Welcome back to the world of ATAK. I gave into temptation.

But then I always do.


Attractive young women were no rarity at MI6, yet there was something about this one that demanded attention.

Perhaps it was because there was an element of aloofness about her. You could chase and chase and yet you'd never catch her. No matter how hard you tried.

Olive skin combined with dark curls that tumbled past her shoulders. Hazel eyes that seemed to stare continuously into middle distance, as if she was permanently focused on something more far more important than the present.

No one was sure what exactly she did in the organisation. She wasn't a field agent, not at this time anyway, though she had had her fair share of assignments outside the office. Instead she was attached to a high ranking figure – a high powered personal assistant so to speak.

She knew everyone within the building, and yet at the same time, she knew no one. She kept herself to herself, and worked hard.

She was working hard now. She strode purposefully through the hall of records buried deep within the basement of the building. It was cool down here, with the musty smell that no amount of cleaning could ever remove.

Sometimes, when she was in a fanciful mood, she would pause, and listen, and think that she could hear the waters of the Thames sloshing on the other side of the thick walls. She knew that there was no possibility of this, the walls being lined with solid metal panels, but occasionally, she liked to pretend.

It was a place of sanctuary for her. Few agents had permission to be down there, yet she could come and go as she pleased with no risk of an awkward encounter with another agent.

Sometimes she saw one of her counterparts – the slim redhead that smiled pleasantly at her, but left her to her own devices. They understood each other, Moneypenny and she, they both understood the pressure of their job, and exchanged sympathetic nods in passing.

But nothing more than that. There would be no gossiping, no complaints about the harshness, or demands of their superiors. They were professionals and understood the complexities of the work that they did.

Today, she was down here on a routine assignment; the tedious background checks that accompanied each new mission. Find the appropriate file, check, and then back to work.

Sometimes, the old ways were best. Computers could be hacked, files could be wiped out by viruses. Paper in a locked room. It was almost foolproof.

Almost.

Of course, it meant far more rummaging, and increased risk of paper cuts with the old system. And it meant if things weren't organised properly, you could end up pulling out the wrong piece of paper.

Curiosity drove her to open it. It was an overwhelming urge, quite unlike anything she had ever experienced before, somehow, she knew what she held in her hand would change her life.

She had to open it.

A birth certificate.

Like the agent who had retrieved it five years ago, her eyes opened wide, and she felt a shiver of shock course through her.

Disbelief flooded through her, interrupted only by a growing sense of triumph.

Her eyes narrowed, and a tight, fixed little smile appeared on her face. The paper crumpled at the edges as her fingers clenched tight on it.

Well, well, well.

This changed everything.


It happened so quickly.

Their day had been uneventful so far, pleasant, but just like any other day. They had swam, and laughed, and played in the sun, and they had been happy. Just the two of them. As the afternoon drew to a close they had packed their belongings away and climbed the steep stone steps back up to home, where they had dried off, and changed, and still they had laughed, and still they had smiled and all had been good.

It happened so quickly.

The first sign that something was wrong was a shadow cast through a window.

The woman's head had snapped up, and she had felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Something was wrong, and every instinct in her body screamed it.

'Stay here,' she whispered, as she crept across the room, her hand reaching to check the lock on the door was securely fastened.

It happened so quickly.

The sound of smashing glass came from another part of the house, there was the sound of heavy running feet coming in their direction, diving across the room, the woman had thrown herself against the door.

It was too late. The door imploded inwards, and they had stormed in. There had been a flash of metal, and she had collapsed to the floor, fighting unconsciousness, fighting the blackness that crept in from the edge of her vision.

'No!' she protested, feeling something warm and slick trickle down the side of her head. 'No...'

The protest faded into the commotion, as the men obeyed their orders.

Her head hit the softness of the mat, and she knew no more.

It had happened so quickly.

A little girl screamed for her mother.


At roughly the same time, thousands of miles away, a boy ran barefoot down the dusty road. He had no idea of the events that were happening to a young girl the same age as him in another country. Instead, he just ran down the road. He ran everywhere, it was quicker that way, and he could help his parents more. The brilliant sun bounced off his gleaming black skin, his white teeth showed in a broad smile. He stepped back to let a pick up truck filled with workers go past, and was just about to dash on when he heard an accented voice cry out to him.

'Jambo!'

He turned at the greeting, which sounded strange, and saw a tall white man standing on the edge of the road. The boy glanced around, saw no else there, then looked up at the white house that was hidden behind green fronds. He had run past this house everyday for almost all of his life, and had never seen the person that had lived there. He wondered if this man did.

'Jambo,' he answered shyly. He stood awkwardly in the dust, aware of his shabby clothing and dirty, dust stained feet. A fly buzzed round his head, but he didn't dare knock it away.

The man was dressed all in white. He had a gold tooth, the boy noticed, and his eyes widened at the sight of it as the man smiled broadly at him.

'Have you ever seen one of these, boy?' the man asked in English.

He held out a coin, and the boy stared at it. He edged forward, and was encouraged as the man crouched next to him. The coin was gold, like the man's tooth, and decorated with a strange figure, a bare-chested man with a long narrow beard attached to his chin. In his hand were a crook and a staff, and on his head was a large crown with a snake on it.

'No,' the boy mumbled, shaking his head.

'Do you know who that is?' the man rolled the coin in his fingers, until the strange crowned man showed again.

'No, sir.' The boy wondered why the man had singled him out, and wondered what his mother would do if she knew he was talking to this stranger.

The man seemed amused by the boy's shyness. 'He was a great King,' he explained patiently. 'He lived in Egypt, and Egyptian kings were called Pharaohs.'

'Pharaohs?' The boy repeated the strange word clumsily.

'That's right, a pharaoh. These kings thought they would live forever, that they would never truly die.'

'They wouldn't die?' The boy was intelligent, and this strange man was appealing to his curiosity.

'They thought they were gods. That they were too powerful to ever truly die.'

'Did they?'

'Did they what?'

'Did they die?'

'Oh yes,' the man laughed. 'They all died.'

The boy frowned. He had hoped they had truly been gods, and now he felt a flicker of disappointment. The man sensed this, and ruffled the boy's hair.

'Here,' he handed the coin to the boy. 'Yours. Now off you go, your mother will be waiting for you.'

With an incredulous look on his face, the boy clutched the coin in his fist and dashed down the road. He turned, waved, a brilliant smile on his face, and then faded into the distance.

The man waved back as he slowly straightened up. The smile had gone, and not even the harsh African sun could warm the cold features.

'No one lives forever. Not even you, Janus.'