For the last five years Vic had worked for the government to stay out of prison. Gus-the-warder controlled her life in fine detail. She preserved her sanity by rebelling just enough and not too much, trying not to show she cared about anything. 

But she did care about someone: Leonora. Mission buddies, they'd argued and fallen out. No-one knew they'd stayed in touch. Leo was free much sooner, so contact was easier then.

In the first few horrendous seconds after finding Gus' body, Vic's first thought was to keep Leonora safe. Then herself, the quadrants, and the war. In that order. The pair had served their time, earned the right to marry, be happy. There was no way Vic was going to let this trouble follow her home.

 Vic had followed through on Gus' contingency plan. Back in her room behind closed curtains, she'd extracted the duplicate report data from a device within a hollow false tooth, not without some discomfort.

Earlier in the day, while worrying about her wedding outfit, she'd completely forgotten the tooth until Gus asked pointedly at the pub if she'd 'tidied up'. She'd tried to distract him by bumping the table, and planned to deal with it afterwards. Well, if she had let him down then, there was a silver lining: Now, they could get a duplicate to the general by a different route.

 She knocked the hollowed heel of her boot closed, securing the hidden data with a firm stamp on the wooden floorboards. The duplicate lay snug in a custom-made sandalwood box, tucked into her Cuban heel, ready to be passed with a neat kick to the next appointed agent.

On reflection, wasn't it a bit convenient that she just happened to have the box that fitted that heel? Had Gus gambled on her forgetting to destroy the duplicate? She was momentarily mad that he knew her so well, but that was his job.

It wasn't Vic's problem to track down the saboteurs. She was officially free and on leave. She was vindictively glad Gus would have to sort that out on his own.

She re-checked the release mechanism on her heel, and then stamped it shut again. In front of the hall mirror, she dashed a black smile to her lips, sprayed on her favourite Death Trap perfume, and stepped outside.

On cue, a Harley rolled round the corner. Without seeming to look, Vic swerved right round it and hopped onto the back. The driver gave her two seconds to settle and was off at a pace, roaring up the hill side toward the ruined Abbey on the cliff top.

At a secluded stretch, made private by trees, the bike slowed down for a hair pin bend, and Vic leaned a little lower and caught her heel on the pedal at just the right angle. The catch on her boot loosed and she flicked the secret cargo into a hatch she controlled with a kick on the other side of the bike. She'd practised this little dance for days at summer camp years back. It had seemed like a game then. Now she knew, only the best lived.

By the ruins, she slithered off the Harley without a word, turning to see where a second bike protruded, beyond the wall. It was a bike, she thought, grabbing hold of it and getting on like it was her own. Well, it was her own. She'd left it there earlier, straight after the pub with Gus, when she'd sent her 'I'm free' message to Leonora. Just an emoji of a heart and a rose, as arranged. 

The Harley was already nowhere to be seen. Must be driving without lights on. And the quiet purr of that engine was lost in the roar of the sea.

Distracted, she didn't immediately notice the shadow in the shadow of the wall. But sixth sense kicked in and she found herself turning about in a wide arc so she could look while seeming to leave. 

She could so easily have missed it, but something made her rev the engine and go right there. She flung down her machine and dropped to the ground, weapon in hand. She unbuckled the chin strap of his helmet, exactly like driver's on the Harley, but the familiar, strangely fragile form of Gus lay before her. It was obvious she could do nothing for him. He was gone. And so was the package.

As far as she knew, Gus was the only one that could have known the arrangements for tonight. He had set her up? Had he sent the rider? Had he been played, or had he been a player? One thing was sure: she would be a target now.

An image of Leonora flashed in front of her, the white blonde pixie hair and those eyes of blue, so, not exactly innocent, but sweet, and fun.

"I promised," Vic muttered. "and I will be there!"

*******

Leonora was working at the chicken factory near her home town in Quadrant 2. A cousin of a cousin had fixed it for her. It was hard to get a job as an ex-con. No-one wanted to let her near anything computerised, even a till, but it would get better with time. She just had to prove herself.

The phone buzzed in her pocket, and she struggled to hide the agitation she felt waiting for her break to take a look. She thought she knew what, who it was. Working faster didn't make the line go faster. She had to keep calm, and fit with the rhythm of the other women. Was it her imagination or was it buzzing a lot? By the time she was able to take off the rubber gloves and step outside into the air, her phone had half a dozen messages. Hairdresser, nail bar, heart and rose, or rose and heart? Her smile fell. The first emoji text was good, but there were more.

Vic had sent code for problems, delay, danger. Then there was a gap. Then random flowers, and don't worry I'll be there, but be patient. Then loads of flowers again.

Leonora didn't think it looked good. It was a fair distance to the far side of the First Quadrant, but her holiday started tonight. If she left straight away and flew all night...

********

Image ref as front cover, Wikipedia page : Harley.