HQ
Hanover Street, W1
"One Sophie Boyne" Harry threw the personnel file onto the table; it skidded a few feet across the polished surface and came to rest in the hands of Tom Quinn "fresh in from field operations with a remarkably sharp eye".
Tom fingered the edge of the dossier before flipping it open and studying the picture inside. He was sure he had seen the face before but could not place it.
"CIA?" Quinn questioned, running his gaze down a list of vital statistics.
"KGB" Harry replied, seating himself at the head of the table, fixing Tom with his gaze "ex-KGB, she and her brother completed a recent sting on a notorious drugs ring in Moscow known as 'Klasta'"
Tom continued to sort through the file as Harry Pearce spoke, absorbing the information his superior dictated. Nearing the back he came upon a set of recent photographs including several crime scene evidence proofs. The photographs showed a murder scene directly adjacent to Red Square, the Kremlin casting shadows across the cobbles.
"He was murdered by the head of the group, a Miletsa Kcokovch, wanted for the murder of three agents and countless civilians" with this, Tom pulled Benjamin Boyne's autopsy report and accompanying coroners records from the file.
"Shot between the eyes" Tom mused scanning the picture "How very Russian". With this he pulled an identification sheet from the file and cast a stunned glance at the head of the counter terrorism department " Classified Level Clearance?"
"Like I said Tom, she was in deep" Harry laid profile photographs in front of him, sounding the name of each alias as he did so.
"She was a British undercover agent in Russia?" Tom laid out the stills before him, studying the face in each one.
"She played the Russian government for three years, I doubt they themselves even know her true identity to this day" Harry learned back in his chair, the worn leather squeaking softly "Fluent in seven languages including Russian and Serb-Croat".
The proofs showed the face doctored through costume and disguise, many of the same features visible throughout. Tom had seen this woman, perhaps even worked with her but even with a list of alias identifications he still could not trace the name or face.
"She has connections within Government Communications Headquarters" Harry mused, his voice suddenly serious.
Tom looked up from the file, fixing an intent gaze upon his superior. Connections between GCHQ and MI5 had never been entirely secure. Tom raised a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes in disbelief, the same 'connections' in the past had almost cost them Ruth Evershed, an agent that had arrived in the grid after receiving a secondment from GCHQ. She was found to be leaking secrets back to her former employers and cautioned to within an inch of her careers grasp.
"We cannot judge her by the standard Ruth chose to create" Tom breathed, removing his hands from his face, staring down at his fingers before looking up at Harry "we've learnt that lesson".
Harry nodded silently, rising from his chair. "She is an outstanding agent that wants to come home".
The closed file sat in the middle of the table, the name 'Boyne, Sophie' emblazoned across the cover. Tom scrutinized the agent's registration code; every picture in his mind was different apart from one feature. Time and time again he was drawn back to her eyes, the natural colouring an opaline blue.
"I want you and Zoë to collect her from Heathrow" Harry broke him from his reverie "Danny is already there with some of Colin's best toys".
Tom looked out towards the large border windows, the summer sky lightning to a pale blue. His mind still racing, Tom stood and pushed his chair back under the table. He turned to leave but stopped short of the door; turning back to Harry.
"How will I recognise her?" He questioned, fixing his gaze on the departmental head.
"I thought that would have been obvious," Tom grinned at Harry's reply and nodded as he reached for the doorknob.
The offices of the Counter Terrorism Department buzzed with muted conversation and the soft whir of busy machinery. The gentle tap of fingers punching out words on a nearby laptop brought Tom back to his senses.
"You alright?" Zoë mused, walking around Tom and sitting back at her desk "You look as if you've seen a ghost".
Tom straightened up, mentally shaking himself and walked the remaining eight feet to his own desk. It seemed impossible but in the space of thirty minutes his in-tray had filled almost to the brim with transcripts and evidence briefs.
"No matter what is said about this job, you got to love pushing the paperclips" Tom sighed, sifting through paperwork that had been dumped unceremoniously next his laptop.
Zoë smiled and turned back to face Tom "you love it really".
"No, no I really don't" he began but was interrupted by the trill of Zoë's telephone.
Suspect photo's, evidence proof's, case reports and the list went on. In his mind's eye, paperwork was not one of the perks of becoming a spook. Pushing the pile to one side, Tom closed the laptop in front of him and lowered his head onto folded arms he had placed atop the folded computer.
"That was Danny, he says the location is secure" Zoë replaced the receiver onto the base and turned towards Tom.
"Right then, you and I are have a job to do" Tom smiled as he stood, taking an A4 manila envelope from his desk.
"Would you mind telling me where we are going" She removed her coat from the back of the chair and slung it over her shoulders.
Tom stooped to unlock the bottom drawer of his desk, removing a sealed document file. Placing it down, he continued to slit the dossier open and removed the contents.
"Agent pick-up" he replied still examining the pages.
"One of ours?" questioned Zoë falling into step beside him.
"She will be, ex-KGB" she stopped short of the lift, staring after Tom.
"KGB? I didn't know the Russians let their agents leave?"
"They don't" Tom started, pressing the call button for the lift and glancing in her direction "she's a British agent who played the Russian government for three years,"
The cast aluminium doors split open as he handed Zoë a word-processed identity file. Tom read the content over her shoulder.
"Her name is Sophie Boyne, alias Natasha Marinsky" he began following Zoë's gaze to the photograph and identity credentials "born in London and educated at Oxford where she read Russian".
Zoë was stunned; obviously still baffled how a British spook in a foreign country had managed to infiltrate one of the most notorious spy rings in the world.
"But how did she get away from the Soviet Union without being traced?"
Tom looked up from the sheet he had been studying, pushing it back into the file as the lift doors slid open "She faked her own death".
Quinn stepped out into the bright sunlight, pocketing the file inside his jacket, removing a set of keys from his pocket.
Hanover Street, W1
"One Sophie Boyne" Harry threw the personnel file onto the table; it skidded a few feet across the polished surface and came to rest in the hands of Tom Quinn "fresh in from field operations with a remarkably sharp eye".
Tom fingered the edge of the dossier before flipping it open and studying the picture inside. He was sure he had seen the face before but could not place it.
"CIA?" Quinn questioned, running his gaze down a list of vital statistics.
"KGB" Harry replied, seating himself at the head of the table, fixing Tom with his gaze "ex-KGB, she and her brother completed a recent sting on a notorious drugs ring in Moscow known as 'Klasta'"
Tom continued to sort through the file as Harry Pearce spoke, absorbing the information his superior dictated. Nearing the back he came upon a set of recent photographs including several crime scene evidence proofs. The photographs showed a murder scene directly adjacent to Red Square, the Kremlin casting shadows across the cobbles.
"He was murdered by the head of the group, a Miletsa Kcokovch, wanted for the murder of three agents and countless civilians" with this, Tom pulled Benjamin Boyne's autopsy report and accompanying coroners records from the file.
"Shot between the eyes" Tom mused scanning the picture "How very Russian". With this he pulled an identification sheet from the file and cast a stunned glance at the head of the counter terrorism department " Classified Level Clearance?"
"Like I said Tom, she was in deep" Harry laid profile photographs in front of him, sounding the name of each alias as he did so.
"She was a British undercover agent in Russia?" Tom laid out the stills before him, studying the face in each one.
"She played the Russian government for three years, I doubt they themselves even know her true identity to this day" Harry learned back in his chair, the worn leather squeaking softly "Fluent in seven languages including Russian and Serb-Croat".
The proofs showed the face doctored through costume and disguise, many of the same features visible throughout. Tom had seen this woman, perhaps even worked with her but even with a list of alias identifications he still could not trace the name or face.
"She has connections within Government Communications Headquarters" Harry mused, his voice suddenly serious.
Tom looked up from the file, fixing an intent gaze upon his superior. Connections between GCHQ and MI5 had never been entirely secure. Tom raised a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes in disbelief, the same 'connections' in the past had almost cost them Ruth Evershed, an agent that had arrived in the grid after receiving a secondment from GCHQ. She was found to be leaking secrets back to her former employers and cautioned to within an inch of her careers grasp.
"We cannot judge her by the standard Ruth chose to create" Tom breathed, removing his hands from his face, staring down at his fingers before looking up at Harry "we've learnt that lesson".
Harry nodded silently, rising from his chair. "She is an outstanding agent that wants to come home".
The closed file sat in the middle of the table, the name 'Boyne, Sophie' emblazoned across the cover. Tom scrutinized the agent's registration code; every picture in his mind was different apart from one feature. Time and time again he was drawn back to her eyes, the natural colouring an opaline blue.
"I want you and Zoë to collect her from Heathrow" Harry broke him from his reverie "Danny is already there with some of Colin's best toys".
Tom looked out towards the large border windows, the summer sky lightning to a pale blue. His mind still racing, Tom stood and pushed his chair back under the table. He turned to leave but stopped short of the door; turning back to Harry.
"How will I recognise her?" He questioned, fixing his gaze on the departmental head.
"I thought that would have been obvious," Tom grinned at Harry's reply and nodded as he reached for the doorknob.
The offices of the Counter Terrorism Department buzzed with muted conversation and the soft whir of busy machinery. The gentle tap of fingers punching out words on a nearby laptop brought Tom back to his senses.
"You alright?" Zoë mused, walking around Tom and sitting back at her desk "You look as if you've seen a ghost".
Tom straightened up, mentally shaking himself and walked the remaining eight feet to his own desk. It seemed impossible but in the space of thirty minutes his in-tray had filled almost to the brim with transcripts and evidence briefs.
"No matter what is said about this job, you got to love pushing the paperclips" Tom sighed, sifting through paperwork that had been dumped unceremoniously next his laptop.
Zoë smiled and turned back to face Tom "you love it really".
"No, no I really don't" he began but was interrupted by the trill of Zoë's telephone.
Suspect photo's, evidence proof's, case reports and the list went on. In his mind's eye, paperwork was not one of the perks of becoming a spook. Pushing the pile to one side, Tom closed the laptop in front of him and lowered his head onto folded arms he had placed atop the folded computer.
"That was Danny, he says the location is secure" Zoë replaced the receiver onto the base and turned towards Tom.
"Right then, you and I are have a job to do" Tom smiled as he stood, taking an A4 manila envelope from his desk.
"Would you mind telling me where we are going" She removed her coat from the back of the chair and slung it over her shoulders.
Tom stooped to unlock the bottom drawer of his desk, removing a sealed document file. Placing it down, he continued to slit the dossier open and removed the contents.
"Agent pick-up" he replied still examining the pages.
"One of ours?" questioned Zoë falling into step beside him.
"She will be, ex-KGB" she stopped short of the lift, staring after Tom.
"KGB? I didn't know the Russians let their agents leave?"
"They don't" Tom started, pressing the call button for the lift and glancing in her direction "she's a British agent who played the Russian government for three years,"
The cast aluminium doors split open as he handed Zoë a word-processed identity file. Tom read the content over her shoulder.
"Her name is Sophie Boyne, alias Natasha Marinsky" he began following Zoë's gaze to the photograph and identity credentials "born in London and educated at Oxford where she read Russian".
Zoë was stunned; obviously still baffled how a British spook in a foreign country had managed to infiltrate one of the most notorious spy rings in the world.
"But how did she get away from the Soviet Union without being traced?"
Tom looked up from the sheet he had been studying, pushing it back into the file as the lift doors slid open "She faked her own death".
Quinn stepped out into the bright sunlight, pocketing the file inside his jacket, removing a set of keys from his pocket.