Absolution

Chapter 7

“And, judging by your tone, you don’t like this man, do you? Have you worked with him before?” 

“He is the agent we dealt with during the Gerald Baxter extraction. Collinson let him strut about like he owned the place. It was pathetic how he just acceded to every demand that Arlington made.” 

“So, Collinson’s attitude was what has coloured your opinion of Arlington?”

“No, I’d dislike the man anyway and he…” Layla broke off. 

“What aren’t you telling me, Layla?”

“While you were in Afghanistan extracting Baxter, he was the agent for the United States doing deals with Zahar Sharq. John, you need to know that he is the man who ordered the American Special Forces to take out Baxter and yourself.”

John nodded. “And I’m guessing he was the person who ordered Sharq to ambush Collinson and myself.”

“Well, we’ve no proof, but yes you can bet he did. He is a calculating bastard, John.”

Porter smiled wryly. “I wonder, do you think when he meets me he will want to continue our - ‘special relationship’ -?” 

“Well, we’re about to find out. He’s in the reception giving Louisa a hard time.”

John turned slightly and studied the man in reception. If ever a man had an air of self-importance, it was Arlington. It was obvious from the way he stood looking down his nose and gazing impatiently around the reception area that he considered himself vastly superior to anybody in MI6. He was sharply dressed, his clothing impeccably tailored and his hair expertly styled.

“He looks like an ad for some male grooming product.” John ran his hand through his hair. “You know the ones I mean –‘because you’re worth it.’” 

Layla giggled at his exaggerated American accent. “You don’t use grooming products then, John?”

John’s eyebrows raised in mock horror. “Me, use grooming products! I’d get laughed out of The Special Forces. Besides, the kit bag isn’t equipped to carry moisturisers and hair gel. Good old fashioned soap and water is good enough for The British ‘Tommy,’ Layla lass.” The accent went from west coast movie star American to Rochdale, England.

Layla smiled. John Porter wouldn’t use and didn’t need any grooming products. Her smile widened as she remembered how she’d nearly swallowed her tongue when he’d reported to Hereford following his reactivation into the service. Gone was the shaggy mane of hair; in its place was a short, sharp, no nonsense style that suited both his face and character. 

“Would you care to share the secret that is making you smile, Lieutenant?” John asked.

“Nope, you’re big headed enough as it is, Sergeant, without me feeding your ego.” 

John laughed. God, Layla was sharp.