Within two hours, we were back in London. It was early in the morning; so early that it was pointless making the trek back to our flats but not yet late enough to wait in the office for the meeting with Collins. Instead of returning home, I took Scotty to a coffee shop I found last month. It was quiet and getting a little old but, being just two streets away from work, it was perfect for the two of us, especially since it was one of the rare coffee shops open twenty-four hours.

We opened the door to have the late-October chill swept away by hot black coffee and sweet caramel syrup. Scotty reached for the zip on his coat and pulled it down as the door slammed shut behind him, waking up the barista.

"Boiling in here!"

The barista jumped up from his stool behind the counter as Scotty wandered over to him.

I settled on a booth at the darkest part of the room where only thin strands of light from the ceiling stretched.

With a deep sigh, I collapsed onto the red leather. It squeaked as I lied down, and I could feel the wood beneath pushing through to dig into my spine.

I couldn't believe it. After eight years as an agent with only one other failure, I had been burdened with yet another incomplete mission. And it was all down to rogue Agent Barnes. Even just thinking about him – his confident smirk, his mocking demeaner and that stupid-looking clip-on tie – made my blood boil. He reeked of misplaced self-assurance and expensive aftershave.

Scotty forced a smile as he handed me my latte. "Your beverage," he said. I took the drink as I sat up, the mug soothing my anger like a warm hug.
"Thank you," I said, placing the drink on the table to cool. Scotty put down his excessively chocolatey mocha in front of his hands that he folded on the table. I stared at my own that I kept firmly wrapped around the mug. Failure. Failure. Failure.

"So." Scotty's words snapped me to attention again. "What do we do about Barnes?"
I clenched my jaw as the image of him pushing me down on the billiard table crossed my mind again. "We track him down, you fly me there and I kick his arse into the next decade."
He snickered. "You really don't like him, do you?"
"We just failed our mission because of him. Of course I don't like him."
"Really?" Scotty leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, brows raising in amusement. "You seemed to like him when you first spotted him."
I narrowed my eyes in an icy glare that cooled the blush rising in my cheeks. His smile widened.

"You know I'm only joking!" he exclaimed. "If you ever ended up with someone like that, I'd probably have to kill him."
"If I ever ended up with anyone,you would probably kill him," I replied, taking a gulp of coffee.

Scotty frowned, licking the chocolate off his lips. "What do you mean 'if' you ever ended up with anyone?"
I took another sip of coffee before resting the mug down on the table, drumming my fingers along the pot. "You and I both know that me and relationships don't mix very well. Me and people, in fact." I let out a lengthy sigh. "But it doesn't matter," I insisted, forcing a smile. "I have my work. I have you. There's nothing else I need."
"What about want?" he asked. "Everyone wants things."
I shook my head. "I'm an agent. Wanting things is a liability."

He bit the inside of his cheek but said nothing, tapping his nails on the edge of the table to a tune I was sure I heard coming from his flat recently.

Scotty nodded at the young barista playing on his phone. "Do you think he'll kick us out if I go to sleep for an hour?"
I gave a half shrug. "You won't know unless you try."
"Optimism, Ambi. I like it." He beamed a smile.

With a yawn, Scotty laid down across his side of the booth, letting out snores in a matter of minutes. The corners of my lips twitched as his mouth dropped open.

"Excuse me," said the barista, making me stir as he tapped my shoulder. I hadn't even noticed him leaving the counter. "Is he—?"
"He's been working all night and has to go back in a few hours," I explained. "He's really tired."
"Ah, yes," he replied, scratching his head. "I just—I, uh, I don't believe he's allowed to do that here."
I cocked my head and smiled sweetly. "I'm sure this won't be a problem. It's just for a few hours."
"But—"
"This will be fine," I said, narrowing my eyes in a cold contrast to my voice, smile fading. "Right?"
The barista swallowed and frantically nodded. "Yes. Yes! Absolutely fine. One-hundred-percent okay with me. Forget that I said anything!"
My lips curled into a smile reminiscent of the one I brandished earlier. "Thank you."

Once the barista had scuttled back to the counter, my face twisted into a thoughtful frown. What was Alistair's reaction to the knowledge of Scotty and I failing a mission? Would we be taken off the mission entirely? Or would I be forced to make a return to intensive training... again?

I brushed off the thought. I couldn't do that again – my lesson had been learned the first time. I reminded myself our meeting was with the Second-in-Command – not Alistair. Whatever the consequence for failure was that I imagined, Collins would dampen it to soften the blow. It made little difference to my pride, however. And no amount of sweet-talking and ass-kissing could take away that big red cross that now marked both our files on the record of the mission. That was stuck with us, now.

Scotty slept in the booth until seven while I sat awake, drinking coffee after coffee, too focussed on the meeting, and the future of my career, to rest.

***

Externally, I kept myself calm in the elevator that took us to the top floor of the agency. The nerves were eating me up from the inside and exhaustion had given me a mild headache, but I kept a straight face. Scotty, on the other hand, couldn't stop tapping his feet and letting out sighs.

"Would I be a good doctor?" he asked.

"You have no bedside manner and I've never known a bigger hypochondriac," I replied, suddenly reminded of my attire. Others in the office would be freshly washed and clad in professional clothing fit for their office duties. I seldom made an effort for doing paperwork, as field agents commonly did, but the casual jeans and top I changed into at the back of the helicopter hours earlier suddenly made me conscious of my appearance.

"What about a chef?" he continued. I spotted his eyes acutely glancing at the floor number on the panel behind me.
"You can't cook."
"Model?"
I said nothing.

When he grumbled under his breath, I changed the subject. "How about an agent, since that's what you are?"
"But we're going to get fired! I know it."
"No we won't," I assured him.
"Alistair hates me! If he doesn't fire you, he'll definitely fire me."
I rolled my eyes. "He doesn't hate—" I couldn't lie to him. "We're speaking to Collins. It'll be fine."
"Still..." He mumbled under his breath so low I couldn't understand him.

The elevator chimed and the two of us entered the office. As the doors shut behind us, we both gulped, reality truly setting in. Alistair and Collins's offices were seated side by side at the far end of the room, a single long aisle between the desks of busy agents leading us to our destination.

"Oh, look! It's our highway to hell."
"Scotty."
"What? I'm only saying."

***

He was twitchy as we sat in the chairs between senior offices. So twitchy that he leapt up and began pacing up and down the corridor, coming back with an even more apprehensive expression than before. I closed my tired eyes and leaned back in the brown leather chair, sighing at his incessant rambling.

"We're fired," he said when he came back. "I know it. They wanted this target really badly and we screwed it up. Well, you did."

My eyes snapped open. I dared him to say it again.

"Now," he went on, "they're going to discharge us and throw us out on the streets. I won't be able to afford rent anymore, especially in London. I'll have nowhere to go but—" He gasped deeply, his eyes widening to the size of golf balls. I knew where this was going and groaned.

"I can't go back to the farm!"
"Alright, just calm down—"
"My parents will make me farm the sheep again. I can't farm the sheep, Amber! The last time I farmed the sheep, I got trampled. My back still clicks to this day." He pressed harshly on his back, making a loud crunch that made me wrinkle my nose in disgust.

He gasped again, his face flushing white as his mouth dropped open. "What if they take away my baby?"
Internally, I recited every prayer in every religion I knew of to beg for mercy.
"I can't cope without Stacey!" he whined. "I'm just lost without her!"
I raised an eyebrow. "What about your co-worker and best friend?"
He waved off my comment. "You're easily replaceable."

My mouth fell open and a noise resembling that of shock escaped my lips, though the corners of my mouth twitched slightly, being fully aware of his humour.

"Kidding!" he insisted once he saw my face. "But Stacey..."

The passionate tone of which he spoke the name of his helicopter raised a subtle amount of concern and I found myself silently debating over whether people received help for things such as this.

"Stacey is... unique."

There was a quiet, girly chuckle from beside us. "Is he rambling on about that helicopter again?"

I turned, noting the source of the voice: Gabby, who stood with the usual white smile on her face and a clipboard in her hand. She was the gentler, more relaxed face you would see before facing a meeting with the stone-hearted Director. Being Alistair's secretary, Scotty and I saw her often and found time for chats in and out of work when she managed to get me to leave the flat I rented. She was a kind girl, much nicer than Scotty and I, and was likely the most sane and optimistic person that worked in the office.
"That helicopter?" Scotty exclaimed, face twisting in fury at her blasphemy. "She is not just a—"
"She's heard it a thousand times, Scotty. Leave the poor girl alone."
Gabby smiled at me, her doll eyes gleaming.

"Still up for drinks this Saturday?" she asked.
I smiled, confirming my answer, before I looked to Scotty, who forced a laugh.
"If we still have a job, that is. Can't pay for overpriced daquiris if we're unemployed."
"Pessimist," I muttered.
"Says you."
"Well you need to get rid of that pessimistic attitude by the weekend," Gabby said, grinning so much I feared she would explode.
I dreaded the answer. "Why is that?"
"Because Mr. Blue-Eyed-Bartender at the Tavern on South Bank is going to be asking you out on a date."
I scowled. "No."
"Oh, come on!" she insisted, arms dropping in a playful manner. "You haven't dated anyone since—"
"Nope."
Gabby rolled her eyes. "You can't remain alone forever."
"Are you challenging her, Gab?" Scotty laughed. "The last guy that sent her a suggestive glance ended up with no eyebrows."
Gabby blinked. "Huh?"
"Don't ask," said Scotty.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. At times like this, I often wondered whatever I did wrong in my life to fuel people's infatuation with finding me a partner. As I told Scotty in the coffee shop, I wasn't interested in anything other than my career. Many people did that, especially in their twenties. It was fine! I was sure no-one criticised Collins's career choices.

Gabby pursed her lip, cocking her head in a thoughtful movement until an idea struck, and she smirked in a way that contrasted with her external innocent demeanour. "I could invite Collins out if you want."
I frowned. "What's that smile for?"
"Collins is the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty of the office," she explained. "I think everyone would understand if one of Alistair's top agents had her eyes on—"
"I do not have my eyes on Collins." I held my voice steady as I suddenly grew warm.
"Please. Everyone has their eyes on Collins," Scotty quipped.
"Thank you, best friend, for your support."
Scotty grinned. "Anytime."
I had been teased about Collins before. If he knew the rumours spiralling around the office, he never addressed them. Not that we needed to, anyway. Being field agents, we had better things to do with our time. Collins, especially, didn't need to concern himself with that.

Gabby giggled, but sighed as she pulled her buzzing phone out from her pocket. With her distracted, Scotty whispered, "What about it? Fancy a date with Alistair's Second-in-Command?"
"You know I don't," I snapped, making him laugh. "He's not interested, and neither am I."
"You don't know that."
"I do. Let's just leave it at that."
"Fine. He's boring, anyway."
"Scotty!"

Gabby cleared her throat, waving her phone. "I have to go. I'll speak to the both of you later." Doing a little wave, she rushed down the corridor, her small heels making an acute tapping pattern as she went, thick brown curls bouncing on her shoulders energetically.
"If we still have our jobs, that is," grumbled Scotty.
I groaned. "Scotty, for Christ's sake! We're seeing Collins today. I know we failed but no drastic action can be taken unless we see Alistair."

He nodded, finally seeming to understand as his shoulders relaxed, easing me as well.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." He fell back in his seat and yawned. "As long as we don't see Alistair, we're fine."
"Good. Think about something else. Stay distracted."
"Right." He thought for a moment then snickered. "Imagine the chaos of another in-office romance."
I couldn't win with him. "The last one didn't end that well did it, Scotty?"
"Low blow, Amber. Low blow."
"You want to comment on my love life, I'll comment on yours."
He shrugged. "Fair game."

A door behind us opened and the two of us hopped to our feet. As a shock to us, Alistair's office was the one that had beckoned us, but it was the young Second-in-Command that walked out, platinum hair just as fluffy and uncontrolled as usual despite dressing up well in his business attire.
"Agents," he said, mouth stretching into a half-hearted smile that didn't tug at the corners of his gunmetal-blue eyes as it often did. "If you would please come inside."

Collins re-entered the office and Scotty tapped me on the shoulder.
"I feel very informal," he whispered, noting the contrast between Collins's unbuttoned blue blazer and his own jeans and hole-ridden jumper.
I gave him a reassuring nod and, in an attempt to comfort him, gave his arm a little nudge as we walked inside.
"We'll be fine," I assured him. "It's just Collins. There's no need to worry since we're not meeting with—"
"Alistair."

Scotty had frozen in his tracks, jaw dropping at the sight of the Director looking anything but happy from his position behind the desk. I stopped beside him. All attempts to comfort him earlier had been made entirely void.

The mere sight of him alone would have caused even the proudest wolf to whimper; the greatest bear to back down in fear. He straightened his back and folded his hands on the desk in front of him, sharpening the shoulders of his tightly pressed suit as though it may crack. His grey eyes burned like a hammer striking hot metal as he took a breath, anger fit to burst.

Scotty's raging stare burned into the right side of my head as my own eyes locked on Alistair. He held his tongue, but I could hear the thick accent ringing in my head like a stuck record saying 'I told you so' over and over.

"Sit."
We did as we were told and hastily dropped into the mahogany leather seats facing the Director head on. I pressed my knees tightly together and sat up straight, ready to face whatever punishment awaited us.
"First," said Alistair, "I must highlight the failure of the mission."

I took a sharp intake of air, clenching my jaw in frustration. It was rare for Scotty and I to fail a mission together. We were efficient in our work. Proud of it, in fact, and Alistair knew it.

"Now," Alistair growled. He put a hand in a drawer under the desk and pulled out a newspaper, tossing it in front of us. "Collins." The commander stirred from his hiding place in the corner. "Would you mind?"

If he refused, he would have been scrambling from the room with a dishonourable discharge. He emerged from the shadowed corner and leaned over the desk beside me.

"Unnamed woman attacks mystery man in cruise casino."
"How sexy and mysterious," muttered Scotty.
Alistair slammed his hand on the table. "What happened to discretion?"
"He had security on their way to help," I explained. "If I didn't get him then, I would have lost him to the security."
"But you didn't get him, did you?" he replied, his raised brown-grey eyebrow, sharpening his tone even more than his voice managed.

My eyes fell to the floor. I could see it now: the cross that marked my record. I was willing to bet Alistair had already done it out of spite to get me to step up my game again. He knew what a failed mission meant to me.

"Miss Knight?" he pushed.
"No." I sighed, forcing out the word. Scotty turned his gaze to me, his face sad and empathetic. Like Alistair, he knew how much this hurt.

"It was simple enough." Alistair stood to tower over Scotty and I. Only Collins matched his height now as he stood behind me. "I told you both to find Rogue Agent Barnes and bring him to me alive. You had a microchip to find him. This task should have been an easy retrieval for you both and yet you couldn't even do that."
"Am—Agent Knight did very well, Director," blurted Scotty, to the surprise of myself and Collins. "We didn't anticipate him having hired any security or even a bloody helicopter!"
Alistair furrowed his brows. "Your job is to strategise for her, Mr. Williams. What was the problem?"
Scotty gulped. "The bugger hacked security cameras. I couldn't see what was going on to help her."
"He was strong, too," I added. "Difficult to fight."
"You would say, wouldn't you?" Scotty playfully nudged me in the ribs with a grin. Collins lowered his brows and looked to Alistair for some form of clarification. I rolled my eyes and stood on Scotty's foot, making him yelp.
"Enough,"I growled.
"If you could both be so courteous as to pay attention,"Alistair snarled.
I regained my professional posture. "Sorry sir."
"Kiss-ass," Scotty muttered.
"Shut up," I retorted.
Alistair coughed – he could see another argument brewing.
"You are a trained agent, Miss Knight," the Director accused. "You should have been able to fight Barnes."
That was unfair. From the brief information we had seen on Barnes, it was evident that he wasn't a weak agent. Although I outranked him, my position could be attributed to other factors; the agency did not run on brute force alone.
"But so was he," I argued. "You trained him, so you're either scolding me without reason or doubting your own training program."

Collins tensed while Scotty struggled to maintain a neutral expression in response to the backlash. I rarely ever questioned orders and was even less willing to disrespect Alistair – a man I both trusted and looked up to – but my frustration had grown tired. With most missions, Scotty and I were given reasoning behind the actions we were required to take. However, with Agent Barnes, we had nothing. The briefing gave us instructions, a short profile on Barnes and little more. It was unfair and, if it was anyone other than Alistair giving the orders, I would have said no until I had context.

"I know I have been vague with you both," he said, almost letting out a sigh. "I wish I could tell you why we need him, but..." He rubbed his temples and huffed.
The Director had been different lately. Though not the most forgiving of bosses, his employees respected him – feared him so much that they obeyed, at least. All agents were given a choice regarding their work. We had to behave a certain way, of course, to maintain an objective stance, and orders were made to be followed but he only put his agents in a compromising position if absolutely necessary. Lately, he had been stricter. The number of agents that had been demoted or thrown back into training reached double figures weeks ago. The lines around his eyes and mouth had grown deeper, while silver streaked his hair. He was tired. That was unlike him.
"Sir?" I said. "Is there anything we need to know?"
His blue eyes softened in a brief moment of weakness before returning to their normal solid state. "I cannot say. I understand your unease but this information is for my ears alone... for now."
"For now?"
"Once Barnes is returned to me, I will have the confidence I need that data from the agency will not escape these walls, allowing me to disclose the information with you."
"Both of us?" Scotty asked.
Alistair's head dipped in a subtle nod as he gently placed his hand on a purple file that caught my eye. "Both of you."

I shared a glance with Scotty, our eyes matching in their knowing glints. Alistair drummed his fingers along the file, drawing us in.

I straightened up my back with renewed motivation. "We'll get him back, sir, I can assure you."

His thin lips twitched at the corners in silent approval. "Miss Kingston informed me prior to this meeting that Barnes was last seen in the Alps of France. His tracker stopped responding there shortly after you reported in only hours ago. Collins will send you the exact co-ordinates. Williams, you will fly Agent Knight overhead and release her when you spot Barnes." His stare turned to me. "You will retrieve him."
"We'll get it done."
"Aye... sir," Scotty added.
"Good luck to you both. I trust you to finish the mission this time. Collins."

With a nod that made his blonde mop bounce, Collins headed for the door to hold it open for myself and Scotty, who shamelessly darted out the moment it opened. Collins struggled to hide the little quirk of his lips and sent me a knowing look that made me shake my head as I fought against a smile.

I stood to leave, only to be held back by Alistair's voice.
"Agent," he said.

Collins shrugged when my eyes narrowed to ask for help. Scotty, meanwhile, slowly ran a finger across his neck with a mischievous grin.

"A word," said Alistair.

Collins and Scotty were almost out the door.

"I'll wait out here with Scotty," Collins said.
"We won't be long," Alistair replied, turning his attention solely to me. Collins nodded and shut the door, leaving Alistair and I alone.

The Director gestured to the cushioned chair for me to sit back down. I slipped back into it without a sound, tapping my fingers against my knees so that he could not see my nerves.

His stone stature slackened. "How are you?"

I did not even try to hide the short breath that escaped my lips. Since failing the mission, I had imagined a noteworthy scolding from Alistair reminding me of the trust and merit held in my position. Although relieved, it was curious that he would choose now of all times to make small talk. It had been a long time.
"I'm good," I replied. "Thank you."
"I apologise if I was too harsh with you earlier," he admitted. "Your pilot refuses to listen to me unless he is quivering at your side."
I snickered. Scotty was the more rebellious half of our partnership and, if not for his fear of the Director, he would be entirely untamed, with only me softening his edge to at least loosely follow orders.
"I'm fine. At least I'll get the job done this time." I held back a tormented exhale.
"Do not doubt yourself, Amber. We haven't had an agent like you in a long time. Never forget that."
"Thank you, sir," I replied, my voice stone. We had some great agents as colleagues; I had worked hard but others were just as deserving.

"Though, I am afraid I did not summon you back for a catch-up."

That was too much to hope for. The Director rose to his feet and drifted towards the window, keeping his hands locked behind his back. The flow of London traffic reflected in the tall glass as the burgundy drapes swayed in the quiet breeze.

Mirroring his apprehension, I stood up. "Sir?"

He stared at the landscape of England's capital, taking in the grey city view with his eyes fixed on the endless rotations of the London Eye that turned over and over again.

My stomach churned with it. "Alistair, what's happened?"

The Director's hands broke apart and crossed over his front as he turned around, shadows flitting through his grave face.

"We think we've found Marcus."

A lump grew in my throat, blocking my airways so badly I had to swallow it down to even breathe. He watched me for this reaction, and I now understood the hesitance he displayed. I ran a clammy hand through my hair and closed my eyes to breathe. I allowed a moment to collect myself. That was all.

"Amber?"
"Where do you think he is?" Dizziness washed over me in a wave of images. The steps. The dark. The Doctor.
"I can't tell you," he said, his voice blunt.
I frowned defiantly. "But you can't just—!"
"You had a right to know."

His brow lowered to remind me of my place. I reeled the flaring anger back inside, extinguishing what sparked my outburst.

"Why won't you tell me?" I asked, cooling my voice.
"Because you will abandon your assigned mission in favour of finding him," he explained. "Once you have brought Barnes back to me, alive,I will give you the location and leave to find him. You have my word."

I almost fell back in the chair. As a child, I wanted nothing more than to stay out of Marcus's reach, but my mindset switched entirely as a teenager. Trained and more determined than ever, I made it known to Alistair that my desire was to track him down and put an end to his work. He refused.

He was right. I would have prioritised finding him over retrieving Barnes because even just the mention of his name put a leash on my emotions. Marcus could pull and manipulate them without even knowing it.

But he was so close. "And what if he's gone?" I challenged.
"Then I will provide you with unlimited resources to track him down. If our sources are correct, his work is growing. He's starting it all again."

My stomach clenched. After all the time that had passed, why now? What had changed? I was under the impression that every resource he possessed had been destroyed when Alistair raided his lab all those years ago. Since that day, I had been indebted to the Director. It was his duty to help, but he did more than that. Without him, I would have been no-one. A lonely orphan scarred by her past with no hope for the future. Everything I had become was because of Alistair... and Marcus.

I took this meeting as a lesson. If I could detach myself from thoughts of Marcus while hunting down Barnes, I would have been ready to face him when the time was right. I had a chance to face him now, and I should have been grateful for even that.

"Thank you, sir," I said once again. "I promise: I won't let you down."

***

The cellar at the base of headquarters housed both the workshop and the agency's armoury. Within it, weapons and vehicles were invented, designed and modified to equip field agents that carried out the Director's orders. We accessed it through the pristine elevator of mirrors that reached every floor of the building, and brandished our Senior-Level Access ID's to gain admission to the armoury.

The Second-in-Command waited silently while I had a swift change of attire to better suit the climate of the Alps. I opted for a pair of lace-up hiking boots as opposed to the flimsy trainers I had been wearing all morning, and pulled on a black coat, stuffing the pockets with leather gloves and a tartan scarf, deciding to put them on in the helicopter when the temperature dropped.

Collins echoed the brief as the three of us made our way further into the armoury.
"As Alistair said, Barnes was last seen approaching the Alps from a ski village with an entourage of bodyguards. By now, he will most likely be in some kind of settlement. As his tracker is out, he will believe himself safe from the agency."
"He certainly seems very confident in himself," I muttered. Even while engaged in conflict, he managed to smirk and flounce around obnoxiously on the ship.
Collins exhaled a groan. "A trait that can be both useful and frustrating."

I felt my cheeks heat up, channelling a great amount of self-restraint to not show a change in shade. I hesitated back on the cruise ship. If I hadn't stared like a dumbstruck schoolgirl at first, he may not have grown suspicious and called his security. It wouldn't happen again. Next time, he would lose.

"How long since he was spotted?" Scotty asked. He ripped off his woolly hat, sweat beading on his head as he realised how warm it was inside.
"About four hours," Collins replied. "There's a young agent on holiday in the Alps that we asked to keep an eye out. He spotted him walking through the ski village."
"And he didn't take him out?" I frowned.
Collins's lip quirked. "He's a nineteen-year-old trainee on a skiing holiday with his family. Remember that Barnes has been a fully qualified agent for seven years and is likely prepared for an attack."
I nodded in understanding. "Fair enough."
"Not everyone can be born a badass." Scotty smiled, tapping me on the shoulder. "Like myself."

I tutted and shook my head, giving up on hiding my smile.

We stepped into the final section of the armoury, finding it to be empty with the exception of the three of us. It was a seemingly empty room, but the storage cupboards had been left in the shadows, built into the black tiled walls behind the three archways at each corner of the room. All that sat in the centre was a small table with nothing but a dark briefcase sitting atop it.

Collins reached for the table. "Miss Knight."

The briefcase winked from the spark of the hanging light above and unlocked with ease. A devilish smile crept on my lips. "Scotty?"
He beamed, letting Collins answer. "He told me how Barnes got the upper hand during the fight," he explained. "We decided that this may prove useful in motivating you to bring him back sooner."
I held the taser up to the light as the sweet taste of revenge tickled my tongue. "Oh, it definitely does."

I stuffed the taser in my coat pocket alongside my gloves. It would prove useful as a back-up weapon – or a sedative.

"We are also supplying you with a gun this time," Collins said. "Hired bodyguards were not anticipated before, but now we are prepared for them."
"Do you have any idea how he could have acquired them?" I asked.
"We're not certain," he confessed. "The Director believes they may be helping him as a favour of some kind. Or a connection from his life before the agency."
"And what was that?"
"I am unsure. Alistair simply said he had a rocky past, but it was classified."

I could understand not wishing to disclose that. If it wasn't relevant to the mission, I didn't need to hear it.

"He's not getting away this time," I assured him. "I don't know what he did to make Alistair want him so badly, but it has to be big. I'll drag him back by his hair if I have to."
Collins's blue eyes lit up as a proud smile formed on his soft, tanned face. "I don't doubt that, Agent Knight. I don't doubt that at all."

"Mr. Collins!"

He jumped as Gabby called from the corridor that led back to the elevator. She rushed over, trying not to trip in her petite heels, eyes still engrossed on the paragraph of information written on the iPad in front of her.

"Alistair says there's a meeting with the Prime Minister in half an hour," she panted, "He wants you there."
"He... he wantsme there?" Collins frowned, looking over her shoulder to read the iPad.
Gabby nodded frantically, light reflecting from the cheekbones of her dark skin. "Yes. He mentioned that you need to pick something up from Reading after the meeting, as well. It's a matter of urgency, he said, and he's to discuss it with you in private."
"Of course."
"Right, now that that's done, I need to be back in—" She checked her watch, eyes expanding. "—two minutes! Please hurry to the meeting, Collins. He'll meet you at his office."
"I will. Thank you, Miss Kingston."

Gabby scuffled away, briefly nodding to Scotty and I politely as she hurried back down the corridor.

"A meeting with the Prime Minister. As you do," Scotty quipped.
I ignored Scotty's comment and folded my arms. Although in regular contact, it was rare for the Director and the Prime Minister to meet face-to-face. "Is everything alright?"
"Hm? Yes. Yes, of course," Collins stuttered.

He attempted to stride past me for the door and would have made it if I did not take hold of his arm, surprising us both.

"Collins," I said, my voice firm and assertive. His face softened as he read my features and I almost let go in guilt. From the mission failure to the whispers about Marcus, I was on edge, and something so uncommon as a meeting with the Prime Minister peaked my curiosity to a dangerous level.

Collins sighed. "There's been some... frictionbetween the agency and the Government for a while now."
"Friction?" Scotty raised an eyebrow.
"Alistair has demanded a rise in power for the agency. He believes if we are to have an active role in peacekeeping, our opinions should hold weight against the politicians as it is our agents that keep getting sacrificed."

That hit like a punch to the gut. The lengthy memorial wall on the ground floor was enough evidence of that.

"He thinks the politicians talk too much," he went on. "That while we argue over how to act, our enemies pick us off quietly. We need a more relentless approach towards them if our country is going to prosper, he says."
"And what do you believe?" I asked.
It was evident I had caught the commander off guard. His eyes flickered towards my grip on his arm and I swiftly let go, forgetting my place in an impulsive moment.
"I believe in a balance," he replied. "We don't belong in politics – we're too brash for that – but that does not mean we should bow to their every whim as if we are pawns to be discarded. Communication has to improve, and freedom of choice should be offered to all who work within this field, if we are to help as many lives as we can."

Collins was an obedient agent. He followed Alistair's orders without second-guesses and almost never opened his mouth to discuss anything other than work – even then, it was rare. It was a shock to hear he even had opinions and I wondered whether he'd voiced them to others.

Satisfied with his answer, I stepped aside, even though he had the power to discharge me if he wished.

"Oh!" Collins spun around, still backing out the room. "Agent Williams, I have your requisition order in the storage compartment of your aircraft."
"Stacey,"Scotty corrected him. "But thanks."
"Right." Collins knitted his brows together. "But if you dowant to take up my offer on replacing her with the newer model—"
"No. No.A thousand no's!"Scotty exclaimed. I rolled my eyes. That helicopter, no matter how old it got, was part of him now. It would fly until the day he died.
Collins did not react. "I will see the pair of you later today, I hope. Good luck to you both."

The echoes of his footsteps soon died down into silence. It only took a moment of loading our weapons and stocking up on ammunition for Scotty to break it.

"Don't worry," he said. "I didn't tell him why you were reallydistracted in that fight with Barnes."
I raised my brows innocently. "I don't think I know what you mean." He cackled.
"Oh, come on! You were obviously staring at Mr 'oh-so-deepbrown-eyes'—"
"The target,"I reminded him with a glare.
"The target, then!" He let out a laugh, strutting around the table. "The mighty Amber Knight: ruined by a moderately attractive target."
"Scotty," I snapped.
"Yeah?"
"Shut. Up."
He snickered. "To Stacey?"
I nodded. "To Stacey."