Chapter Six: Secrets

Zaf was sprawled on the sofa, flicking aimlessly through the channels. He stopped briefly at a reality show, moving on when he heard the door rattle. Not something he wanted to be caught indulging in. He knew full well that Jo watched it behind his back; and he knew that she knew he did when she wasn't around. But neither wanted to own up to it.

Jo closed the door, leaning against it; her bag slipped down her shoulder to the floor. She was wordless and her eyes didn't leave his face. Zaf turned off the TV, pushing himself up until he was sitting and watched her cautiously. 'Jo? Are you all right?'

She tossed the hair out of her eyes. 'Was this some kind of test or something? See how good how I am? Because I know you think I'm an idiot, Zaf, but I am actually good at this job. I'm really good at it.'

He stared at her. 'What are you on about?'

'I'm talking about the bloody photo, Zaf. "Oh, see if you can find out who this is, Jo. No-one can know about it, Jo." You son of a bitch!'

He had never seen her angry before. Not really. Annoyed, yes. In a bad mood, on any number of occasions. But not like this. 'Jo, honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about!'

Her arms were wrapped around herself, her pupils dilated until her eyes looked entirely black. 'Yeah. Of course you don't.'

'Jo...' Zaf stood, took a few steps towards her. She shrank back. 'Jo. I don't know what's wrong. I can't know if you don't tell me.'

Jo watched him, back pressed against the door. 'How about you tell me what's going on?'

He despised this. Lies and half-truths were a way of life. If he were completely honest, he would have to admit that he rather enjoyed it. Making up the outrageous stories and seeing how far along he could string someone. But not with Jo.

'I- I'm doing a-a favour for someone. For Harry.'

Her lips curled. 'You're doing a favour for Harry, but he can't know about it. Like I said - you think I'm stupid.'

She started to move. He would have caught hold of her but an impulse stopped him. He stood in front of her, blocking her path. They performed an awkward little dance and then she stopped, staring resolutely past his head.

'I have never thought that, Jo. Jo!' He sounded angry, and for that moment he was. 'Listen to me - I have never, ever thought you are stupid. You are a good agent and I have never thought any different. But I am doing something for Harry and I can't tell anyone else.'

'Right,' she said quietly. 'Right. So, you can't trust me enough to tell me about it, but you can trust me enough to get a favour out of me. Thanks a lot.'

There was an uneasy silence.

'It's not my secret to tell, Jo. And you're probably best well out of it.'

She met his eyes. 'But I'm not out of it, am I? I'm running errands for you and I haven't a clue what's going on.'

'Yeah. Yeah. I know. You're right. I-' The two spots of colour that had flared in her cheeks were receding. She had grown her hair longer again, shaggy blonde locks falling to her shoulders. He liked it longer; he would never tell her that. 'Harry asked me to do something for him. I wanted more information about one particular aspect,' he chose his words carefully and her eyes were calculating, 'and I didn't really want him to know that I was looking into it. I should have done it myself, and I'm sorry.'

Jo looked away from him for a moment and then back. 'And you really don't know anything about the woman in the photo?'

'I really don't. I just wanted to know who she is. I, uh, I'm guessing you know.'

Her chin jerked up again. 'Of course I know!'

Zaf held up his hands. 'Okay! Okay... Are you ... going to tell me?'

She glared at him for a little longer and then retrieved her bag from the floor, brushing past him on her way to the sofa. Zaf sat at the opposite end, careful to keep distance between them. She had pulled out the surveillance photo, placing it on the coffee table

'Her name is Mia Kenton. She used to work for MI5.'

'She was one of us?' He didn't know why that seemed so surprising.

'Yes,' Jo said slowly. 'But she was one of us. Section D.'

'Mia Kenton worked for Harry?'

'For Harry, with Harry before he became section head.' Jo ran her fingers through her hair, twisting a length between her fingers. 'It was pretty much a partnership. Look, a lot of the files are classified – like, super-ultra-for-your-eyes-only classified; and while I'm good enough at getting into those things, I'm no-' It was still impossible to say that name, and certainly not lightly. 'Have we got any wine?'

'Of course.'

Jo was more settled when he returned – arm spread along the back of the sofa, her legs tucked up. But there was still a distance in her eyes. She started slightly when he sat down again. 'Thanks. So. Mia Kenton. From what I could make out, she and Harry made quite a team. Section D was her first posting, straight out of training.'

Zaf smiled slightly. 'Sounds like someone else I know.'

'Don't try to flatter me, Zaf. I'm not in the mood.'

'I'm not!'

Silence. He breathed out heavily. Jo drank her wine.

'Her codename in the field was Unicorn.' Finally, she smiled at him. 'Guess what they called Harry.'

He grinned. 'Fitting, that.'

'Yeah.' Jo played with the stem of her glass. 'I found out quite a few things doing this little piece of research for you.' Zaf shifted uncomfortably. 'Like what happened when Harry was made head of Section D. Well, what led up to it, anyway.'

'Oh?'

'Some of it – like I said, the files are classified. But I-I got this.' Jo dragged her bag onto her lap, ferreting inside. It was huge and looked like she was carrying half her life around in it. Or like she was getting ready for a quick getaway.

'They're keeping your iPod in the classified section? Have you been downloading Marilyn Manson in office hours again?'

'Funny. It was a sound file – I copied it onto this.' She took a deep breath and more wine. 'This is from an operation in 1992. Harry and – Mia were working undercover on an anarchist terrorist cell. There were links to cells across Europe and they were pretty hardcore.'

'Extremists. They usually are.'

'Well, it might not have been quite as straightforward as that. Y'know, I was trying to piece it together and it just – it just seemed like the cells were a front for something else. They were being manipulated by a larger organisation and anarchy probably wasn't what they wanted.'

The mysterious them. There seemed to be an unending supply of them. Those shadowy figures, all too often protected by legitimate corporations and businesses. And even people in the services.

'So, what happened?'

'The field op went wrong. Mia Kenton was caught and held by the group she'd infiltrated. And this where it starts to get really murky. Some sort of deal was struck between the then head of Section D and-'

'Who?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know. That's something I couldn't find out without setting off every alarm bell in the place. But apparently the order was given for all the other agents to stand down.'

Zaf stared at her. 'They left her there? One of their- our own and they left her there?'

Jo unfolded herself, moved across to the stereo. 'That was the order given. But it was ignored.'

'Harry.'

'Harry,' she confirmed. 'You can hear what happened. The bastards left the wire working so we could hear what they were doing to her.' She was far too calm.

There was hissing, a sharp crackle and then the sound sliced through the small flat, cutting into his brain. A voice, screaming, so distorted by pain it was almost unrecognisable as human let alone a woman's. And she was begging.

The sound quality was bad, but it was clear enough that he could make out laughter and the taunts. And the descriptions of what they had planned for their victim. There was a muffled explosion, shots, the sound of a struggle that seemed agonisingly slow but in reality lasted only seconds. And two new voices – one instantly recognisable.

'Mia... Mia, can you hear me?'

'Harry! Have you found her? Where- Oh, Jesus. Shit.'

'Cut the rope; get her down from there. And for God's sake don't touch her back!'

Jo stopped the recording. The flat seemed unnaturally silent; Zaf could hear himself breathing. 'Is that- Did she leave the service after that?'

'No. Not then. Harry was made section head – his predecessor left under a very big cloud.'

'Probably not big enough to effect his pension, though,' Zaf muttered.

Jo smiled slightly. 'They never are, are they? Ms Kenton worked as a field agent on the Grid for almost another two years and then quit. She runs a sort of private security firm now. I've got an address.'

She was leaning against the bookcase, holding herself again.

'Thanks, Jo. Thanks for doing all this – I really do appreciate it.'

'They used a blowtorch on her. The photos were in the file.' She pushed herself away from the shelves. 'I'm going to have a shower.'

Zaf sat, motionless, and then stretched over for the photo. It was a little creased now and he smoothed it out. And even though he knew it was not real, he gagged slightly at the imagined smell of burnt flesh. Mia Kenton. It wasn't a very good photograph, but she still looked too fragile to survive something like that.

Former agent, former colleague – former friend? Or a current one? Another piece in this - whatever this was. Zaf wasn't sure if he was too close to the centre or back too far to see what was happening. And was aware, once again, that the line between excitement and fear was a fine one.

ooOoo

Juliet Shaw was used to intimidating people. She enjoyed it. Her physical stature had always helped and she had exploited it – heels that made her even taller, clothes that emphasised discreet power.

It wasn't quite like that anymore, but she still managed it. It just meant slightly different methods. And she still enjoyed the game, in meetings like this. The one-upmanship and politicking. Juliet had always been very good at it.

The man across the table was the usual sort – smooth, bland, unmemorable and deliberately so. At ease with himself and his position – but she could still see the wariness in his eyes when he looked at her. Juliet sat back, her lips curling into a smile.

'Well, I think that about wraps it up, Nigel. Or was there anything else?'

Nigel Marston leaned back in his chair, fingers steepling together. 'What's Harry Pearce up to these days?'

Her eyebrows raised. 'Harry? The usual – chasing terrorists, insulting politicians. Annoying the Americans.' All the things that she enjoyed were precisely the things that Harry detested. He had always sworn he would never play those games – she had to admit his consistency, if nothing else. Harry called it integrity; Juliet called it his sheer bloody-mindedness.

And yet there was a part of her that admired that.

She watched Marston carefully. Member of the JIC, seats on any number of committees, most of which were disguised under assorted seemingly innocuous names. That bland face didn't really equate with what the man really was.

His eyes had gone cold. 'I meant outside of the Grid.'

'I have no idea, Nigel. Harry's time is his own – I am hardly his keeper.'

'But you are his ... friend.'

She bristled inwardly, lips tightening. And said nothing. Never give them any ammunition. Someone had taught her that once.

'I hear he's been mixing with all sorts of people he shouldn't.' The man's tone was light, but there was no mistaking what lay beneath it. 'He could get himself into all sorts of trouble.'

Juliet held his gaze. He didn't flinch. 'Maybe you should be telling Harry that.'

Marston leant forward, placing both hands heavily on the desk. 'Oh, I'm sure he'll get the message. One way or another.' He smiled again. 'Goodnight, Juliet. A pleasure, as always. I'll see myself out.'

'Goodnight, Nigel,' she said levelly. 'Take care.'

He paused at the door, too far away for her to read his face clearly. But he had stopped, just for that moment. Juliet's lips curled again. 'Do say hello to your wife for me.'

Her lands lay motionless in her lap, her nails digging into her palms.

TBC