Page 25 of Taming Achilles

A reminder of time lost.

But it gave me a chance to be alone, to walk to the bathroom, which was unlocked. Thankfully, it was a single room, not a bunch of stalls with openings at the top and bottom that many American establishments enjoyed. No doubt why my American counterpart chose this place.

“Jesus,” a low voice greeted me as I walked in. “I am spending too much time in women’s locker rooms and bathrooms for this job.”

“You could have sent your daughter,” I tease, smiling as I look at the dark-haired, brown-eyed Brett Bradley. There were a lot of similarities between him and Geordie. They were a similar height and build, with a certain kind of tall, dark and handsome look that women fell for. Yet, I felt nothing for Brett but the fondness of a loving friendship. He didn’t make me want to rip my entrails out.

Brett wasn’t his real name, but he liked it enough that he used it on even social occasions. He fit that name to a T.

“She’s new and I don’t want to scare her by making her crawl through ductwork.” He leaned against the wall. “Did you actually need to go to the bathroom? Do I need to turn around or something?”

“I’m fine.” I looked up and saw a foam ceiling panel out of place and smiled. “That’s your ingress point.”

He smiled, nodding.

“I was wondering how you’d get in here.” Brett and I had always traded tips and tricks of the trade.

“I had to get creative, since your Scottish shadow wasn’t letting you out of his sight.” Brett said with a wink. “So, what’s going on there?”

“We’re not here for gossip,” I warned, letting him know with more than words that the topic was off-limits. He knew the drama. I had confessed it all in an ill-advised night of drinking. He knew there was more going on. I just didn’t feel like getting into the present developments. Not in a public restroom.

“Of course, but I suspect he’s part of the reason I’m here, sweetheart. So, walk me through it.”

That was one of the reasons I liked Brett. He always had this paternalistic manner, once you got past the general douchebaggery. He was patient, and kind underneath it all.

I talked through the latest events. From the break in, to calling Geordie, which I now think was a mistake, and what they had found at the police station today.

“You should have called me.” Brett shook his head. “I would have shown up.”

“I don’t have your number memorised. I couldn’t have called it from the SCIF.” SCIF was another acronym, of course, for Secret Compartmentalized Information Facility. A place where government secret equipment could be held, with secret communications. My closet’s inner sanctum qualified by only the barest of margins, and literally, would not be called that. But it was a common lingo Brett and I could understand.

“But you still have his number memorised?” he said, shaking his head. “Learn mine, sweetheart. This all could have been avoided. We’re looking into Jason Rhodes, and I have to tell you, we don’t have much.”

“You don’t think Alex was the one driving the train?” I asked.

“No, Juju and I think it was probably Jason, who was answering to someone else.” He let out a brief sigh. “Your buddy Alex was probably in a vulnerable spot, and primed to be turned.”

“Jason exploited his weakness.”

“These guys might be a hydra, but even a three headed monster has one head that leads the rest, you get what I’m saying?” Brett liked his metaphors. “I don’t think he’s driving the train. I think he’s just punching tickets.”

“If I ditch my security now, it’ll seem suspicious.” I whispered. “I tried telling them I had no money and couldn’t afford it.”

“On the books, it’s true. You’re penniless nobility now,” Brett smirked, knowing that I had millions in off-shore accounts. A secret salary paid by Vauxhall Cross wasn’t substantial. It was the salary of a civil servant, after all. But it had been left untouched for over a decade, so it had grown.

“How are they making you pay, kiddo?” His eyes were jovial, as if there’d be a punch line at the end of it. But it wasn’t particularly funny.

My mouth dropped open, and I shut it quickly.

“Jesus.” Brett’s face turned serious. “No … that’s … I’ll fucking kill him.”

Brett’s biceps flexed, his hands balling into fists. He looked me dead in the eyes, and I could see the rage building inside him.

“Don’t,” I said, quietly, looking at the door as if I could see the man on the other side.

“What kind of man takes advantage of a woman in a vulnerable position?” Brett gritted through his clenched teeth. “I’ll fucking murder him. Drop him in Lake Elizabeth.”

“Stop,” I placed my hands in front of his mouth as his volume started to rise. “It’s not like that. Not really.”

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