain.
For just a few hours longer.
With an imperious gesture he beckoned the two men to follow him into the building.
From across the street she watched him. Hidden in the crowd of locals and tourists who were making their way to the clubs and restaurants in the area she was free to watch him to her heart's content. That heart started to pound as she took in the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs and the reflection of the dying sun off his flaxen hair. Her brown eyes widened as she took in the size of the men with him, he was tall, but they towered over him.
A smile played across her lips. It wasn't time to make her entrance yet. No that would come later. After she had organised a few final details. With that thought she slipped back into the crowd and away.
He had come here every night for the past week. And many times before that. It was easier to lose himself in the gaming tables then to think seriously about what he was feeling. He didn't feel. It was as simple as that.
So what was that prickle that was creeping up his spine?
He could feel the presence of the two heavies behind him, and it unnerved him. He was a watched man, and he knew the time was close. His hands involuntarily clenched around the chips he held, the cool plastic smooth beneath his palm.
Around him was the chaos and noise that was the popular casino. Based on the lower floor of the hotel it was a place where money talked, and opened doors. This was a place where questions weren't asked and that suited Alec just fine. His icy demeanour, his scarred face, and the two imposing guards kept most away from him, and so he lost himself in the false refuge of solitude.
Roulette was his game of choice.
Choose a colour, or choose a number.
It either came up or it didn't.
He glanced around him. He was alone at this table, a glass in front of him. He picked it up, and sipped cautiously, testing it, tasting it. Perfect. He drank deeply, and then raised a hand to attract attention.
The pretty blonde waitress nodded and took the near empty glass. He watched her carefully, noting the way she ignored everyone else.
She returned quickly, placing the refreshed glass in front of him.
'Thank you,' it was habit rather than politeness.
'You're welcome,' she murmured back.
She had an American accent. And a knowing look.
The tingle threatened to become a shiver. He looked for her again but she was gone.
Unnerved, he glanced at the table before him. It was an all too familiar sight.
His conversation with M had changed things. For once he was looking into the future, and not to the past.
If he lived long enough to appreciate it.
He reached for the glass, and deliberately fumbled it.
Behind him the two heavies noticed the shake in his hand. It wouldn't be the first time they would have watched him drink himself into oblivion. They exchanged a look.
'Fate il voste gioco,' the croupier who had been nervously waiting, decided this was his moment.
Alec contemplated the table in front of him. With a decisive sweep of his hand, he pushed the stack of chips in front of him towards red. It would either come up, or it wouldn't. This time, everything was about luck. Or was it fate? He didn't care either way. Win or lose, it made no difference.
'Altre scomessa?' the young man asked, following the protocol of the table. There would be no other bets; this game was solely for the dark suited scarred man in front of him. There was a sense of great power about the man, and the young croupier was distinctly uncomfortable in his presence.
'Ma si.'
The voice was soft, accented and most definitely female.
Alec stiffened. He caught the scent of a warm, rich perfume, heard the click of a pointed heel upon the floor. He took a drink, refusing to acknowledge their presence.
'Tavolo privato,' one of the guards growled, alert and defensive.
Alec turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of black satin, blending into tailored black trousers. Pale hands loosely clutched a small bag.
She waited. He heard the impatient tap of her foot.
'Let her.'
The words were said so softly she hardly heard them.
'Sei nero.' A handful of chips were thrown onto the black number six space.
If the choice of number unnerved Alec, he refused to let her see it.
'I giochi sonofatti.'
No more bets.
The little white ball danced over the numbers as they blurred into a solid ring. Finally the wheel slowed, the ball made a few last leaps until finally it settled into the red twenty four slot.
All bets were off between them. As usual.
'Vince il signore.' the croupier pushed an increased amount of chips back to Alec.
'You lost,' he said softly.
'Its only money.' There was a trace of humour in the voice. 'There are more important things in the world.'
Her voice was lower than he remembered. He had known it was her from the moment she stepped behind him without fear.
'Such as?' he drawled. He wouldn't make this easy for her.
Her hands were light on his shoulders; her breath warm on his unscarred cheek as she leant against him, felt the brush of her hair against the curve of his ear. 'Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere private?'
It wasn't quite the offer it seemed. 'Yes.'
The office was high in the building. The room was vast, deliberately imposing; one wall was completely paned with glass lending an outstanding view across the water.
She glanced around, saw the computer, and felt relief wash over her. The age of electronics meant that all the information she carried could be compressed to a thin metal disc, but unfortunately, to retrieve that information the computer would be required. It would have looked suspicious if she had had to ask for one.
Alec watched her as she took in the size of the room, the art work on the walls, the modern, uncomfortable looking chairs, and the huge, intimidating desk. She swept the room with her eyes, and stored the information for later.
He saw her glance at the door, and then immediately look around for another exit. A slight furrow appeared in her brow as she realised there was none. Or rather, none that she could see.
She hadn't changed, he thought, she's still the same. Always watching, always noticing. But there was something in the way she had walked, almost strutted along side him, something in the set of her shoulders. She was more confident than he had ever seen her.
Hardly surprising. Every other time they had met, things had always been going against her. Now she was in control.
She looked like James. The same cool disdain for her surroundings, the same arrogance.
He hated her for it.
When he had known her, she had needed him, clung to him as he had rescued her, nervous, vulnerable, at risk.
He wanted her like that again.
He scowled as she stalked across the room, dropping the bag with a thud onto the desk. Her lips curved into a welcoming smile, one that was not lost on the two guards.
'Have you missed me?' she purred, picking up a glass paperweight and rolling it in her hands, her dark eyes never leaving his.
He froze. Had he missed her? The honest answer screamed yes, but he would never admit it.
She was staring at him with an intensity that almost burned. He thought he saw a plea there, in her eyes. Please, she seemed to say, please...
Her expression shifted. The smile dropped, and she seemed to pout, she scowled, and slammed the paperweight down on the table.
'Why didn't you call me?' she whined, 'You said when you were settled you would send for me. I've been waiting all this time, and you haven't. You're not playing fair! I've missed you, and you just left me to ... to rot! Rot in some godforsaken and stupidly cold country!'
She looked moments away from stamping her foot. The full lower lip jutted out even further.
And then, then he realised. As the tiny ache in the back of his head began to thud, he realised where he had heard that tone before, heard those same accusing words thrown at him. The same words that caused that tension headache to throb somewhere deep behind his eyes.
The women he had used, the women who had become used to power that being his lover had gained, the women that would insist on gifts, on tokens of his affection, those women that whined and needled, and grated on his very nerves. The women he dropped as soon as they had served their purpose.
She may snarl, and fight like a wildcat, but Ashleigh would never whine at him. She was too stubborn, too proud. This was some kind of charade. And it needed a response.
'I haven't had the time,' he growled at her.
'But you promised!' Her eyes widened. 'Who is she? What... what slut has got her claws into you this time?'
'One who isn't so demanding on my time as you.'
Flippant, arrogant, spiteful. Oh, the old Alec would have been proud.
She gave a shriek of rage, and picked up the heavy paperweight again. He ducked just in time as it shattered on the wall behind him. She scrabbled around on the desk, looking for something else to throw.
He nodded at the two heavies. With almost indecent enthusiasm, they started forward. She struggled, not as much as she might if she wasn't acting, but finally, they overpowered her, grabbing one arm each and holding her back.
'Call your guard dogs off me, you bastard!' she snarled, trying to kick the one holding her right arm. 'Call them off, before I neuter them!'
'Temper, temper,' he chided, moving towards her. She kicked out at him this time, one high heel coming too close to his shin bone for his liking. Acting or not, Ashleigh still had a good aim, and a good knowledge of where to hurt.
'I hate you!'
'Oh, I don't think you do,' he tilted her chin up, sliding his hand under her jaw. He felt her tremble, and didn't know if she meant to or not. 'Why don't you start playing nicely, and see what happens?'
He spoke as if to a child, except his words were slurring slightly and she nodded. 'Okay.'
'Let her go,' he ordered.
Reluctantly they did so, and he saw the red marks on her bare arms where they had held her. She rubbed them angrily, before she looked away. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured softly. 'I've just missed you so much, and I just wanted to be with you.'
His kiss caught her by surprise. He pulled her into his embrace, holding her tightly, forcing his lips down onto hers. Her eyes widened with shock, she tensed, rigid in his arms, but finally, she relaxed, her arms slid round his neck, and she kissed back just as fiercely, closing her eyes and letting herself cling to him.
It worked. He heard an uncomfortable cough, a throat being cleared just loud enough to gain attention.
He broke the kiss just long enough to snarl 'Get out of here. Now!'
The heavies had seen it all before. These men with their weakness for attractive women. The women with a desire for power, and wealth. It was a stupidly dangerous combination, but they all fell for it. Even this scarred man they had been ordered to stay with. Not that this woman seemed to mind the scars at all. He was rich enough, they supposed, for them not to matter to her.
They could wait outside. These two would be occupied for some time.
Alec heard the door open, then shut. He opened his eyes. They were alone. Yet he didn't loosen his grip on the woman he was holding.
He felt her pull away, and reluctantly he let her go.
Gone was the whining, demanding girl, instead with a quick cool efficiency she turned, and walked to the desk.
'Yours?' she asked, gesturing around the room with one hand while the other rummaged in her bag.
'Mine.'
She glanced at him. His accent had become crisper; his voice had lost the slurred element that had bothered her since she had first heard him. 'All of it?'
'Yes.'
M had been right then. Alec did still have legitimate businesses, and this hotel appeared to be one of them. 'For you,' she held out a slim case. The disc inside caught the light.
'M?'
'Yes. For your eyes only.'
He slid the disc into the machine. 'Not even yours?'
She was brisk, business like, once more the consummate agent. 'I have been briefed to the contents, but haven't actually seen them. M did tell me that everything you need to know is contained on that disc. Names, organisations, figures, deals. Hell, even whose bed they've recently crawled out of. You're dealing with extremely dangerous men, Alec.'
'I know.' He stared at the screen.
And swore.
Ashleigh flinched as his fist hit the glass top of the desk. 'You're a marked man,' she guessed, her tone was far more matter of fact than she actually felt.
'Then why are you here?' he snarled.
Her hand slid into the bag once more, and when she pulled it out she held up an identical case. 'On this disc is my first assignment. Sequence after sequence of long, complicated numbers. All in code. It seems I impressed M when I broke the sequence guarding Hermes, and she recalled my talents for cryptography. With the contents of this disc, I could give you the world.'
She paused, and there was a wicked gleam in her eyes. He didn't doubt her words.
'But I'm not going to.'
'Doesn't explain why you're here.'
She glanced nervously at the door. 'I think it does. I need something to keep myself occupied. Now I'm unofficially retired from MI6.'
He looked at her sharply. He knew what she meant. M's offer had been accepted.
She couldn't cope with the way he was looking at her. Turning away she slipped the disc back into the bag, and as she did so her fingers brushed against something else. Cool, thin glass rolled beneath her fingertips, she traced the shape of a small container, and then moved onto the thin rectangular packages.
Do what you have to do, M had told her. Alec Trevelyan was to leave the city alive. It didn't matter in what state, as long as he was alive.
'This is worse than we thought.'
'What?' she snapped out of her thoughts. She couldn't let her concentration slip now.
'Look,' he gestured to the screen.
'Oh, shit,' she swore. 'That would be your informer then?'
He moved so quickly she didn't see him open the drawer but next moment, he had a gun in his hand and was checking the ammunition. 'Are you armed?'
She thought back to the contents of her bag. More than you would ever know, she thought. 'Yes.'
'Good. I'm going to kill him.'
From anyone else it would be an idle threat, but the coldness, and the seriousness of Alec's tone was absolute.
Marco Piancetta. He stood at just less than six feet five, and weighed close to twenty stones. Psychotic tendencies and questionable loyalties. Last known to be in Beijing. Known for brute force rather than mental ability.
Working for an extremely dangerous arms dealer.
The one whose group Alec was attempting to infiltrate. And the man currently standing outside of the door. Ordered to watch Alec like a hawk – before terminating him.
There was a knock at the door. 'How much does he know?' Ashleigh asked, rubbing her arm where Piancetta had held her, with little effort. She shuddered to think what he could do if he decided to make the effort.
'Enough.'
He eased the safety off the gun.
'Wait.' Ashleigh fumbled with her bag. 'We just need enough time to get away. We don't have to kill them.'
'It would be easier,' Alec growled.
She almost dropped the vial, the clear liquid sloshing inside. A sedative, similar to the one that had been used on her during her time in the compound. The incident had given M the idea to provide Ashleigh with the drug.
And three needles.
If necessary, she was to drug Alec, and drag him away. There were those in the hotel that could assist her.
'There's a helicopter,' she rambled, her hand shaking as she tore the protective sterile wrapping from the first hypodermic needle. 'It'll take us from here, it should be here any moment now,' she glanced at the clock and saw that she was right. 'We just have to get to the roof. You know this place; you know how to get there. We just need enough time to get away.'
The first needle pierced through the thin foil of the vial, and she drew the liquid into the syringe. She handed it to him. 'You need to flick it, to break any air bubbles. You'll kill them if you inject them with air.'
'And?'
She flushed as she filled her own needle, but she gave it a defiant flick all the same.
The third syringe waited patiently in her bag. She glanced towards it, and wondered why she was so hesitant to do what M ordered. Alec would come with her, he had no choice. She wouldn't resort to caveman tactics.
There was a second knock, harder than before. Alec gestured her next to the door, and she pressed herself against the wall.
'I'll take Piancetta. You take the other.'
She slid her hand around the door handle. Her entire body was tensed, the hypodermic held awkwardly in her left hand.
He nodded, she turned the handle.
And all hell broke loose.
Quite frankly, my Italian is terrible. My fiancé helped me (unknowingly) with the translations. He is now wondering why I want to know how to say 'Place your bets' in Italian. I think he thinks I might be abandoning him to become a croupier in Naples. The idea is very tempting. If anyone does speak Italian, and if I have made a major error, would they please let me know so I can correct it?
Edit: Hoorah! I got one thing right! Thank you to Bea for her help (languages were never my strong point – even English is a bit dodgy at times), and her wonderful translations have replaced my appalling attempts.
The sun was setting over the bay, sending violently coloured streaks across the darkening sky. The temperature was at last dropping below something that could only be described as scorchingly hot, and the heat drained city was beginning to come to life as the stars began to appear high in the sky.
The car pulled to a stop, and the man got out, flanked by two guards. Dark suited, and dark tempered, they were a menacing pair. They waited patiently as the man adjusted his tie, and glanced around at the crowd on the street as if they had been waiting there to welcome him.
He ruled this place. This was his domain.
For just a few hours longer.
With an imperious gesture he beckoned the two men to follow him into the building.
From across the street she watched him. Hidden in the crowd of locals and tourists who were making their way to the clubs and restaurants in the area she was free to watch him to her heart's content. That heart started to pound as she took in the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs and the reflection of the dying sun off his flaxen hair. Her brown eyes widened as she took in the size of the men with him, he was tall, but they towered over him.
A smile played across her lips. It wasn't time to make her entrance yet. No that would come later. After she had organised a few final details. With that thought she slipped back into the crowd and away.
He had come here every night for the past week. And many times before that. It was easier to lose himself in the gaming tables then to think seriously about what he was feeling. He didn't feel. It was as simple as that.
So what was that prickle that was creeping up his spine?
He could feel the presence of the two heavies behind him, and it unnerved him. He was a watched man, and he knew the time was close. His hands involuntarily clenched around the chips he held, the cool plastic smooth beneath his palm.
Around him was the chaos and noise that was the popular casino. Based on the lower floor of the hotel it was a place where money talked, and opened doors. This was a place where questions weren't asked and that suited Alec just fine. His icy demeanour, his scarred face, and the two imposing guards kept most away from him, and so he lost himself in the false refuge of solitude.
Roulette was his game of choice.
Choose a colour, or choose a number.
It either came up or it didn't.
He glanced around him. He was alone at this table, a glass in front of him. He picked it up, and sipped cautiously, testing it, tasting it. Perfect. He drank deeply, and then raised a hand to attract attention.
The pretty blonde waitress nodded and took the near empty glass. He watched her carefully, noting the way she ignored everyone else.
She returned quickly, placing the refreshed glass in front of him.
'Thank you,' it was habit rather than politeness.
'You're welcome,' she murmured back.
She had an American accent. And a knowing look.
The tingle threatened to become a shiver. He looked for her again but she was gone.
Unnerved, he glanced at the table before him. It was an all too familiar sight.
His conversation with M had changed things. For once he was looking into the future, and not to the past.
If he lived long enough to appreciate it.
He reached for the glass, and deliberately fumbled it.
Behind him the two heavies noticed the shake in his hand. It wouldn't be the first time they would have watched him drink himself into oblivion. They exchanged a look.
'Fate il voste gioco,' the croupier who had been nervously waiting, decided this was his moment.
Alec contemplated the table in front of him. With a decisive sweep of his hand, he pushed the stack of chips in front of him towards red. It would either come up, or it wouldn't. This time, everything was about luck. Or was it fate? He didn't care either way. Win or lose, it made no difference.
'Altre scomessa?' the young man asked, following the protocol of the table. There would be no other bets; this game was solely for the dark suited scarred man in front of him. There was a sense of great power about the man, and the young croupier was distinctly uncomfortable in his presence.
'Ma si.'
The voice was soft, accented and most definitely female.
Alec stiffened. He caught the scent of a warm, rich perfume, heard the click of a pointed heel upon the floor. He took a drink, refusing to acknowledge their presence.
'Tavolo privato,' one of the guards growled, alert and defensive.
Alec turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of black satin, blending into tailored black trousers. Pale hands loosely clutched a small bag.
She waited. He heard the impatient tap of her foot.
'Let her.'
The words were said so softly she hardly heard them.
'Sei nero.' A handful of chips were thrown onto the black number six space.
If the choice of number unnerved Alec, he refused to let her see it.
'I giochi sonofatti.'
No more bets.
The little white ball danced over the numbers as they blurred into a solid ring. Finally the wheel slowed, the ball made a few last leaps until finally it settled into the red twenty four slot.
All bets were off between them. As usual.
'Vince il signore.' the croupier pushed an increased amount of chips back to Alec.
'You lost,' he said softly.
'Its only money.' There was a trace of humour in the voice. 'There are more important things in the world.'
Her voice was lower than he remembered. He had known it was her from the moment she stepped behind him without fear.
'Such as?' he drawled. He wouldn't make this easy for her.
Her hands were light on his shoulders; her breath warm on his unscarred cheek as she leant against him, felt the brush of her hair against the curve of his ear. 'Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere private?'
It wasn't quite the offer it seemed. 'Yes.'
The office was high in the building. The room was vast, deliberately imposing; one wall was completely paned with glass lending an outstanding view across the water.
She glanced around, saw the computer, and felt relief wash over her. The age of electronics meant that all the information she carried could be compressed to a thin metal disc, but unfortunately, to retrieve that information the computer would be required. It would have looked suspicious if she had had to ask for one.
Alec watched her as she took in the size of the room, the art work on the walls, the modern, uncomfortable looking chairs, and the huge, intimidating desk. She swept the room with her eyes, and stored the information for later.
He saw her glance at the door, and then immediately look around for another exit. A slight furrow appeared in her brow as she realised there was none. Or rather, none that she could see.
She hadn't changed, he thought, she's still the same. Always watching, always noticing. But there was something in the way she had walked, almost strutted along side him, something in the set of her shoulders. She was more confident than he had ever seen her.
Hardly surprising. Every other time they had met, things had always been going against her. Now she was in control.
She looked like James. The same cool disdain for her surroundings, the same arrogance.
He hated her for it.
When he had known her, she had needed him, clung to him as he had rescued her, nervous, vulnerable, at risk.
He wanted her like that again.
He scowled as she stalked across the room, dropping the bag with a thud onto the desk. Her lips curved into a welcoming smile, one that was not lost on the two guards.
'Have you missed me?' she purred, picking up a glass paperweight and rolling it in her hands, her dark eyes never leaving his.
He froze. Had he missed her? The honest answer screamed yes, but he would never admit it.
She was staring at him with an intensity that almost burned. He thought he saw a plea there, in her eyes. Please, she seemed to say, please...
Her expression shifted. The smile dropped, and she seemed to pout, she scowled, and slammed the paperweight down on the table.
'Why didn't you call me?' she whined, 'You said when you were settled you would send for me. I've been waiting all this time, and you haven't. You're not playing fair! I've missed you, and you just left me to ... to rot! Rot in some godforsaken and stupidly cold country!'
She looked moments away from stamping her foot. The full lower lip jutted out even further.
And then, then he realised. As the tiny ache in the back of his head began to thud, he realised where he had heard that tone before, heard those same accusing words thrown at him. The same words that caused that tension headache to throb somewhere deep behind his eyes.
The women he had used, the women who had become used to power that being his lover had gained, the women that would insist on gifts, on tokens of his affection, those women that whined and needled, and grated on his very nerves. The women he dropped as soon as they had served their purpose.
She may snarl, and fight like a wildcat, but Ashleigh would never whine at him. She was too stubborn, too proud. This was some kind of charade. And it needed a response.
'I haven't had the time,' he growled at her.
'But you promised!' Her eyes widened. 'Who is she? What... what slut has got her claws into you this time?'
'One who isn't so demanding on my time as you.'
Flippant, arrogant, spiteful. Oh, the old Alec would have been proud.
She gave a shriek of rage, and picked up the heavy paperweight again. He ducked just in time as it shattered on the wall behind him. She scrabbled around on the desk, looking for something else to throw.
He nodded at the two heavies. With almost indecent enthusiasm, they started forward. She struggled, not as much as she might if she wasn't acting, but finally, they overpowered her, grabbing one arm each and holding her back.
'Call your guard dogs off me, you bastard!' she snarled, trying to kick the one holding her right arm. 'Call them off, before I neuter them!'
'Temper, temper,' he chided, moving towards her. She kicked out at him this time, one high heel coming too close to his shin bone for his liking. Acting or not, Ashleigh still had a good aim, and a good knowledge of where to hurt.
'I hate you!'
'Oh, I don't think you do,' he tilted her chin up, sliding his hand under her jaw. He felt her tremble, and didn't know if she meant to or not. 'Why don't you start playing nicely, and see what happens?'
He spoke as if to a child, except his words were slurring slightly and she nodded. 'Okay.'
'Let her go,' he ordered.
Reluctantly they did so, and he saw the red marks on her bare arms where they had held her. She rubbed them angrily, before she looked away. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured softly. 'I've just missed you so much, and I just wanted to be with you.'
His kiss caught her by surprise. He pulled her into his embrace, holding her tightly, forcing his lips down onto hers. Her eyes widened with shock, she tensed, rigid in his arms, but finally, she relaxed, her arms slid round his neck, and she kissed back just as fiercely, closing her eyes and letting herself cling to him.
It worked. He heard an uncomfortable cough, a throat being cleared just loud enough to gain attention.
He broke the kiss just long enough to snarl 'Get out of here. Now!'
The heavies had seen it all before. These men with their weakness for attractive women. The women with a desire for power, and wealth. It was a stupidly dangerous combination, but they all fell for it. Even this scarred man they had been ordered to stay with. Not that this woman seemed to mind the scars at all. He was rich enough, they supposed, for them not to matter to her.
They could wait outside. These two would be occupied for some time.
Alec heard the door open, then shut. He opened his eyes. They were alone. Yet he didn't loosen his grip on the woman he was holding.
He felt her pull away, and reluctantly he let her go.
Gone was the whining, demanding girl, instead with a quick cool efficiency she turned, and walked to the desk.
'Yours?' she asked, gesturing around the room with one hand while the other rummaged in her bag.
'Mine.'
She glanced at him. His accent had become crisper; his voice had lost the slurred element that had bothered her since she had first heard him. 'All of it?'
'Yes.'
M had been right then. Alec did still have legitimate businesses, and this hotel appeared to be one of them. 'For you,' she held out a slim case. The disc inside caught the light.
'M?'
'Yes. For your eyes only.'
He slid the disc into the machine. 'Not even yours?'
She was brisk, business like, once more the consummate agent. 'I have been briefed to the contents, but haven't actually seen them. M did tell me that everything you need to know is contained on that disc. Names, organisations, figures, deals. Hell, even whose bed they've recently crawled out of. You're dealing with extremely dangerous men, Alec.'
'I know.' He stared at the screen.
And swore.
Ashleigh flinched as his fist hit the glass top of the desk. 'You're a marked man,' she guessed, her tone was far more matter of fact than she actually felt.
'Then why are you here?' he snarled.
Her hand slid into the bag once more, and when she pulled it out she held up an identical case. 'On this disc is my first assignment. Sequence after sequence of long, complicated numbers. All in code. It seems I impressed M when I broke the sequence guarding Hermes, and she recalled my talents for cryptography. With the contents of this disc, I could give you the world.'
She paused, and there was a wicked gleam in her eyes. He didn't doubt her words.
'But I'm not going to.'
'Doesn't explain why you're here.'
She glanced nervously at the door. 'I think it does. I need something to keep myself occupied. Now I'm unofficially retired from MI6.'
He looked at her sharply. He knew what she meant. M's offer had been accepted.
She couldn't cope with the way he was looking at her. Turning away she slipped the disc back into the bag, and as she did so her fingers brushed against something else. Cool, thin glass rolled beneath her fingertips, she traced the shape of a small container, and then moved onto the thin rectangular packages.
Do what you have to do, M had told her. Alec Trevelyan was to leave the city alive. It didn't matter in what state, as long as he was alive.
'This is worse than we thought.'
'What?' she snapped out of her thoughts. She couldn't let her concentration slip now.
'Look,' he gestured to the screen.
'Oh, shit,' she swore. 'That would be your informer then?'
He moved so quickly she didn't see him open the drawer but next moment, he had a gun in his hand and was checking the ammunition. 'Are you armed?'
She thought back to the contents of her bag. More than you would ever know, she thought. 'Yes.'
'Good. I'm going to kill him.'
From anyone else it would be an idle threat, but the coldness, and the seriousness of Alec's tone was absolute.
Marco Piancetta. He stood at just less than six feet five, and weighed close to twenty stones. Psychotic tendencies and questionable loyalties. Last known to be in Beijing. Known for brute force rather than mental ability.
Working for an extremely dangerous arms dealer.
The one whose group Alec was attempting to infiltrate. And the man currently standing outside of the door. Ordered to watch Alec like a hawk – before terminating him.
There was a knock at the door. 'How much does he know?' Ashleigh asked, rubbing her arm where Piancetta had held her, with little effort. She shuddered to think what he could do if he decided to make the effort.
'Enough.'
He eased the safety off the gun.
'Wait.' Ashleigh fumbled with her bag. 'We just need enough time to get away. We don't have to kill them.'
'It would be easier,' Alec growled.
She almost dropped the vial, the clear liquid sloshing inside. A sedative, similar to the one that had been used on her during her time in the compound. The incident had given M the idea to provide Ashleigh with the drug.
And three needles.
If necessary, she was to drug Alec, and drag him away. There were those in the hotel that could assist her.
'There's a helicopter,' she rambled, her hand shaking as she tore the protective sterile wrapping from the first hypodermic needle. 'It'll take us from here, it should be here any moment now,' she glanced at the clock and saw that she was right. 'We just have to get to the roof. You know this place; you know how to get there. We just need enough time to get away.'
The first needle pierced through the thin foil of the vial, and she drew the liquid into the syringe. She handed it to him. 'You need to flick it, to break any air bubbles. You'll kill them if you inject them with air.'
'And?'
She flushed as she filled her own needle, but she gave it a defiant flick all the same.
The third syringe waited patiently in her bag. She glanced towards it, and wondered why she was so hesitant to do what M ordered. Alec would come with her, he had no choice. She wouldn't resort to caveman tactics.
There was a second knock, harder than before. Alec gestured her next to the door, and she pressed herself against the wall.
'I'll take Piancetta. You take the other.'
She slid her hand around the door handle. Her entire body was tensed, the hypodermic held awkwardly in her left hand.
He nodded, she turned the handle.
And all hell broke loose.