Back in my cubicle, I spit through the dossier, checked my new identity and tried to calm myself down.
I knew that my dad knew that they'd given me an idiotic mission, although unaware of the details. Details I couldn't share with anyone.
The undercover name I'd been given, was Sadie Mae Iverson. I sometimes wondered who came up with these names. Perhaps it was Hunt himself, although I wondered if he'd be that creative. He'd go for a typical Sarah Smith or Emma Johnson.
In my apartment in the Dalston neighbourhood, I had packed my bags. It was quite difficult to put together a wardrobe that'd suit a future celebrity. I owned enough dresses, but none of those were capable of disguising my weapons. I also had no clue what type of dresses were in fashion lately, because I only wore practical clothes at work. And I rarely did anything else besides work. I probably had to go shopping sometime soon then, if It were really necessary.
So. I was appointed as a bodyguard to some famous nitwit. Niall Horan, a solo artist who once was a member of a boyband called One Direction. I didn't even need to look at his fact sheets to know that, just staring at his headshot embedded in the file had been enough.
And besides, I had to play Miss Nitwit, for the time being. I had to smile at piercing cameras and make funny jokes around the press. I had no trouble acting since I was a special agent after all, but acting that I liked this mission was quite difficult. Which already became apparent when Helen opened the front door for me, when I parked my motorcycle in front of my parents' house in Dulwich, south of Central London.
" Rough day?" mum asked when I had hugged her and had let me inside. "Don't even get me started." I sighed," I'd love to tell you why, but that's classified, unfortunately." Mum laughed. " You're taking it after your father, Mer." I hung my leather jacket on an empty peg in the hallway, put my helmet on the stairs and followed mum into the kitchen. Dad and Claire were there already. Dad was reading his paper at the dining table and Claire was angrily typing on her laptop. They looked up their works when I came in.
" Mer! It's been too long!" Claire closed her laptop and jumped off her barstool. She hugged me tightly.
Claire was a breathtaking beauty. She was tall, had legs for days, her hair had a rich chocolatey colour and her eyes were of a bright green colour she could make her opponents shit themselves with. She was a lawyer and a damned good one.
She got married to a journalist of The Daily Mail, Ronan Murray, only six months ago. He was probably still working, as he wasn't here today.
I seated myself in front of dad, who lowered his paper to look at me.
" You don't like it." He stated as he stared at my face. " That's the understatement of the century," I said, pointing my finger at him. Dad snorted.
" Did you know it's not even Waterlane who's behind all of this? No, that arse called Hunt decided I had to do this mission." I said, trying to get my disbelief off my chest without revealing anything about my mission.
Dad put down his paper. " Jameson Hunt approved a mission?" Dad asked in surprise, "I haven't experienced that in my long-long life. I believe I've seen that man only a handful of times since I started working there."
" I heard people think he's an immortal. I mean, shouldn't he be retired already?" I asked dad and traced the woodgrains with my finger. " Considering his wrinkly and very old head, I'd say he must've been. But Mercer, please don't pick a fight with that man. He won't play fair nor will he treat you that way. Ignore him, and you'll be able to get your pension yourself."
" Thanks for the tip. Waterlane had offered me to duel with Hunt in his office, but I backed away from that." Dad nodded. " Good job."
Mum sat down next to me. " Ronan called this morning," She said. I turned towards her. Ronan was my older brother by seven years, and also my only biological sibling. He moved to Darwin, Australia a few years back. He met his wife there, Ava. I got along well with him, but our work schedules made it difficult to talk as often as I wished we would.
" How's he doing?" I asked. " Very well, Ava too. Their dog's pregnant." I smirked. "I expected Ava to be first, to be honest." Mum nodded in agreement.
Ronan and I were both adopted by the McCoy family. I was six, Ronan thirtheen. He had a tough time growing up in a new family, but he considered the McCoys as his own family.
The oven beeped. " The lasagne is done!" Dad folded his paper, and claire again, shut her laptop close. " Let's feast." I joked.