Vedastus Ebbing reached for the door handle and pulled. Ding.
He entered and allowed the door to softly close behind him, the few customers and staff that stood in the store lifting their heads to him briefly before continuing their browsing They didn’t recognise his face.
Good.
Gentle music played throughout the store. It was some ‘relevant’ and ‘relatable’ pop song written by the kind of person who had only experienced one bad thing in their life, like their daddy saying no, and used it to fuel their music. He could never understand why so many people listened to such idiotic things. Silence was always his preference.
Carefully eyeing the cameras, he made his way through the shop. It was one of those stores that looked like a charity shop but, upon closer inspection, wasn’t. Parts of the walls were covered in bamboo with fake leaves, with the rest of the wall being painted in black and white stripes. Each area was labelled carefully and light shone on specific places that highlighted the latest sale or newest fashion trend. Despite the bright surroundings, the employees wore the drabbest thing he could think of. Dull-brown polo necks with black lines around the sleeves.
“Excuse me, young man?” a voice croaked, snapping through the air. Thinking he was being spoken to, Ebbing tensed and looked up, only to see that the voice had been nowhere near him.
Perhaps he was too tense.
The voice had come from an elderly woman standing at the cashier’s counter at the back of the store. Behind it stood an employee, wearing one of the dull store uniforms. He was lanky with a stubbly beard and half-closed eyes which were locked on the bright screen of his phone. He didn’t answer her
“Excuse me?” the woman repeated, stepping a little closer. In her hand, she clutched a gold and white scarf, which she attempted to show the employee. Still, the dull-brown-clothed man didn’t budge.
“I'm sorry, young man ” the woman tried again, but the employee groaned and rolled his eyes at her, cutting her words short.
“God!” he spat. “Give me a minute. I'm doin’ somethin’ here.” He didn’t even lift his eyes to her. The woman’s posture slumped and her eager-to-pay hand dropped, hiding the scarf from her eyes and dipping her smile into a frown.
Anger started to bubble in Ebbing’s chest, his hip suddenly feeling empty without his revolver. Why oh why did he tell himself he wouldn’t need it? Fists clenched, he took a step forward towards the counter, eyes snapping to all of the opportunities that surrounded him.
The blue jeans might have been able to soak up the blood well enough if he decided to bash his head against the counter. Or, the belts could serve for a cleaner, quieter kill. But the most delicious method of them all was to choke the employee to death with his own phone and then use what money the man had in his pocket to pay for the elderly lady’s scarf.
The mere thought of that one put a smile on Ebbing’s face.
Regardless, the body would be easy to dispose of.
But before he could even think of another option, his eyes landed on a camera pointed at the counter. He froze. Even the slightest kerfuffle would cause enough noise to draw attention.
He couldn’t act out. Not now. Not here.
Not yet.
Gritting his teeth, Ebbing turned away, keeping his head down and shielding his face from the camera, looking at the items of clothing that hung beside him. He tried to push the elderly lady and employee from his mind, focusing on the racks. He wasn’t here to buy, only to waste time before his meetup. But there was nothing to say a little browsing would hurt anyone.
As he passed the clothing, he ran his hand along each item, the feel of the materials stroking his skin sending ripples of shivers across his body. Closing his eyes, he continued around the shop, going from trousers to shorts, to underwear, then to shirts. Something brushed his fingers. He stopped and retraced his steps, opening his eyes to see what had caught his attention.
A red and white Hawaiian shirt.
He delicately ran his hand over the shirt, the material feeling soft and gentle under his touch Looping a finger over the shoulder, he turned it to him, the bright colours bringing a smile to his face.
“Perfect,” he muttered. Behind him, footsteps approached. He tensed.
“Hi,” someone said with false happiness Ebbing turned sharply to face whoever it was, his brown eyes meeting the smiling face of one of the shop’s workers. “I'm Brandy Can I help you with anything?”
The young girl was wearing the shop’s uniform, a nametag hanging from her chest. Now he was closer, he could see that the uniform was made of a rough material that looked uncomfortable to wear. He suspected she was hiding the urge to itch uncontrollably.
“Hey,” he said to her with a broad grin. “No, no I'm all good, thank you.” He gestured to the shirt. “Think I've found what I'm looking for.”
Brandy looked at the shirt. “A Hawaiian shirt,” she said with as much false excitement as she could. “Planning a trip?”
“Nah.” Smiling, he pulled the shirt from the rack. “I just love the look of them.”
The girl gestured to the back of the shop. “Would you like to try it on before you buy it?”
The gesture took him by surprise. He did have time to spare.
“I see no reason why not,” he said, grinning.
Smiling back, the girl led him to the fitting rooms, pointing to the open curtains. “Pick any one you want,” she said. “They should all be free.”
He nodded his thanks and entered the nearest one, turning and winking at her as he pulled the curtain closed, noticing a blush on her cheeks as he did. He waited for a moment, listening to her footsteps fade away before he started to undress.
As he pulled his shirt off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. And of the scars on his back. He stopped, lingering on them for longer than he would have liked. The sounds of crashing waves and gunfire started to echo through his mind. Gunfire turned into lightning and the waves into screams. And then, silence. Only the gentle ripple of water over his body remained to soothe him.
That was the day he died.
That was the day he was reborn.
He tore his eyes away and back to the Hawaiian shirt, a calm coming over him. He reached out and touched it again, the smooth fabric playing between his fingers like water over rocks. Smiling, he pulled it off its hanger.
Not too long after Ebbing slipped the red shirt over his shoulders, muttered voices began from behind the curtain. He froze, listening intently. They ended quickly and then footsteps started to approach. His muscles tensed and he reached for his belt.
“Sir,” Brandy said. “A friend of yours is here.” Relief.
“Ah, thank you,” Ebbing said. Another couple of words were exchanged and then he could hear Brandy’s footsteps leave, with only the shadow of his compatriot remaining.
After a window of silence, his new company spoke.
“Sir?” he said. Upon hearing the voice, Ebbing rolled his eyes. The voice was deep, but not in a foreboding way. Instead, it carried a certain tone that gave him the impression of a weak mind. Of all the people who could’ve come to see him, why did it have to be him?
“I'm assuming that you're here for a reason, Jasper,” he said.
“I am, sir,” Jasper said. “Your contact is ready and the men are standing by.”
“And the room is ready?”
“Yes, sir, Mr Ebb ”
Before Jasper could finish, a wave of anger gripped Ebbing’s heart and he grabbed Jasper’s shirt collar, dragging the man into the fitting room and slamming him against the wall.
“What have I said about using my name,” Ebbing hissed through gritted teeth.
Beneath him, Jasper squirmed as he tried to adjust himself, unable to find solid ground to stand.
“I…I…I'm sorry, sir,” he stuttered. “I'm ”
“I don’t care for your apologies,” he spat. “Just ensure it doesn’t happen again.” Jasper gave a sharp nod and Ebbing released him. Collapsing to the floor, Jasper began panting and shaking. Ebbing stared at the man as he clutched his throat, the shirt’s collar’s material lingering on his fingers. Despite looking like a lumberjack’s outfit, the fabric was softer than he was expecting. “Love the shirt, by the way,” he muttered. Jasper’s bloodshot eyes drifted towards him. “Suits you.” He cleared his throat and
gestured to the Hawaiian shirt. “Now can you leave me be? So I can change.” Not looking at him, Jasper got to his feet and stumbled out of the fitting room, ducking to the side, avoiding the sudden head turn of Brandy.
Her eyes met Ebbing’s before they darted down to his exposed chest, another blush appearing on her cheeks. He winked at her again and pulled the curtain shut, quickly changing back into his other clothes and slotting the Hawaiian shirt back in its hanger.
“We’re making a pitstop at the office,” Ebbing called to Jasper. The man was still breathing heavily. “Have Harlem meet me there I’m going to need him for something.”
“Very…well…sir,” Jasper said, poorly hiding his deep breaths. Rolling his eyes, Ebbing stepped out of the fitting room.
“But before we do,” he said with a smile. “I've gotta make a purchase.”
Gunfire echoed. Dust rose into the air.
“Did you know they had snipers?”
“Why the hell would I know that, Rex?”
“Lily! Didn’t you do recon?”
“Not on the buildings, no!”
“Arg! Doesn’t matter, we’re pinned.”
“What now?”
“I have an idea. Wait for my signal.”
“Your signal? What ”
Something metal lands.
“Rex! Grenade!”
“Lily!”
Rex shot up, gasping, clutching his arm. “Lily,” he whispered. Taking a deep breath, Rex fell back down. His hand was still on his arm, rubbing the scars through his shirt. They had healed. Mostly.
His eyes were fixed on the blank, white ceiling. He found himself unable to close them. Heart thudding. Breathing deep and slow. He was holding them open.
He didn’t want to go back. Not again.
The memory of the mission in Italy replayed in his mind, the pain searing through him once again. He and Lily hadn’t been home long, not even two weeks. They hadn’t had time to settle properly.
By now, Rex’s eyes were beginning to burn, desperately pleading for him to blink. Finally, he gave in. Liquid rushed over his eyes, soothing them instantly. Heart rate normal, Rex started to shift, looking around the room, narrowing his eyes as he noticed his surroundings.
This wasn’t his bedroom.
He sat up, glancing around the room. He was lying in his and Lily’s apartment’s living room. Opposite him was the glorious sight of early-morning London, the sun rising through the sky, waking its civilians. He cursed himself. He had forgotten to close the blinds again, falling asleep before getting the chance to do so. Soon enough, there would be sun stains on the carpet.
With another deep breath, he stood, his eyes landing on the coffee table in front of him as he did. It was covered in paper. Notes and files and mission reports lay strewn all over. And on top of it all sat his laptop. It had probably used up most of its battery, its screen now black, concealing what was on it. Rex bent down and scooped the laptop up, moving it to the breakfast bar in the kitchen and plugging it into the charging cord that sat there.
Yawning, he started tomove intothekitchen, rubbing his eye. Hereached forward towardsthekettle but stopped, finger lingering over the switch. His attention had been caught by the stained, takeaway coffee cup that stood next to it, the café’s identifiable logo bringing a smile to his face.
Maybe that was what he needed.
He stepped away from the kettle and walked into the bedroom. Upon entering, his eyes drifted to the shapethat lay in the bed. The sleeping figure of Lily stuck out from the sheets, oneof her arms extended vertically in the air and wrapped over her head.
He was awake before her.
Again.
He always was lately.
Ass silently as possible, he pulled out a clean shirt and jeans, pulling them on and securing them to his body with a black belt. Dressed, he emerged and equipped himself with his phone, wallet and H.A.N.D. emergency beacon. His usual pocket-filling paraphernalia. Without thinking, he clipped his holster to his hip but paused as he reached for his pistol.
While it wasn’t the same weapon he had first been supplied with all those years ago, reaching for it still held the same feeling. The same weight. The same dreaded thought. Jumping into action had become second nature, a reaction to a crisis. The first thing he reached for: his pistol. But when the call wasn’t coming,whenthejaws ofdeathweren’t squeezing aninnocent life,Rexfound himself hesitating whenever he reached for his gun. He never knew if that action would be the cause of catastrophe. Or of an innocent’s death.
Without removing his eyes from the pistol, Rex unclipped his holster and set it beside the weapon. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he then walked to the front door of the apartment, collecting his keys as he went and swinging his black jacket over his shoulders, closing the door firmly as he stepped into the hallway.
The walk down to the apartment building’s lobby took less time than he remembered. It could’ve been because he wasn’t yet used to the location of Lily’s and his new apartment, but it was more likely that his mind had started to wander again. His lack of sleep was curled in the back of his mind, every so often reaching up and pulling his brain into its warm embrace. Rex had to pull his mind away every time, shaking his head and blinking rapidly.
Coffee. He just needed coffee. Or at least something caffeinated.
Outside, the sun managed to wake him up enough for him to continue his journey. A few minutes later, he arrived at the coffee shop, aptly named ‘Agent’s Coffee.’ With a smile, Rex stepped in and was greeted by the dancing figure of Anton Agente. The French man had his back to Rex, twirling the mop in his hand as the speakers in the small café blared the same music style Rex could always hear when he entered. As he opened the door, the bell rang, alerting Anton to his presence. And as he turned, his brown eyes locked with Rex’s face and his mouth grew into the biggest smile Rex had ever seen, and he couldn’t help but smile with him.
“Rex!” the man exclaimed in his thick French accent. Without warning, the man rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the agent. “How are you, my friend?”
“Morning Anton,” Rex called over the music, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was seven-thirty. He was a little earlier today. “I'm good, thanks. A little tired.” He watched as the man continued to dance and sway to the music. Rex chuckled. “Glad to see you're in a good mood.”
“How could I not be, you know?” The man laughed as he paced around the café, dancing and mopping as he went. “When the morning is this beautiful and the world is so calm, how can you not be in a good mood?” He laughed again, his pearly white teeth blasting out from his lips, contrasted against his dark skin. He had left his teeth-bleaching strips on a little too long. Again. Rex couldn’t help but grin at the man.
“How have you been, Anton?” he asked, stepping over to the counter and leaning against it. “How’s it going with Sophie?”
“Ah,” Anton sighed, shrugging at the question. “She’s…ah…you know.” He clicked his tongue and grinned wider. “Clingy.”
Rex rolled his eyes. “C’mon, man,” he said. “What did I say about that?”
Anton raised his hands in defence. “I know, I know Rex,” he said with a sigh and a chuckle. “But, I mean, what can I say? I like my space.”
Rex rolled his eyes again and shook his head. “Keep it up like that, Anton, and you'll be dating a new girl every week.”
Anton laughed as he walked around to the other side of the counter, turning the music down a little as he did. “Doesn’t sound like a bad life.” The two men chuckled together. “So, you want the same?” he continued. “Black americano and a chai latte?”
Rex nodded. “Yep. Lily will be waking up any moment so I've gotta be back quick.” Anton nodded and began working on the beverages, his smile never wavering.
At lightning speed, the drinks were made and served, Anton clicking the lids over the disposable cups. Rex paid and thanked the man before wishing him luck and leaving the coffee shop, the music rising as the door closed. A smile grew as the songs danced through his mind, holding back the dark cloud he could feel above his head. Slowly, however, as the hustle and bustle of London filtered out the blaring music, the cloud started to descend and Rex’s smile faded. But despite the dark cloud weighing him down, there was still a glimmer of light. Lily. The image of the young woman still sleeping in their bed kept his feet walking.
The walk back to the apartment was shorter than the walk from it. At least, it felt like it was. He went along the same route, looked into the same stores and even saw some of the same faces, but going back to the apartment always felt quicker. Maybe it was because he was going home.
Home. He hadn’t had one of those for a while.
Eventually, he reached the building and made his way up to the apartment, awkwardly balancing the chai latte in the crook of his elbow as he opened the door. Stumbling in, he set the beverages on the kitchen counter before closing the door behind himself.
Turning back, he froze as his eyes landed on Lily standing in the doorway of the bedroom.
“Rex?” she croaked. “You alright?”
Rex chuckled as he approached her, wrapping her in his arms. She hesitantly hugged him back. “Mornin’ gorgeous,” he said. “I'm all good. Just went out to get you a chai.” Lily’s eyes lit up as he mentioned the drink. Smiling at her, he turned and fetched it, handing it over. She cupped the cup with both hands and took a deep breath into the steam, sighing as she leaned back at him with a wide smile.
“My perfect guy,” she said wistfully. There was something in her bright, blue eyes, something he had been seeing a lot more lately. Maybe it was pity.
He would be ignorant if he thought she hadn’t noticed his early morning rises.
Ignoring it, Rex laughed and turned to his americano, taking a brief sip from the burning liquid. “How’d you sleep?” he asked.
After studying him for a moment, Lily shrugged and stepped into the kitchen, sitting on one of the stoolsat thebreakfast bar.“Alright,” she said.“Hadanodd dream whereMaxhadhad his headreplaced by a chicken’s.” She giggled. “Kinda suited him.”
The pair laughed together. Rex moved into the kitchen and stood opposite her. Lily’s eyes flicked and landed on the laptop beside them. She took a sip as she reached for it.
“Oh,” she said. “You get the email from Florence yet?” she asked. Before Rex could stop her, Lily flipped the laptop open, exposing the image that had been displayed the night before. She stopped as her eyes locked with it. Rex held his breath. “Rex,” she sighed, looking back at him. “You’ve gotta let it go.”
Rex couldn’t meet her eyes, instead taking a sip from his cup. “I was just seeing if I could notice anything different.” He glanced at her. “But I didn’t.”
“It’s been months, Rex,” she continued. “We’ve tried but got nothing.”
Rex released a sigh and turned to her, placing his cup down. “I know,” he muttered. “You're right, I know. It’s just…”
“Difficult,” she finished. Rex nodded and she got up and wrapped her arms around him. He returned the gesture, holding her as close to him as he could. The movement, however, exposed the screen of the laptop to Rex’s eyes, and he locked onto it again.
A wave of confused emotion washed over him as he made eye contact with the grey, grainy security camera image of Tom. He was exiting an airport, sunglasses on and a backpack over one shoulder. He had used an alias so Rex had no idea which flight he had arrived on, but his search had narrowed the number of possible planes to seven.
The footage had arrived in his inbox a few months ago from a local contact he had but Tom hadn’t seemed to have surfaced since. But Rex knew Tom was still in the country. Through his limited investigations, there were still a few contracts in England and Wales that needed to be collected by someone and he was sure Tom would appear at one in time. His brother wouldn’t allow money like that to go unclaimed.
Rex moved his eyes away from the laptop screen and to the golden hair that lay against his chest. He could feel a smile on her face through his shirt. Gently, he pulled Lily away and gazed into her azure eyes, his own smile growing.
“I’ll be okay,” he said softly. “It’ll take some time, but I’ll get there.”
Lily nodded, despite the glimpse of doubt Rex noticed in her eyes. “I know you will, Rex,” she said with a sigh. “I know.” She looked back at the laptop and moved towards it, closing the image and opening Rex’s email. “You did get it, good,” she said.
“Get what?” Rex asked, peeking over her shoulder.
“Email from Florence,” she sighed. “Basically, once we've got all our case reports written up, Florence wants a debrief about everything, with L and Max attending.”
Rex rolled his eyes. “We’ve hit nearly every dead end possible,” he groaned. “Not much to debrief.”
“She still wants it,” Lily argued. “And I'm not going to be the one to debate it with her.” Swiping her latte off the counter, Lily began making breakfast, slotting a piece of bread into the toaster and pulling out a saucepan. She stared at it for a moment, then at the hob, before turning and looking at Rex, sticking out her bottom lip. “Please?” she asked.
Rex chuckled and rolled his eyes as he made his way to the fridge, pulling out a packet of sausages. “You sort the eggs,” he said.
Grinning, Lily turned and grabbed a couple of eggs, sidling up beside Rex as he started to fry the sausages. With one lip curled under her teeth and a smile creasing her smooth cheeks, Lily cracked the eggs into another saucepan, immediately lifting it as she tried to control them. Rex couldn’t help but laugh as he watched the woman panic as the eggs started to combine, becoming a messy menagerie before their eyes. Still laughing, Rex reached over her and took control, managing to stop whatever was happening. With the situation solved, he turned back to her, but Lily had already started getting the cutlery and plates out of their cupboards, lining them up on the breakfast bar, ready for their food to be loaded.
He didn’t stop the grin that pulled at his lips tightly.
Moments like these had been hard to come by over the last few months. The Ebbing Task Force had kept the two agents abroad for weeks at a time, unable to tell the rest of their team where they were. Luckily, under Max’scontrol, Tanu, Will and Morganhad remained in check. But,Rex and Lily’slatest mission had been hard on both of them. The Italy mission.
It had gotten bad enough for Max to issue them both with psychiatric evaluations by one of H.A.N.D.’s vetted therapists.
They had both been avoiding it, Lily more so than Rex.
Rex finished cooking and served their breakfast, Lily jumping into her seat, nearly knocking herself onto the floor. Placing the saucepans in the sink to be cleaned, Rex joined her, scoffing down the food as soon as his hand picked up the fork. He was much hungrier than he was expecting.
“What’s the plan for the day?” Lily asked as she politely cut a piece of sausage off, glancing at him as she placed it in her mouth.
Rex chuckled. “Well, we’ve been to nearly every museum, seen every show…” He shrugged as he finished his last mouthful. “There’s not much left in London to see.”
“Then we’ll go somewhere else,” Lily suggested.
Rex narrowed his eyes at her. “What did you have in mind?”
“Could go to Waterloo station. See what train we can grab.”
“You want to go to a random city?”
“Not random, just randomly chosen.”
Rex rolled his eyes at her specificity. “What’s the rush to get out? London’s a pretty big place and I don’t think Dr Tailor is going to be chasing you down.”
Lily stared at him and huffed. “I'm not in a rush, Rex,” she said. “You just said that we've done practically everything in London. And Florence wasn’t specific that we had to stay in the city.” She cast her eyes down to her lap, her smile vanishing. “I'm not ready, Rex. Not yet.”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Rex brought her into a tight hug. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll find something to do. I'm sure we haven’t done everything.”
Lily opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by their phones dinging in unison. Both frowning, they picked them up and glanced at the screen.
Rex couldn’t help but groan as he saw the words. “Thought she organised a meeting for in a few days,” he muttered.
“You know Florence,” Lily said, finishing her food. “She changes her mind constantly.” They stood from the breakfast bar and made their way into the bedroom. “And as you said, we didn’t find anything in Italy and Ebbing is becoming more and more of a dangerous rogue entity.”
“Max and L haven’t found anything either?” Rex asked.
“None of us have,” Lily said. “Probably why Florence has been on our arses so much.”
Noddinginagreement, Rexchanged intoH.A.N.D. Headquarters appropriate clothing, Lily dressing herself in something similar. Together, they raced out of the apartment, attaching their holsters to their hips as they went.
This time, Rex didn’t pause as he equipped his pistol.
The café was busier than usual. Crowds of people had gathered around the glass counter, staring at the cakes stored within it with hungry eyes, children pressing their faces against the glass, leaving sticky, greasy marks The parents were too distracted by the high prices and lack of seating to notice. Elizabeth was lucky to have arrived as early as she had. She had already been waiting an hour for her company, her finger tapping against the chipped and stained coffee mug for the last ten minutes, the smell of coffee and baked goods swirling around the room, puncturing her nostrils. She could only hope she wouldn’t emerge smelling of cake and coffee. Which, when she thought about it, wouldn’t be the worst thing.
She had awoken only an hour prior to their meetup and had never run faster than she had. Crashing into the doorframe of the café hadn’t been one of her finer moments, especially after she looked up and saw the fear in a barista’s eyes as they were collecting the remnants of another customer’s breakfast, other members of staff poking their head out of a staff-only door to see what the commotion was about. After a second to collect herself, Elizabeth had entered and apologised for startling them.
Now her speed must have looked premature, or at least ridiculous. What kind of person would wait over an hour for someone who they had rushed to meet? But Elizabeth had to be patient. She didn’t know when another opportunity would arise. Problem was, if she waited any longer, she would have to leave. She had to be at TA3 Headquarters by nine, and it was already eight. If even a second passed her arrival time, her new assistant would call her demanding to know where she was. Elizabeth didn’t have the patience for that today.
As if summoned, her company slotted in the seat opposite her, dressed in clothes that made him stand out a lot more than she would have liked. He wore a black tuxedo that was torn and partially bloody in places. The bowtie was missing and one of the jacket’s collars was ripped. The shirt, while intact, was stained crimson on his right side. Elizabeth could only pray that it wasn’t his. Not that he would give any indication that it was. Luckily for them, the black managed to hide the red well. His brown hair, despite being greasy and unwashed, was neatly parted on the left side and his cheek had been taped back together. It wouldn’t scar, she had seen worse. His lips were stretched into a childish grin, revealing each of his teeth, and his green eyes were crystal clear. Elizabeth wouldn’t have been surprised to find a body like his in a morgue somewhere.
With their eyes locked, Elizabeth leaned back slightly, the sun warming the back of her head, and narrowed her eyes at the man’s clothing, a deep hatred for it growing.
“Tom,” she sighed. “I said casual.”
“C’mon,” Tom muttered, leaning forward and placing his reusable coffee cup on the table, brandishing a broader smile. “I rushed over here. Didn’t have time to change.”
“You rain-checked this meet-up for two months,” Elizabeth snapped. “Not to mention the fourmonth delayto the first meeting ” She stoppedherself, rubbing her eyes and sighing. They didn’t have time for bickering. “Did you find anything?” she asked.
Tom raised an eyebrow at her and pressed his lips together harshly. “He seems like a normal guy,” he answered plainly. “Followed him for a few days, nothing unusual. Just your average, government worker really.”
“He’s playing ball?”
“With the people he’s constantly surrounded with, it would be difficult to do anything.”
“So, you don’t believe me?”
Tom scoffed at her and chuckled. “Never said that,” he said. “He’s too clean.” He paused for a moment and the two locked eyes. She couldn’t help but feel a wave of calm wash over her as the recognisable glint in Tom’s eyes shone. “He’s up to something,” he muttered.
Elizabeth shrugged and leaned forward. “That may be,” she sighed. “But right now, he isn’t our biggest issue.” She took a moment to say the name in her head. “What about Ebbing?”
Tom’s smile dropped a little and he took a sip from his cup, avoiding her eyes. “He’s a little harder to find, I’ll grant you,” he said, lowering his voice. “And by ‘little harder,’ I mean impossible. Guy’s a ghost. No sightings, no bank withdrawals, no nothing.” Grimacing, Elizabeth leaned back again, so far that the sun peeked around a building, blinding her. She winced and leaned forward. “Even Omapin
doesn’t have a word in with Ebbing’s workforce,” Tom continued. “Somehow, the people he’s got are off the grid. Or, at least, he makes them that way.”
A silence brewed between them. “That’s it?” Elizabeth scoffed. “Something that I could have easily just deciphered myself?”
“No, that’s not all,” Tom argued. “And you wanted information, Iwent digging. Not myfault there’s nothing.” Elizabeth sighed again. “Look, okay,” Tom continued. “There was a rumour going around a few contacts I have that H.A.N.D. has something he wants, or he’s doing something for or with H.A.N.D., it wasn’t clear. It’s all happening within the next week.”
Adrenaline rushed through her veins and her fists tightened. “Within the next week?” Elizabeth echoed. “Any sources? Anything I can take to Florence?”
Tom pressed his lips together and sighed. “That’s all I got from him before someone took him out.”
“Took him out?”
“Yeah, a sniper was positioned in the opposite building.” He winked at her. “Lucky for me, there was a bounty on his head.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat, expressing her distaste for the dismissive comment. He had clearly forgotten who he was talking to. “Thought you were a contract man?” she asked with a clenched jaw.
Tom shrugged. “I am. But the guy killed my lead. Wasn’t going to let him get away with that now was I?” He smiled at her and took another sip of coffee. Elizabeth glared at him, hating the reminder of the man’s occupation, and the agent he once was. Years ago, she had hoped that he would learn from his mistakes. Now all she can see is the killer she helped produce.
This was the fourth time they had had a meeting like this at the same café. She had originally called him as soon as she was able to walk out of TA3’s Medical Wing, three months after her injury. But Tom had delayed their meeting, telling her that his workhad pulled him aside. Plus,there was the added issue of the fact that Rex had spotted his brother on the security cameras of the small airfield Tom had used to enter the country and had been combing for him ever since.
She shuddered to think what Rex would do if he discovered what she had been doing.
“But that’s it?” she asked. “Just the fact that Omapin knows nothing and that something’s going to happen within the next week, which could range from him getting his hair cut to a nuclear attack, knowing my brother. And you have no sources to back up that claim or any more leads for me to follow that might allow me to save H.A.N.D. or civilian lives if an attack does occur.”
Tom’s smile dropped and he leaned forward, gripping his cup with both hands. “I have been searching high and low ”He stopped himself, Elizabeth seeing her name on thetip of his tongue. Tom clearedhisthroat.“Butthere’snothingmore.Onlywaytoknowmoreistobepartofhisgroup,probably even then, his inner circle. And there’s absolutely no chance I can get in that far. Not to mention he’ll kill anyone who’ll give any information, hence my dead lead.”
Elizabeth gave a light sigh, rubbing her face gently.
“I'm sorry, L,” he continued. “I can still do a little more digging but I’ve exhausted my strings to pull. And there are quite a few I need to hold on to for a more desperate time. And, plus, Hatch needs me. We’ve got several new clients now and I'm needed practically everywhere for them. They won't be happy if they find out I've been helping the Leader of TA3.”
“I get it, Tom,” Elizabeth muttered. “I get it.” She let her eyes wander around the café, locking onto the smiles on the people’s faces. How oblivious they were. “We should probably get going,” she said. “Neil will be wondering where I am and your guys probably want you for something.”
Tom nodded slowly. “Yeah, Mòr has been calling me nonstop for the last hour. Won't be long until she starts looking for me. And that won't be difficult.”
“You knew what you were getting into,” Elizabeth said with a smirk. “She was kicked out of H.A.N.D. for a reason.”
Tom chuckled and shook his head. “I've started to realise why.” He laughed. “Never listens to me, always running off.”
“WhydoyouthinkRogerstruggledwithher somuch?”shesaid.“Duringmissions,she’djust vanish and then appear three hours later.”
Tom’s eyes widened, his smile spreading. “Exactly! And it’s always three hours! Don’t know what she does, but somehow what needs to be done gets done.”
Elizabeth laughed, but it was short-lived, locking eyes with Tom as the laughter died down. Together, their smiles drew thinner until Tom dropped his head, swirling the remains of his coffee.
“How is everyone?” he asked timidly.
Elizabeth smiled at the words. She had been waiting for the man to ask. Despite his actions, she knew he was still the same caring, thoughtful man.
“They’re good,” she said. “Max’s taken to the Leader position nicely. Lily has been spending a lot of time with Emily, teaching her a few field agent things.”
Tom chuckled. “She’s going into fieldwork?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “After the whole Stryker ordeal, she’s shaken up and just wants to feel less helpless.” She paused, mind flashing to the fear in the girl’s eyes as she wandered through Stryker Hall the previous year. “I'm proud of her. She’ll make a good agent regardless of where she is.”
Tom smiled at thewordsand nodded slowly, the next nameinhismouth strugglingtocomeforward. “And…um…” he said. “What about Rex?” The name left an uncomfortable silence on the table. “He doing alright?”
Elizabeth pressedherlipsinto atight smile. “Since Vanessa’sdeath,”she said,mindful of her words, “he’s been different. Harsher. Darker.” She paused for a moment, thinking over the last time she had seen the young agent. “Takes a lot more risks but is very wary of what he’s doing.” She looked back at Tom. “And once he wants someone, he won’t stop until he finds them.”
Tom exhaled deeply and sat back in his chair. “Still after me, then?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Since he saw that footage, he’s doubled down.”
“Should’ve taken better precautions.”
“But I think he’s softened,” Elizabeth said suddenly, taking Tom’s hand. Tom lifted his head back up to her. A beat passed between them. “I think he just misses his brother. His family.”
Tom gave the woman a large smile and started to stand. “I get the feeling.” Elizabeth stood with him, the two walking together out of the café and into the hot July sun. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, allowing the sun to beat its heat down into the streets. Once they were beside the road, Tom stopped and turned to Elizabeth, his wide, flat smile still on his face.
“I’ll try and do a little more digging,” he said. “Omapin might know something, but I don’t think I’ll get anything more. If people find out I've been ”
“I know, Tom,” Elizabeth cut in, guilt swarming her. Now they were standing, she found an urge to hug him gradually becoming overwhelming. “Just do what you can and contact me if you do find anything.”
He nodded at her, waving his arm and attracting the attention of a taxi. He looked back at her. “I’ll see you…L,” he said. The name didn’t sound right coming from his mouth.
“It’s okay, Tom,” she said, stepping forward slightly, feeling her legs shake at the decision she had made. “You're not my agent anymore.”
Tom chuckled and entered the taxi, poking his head out of the window. “Be careful, Elizabeth,” he said,thewordsweavedwithworry.Shecouldn’thelpbutsmileuponhearinghernamefrom him.“Your brother won't be stopped easily. Or quickly.”
“Be careful yourself,” she warned. “He can't get me while I'm in H.A.N.D. But he can get to you. You’re in his world.”
Tom flashed her a wide, unconvincing smile that hid none of his fear before he turned to the taxi driver and gave his destination. Immediately, the driver drove the taxi away, Tom not looking back at her. She stood smiling until the taxi turned out of view. Donning sunglasses, she dropped her smile and turned in the opposite direction, preparing herself for another day. But just as she did, her phone dinged. She pulled it out and read the message, releasing a long sigh.
Florence had called the task force together.
Reengaging her mind, Elizabeth redirected herself, walking towards H.A.N.D. Headquarters, and pushing her and Tom’s conversation into the back of her head.
Reaching forward, Harlem pulled the key out of the ignition and sat back in his seat. The quiet from the underground car park consumed him as the noise from his car engine died. Only a few honks of taxis from the street behind him pierced the silence. He closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall back against the headrest, releasing a deep breath. Tension fell throughout his body and he felt a wave of calm wash over him.
But it was disturbed by his phone vibrating in his pocket.
Hurriedly, he pulled it out and glanced at the number. He grimaced and quickly answered it.
“Sorry,” he said in a hushed voice. “I'm about to get into work, can I call you back tonight?”
“Oh, of course,” came the raspy response. “Call me whenever you can.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“I love you too.”
Harlem hung up and gave another deep sigh, tightening his grip on his phone. As if pulled by a thread, Harlem’s eyes drifted upwards to the door that lead to the car park staircase. Dread began to creep through his veins and his hair stood on end. Although he was nowhere near Ebbing, he felt his eyes on the back of his neck. Releasing a spluttered breath, he pulled his eyes away from the door and looked down at himself.
He was wearing a blue suit. It was the same one he had been wearing all week, and he doubted he would be changing out of it anytime soon. He wasn’t needed yet. But he had changed the tie several times. Knowing Ebbing, there was a high chance that if his tie matched whichever shirt Ebbing was wearing, he would kill him. After he adjusted his blazer, he checked his face for sweat in the rear-view mirror.
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Harlem dragged his legs out of the car, slamming the door as he left and locked it. He approached a grimy-looking door that led to the stairwell, using his elbow to open it. Climbing the stairs, he checked himself again. He had all of his essentials: phone, wallet, gun. He had to check that one a few times. It was hidden this time. As he finished his checks, he arrived at the building’s lobby.
The building was a dozen-or-so-storey tall concrete rectangle in the south end of London. All of its floors contained wall-to-wall office cubicles. Most of them were vacant, with the one at the top belonging to Ebbing.
From what little Harlem had seen of the other floors, they all had the same look. 5-foot tall, grey walls that housed desks and chairs. The walls of each floor of the building were floor-to-ceiling windows withthe occasional grey pillar that held up the flimsy foam ceiling and fluorescent lights. Half ofthelightsweren’tworking,withblownormissingbulbstakingupamajorityofthem.Itwasamiracle no one had bought the building and knocked it down for property development.
Harlem opened the door to the building’s lobby, which was operated by the instantly recognisable face of Reece Dougman, one of the building’s security officers. He was the only one that had reached out and spoken to him.
“Mike!” Reece called with the widest grin Harlem had ever seen. “How’ve you been, my man?”
Harlem smiled at him, the fake name burning in his ears. “Hey Reece,” he said. “I've been good. You?” He continued to walk towards the elevator.
“Ah, you know,” Reece said, leaning over his desk. “Same ol’, same ol’.” A boastful laugh rocketed from hismouth,startlingHarlem.“HadtosaygoodbyetoOthellolast night.”Harlem stopped,replaying the conversations the two had shared. He had mentioned an Othello before, but he had assumed that it was a pet of some kind. Although Reece’s reaction was telling him otherwise.
“Oh,” Harlem said slowly. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
Reece sucked air through his teeth sharply. “It’s fine,” he said. “The others will cast some kind of resurrection in our next session.”
Harlem froze in confusion. “I…” he stumbled. “Wha…tha…”
“My D ‘n D session,” Reece clarified. “Othello’s my character.” He narrowed his eyes at the man. “I told you about him a few times.”
His mind racing, Harlem built up the most amount of false acknowledgement he could. “Oh! Othello!” he exclaimed. Instantly, Reece started grinning. “Of course, sorry.”
“Yeah, it’s all good,” Reece sighed. By this time, Harlem was waiting at the elevator doors, feeling like he had been waiting an eternity.
Speaking to Reece had been a pleasantry at first, a fewwords exchanged between co-workers. If you could even call them that. But now, Reece had become too involved, even to the extent that he would try to speak to other members of Ebbing’s workforce. And one day, Harlem feared he’d try to speak to the wrong person. Maybe even Ebbing.
Since then, Harlem had been distancing himself. He didn’t want to see a crimson lake growing from under Reece’s office door.
Ding
Finally, the elevator doors slid open with a screech and Harlem dashed inside, slamming his finger against the button of the floor he wanted.
“I’ll see you later, huh?” Reece called.
“Yeah, course,” Harlem called back as the doors closed. As the elevator started to rise, Harlem released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding onto. After a few minutes, and a few shudders from the elevator, the doors opened on the top floor, and a wave of smells hit Harlem’s nostrils, almost sending him against the wall.
The air was thick with the stench of sweat and metal and probably something rotten. Harlem had to prey it wasn’t a body. Stepping out, he couldn’t help but cough and cover his face with his sleeve. It hadn’t stunk like this last time he had been here. How was it possible that just a few men could make such a disgusting smell?
The men in question were gathered around the elevator’s entrance. There were six of them, the rest probably at home or on surveillance, held in reserve for the later stages of Ebbing’s plan. But Harlem could only assume such things. Only Ebbing knew the full extent of his plans.
The men around the office space lifted their heads to look at Harlem as he entered, a few lowering them as soon as they saw him, but the others kept staring.
“Look who it is,” one growled. “The boss’ personal arse-kisser!” The others laughed.
Taking a few deep breaths, Harlem stepped towards the insulter. “I’d be careful of your words, Halter,” he said. “Or would you like to make the boss a personal visit?”
Halter’s smile dropped and a growl rose in his throat. Harlem slapped the man with a final smile before he continued to walk towards Ebbing’s private office.
This floor had been their base of operations for only a few months, but none of the men that had been hired cared about keeping it clear or clean. They were here to do one job, and it was approaching fast. Some of them had been locked in for years, others for a few days. And Harlem could tell which were which. There was at least one in that group.
Marching at his quickest pace, Harlem meandered through the office cubicles, keeping an eye on the floor for any littered guns or empty food wrappers. Where the men had been residing, there was little left to see of the original office space. The grey had been painted over with gun grease, blood and food, and a few other marks and stains he didn’t want to question. But the further he got from the elevator, the greyer the office space became until it looked like it had been untouched since it was first built.
The closer he got to Ebbing’s office door, the fresher the air became. Harlem took in a deep breath, his nose catching the usual scent of summer as he distanced himself from the armed men. Over here, he couldn’t hear the words spoken between them
Now at the door, he halted, lifting his hand. Gently, he tapped on the door.
“Come in,” came a glorious cry. Checking himself over and forcing a broad smile, Harlem opened the door a crack and peeked into Ebbing’s office.
“Sir,” he said. “You asked to see me?”
“I did, Harlem,” Ebbing said softly. “I have an important task for you.”
Harlem stepped into the room, expecting to be hit with a nauseating smell but instead the faint smell of fresh paint and lavender wafted into his nose, creating a pleasant aroma that he was happy to meet. And with the smell came a favourable sight as well. It was the first time he had entered Ebbing's office since they arrived at the building. So far, everything had just been through Jasper or by call. And the room was vastly different than he was expecting.
The walls were built of dark wood, each panel cut at various lengths and sizes, giving the room a jigsaw puzzle feel, like every part was intentional. Only the left wall had a break in the pattern in the form of three, narrow windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. But there was no glass, instead
images of a landscape that he didn’t recognise. It seemed to be of a small, quiet village surrounded by hills and trees. A thick, cream-coloured carpet covered the floor. With zero stains, Harlem felt scared to stand on it. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, one in each corner, making the room feel a lot shorter than it really was.
A large, dark wood desk, that featured no chair, sat on the left side of the room, in front of the landscape ‘windows.’ The desk was fitted with random pieces of paper, a lit lavender-scented candle, Ebbing’s revolver and holster, and one silver photograph frame. The photo inside was obscured from his view. Around the room were various potted plants and decorations, none of which were plastic.
The only mark of his boss' eccentricity was the bright red curtain suspended on a silver pole that hung from the other end of the room. And since Harlem could not see Ebbing, he had to assume that’s where his boss was.
“An important task?” Harlem asked as he closed the door, keeping his eyes on the curtain and his mind on his tone.
“Only the important-ist for my favourite lackie!” Ebbing laughed. The curtain was flung aside, revealing him. His knees were bent unnaturally and his lips spread into a wide grin. His arms were stretched out, showing off his new, brightly coloured, red and white Hawaiian shirt. “Whatcha think?” he asked ecstatically.
Harlem smiled and nodded. “Vibrant, sir,” he said. “It suits you well.”
“Well, I know it suits me, Harlem,” Ebbing sighed. “That’s why I picked it. I'm more curious if it fits with my plans for the day.” He moved forward, showing off the shirt in a variety of poses, ending with him bending over and looking back at the man. “Think it clashes with grey? Dust? Blood? The sounds of screaming and explosions? That kind of thing?”
Harlem nodded, still smiling. “Yes, sir,”
“Yes it clashes?”
“No, I mean it doesn’t, sir.”
“So it works well?”
Harlem scanned the man carefully. The bright colours were blinding in the light. In a dusty room, he would have been spotted instantly. But that was probably what he was going for. “Yes, sir,” he said.
Ebbing grinned at him and spun, collecting his revolver and holster from the desk and fitting it to his hip and blowing out the candle. “Good,” he said “I'm heading to RH to collect the info from our informant for phase two.” He started towards the men gathered at the elevator.
“A…And you need me to come with you?” Harlem asked, hope rising in his voice, as he followed his brightly-coloured boss. Ebbing waved his hand at him dismissively.
“God no,” he muttered. As they arrived at the men, who had all stood to attention, geared up and waiting for instruction, Ebbing turned to him, freezing Harlem in place. “I need you to clean up,” he said with genuine excitement. Harlem’s mind stumbled over the words, keeping his smile strong. His eyes landed on Halter, who was smirking at him.
“Clean up?” he asked.
“Yes,” Ebbing said, spinning and pointing to all the grime, dirt and debris that littered the area. “All of this needs to be gone by the end of the day.” He finished spinning and stared at him. Suddenly, the façade had vanished and Harlem found himself staring into Ebbing’s determined, terrifying eyes. “But do not touch my office,” he warned. “Are we clear?”
Holding back the urge to turn and run, Harlem nodded. “Crystal, sir,” he whimpered.
The intensity disappeared and Ebbing grinned again, slapping Harlem’s shoulder like he were an old friend. “Good, good.” He clicked his tongue and the armed men tensed, following Ebbing as he started towards the elevator. Once they were all inside, Ebbing turned to him “Jasper’s lying around somewhere,” he said. “And there’s bleach in the kitchen cupboards.” Harlem kept his mouth closed and nodded, beginning to feel like a bobblehead as he did.
As the elevator doors closed quietly, Harlem kept his eyes locked with Ebbing’s until he could hear the metal box start to descend. Alone, he looked back at the office cubicles, his grimace growing with each stain. Eventually, he stopped and released a heavy sigh. Footsteps from the direction of Ebbing’s office caught Harlem’s attention. He raised his head to see Jasper running around a corner. The man was probably in the toilets. His small bladder had quickly become one of the man’s more annoying traits. One of many. Upon seeing him, Jasper stopped, out of breath, and frowned.
“They already gone?” he asked.
With another sigh, Harlem gestured to the kitchen, which was nearby. “C’mon, Jasper,” he groaned. “We’ve got work to do.”