Page 91 of Bonded in Death

“I’ve quit countless times. Truly believed I’d beaten the habit this time. Two years, three months, six days. But then Gio.” She inhaled again.“And now learning, almost worse, that Potter’s still alive and responsible for Gio’s death. It’s crushing. I’m not easily crushed.”

She offered Peabody a charming smile as she took the martini glass. “Thank you so much.”

She opened the lid on the dish, flicked ashes into it. Then sipped delicately at the martini.

“I may feel human again before we’re done. How can I help you? Because I promise you, I’ll do whatever I can to help you toss that murdering bastard back in a cell.”

“You worked closely with Potter.”

“I did. We all did. It’s lowering to know that he deceived me. I considered myself, and still do, an excellent judge of character.” She sipped again. “He was a very large miss.”

“How did you become part of The Twelve?”

“Ah. Let me begin by saying I had a very comfortable childhood. A very pretty childhood. I was very pretty, which adds to it. Some would say spoiled, and I won’t disagree. Clouds began to gather. Rumblings of thunder, lightning strikes. Most of this, I remained blissfully unaware of. Then, in a finger snap, the storm broke and I was shipped off to boarding school in the countryside. To safety. I quite detested it.”

Taking a long drag, she settled back. “But I began to see and to hear and to pay attention. Some of the other girls had friends or family in the fight. And some lost friends and family. Then, for me, there was a boy. A sweet boy. Not my first kiss, but the first that mattered. He had such strong beliefs about what was right, what was just. When we weren’t sneaking off to snog, which we did as often as possible, we talked and talked.”

She took another drag, expelled smoke slowly.

“His worldview opened mine. We gave ourselves to each other, fumbling at it, so sweetly, the night before he left for London to fight. He was bound and determined to go, to help restore order and balance.”

After one last drag, she stubbed out the cigarette in the little dish. “He was killed less than two weeks later. Barely eighteen.”

“What was his name?”

Iris looked up, eyes full of emotion. “How kind of you to ask. John Charles Brooke. Johnny. I decided tears, and mine were copious, weren’t enough. I returned to London over my parents’ strong objections. But I had turned eighteen and come into the first of my trust. They couldn’t stop me. I knew I couldn’t fight. The only thing I’d ever shot were clay pigeons—though I was quite good at that. And the London I came back to wasn’t the London I’d left.

“The violence, the anger, the restrictions. But of course, there were still places of privilege, parties, gatherings, indulgence. I thought to use that, my place there, to somehow get a sense of things. What was real, what wasn’t. Then there was Marjorie.”

Iris lifted her glass in a half toast before she drank. “We knew each other a little. We’d met at a party when my parents brought me back for Christmas. So we renewed our acquaintance. Became friends. I had no sense she was feeling me out, but clearly there was enough of Johnny still in my mind and heart that she sensed my willingness, my allegiances. She introduced me to Ivanna at a party. You could have called our conversations, our teas, our luncheons job interviews. I told them about Johnny, and at some point said I wished there was something I could do to help.

“They told me how I could, if I was willing to train, to work, sacrifice, and risk. Not yet nineteen?” Iris laughed. “Of course I was willing. Some of the training was brutal. Hand-to-hand? The delicate ballerina put me down more times than I can count. But primarily, my work was intelligence. And for that, I only had to be what everyone thought I was, what I had been, a spoiled, wealthy party girl, much more concerned about the style of her hair than the state of the world.”

She leaned forward. “I was good at it. Bloody brilliant at it. And whenI became part of The Twelve, I had something I never knew I needed. Real purpose. It wasn’t just a team for me, it was family. We did important work, we made a difference. We saved lives. But there was a Judas among us. Working with us, eating and drinking with us.”

“Tell me about Potter, specifically.”

“Sharp. Edgy with it, but sharp. I learned from him, and that still disturbs me. He’d worked in intelligence, so he worked on my skills. He considered me a whore. He didn’t say it plainly, but a girl knows. A useful whore. He thought of war as a man’s job. But spying, deceit, whoring—useful women’s work. He was family. You don’t always like all your family. But he taught me well. I trusted him.”

She paused a moment to think. “He liked things tidy, and would become annoyed if something was out of place. I tended to kick my shoes off if I came into HQ after a party or assignation. He hated that. He seemed fond of Ivan. I can’t say if that was genuine, but he’d often go into the lab with Ivan. He was very dismissive of Cyril, carefully dismissive, but he clearly didn’t care to work closely with Cyril.”

“Because he’s gay,” Peabody said.

“Yes. Which seemed counterintuitive, as we were fighting to restore rights for all. I always felt he saw Summerset as, not an enemy, but a competitor. Next to Sylvester, Summerset had the most diverse skill set. The medical knowledge, which was invaluable, but also weaponry, combat, strategy, tactics. He could assist in the cyber work, if necessary. And he certainly knew how to gather intelligence.

“If anything had happened to Sly, it would’ve been Summerset put in charge of the unit. And that, I believe, was a problem for Potter. He would see himself in command.

“Then there was Alice.” Iris laid a hand on her heart. “I loved her. You had to love her. Potter—not love, but desire. And desire not just for herself, but because she loved and was loved by his competitor.”

“Did that ever come to a head?”

“If it did, it was away from HQ. I’d say his desire for her cooled considerably when she became pregnant. During that time Alice was off field duty. She worked in HQ or remotely. Then after the birth, she was on leave, tucked safely away with the baby through the winter. She’d only been back a few weeks when we began to plan the mission that would kill her.”

“Did you spend time with Potter outside of HQ?”

“During training, yes. Then, of course, we might be teamed up on a mission.”

“He had a sweet tooth.”

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