Alex descended the metal staircase of the plane into the sweltering October sunlight. The heat hit him in the face and he had to shield is eyes from the light. A man swore in German as he crashed into Alex from behind. Alex apologised, and then walked carefully down the stairs feeling slightly dazed.
Alex felt slightly ill. The flight had encountered some strong turbulence, and he had forgotten to take a travel sickness tablet. He ached all over from the seat, and just wanted to get to the hotel and sleep. But there was a surprise waiting for him after passport control.
Alex walked out of passport control, and spotted someone waving. At first, he thought they were waving at someone behind him. Then he caught a glimpse of long brown hair and cool blue eyes. It was Tamara Knight. Alex walked over smiling, his jet lag already forgotten.
"How are you, Alex?" Tamara said. She was pleased to see him.
"Fine thanks," Alex said. In truth, he had been expecting the worst. When he had worked with two other American agents on his mission to Skeleton Key, the results hadn't been good. Alex half expected the same to happen.
Tamara steered Alex over to a black limo with a quiet driver in the front. Alex was glad of the air conditioning system and blacked out windows. Tamara had opened a small case and pulled out a large folder full of paper.
"Your new ID," she said. "It's great to be working with you again Alex. We're going to a hotel now to rest and give you a chance to get used to your new identity, and then we'll arrive the flat tomorrow."
"How is the bullet wound?" Alex asked. Last month in their mission against Drevin, Tamara had sustained a bullet in her shoulder.
"Not bad," she said. "It's healing really well." Her cool eyes surveyed the cuts and bruises on his face. Alex looked away, and Tamara thankfully didn't mention them.
Their hotel was small and shabby. It was probably called The Grand Hotel but the sign actually said The Grot Estbo. Nobody would guess that two of the residents were spies Alex guessed. The limo drove away, back to the CIA HQ Alex presumed. Tamara took up her cases and proceeded into the reception area. She walked up to the male receptionist, who was reading a paperback. She coughed and he looked up.
"Is this the Grand Hotel?" she asked.
"What does it say on the sign?" the man grunted.
"The Grot Estbo."
"Yeah, well we lost some of the letters during a storm, and them kids down the road nicked a few," the man said. Tamara waved this away.
"You got a room?"
"Actually, we have lots of rooms."
"Right, how much?"
"Twenny a night," he said. Tamara handed over the money and took the key he was holding out with a grubby hand.
"Room seventeen," he said and went back to his paperback.
"Alex!" Tamara called. It was the next day, and the alarm clock on the table next to Tamara had broken and failed to wake her up at eight o'clock. It was now half nine and they were half an hour late. They both belted down a hasty breakfast then caught a cab. The flat was about a mile away. Tamara buried herself in her files, so Alex had no choice but to stare out of the window. The journey took about fifteen minutes. Tamara paid the driver then walked up to the doors. Unlike the Grand Hotel, this was a beautiful block of flats. Tamara took out a key ring and searched for the right key. While she was, Alex took a good look around the street. An elderly woman across the street was calling to a ginger cat, but it was a movement round the corner had caught Alex's eye. A man had been coming around the corner, but he had stopped and moved back. Alex was sure of it. He was watching from the cover of a large tree. Tamara chose this moment to find the right key and open the door. Alex was so busy staring at the man under the pretence of looking at a large van across the road he didn't notice until she called him.
"Alex?" she said. He jerked out of his gaze and followed her in, closing the door behind him. They walked up the long spiral staircase and up to their room.
CIA had got the room right at the top. It was a bit cramped. There were two small bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a tiny bathroom with a shower. Alex groaned. He could've used a good bath. He walked to the large window at the back of the living room. The midday sunlight was filtering in. Alex peered out but he couldn't see the man anymore.
"Alex?" Tamara called. Alex blinked and moved away. "Do you want coffee or tea?" Tamara asked.
Alex stepped out of the flat and down the steps into the street. The warm night air was helping him feel relaxed. He was dressed in a loose top and jeans. A group of loud girls passed, laughing and giggling. A man was walking home with a small briefcase. A woman was walking a dog. It all felt so . . . normal. Alex wished he could be part of it, to go straight back to London and forget about MI6, Alan Blunt and all the rest of it. But he couldn't. He walked along a street, then looked out across the brilliant Chicago skyline. As he turned, however, a movement caught his eye. He turned instantly and disappeared down a side street. He was being followed . . .