Working late at MI6 was no different to working during the day. If you had an office with a window, you might have noticed the day slipping into night, but deep within the building, it was impossible to tell if it was light or dark outside. Which was why, Charles Robinson was only mildly surprised when he stopped working, ran a hand over his tired face, looked at his watch and discovered that it was nearly midnight.

He had been at work since 6am that morning, and had barely noticed the hours fly by. His knee, on the other hand so to speak, had, and was now flaring up with pain, insisting that it received its eight hourly painkillers and soon. Charles swallowed the Voltarol with a grimace, knowing that within the half hour he would be suffering from the mild queasiness the drug brought on. However, it worked well at numbing the pain in his leg and therefore was worth every bout of mild sickness.

He leant back into his chair, trying to shift his knee into a comfortable position. The surgery he had received in France had worked well, but on return to England, he had been transferred to the MI6 hospital wing, deep within the bowels of the building, and had had a new kneecap fitted. Amazing what modern technology could do, Charles thought, although he had endured jibes about being the Bionic Man. It was mild enough teasing, and not exactly accurate, but it was so rare that anyone could find anything to tease Charles Robinson about, that his colleagues had grasped the opportunity with good natured glee. Charles smiled, waved, and acknowledged the gentle mocking with good grace, but if he was honest, he couldn't wait to get off his bloody crutches.

With a sigh, he glanced over at the offending objects and mentally cursed Alec Trevelyan yet again. And just for good measure, he cursed Ashleigh as well. He had tried to help, and what had he received for his troubles? An imploded kneecap and a week stay in a French hospital.

Gripping the edge of his desk, he slowly levered himself to standing, reaching out for his crutches, and awkwardly balancing himself upon them. He had hoped it would get easier with practise, but there was always that moment of total lack of grace when trying to stand, get his arms through the loops of the crutches and keep his balance all at the same time. Finally in, he made slow progress out into the corridor, hoping the painkillers would kick in, and soon.

'Working late, Charles?' a crisp, authoritative voice broke the silence of the hallowed corridors.

'Nope, just checking out the nightlife,' Charles muttered sarcastically. His patience was nearly at the end of its tether tonight, and even though it was his boss who had spoken, he still risked the comment.

'I'll ignore that, Charles, on the account of the medication that you're on,' M lifted a regal eyebrow.

'Very gracious of you, sir,' Charles turned to face M, who still managed to look as calm and collected as ever, even though he knew she had been in the office at least as long as he had been.

'No it isn't,' M smiled. 'I just want someone to share a nightcap with me, and you're the first lucky person I ran into tonight.'

'Is that an order sir?'

'Absolutely. Now, I think we'll use your office, as its closer.'

Inside the office, M produced a small silver hip flask, 'Present from the Prime Minister,' she explained with a small sneer, and poured a decent measure of bourbon into two mugs that Charles found in a drawer. 'Are these clean?'

Charles swirled the bourbon around the mug in as suave a manner as he could. 'Probably. I'm not entirely sure. I'm not entirely sure I should be drinking on this medication either.'

'Most likely not. Don't worry, I'll call a medic immediately if you starting acting strangely.'

'How will you tell, sir?'

'Oh, if you start sprouting feathers, or turn lime green, or something similar.'

'How reassuring, sir.'

M started into her mug. 'Its nice to be able to laugh about something. There's been nothing but bad news here recently.'

'Isn't that normal for here?'

'You know what I mean, Charles. We lost a good agent in Van Dien.'

'Bond seems to think so.'

'And you don't?'

'She was a profiler. She worked with the records. It could have been worse.'

M looked closely at Charles, noting the slight ashen tinge to his dark skin, the bags under his slightly bloodshot eyes. 'That's somewhat callous, don't you think?'

'Perhaps. But when you think of the agents we have in Afghanistan, out in Iraq, North Korea, China, and the risks they run every day, it could have been one of them, a 00, or a more senior agent. In the great scheme of MI6, Jasmin was small fry. I'm sorry that she's dead, but by the sounds of it, they were lying in wait for them both. It's a miracle that Ashleigh didn't end up the same way.'

'Is it?' M said idly. 'From what Wade told me, and he was only repeating Ashleigh's evidence, they were attacked by several men. Jasmin was killed, and then Ashleigh escaped after taking on only one man. One man. Where was the rest?'

'Dealing with Jasmin?' Charles shrugged.

'Shall we say there were six men? Just for argument's sake?'

'Alright,' Charles agreed warily, not sure where M was heading with the matter.

'Six men, two women. Ashleigh, according to her records is 5'4 and weighs 9 stone. Jasmin, 5'6 and the same. Both are, were, young women, with exemplary physical fitness. Both were experienced scuba divers, and both had faced mortal danger before. Although, admittedly, Ashleigh had perhaps more experience with that. However, they were outnumbered, three to one. Three men to each woman. Yet Ashleigh faced only one man. Did it really take five men to deal with Jasmin - who by the evidence we have, was already dead? Or if not dead, was dying, and quickly. Why not leave one man to deal with the dead woman, and five to attack the still living? Why let her get away? Why not chase her? Why was she allowed to swim away?'

'Sheer luck? We all know that some agents are blessed with it.'

'Perhaps. Or perhaps Ashleigh was meant to get away?'

Charles nodded slowly, processing what he had just been told. 'Jasmin's death could have been a warning?'

'Is Jasmin dead?' M said simply.

Charles sat up, an action that his leg immediately protested about. 'You know something, M. You have that look on your face.'

'Our dear American friend, Wade, let slip an interesting piece of information during our last conversation. One that he thought might come in useful to our investigation into our agent's death.'

'Oh yes?'

'There's a small town near to close the American base. On the morning that our agents were attacked, a young woman was reported missing - aged twenty eight, olive skinned, with long, slightly wavy dark hair. Now, this is nothing unusual, as you know young women have a tendency to go missing when the fancy takes them, usually there is a man involved, but the fascinating thing about this is that she has the same exact measurements as our deceased agent's.'

'Ok, so a woman matching the description of Van Dien goes missing on the same day that Van Dien is killed. But Ashleigh saw Van Dien die. Unless you're suggesting it was this girl who died instead?'

'That would be overly complicated, Charles, trying to switch women right in front of Ashleigh. Are you sure that medication isn't addling your brain? Think, Charles, think. Five men to deal with Jasmin, one to deal with Ashleigh. Five men to take Jasmin away, make Ashleigh think that she's dead. Ashleigh escapes, and immediately spreads the word of Jasmin's death. Except, Jasmin isn't dead. Jasmin is removed by the men, who then take her away. Then the Americans discover a body matching the description given by our agent. The body has been badly mutilated, it will be impossible to identify her. Wade has already admitted that he advised Ashleigh not to look at the body. But who says that Ashleigh would have been able to tell the difference, even if she had seen the body. Dark hair, olive skin, a slim body. Ashleigh would have been expecting to see Jasmin, it's likely that she would have identified her as such.'

'But it's too much of a coincidence to ignore?'

'Exactly. Which means we have a situation on our hands.'

'You suspect Van Dien is a double agent?'

M sighed, and folded her hands. 'I'm loathe to admit it, but yes. Jasmin spent many years researching Alec Trevelyan, please take that look off your face, Charles, and who knows what she might have discovered by chance. Perhaps she got the idea from Alec's two successful attempts at faking his own death?'

Charles tried to follow M's leaps of logic.

'Are you now suggesting that Jasmin may have known that Alec and Ashleigh were married?'

'I'm not suggesting anything, Charles, but please do carry on.'

'If Jasmin knew that they were married, then she may have known that there was a child as well. Or she may have jumped to that conclusion.'

'Or Natasha wasn't the main focus of the attack. Ashleigh was, and they realised they had struck gold when they discovered a child instead.'

Charles sipped at his bourbon, his mind racing. 'No. Ashleigh wasn't the focus. The child, Natasha, was. Alec's an orphan. His whole revenge was based around family, his parents. If anyone knew what his weak point was, it would be his daughter.'

'We're still coming to the same conclusion though, Charles. It looks like Van Dien was a double agent. And the likelihood is that she told our kidnappers about the Trevelyans. So who was Jasmin working for?'

'Le Loup,' Charles said dully.

'Pierre Merkalov,' M confirmed. 'It infuriates me, Charles, that we have all the information and no plan of action. We know who has Natasha, we know how she was taken, and who knew about her. We know the identity of a double agent, and yet, we have nothing more to work on.'

Charles glanced at his boss, who stared innocently back. 'Sir, yet again, you know something.'

'Yes, I do actually,' M smiled, taking a sip of her drink. 'But as head of MI6 I must be allowed some secrets sometimes, even from my Chief of Staff.'

'Are you going to tell James about Jasmin?'

M paused. 'I haven't decided yet. It may be too soon.'

'He's not taking it well, is he?'

'No,' M shook his head. 'I told him to take extended leave, and to my utter surprise, he accepted. I believe he is in Innsbruck at the moment. He has a house there,' M explained when Charles looked puzzled.

'I thought you didn't approve of relationships between agents,' Charles said with a touch of resentment in his voice.

'Don't be bitter, Charles, it doesn't suit you.' M snapped. 'I didn't approve of James and Jasmin, but as I'm sure you're aware, it's very difficult to police agents every hour of the day, no matter how much I would like to. The thing with James is that at least you can guarantee his relationships will be relatively short. Intense, but ultimately brief encounters.'

Charles remained silent. M watched him carefully, before setting her mug down on the desk in front of her.

'The relationship you had with Ashleigh, do you think it was serious? Or was it a brief encounter?'

'We never had the chance to find out, did we?'

This time M remained silent, waiting for Charles to continue.

'We had something,' he finally admitted. 'She was different from the other agents, there was something about her that appealed to me. It was different being with a fellow agent, someone who knew what it was like to live life under a cloak of secrecy. It was a change to be able to leave work behind and know that you weren't going to be questioned about your day, because we knew that we weren't able to talk about it. So we focused on other things.'

'So I remember,' M said wryly, and Charles had to look away. M had walked in on the lovers on their first night together, and although it had only once been mentioned, Charles was deeply uncomfortable with the thought.

'I just feel that we should have been allowed a chance,' he said fiercely.

'Do you think she was the woman for you?'

'Well I obviously wasn't the man for her,' he snarled. 'Perhaps if I had betrayed my country too…'

'Charles,' M said sharply.

'No. I don't think she was,' Charles admitted quietly.

'So what I did was right?' M pressed.

'I wouldn't go that far, sir,' Charles gave a small smile.

'Well, while we're making deep and dark confessions, I have one too.' M said, staring intently out of the window while she spoke. 'You shouldn't have favourites in the this line of work, but I do.'

'Sir?' Charles wondered if he should protest, to say that he didn't want to hear whatever M was going to say, but he knew that if the woman had decided it was time to make a confession then she would do so, whether he protested or not.

'I was determined that I would take over as M, long before my predecessor retired. I was already making preparations, working out who I would want to promote, who were the agents to keep an eye on. You were certainly one of them. I wanted people who were bright, knowledgeable, logical and yet were able to think outside the box as well. I wanted people who I could trust, and I saw in you the qualities that would make you a great asset to my staff. I made sure that you progressed rapidly, and that you would be where I wanted you when I finally took on the role.'

Charles looked aghast, and M lifted a hand to silence the protests that he was about to make. 'Not like that, Charles. If you hadn't been suitable, then you wouldn't be in the role now. My favouritism does not blind me to people's faults. Thankfully, you were better than I expected.'

'That's very reassuring, sir,' Charles said solemnly, reaching for the hipflask.

'Alec Trevelyan was another favourite,' M said softly. 'I saw the potential for a great agent there, a name that would go down in the history books, but for far better reasons than why it did. He took his role very seriously, worked with a cool head, and got excellent results. At one point, his kill record looked like a Who's Who of the criminal underworld. And yes, I favoured him. I made sure he got the assignments that would get him noticed. Ashleigh on the other hand… Ashleigh was more complicated.'

M sipped her refreshed drink. 'I was surprised when I discovered you and Ashleigh were together. Especially when I had serious plans for the both of you. It's why I offered you your current role, and Ashleigh the chance to become an active agent. It's what you both wanted, and I admit, I was curious to see whether you would take the offer or whether you would choose each other. I was thankful when you both accepted. You know that Ashleigh's father was a 00, don't you?'

Charles nodded.

'Far before your time, of course, but David Kain was a rare man. An agent with a family, and an agent who actually believed that he was fighting to save the world. As 009 he had the same talent as James and Alec, yet at the same time, he was completely different from them. He wasn't in it for the glory, had no need of the women that James and Alec picked up so effortlessly, and got on with his job. After his death, I took an active interest in Ashleigh. I thought I was merely ensuring that she got the education and opportunities that her parents would have wanted for her, but after a while I realised that actually I was, for want of a better word, grooming her to be an agent. I encouraged her to study languages, to stay active, although that wasn't difficult, keeping her away from a sports pitch and focused on her studies was more of a challenge. When she graduated from university, I had a ready made agent, fluent in several languages, physically fit, and intelligent. All I had to do was see if she had the same flair for being a spy as her father did, and in her own way, yes she did. I do wonder if she could have made 00, but that's something that we will never find out. Ashleigh chose her own path, but I made sure it was one I wanted her to walk before I let her take a single step.'

M gave Charles a hard look. 'I manipulate people, Charles. It's my job. I get them to do what I want them to do, and sometimes I give them direct orders, and other times, I let them think they had the idea all by themselves. The trick is in choosing the correct tactic.'

'What did you let me do?'

'Choose your own path,' M smiled darkly.

'And James? Is he another one of your favourites?'

'James?' M gave a wry laugh. 'James is a challenge. You can't order James to do anything. I've certainly tried, and sometimes I've succeeded. James will only do what James wants to do, and if it coincides with what you would like him to do then you're in luck.'

Silence fell once more, longer this time, and M glanced at her watch. 'It's getting late,' she said unnecessarily.

Charles reached for his mug, and drained the dregs of the bourbon. 'Yes, sir.'

'James is an adversary, not a favourite. But sometimes, it's those who challenge you that you respect more.' M stood, straightening her jacket, tucking the hip flask away. 'I have some work for you. I'd like you to start it first thing tomorrow morning. There's a new United Nations building being built in Switzerland. I need a complete security analysis of the layout.' M slid a small memory card across the desk, which Charles pocketed immediately.

'Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir.'

'Goodnight, Charles.' With a final nod, M left the room. Charles was left listening to the fading click of her high heels as she made her way down the corridors.

His leg was starting to ache once more.