Amber Knight
The ferry docked in the harbour at Eastbourne, a two hour's drive from Central London. We walked in painful silence to the nearest car rental service, arms crossed to shield ourselves from the salted wild winds of the southern coast. Despite the biting cold, the town was packed with desperate holidaymakers wandering around the sweet-scented pier clutching their ice creams, trying to hide their grimaces at the intense gusts that froze you to the core, only getting stronger as they neared the biscuit-brown beach.
We hired the car with no problems and promised to bring it back by tomorrow; a job for another agent, not me.
Without a word to each other, we set off for London.
Traffic was horrendous, stretching the journey by at least another hour after only thirty miles. The second I spotted a turn-off, I took it, opting for the longer journey through the backroads that wound between wet emerald hills and clusters of yellow common gorse that lined the jagged tarmac. I took one or two wrong turns on those roads, spotting Barnes's mouth curling into a smile from the corner of my eye but his mouth stayed shut, opening once to comment before he changed his mind.
Between the frustrations of driving, I had to fight to keep my eyes on the road, finding them drifting towards Barnes, alert to every subtle movement from him changing his leg position to scratching his head, chestnut hair falling out of place. Occasionally our eyes met for a brief moment and I would snap the stare away, acting as if my stomach didn't flip every time his brown eyes looked my way.
I clenched my hands around the wheel then geared up to fifth in one vicious tug.
Handing him over to Alistair – never to be seen again – was much harder than I imagined.
***
London's air was stale and unwelcoming when we arrived, polluted with car fumes and algae that crawled up the side of the Thames. None of what I remembered as home – the ground coffee, the smell of rain wearing away the tarmac – was there. Only a choking stench and a shroud of dark, dusty pink rainclouds ready to combust hanging over the agency's headquarters.
Barnes and I stood side by side for a moment on the white pavemented steps, apprehensive as we stared at the green-glassed building that gleamed dull yellow in the light of the setting sun that sieved through the clouds.
Those doors were supposed to call me home. I was desperate to finish this mission the second I began it, but now something was different.
Scotty wasn't with me. Home wasn't there. It was like arriving at your front door after a long journey, seeing the hinges had been broken and the wood torn; you thought you wanted to return, but now you fear what is inside.
I took a breath. Home was there. It was within my work: my entire life. I had lived without Scotty for years, had trained without him and joined the agency as an individual. I could do this alone.
"Home sweet home," mumbled Barnes, looking to see what my reaction would be.
"Yeah," I said just as quietly. "Home."
I reached for the aluminium hands on the great glass doors and led Barnes inside.
Once in, I paused at the second set of doors, looking at the camera that allowed us access. If I had my ID, I would have been able to simply scan it and enter, but I had lost it with my clothes back at the hospital.
The panel beeped, the light turning green, and the two of us entered the main part of the building.
The bottom floor had always been the busiest, mainly due to its coffee stand and café with dozens of white round tables and chairs, beside it rows of grey leather sofas and glass tables topped with laptops, books, bags and mugs. Agents spent their lunch breaks downstairs, but it was mostly trainees and new recruits that populated the area. As they climbed through the ranks, agents became more solitary, opting to keep within their assigned floor instead of mingling with the younger employees. I was one of those that only made the rare trip for lunch when I forgot to bring it, or a caffeine refill when the machine on our floor broke.
I counted eight seconds before the whispers began.
Senior Level Agent's missions were a mystery to others, the excitement of the secrecy enough to get the younger recruits to gossip about the endless possibilities. Today they had a hint because I was not returning with Scotty, but instead an agent of a lower standing that many assumed I had never met, and never would have if not for the mission.
"Is that Agent Knight?" one asked.
"Who's that with her?"
"I haven't seen her for over a week. Where do you think she's been?"
"I don't see her friend. The Scottish one."
"I heard that his helicopter crashed on the job! A great tragedy."
"Wait. Is that Agent Barnes?"
Every mission without fail ended in gossip, rumours spreading like wildfire. The longer missions intrigued them the most, I had learned. Most days I could ignore them with ease but hearing Scotty's and Barnes's names being taunted like that had me scowling, desperate to get in the elevator with no-one else joining us.
The elevator was central to the rest of the room, metallic and silver. Barnes and I approached it, the doors opening as I stabbed the button, watching it light up in a ring of green.
"Are you alright?" Barnes asked as we stepped inside. "They're not exactly discreet."
"I'm used to it," I sighed. When I pressed the button for the top floor, the doors closed behind us, sealing Barnes and I inside without anyone else coming in.
We were alone.
I sent Alistair a short text telling him I was on my way up and the elevator started moving, then put the phone back in my pocket, leaning back against the varnished wooden railing.
"You remember what I told you about Alistair?" Barnes asked, his voice grave and wary. I nodded slowly, holding back an aggravated sigh. "Keep an eye on him," he warned.
"He's not like that," I hissed, my voice bouncing off the walls harsher than I had intended. I was taking more offence to the accusations against Alistair than I imagined I should have, and that made me feel slightly wary of myself.
Barnes, clenching his jaw, huffed and slammed his hand into the emergency stop button.
"Barnes, what the hell are you—?"
"This may be the last time I ever get to speak to you," voice calmer than he had been in the last moment. "My 'last chance,' I suppose."
My heart leapt and knotted my stomach. "Your last chance... for what?"
"For talking to you," he said. "I... I like talking to you, believe it or not. You're the only person I've met in a while that I enjoy speaking to."
I smiled, warm and genuine. "Barnes," I said softly. I glanced at the space between us – just two steps – then back at his face, taking it all in before... before the doors opened. "Thank you. For making me laugh despite everything that's happened."
He beamed. "Always a pleasure to see you smile."
It was a fight to not dwindle on that. "And..." I sighed, thoughts landing on Scotty as guilt pricked at my mind. "I don't blame you for what happened to Scotty. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known so I shouldn't have blamed you for it."
He blinked. "Was that an apology?"
I sighed. Don't make me regret this. "Yes."
"Amazing!" He grinned the way he often did. "This day is getting marked on my calendar."
"Do you want to get tasered again?" I quipped, straining to hide my smile.
"With what taser?" Barnes cocked his head.
"My taser, obviously."
"Oh." His grin widened knowingly. "You mean the one you left on the bar table."
I blinked, vaguely remembering setting it down on the table so I didn't hurt anyone – including myself – after a couple of drinks. "That one."
Barnes shrugged. "You can always get a new one."
"That one was special," I sighed, showing my smile so he knew I was joking. "I electrocuted you with it."
He chuckled. "Glad to know I'll be missed!"
Barnes forced a laugh, dipping his chin to say he was prepared to continue the ascension towards his containment.
I gulped and reached for the control panel, Barnes doing the same so our skulls bumped together. Laughter cracked between us and we leaned back against the railing beside one another, still proudly wearing our smiles without a single care.
They faded as we turned to look at each other, the rumbling of the elevator drumming through our bones, shaking off any worries we carried in there with us. That was all I needed to do to relax; look at him and enjoy the moment, basking in the tranquillity of returning a gaze openly, letting your eyes tell a story others could never decipher. It was freeing to see him as more than a rogue agent because his life reached beyond that title. Trapped behind the lies, the rumours and the schemes was a complex individual, and a man with a fierce heart.
Barnes leaned in, hand raised to gently touch my cheek. I flinched at the contact then settled, finding strange comfort in the heat the connection provided. My hand slid silently across the railing, fingers stretching out to touch his arm. He furrowed his brows, wonder writing its way across his features as if shocked I had not shoved him away and listened to the voice that barked orders in my mind.
Another drowned it out.
Barnes's thumb stroked my face in a soft action, his hand brushing my jaw as I took a breath, watching where it moved. He tilted my chin upwards, making me look at him with intent.
Then I was lost. Deep golden desire stared back at my frosty irises, melting them into wrongful longing. The most selfish part of me thumped against my ribcage, egging me onwards. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.We shut everything else out, our noses passing each other in a brief touch of greeting. Our lips were close, so close their warm, magnetic buzz forced them to get closer.
But a force even more powerful dragged me back into reality.
"I can't," I breathed. The gust of his breathing halted, allowing me to open my eyes. He held it in tightly, his whole body frozen. "I'm sorry, I... I can't." My voice was a sad stutter; a mess of words thrown together in panic and desperation.
He tried to hold back the pain, but his voice crumbled. "Why?" he asked, near silent. His hand fell from my chin to rest behind my neck. I swallowed at the mild pressure.
"You know why," I reminded him, fighting to stiffen my quivering lip.
He let out a long, broken breath through his nose. "I know, I just—" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have— I'm sorry."
With his hand behind my neck, he pushed me towards him, wrapping his arms around my torso in a tight hug, burrowing his face in my hair. I stiffened then leaned into it, curling my arms over his shoulders as I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the river that stung them. His limbs shook, heart racing the way it did on the train. I held him closer, trying to find some way to ease the pain and make him relax, put the pace only quickened, chest thumping against my own.
We were both powerless to do anything against it, but it was impossible for us to have. Our wants were irrelevant.
His grip loosened and he pulled away, looking upon my face with a countenance just as broken and torn as my own, hands on the back of my neck again.
I stirred as the elevator rang the warning bell, having barely a second to find the words to say goodbye... even if I did not want this to end.
I swallowed, clearing my throat with a pitiful sigh.
"I'm sorry, Derek."
His face cracked, lips parting in shock as his hold on me fell, fingers brushing my skin and combing a strand of hair as I stepped back, not willing to let myself see his reaction.
A chorus of shouts fired across the floor as I left the elevator.
"Agent Knight!"
"There's Barnes!"
"Security!"
Their words faded away as I followed my feet to anywhere but the area behind me, fighting back the blinding pain of tears in my tired eyes. Only one voice was cohesive among the chaos; the only voice that seemed to matter.
"Amber." Barnes's voice picked up in panic. "Wait. Please.Amber!"
Keep walking. Ignore what he's saying. Keep. Walking. Away.
I did. Even after letting my barriers slip, after letting him see me for meand not the agent handing him over, I left him behind, turning my back on the barely reciprocated kindness he offered.
I hardly even noticed the footsteps storming towards me.
"Agent Knight, you did it!" Collins exclaimed, squeezing my shoulder as he passed. I winced, feeling the tug of the stitches, but grit my teeth as he went after Barnes.
Bone thudded against flesh, followed by a groan from Barnes as he was tackled to the floor. I reached for my heart – this was my own doing.
"You're back!"
I jumped at the flash of shell pink before my eyes, startled as Gabby stepped in front of me with a bright smile. I blinked, struggling to focus through the watery haze.
Her smile faltered, beautiful brown eyes softening. She looked passed by shoulder for anyone listening, finding all attention to be on Barnes as he was escorted across the office. "Amber, what's wrong?"
I bit my lip, holding back the flood of emotion that choked me from the inside, shaking my head to tell her not to bother. I was an agent – I could manage my own feelings well – but my mind was a mess, my head and heart fighting. Everything was wrong. My walls collapsed into my hands, slipping through my fingers.
"What happened?" she pushed.
I held my breath. It was a fool's move to repeat what Barnes had said about Alistair; even more stupid to admit what occurred in the elevator. I was crumbling, my chest tight and throat sore. In times of struggle, I went to Scotty, trusting him completely to keep what I said between the two of us. I liked Gabby, but was not entirely confident in her intentions.
"I—" I cringed at the cracked whisper, letting out a shallow breath. "I don't know what to do."
There was no hesitation from her whatsoever. With a pitiful pout of her lip, she wrapped her arms around me, polyester blazer hugging me like a blanket. My hands hung in the arm behind her, but soon rested on her back as I grew accustomed to the hug.
"I'm here," she said, voice like honey. "Anything you need."
I bit my whimper back, the tears hanging by a thread. Everything was a mess. Derek – Barnes– did not deserve a lifetime of confinement. I witnessed a streak of anger back at the hospital, but was it enough to label him as someone so vile he could sell out his own country? Alistair's explanation had to be good.
I broke away from the hug first, taking a breath. My chest tightened at Gabby's look of sympathy.
"Do you need to talk?" she asked.
I shook my head, appreciating her willingness to help. She understood my need for secrecy and dipped her chin in a nod.
Collins returned, fluffy pale hair bouncing as he strode between the desks.
"Agent Knight, Alistair would like a word."
Finally. "Of course," I said, pulling the zip of my jacket down as the room grew hot. Despite fidgeting for answers, I could not help but think of the elevator, worried that Alistair somehow knew what happened.
"But she's just returned from a mission," Gabby argued. "She needs rest, and food, and to go home and—"
"Gabby," I stopped her. "I'm fine. I'll go."
"But you—"
"Have responsibilities. I can handle a meeting." I dismissed her frown.
"He wants me to lead you there," Collins added.
"I know where his office is," I replied, only slightly patronised. "I don't need an escort."
"Alistair seems to think that you do." Collins shrugged. "We should go. He'll be waiting."
Verbal mission reports often went straight to Collins but, given the severity of the situation, it was of little surprise to me that Alistair wanted to receive it himself. What I found strange, however, was that I needed to be taken to him. It was as if Alistair didn't... as if he didn't trust me.
We walked on in silence, leaving a sheepish Gabby behind. I twiddled my thumbs in apprehension, my feelings uneased at Collins's anxious face. He was often so calm, so controlled.
"Collins," I said, "what's wrong?"
His eyes flitted to one side, wary of our surroundings. "It's the agency," he whispered, still keeping the distance between us. "Alistair has hired an outside organisation to help with the case."
"You mentioned that." I frowned. "What's wrong with them?"
"They aren't an organisation. They are thugs, Amber," his tone sharpened, words merging into each other. These men angered him – offended him. "They come and go from the building without notice, some coming back injured, complaining of losses and trouble overseas."
"Do you think Alistair's sending them out to fight?" I shook my head at my own question. "No. Why would he when he has trained agents to follow orders?"
Collins rubbed his brow and I noticed his ocean eyes rimmed with red, creases at the edges. "That was my initial thought as well. I don't understand how they are going to help with—"
"Oi!"
Collins and I spun, taking in the appearance of the swaggering figure headed our way. He matched the Second-in-Command by height, but beat him in terms of muscle, his shoulders far wider, appearing bulkier beneath the deep blue waterproof jacket that did a terrible job at concealing the firearm strapped to his belt. Ideally, agents were not permitted to possess firearms at their side in the building; only security and the Senior-Level agents were allowed.
I furrowed my brows at the stone expression, eyes constricting with hazel fire, black hair resting on his shoulders.
"Do I know you?" I asked blankly.
The man's lip quirked mockingly. "Apparently you haven't been here for a few days, my dear," he said, his accent low and drawl.
"No, I haven't," I admitted, my gaze betraying me to look at the gun. I saw no signs of a badge. "Are you an agent?"
"No."
"Security?"
"In a way."
"Can you offer any identification that can explain why you have a firearm strapped to your belt in an office?"
"Can you?"
"Mika, please."Collins stepped between us, holding out an arm to push Mika back. "Agent Knight has just returned from a multi-day mission."
"Agent Knight? Oh." Mika grinned. "My apologies if the lady is tired."
I clenched my jaw. The lady could kick his arse, if I wished, no matter the situation.
"I've just returned from a mission as well," he went on. "All the way in France. Lovely and cold. Just like England this time of year."
"I noticed," I replied, looking him up and down. There was something familiar about him. Like I had seen him in passing.
"A mission. I was told it was a trip," said Collins, brows low.
"It was," Mika insisted. "Until I got shot."
Seeing my frown, Mika huffed a laugh. "But I imagine you don't want to hear that, do you? I think you have a meeting to get to, so I'll keep this brief."
He held out a hand, the sleeve of his jacket pulling up to uncover a tattoo I had seen twice already.
"Mika Augustine. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent Knight."
The man was shot... in France.
I glanced at his wrist, the pieces fitting together at the shadowy mark.
Mika and I had met in that coastal town. He tailed Barnes and I into the clothing store, singling Barnes out for a fight. He was the one I had shot, leaving him behind with a non-fatal wound.
Augustine. He hated Barnes and tried to kill the two of us. He called me collateral. And Scotty...
Holding my breath, I hissed. "I saw you." His hand was left unshaken. "I saw you in France."
He furrowed his brows, drawing back his hand. "You did? I don't remember—" His face froze. He did remember. His features twisted, hardening in furious realisation.
"You bitch," he cursed.
"You tried to kill us." You killed Scotty.
"You tried to kill her?" Collins snapped.
"Knight!"
The door to Alistair's office had opened, the Director statured furiously in the doorway. Collins and I fixed our faces, putting a step's distance away from Mika, who kept his scowl.
"Come in," said the Director. "You too, Collins."
We obeyed, silently filing into the oak-scented office, Mika's stare digging into my back. If anyone should have retaliated, it should have been me. I threw a punch at Barnes, who had done nothing to hurt Scotty. To think of what I was willing to do to Mika...
There were more inside. Guards dressed in the same casual clothing as Mika covered the windows of the office, each clutching firearms to brandish the same tattoo on their wrists.
I shared a nervous glance with Collins, who tried his best not to look put off by the crowded room. Three chairs awaited us before Alistair, but only Collins and I sat down opposite the Director, Mika leaving us to perch himself against the wall.
He leaned back in his chair.
"Knight," he said, shoulders pointed in sartorial superiority. "Welcome back. From Barnes's capture, I trust your mission went well, excluding what happened to Agent Williams."
It hurt, but I didn't show it. "It did. There were a few minor inconveniences but nothing I would call a challenge."
Mika pushed himself up from the wall and growled. Alistair frowned, looking between the two of us.
"Would either of you care to explain something?" An order, not a request. I was happy to oblige.
"Yes, Mika. Why don't you tell Alistair all about how you murdered Agent Williams and tracked myself and Barnes throughout my mission?"
"Minor inconvenience?" Mika hissed.
"Frankly, your men are bad shots," I confessed. "I suffered greater injuries from a tree than from any of your crew." Collins struggled to hold back a smile, evidently disliking the new arrival. I was inclined to agree.
"Why you little—!"
"Mika, sit down," Alistair spat. Mika choked.
"But she—!"
"Has just returned from an interrupted mission, courteous of you, only to be talked down on as if she is without worth." The Director smoothed down his blazer. "You will address Agent Knight with the respect she deserves and keep that mouth of yours shut."
Alistair directed Mika to the chair beside Collins without a single word or movement. He huffed and strutted towards it, slumping into the leather like an angry child.
The Director folded his hands atop the desk. "Now, Agent Knight, can you explain to me what has occurred?"
"He shot down our helicopter," I explained. I could feel the heat on my skin, the light burning my eyes... Scotty inside the wreck. "He tracked Barnes and I to the train, making two attempts on our lives, then followed us to a hospital and all the way through the town until we reached the ferry. He fired on us countless times."
"You shot back!" argued Mika.
"Who wouldn't have?" I snapped. "Are you really so naïve to think no-one would defend themselves? Especially agents."
"I agree with Agent Knight, if you don't mind me saying," said Collins. "It would be foolish not to defend oneself."
Mika scoffed, shaking his head as if I had started this discussion. If he worked for Alistair, why track down Barnes at all? I was capable of bringing him in alone and proved that, even when opposed, I could still be successful.
Alistair swallowed. "Mika, can you tell me why you tried to have one of my top agents killed?" His tone shook with anger he tried to mask; at least I could tell Alistair was prepared to defend me on this.
"She was just collateral," said Mika with a dismissive wave. "It's Barnes I'm after."
So I had been told. "So that makes it okay?" Collins questioned.
"You would have Barnes in a cell," Mika hissed at Alistair. "I want him in a morgue."
I clenched my jaw, turning my head so Alistair would not notice. "I know how you feel about Barnes," he said, making me flinch. "But that is not something you should have taken out on Agent Knight."
"I want him dead, Wight!"
Alistair slammed his palm on the table, the whole room stirring in a wave. "We need him alive for now. When the agency is done with him, you can do as you please."
The pain in my chest was suffocating as I caught Mika's smile. It was crooked, sickening and warped as it was triggered by his joy at witnessing pain directed at Barnes. He was trapped against Mika, backed into a corner because I put him there.
"You can't kill a prisoner in custody," I declared. All accusatory eyes fell on me. "It is unethical."
"Many of our methods can be deemed unethical Miss Knight, as you well know," said Alistair. The guilt gnawed at me again, but I persisted.
"You can't kill Barnes while he is not resisting. He should be left in his cell."
"Then I leave," Mika added. "Every second longer that Barnes lives is another moment I get closer to walking out that door."
I raised an eyebrow. "You make it seem like that's a punishment."
"Miss Knight, please," Alistair groaned. "We need you, Mika. You will have Barnes when our use for him is done."
I calmed the fast breath I drew. I had challenged Alistair in favour of Barnes, and was praying that he did not pick up on it. Suddenly aware of this, I started to sink into my chair, fearful there were cameras in the elevator I was not aware of. If that was the case, I was in trouble.
"Knight," said Alistair. I blinked to attention, fearing guilt ridded my face. "I assume Collins has informed you of our progress with the Government." I nodded. "Well," he continued, "now we have finally reached a point in which we have been allowed to schedule a meeting to discuss our promoted powers."
"Really?" I said, trying to mask the knowledge Collins had already told me. The Director may have already found out at this point, but through his busy schedule it would have been difficult to find the time to check the phone call.
"Yes," Alistair replied. The corners of his lips twitched upwards into the closest smile he could manage. It worried me.
"Where will this meeting be held?" I asked. Collins was unable to tell me this. "The Commons, I'm presuming."
"None of your business," Mika whined. I pulled a face that swore a dozen times.
"Is it any of yours?" He wasn't an agent, after all.
"Actually," Alistair said through a sigh, "Mr. Augustine will be accompanying me to the meeting."
A defeated croak left my mouth. I grew up with Alistair, and Collins was his self-assigned Second-in-Command, but neither of us could go while Mika was given free rein? Mika smirked at my reaction.
I let out a long breath. "Can you tell us where it is?"
"I cannot." It took restraint to not roll my eyes. "But I will require full support from you – both of you – when I return."
It was not in London, then. Collins frowned, sitting up straight. "Full support, sir?"
"Assurance," he explained. "I need to know that my two most trusted agents support the movement I am trying to push for the agency. I need to know that you believe in us having the control we deserve."
"How will it be achieved?" I challenged. I was walking on thin ice with every syllable. Alistair swallowed, likely debating on whether to scold me for questioning or authority, or praise for me not walking into a decision blindly.
"With due time, Agent Knight."
"What about Mika's... accomplices?" asked Collins. "What is their purpose here?"
"For support," said the Director.
Why hire extra manpower for a professionally-trained agency with pre-existing loyalty? He had enough of it within this building.
Barnes's words crossed my mind again. What he told me on the ferry slowly started to make sense. Alistair was questioning authority; he had thugs on his side demanding someone's life.
I had to know if it was true; to know if the man I admired was willing to risk so many lives for the war Barnes claimed he wanted.
"And what do you plan to do when you are offered this power? What do we gain?"
There was another pause so deadly my mind made up every excuse possible that replaced the answer Barnes gave me.
He didn't even flinch, not bothering to lie. "A war."
I blinked. "A war?"
"Russia," he huffed. "With the power I hope to gain from this meeting, I am ambitious that we can end this silent war between our countries that has killed countless agents over the years. It is time we take a stand in the names of those agents that died in the dark. We cannot suffer anymore losses for the sly desires of our leaders."
"For Alice and Freya, you mean," I dared.
His eyes darkened, but he remained calm. He understood the look I was giving him; the look of quiet scepticism. Alistair often saw that during a lecture regarding Marcus, but never had it been directed towards a policy of his.
"Yes," he finally admitted. "My family is one of the many examples of how our leadership has failed its loyal servants. You know how others have suffered."
"I do."
"That is appreciated," said Alistair. "Therefore, I must ask again: Amber, Arthur, do you support us?"
Our forenames were used as a personal tactic to reel us in, remove the distance he dug when he excluded us from the meeting. He took care of us both in different ways, being a father to me and a mentor to Collins. We were rewarded and trained, sculpted and lectured to become perfect agents – perfect followers of him. This was the payment that was required for all those years of generosity.
He wanted our support for anarchy while representing order. It was true that people, particularly agents, had been failed in the past. It was also true that powerful individuals across Russia had caused much of that suffering. But war was a significant overreaction. Even if he killed those in power as Barnes had suggested, he would have to declare the war within weeks, possibly days, and the act would destroy both countries, ruining even more innocent lives. It was hypocritical and reckless – things I never imagined Alistair to be.
But our hands were tied. With Mika and his armed gang surrounding us, Barnes locked in a cell, and no evidence of Alistair's warmongering, we had no choice but to nod our heads.
"Of course I do," I replied.
Alistair smiled. "Collins?"
Collins mimicked my body language, straightening up to attention and bowing his head in submission. "I feel the same."
"Good," said Alistair, shoulders dropping. "It is refreshing to see the minds of the younger generation. You have shown you understand what it takes to truly put your country first." Or yourself, in Alistair's case. "You may go now. Thank you for meeting with me."
Collins and I couldn't have gotten up quicker, while Mika swung his legs to give himself the energy to stand.
"And I am sorry about Scotty," said Alistair, voice unusually benign. "Despite our differences, he was a fine young man and an excellent pilot."
I forced a sad smile. "He was."
Mika's men flooded out the room, Collins cramped among the crowd with myself and Alistair's new favourite bringing up the rear. Just the sight of him was enough to make me sick to my stomach. Barnes told me his side of the story, admitting there were gaps within it, but maybe Mika's involvement had gone unnoticed to him, and it was his influence that turned Alistair so dark.
I spun around, walking back to Alistair's desk to the attention of Mika.
His silver-lined brows raised as I approached.
"Alistair," I said politely, "may I speak with you?"
He stacked a handful of papers together and slid them to one side. "Yes, of course.
I glanced over my shoulder, spotting the black-haired fly on the wall. "Alone?"
The Director paused for thought. "Mika, do you mind?"
"Don't you need a guard?"
I snorted. As if Alistair was incapable of defending himself!
Trying not to look insulted he said, "No. You can go."
Mika sighed and left us to our own business, ensuring he fired a glare my way as the door closed.
"I apologise for Mika's attitude. He can be unpredictable. Unprofessional at times, also, but he gets things done."
"Just not assassination attempts on your agents," I quipped, still feeling bitter.
Alistair sighed. "I did not give that order," he assured. "He insisted he had to travel for business in preparation for the meeting, and I was foolish to not question it. I apologise for that as well."
"What made him so desperate to kill Barnes?" I asked, crossing my arms. "He went against your wishes, insulting the trust you have for your agents."
"Mika Augustine has a personal vendetta against Barnes. Don't ask me what it is – it is not my place to disclose that. The day you left for the Alps, him and I had a disagreement over how Barnes should be handled. I wanted him questioned and trialled through official guidelines for treason, while Mika simply wanted him dead. He abused my offer of resources and took off with a pair of our fighters." That was why those fighter jets intercepted us. Mika had fallen out with Alistair and took matters into his own hands. I tucked in my clenched fist to hide the white knuckles. "I will deal with Mika's insolence after the meeting, I promise you that." Knowing that eased the strain on my tendons but only a fraction.
"And what about you?" I said when calm. "You have told me why Mika wants him, but not you."
He took a creased black leather book from one of his drawers and began writing. I had seen him use it a few times in the past to record the contents of a meeting. "Barnes discovered some classified information regarding the upcoming meeting and threatened to sell it. As I'm sure you understand, I could not have that and chose to send you after him when he escaped London."
I nodded, not believing it. A dozen other agents had gone missing – the ones on Alistair's list – but I had to be careful with what information I revealed myself to be aware of. With this line of work, secrets were lifelines, even against your superiors.
"I presume you did not ask to speak with me to discuss Mika."
I shook my head. "No."
"Then please," He gestured towards the centre-chair facing his desk, "speak."
I took a hesitant step towards the chair but did not sit down, instead standing behind it and resting my hands atop it curved, wooden rail.
"With everyone else out the room, I wanted to speak with you about this meeting," I explained. "I want you to be sure you know exactly what you're doing."
He sniffed, finding humour in what I had said. "You know me, Miss Knight, of course I know what I am doing." No, there had to be some other explanation. This was not him.
"Then enlighten me," I said, more demanding than I intended. "I mean, starting a war? Is that really what is best for this agency? This country?" I tried rein in my dislike of his plan, but it flowed through my words, a stream dragging all the unwanted debris and waste with it. It was obvious, especially to someone who knew me as well as Alistair, that I was cracking under the weight of his goal.
He was uninterested in a shouting match, but his dismissal only flared my anger even more. This was not the man I knew. He would not casually entice war for the country. "The threats are only rising, Amber. You know from Alice and Freya how cruel that country can be."
"And I know from Alice and Freya how quickly those caught in conflict are forgotten by their leaders."
My words brought a scowl to his face and his frame to a swift stand. "You have seen the way I treat my agents. You have read the letters and been to the funerals. I have attended every single one of them since I was awarded this position, girl. Every. Single. One." He spoke through his teeth, firing ice with a marksman's precision. "I will not let them die in the dark. I will not let them be forgotten."
"And the ones you hope will be forgotten like Barnes? What happens to those who opposed you; who found out your plan? How hypocritical is it of you to—!"
I shut my mouth. No-one within the agency had told me that – Alistairhad not told me that. It was Barnes that planted the idea of agents being disposed of for knowing Alistair's dirty secrets, and my own opinion that snapped into subconscious agreement.
It was Barnes's words I was speaking.
Alistair blinked slowly. "Who told you that?"
That wasn't a denial. "It doesn't matter. Is it true?"
He could have lied to my face and I would have believed him. I could have basked in the blissful ignorance that came with the belief that the man who saved me from pure evil was inherently good; a benevolent figure that saw value in every life, including that of the young girl he cared for.
And he didn't even try to hide the fact that it was all a lie.
"Sometimes sacrifices have to be made. If a handful of lives are taken to ensure the safety of more, I am prepared to strike the final blow myself."
It wasn't just the agents I was thinking of, but the Government Barnes claimed Alistair wanted gone. His accusations I once laughed at were no longer funny to me, but a strong cause for nausea. "This isn't right," I said. I felt something snap.
"I thought you supported me."
"I have supported you through everything!" I yelled, startling even myself. "For years I have done your bidding, followed your every command without question because I believed in you. I believed that every action I took in your name was a step in the right direction towards the greater good."
"This is for the greater good!" His roar shook the desk, rolling a pencil off the edge. "People suffer today so others never have to."
A chill ran down my spine. Marcus told me that once. Alistair's tone snapped and barked as if I had betrayed him, but it was the other was around. He could have stabbed the beating crevice in my chest and I would have felt no more pain.
"The only thing a war can achieve is a casualty number," I begged, softening my voice so that he could understand. "I am sorry about your family, Alistair, you know that I am. But they were agents. Like us, they signed up for putting their lives on the line for their country. They shouldn't have been forgotten as they were, but the people that will die in this war of yours are not responsible. The agents, the civilians... they're all innocent. Not to mention you won't ever get away with—"
"Go home, Amber."
My eyes burned as I blinked. "What?"
"Go home." He sat himself down with a snide huff dropping my housekeys dismissively on the desk. "You will not contact me until you have that temper of yours under control."
I snatched the keys and let go of the chair, shaking hands lingering over the railing, and took a step back from the man I did not recognise, staring repulsed until I turned around.
Alistair was a man consumed by grief and tempted by power. That combination had him blind to all logic, numb to emotional consequence. Even if the greater good was attainable from his war, it was almost impossible for him to even reach the point where he would be in a position to declare it. Without the Government, Alistair's voice would carry more weight, especially if he had a few allies on the inside – of which I had no doubt he did – but there were measures in place that could block an unlawful act if he had not set other solutions in place.
The power he held as Director had made revenge a possibility for him. Knowing I was a reason for him gaining the position in the first place knocked me sick as I closed the door behind me.
I had paled by the time I left Alistair's office, and almost threw up my dreadful thoughts as someone jumped from behind a corner, clamping their hand over my mouth and slamming me into a wall.
"I heard what you said," Mika hissed quietly, speaking so close to my face I could feel his breath bouncing off my cheeks and nose, and scrunched them up. "So before you go running off to whatever Government official you think may listen to you, I would like to remind you that an investigation such as this would take some time to even start. Especially when you have no evidence to back up your accusations."
I lurched my hand to claw Mika away, but my wrist was grabbed.
"In fact, it takes a while. So long that a few accidents could be staged for Collins and that secretary."
"They work for Alistair," I growled through his hand. "You wouldn't d—"
He pressed his hand further into my face, the peak of my skull aching as pressure from the wall started to dig in. "I killed your pilot. Don't think I won't do the same for anyone else."
Bastard. I saw red, but he knew I would not react. He loosened his grip on my jaw, eager to see the full force of my scowl for his own pleasure.
He was far more arrogant than the Director. Alistair would have seen right through what I was doing, but Mika was clueless. It was confirmed that agents were killed for knowing of Alistair's war, but his theory of the fate of our Government was still only implied.
"That's how you take power. You kill to secure it. That's why Alistair wanted Barnes." I could have been talking about the agents or the Government – the first thing Mika thought of would have given me the answers I needed.
"Barnes was going to suffer whether I met Alistair or not." He could feel my jaw tense against his hand, quirking his lip. "Our wishes just happened to intertwine when Barnes stabbed Alistair in the back. It didn't surprise me."
Lean into his arrogance. "I guess he just knows that killing innocents is wrong."
"He's short-sighted. Reckless!" Mika snapped. "The lot of them were. What's the death of a dozen, anyway? The politicians don't care when its soldiers, so why should we care for them?"
There it was. The confession. Barnes had been right all along but my loyalty kept me blinded. Teeth bared, I said, "I get it. Now get off me. I'm going home."
I shoved Mika away, much to his amusement, and stormed down the corridor.
"Such a shame you're leaving this evening," he called. "You haven't had the chance to listen to the sound of Barnes's screams yet."
I stopped in my tracks, cursing myself as I felt the burn of Mika's smirk plunging into my back. "Why would I care for a traitor?"
A snort. "I don't know, Miss Knight. Why would you?" My shoulders slumped, letting out a defying breath. "They'll get louder if even a whisper of this finds its way back to me," he warned. "I'm sure I'll see you soon. We're co-workers now, after all."
The scuffle of his footsteps diminished into nothing before I started walking again. Before I left for the mission with Barnes, I was confident. My emotions were controlled, position assured within the agency, and through everything I knew that the people I could trust were Alistair and Scotty. One of those was lost, while the other was killed in action, and in the midst of all the chaos the only stable thing in my mind was one thought.
I had to protect who I had left. Gabby could not be hurt because of me. Collins could not be hurt because of me.
Derek Barnes could not be hurt because of me.
I should have been ashamed at the thought of caring for someone I was expected to view as an enemy, but Alistair proved you could never be sure of someone's intentions.
After all, there was just one traitor to the agency in this office, and he was sitting behind a commanding desk with a silent army at his back.