compensated for with classic styling and impeccable tailoring. Her hair, although no longer dark brown, was thick and luxuriant, while the lines on her face had been carefully softened by a plethora of expensive moisturisers and even a few laser treatments. Perched on top of her head like a tiara was a pair of tortoiseshell-framed glasses.
For the last sixteen years, Eleanor Page had been chief adviser to the Director General of the FBI. In all that time she had witnessed a succession of new administrations come and go, and with each, had viewed their passing with unshakeable equanimity. Long ago she had realised that such events were mere blips in the course of history and that, for as long as the underlying factors remained constant, life would continue largely as is. It was this perspective alone that had kept her diastolic 80 under 120.
But in the last six months all that had changed. There had been a fundamental shift that would affect all US interests, both foreign and domestic. So far only four people in the US administration had seen the same report, with the Director General specifically labelling it a ‘game changer’. The document had concluded with the warning that they would be able to keep the status quo for precisely eighteen months, after which time the full horror of their country’s predicament would be laid bare on the world stage.
Eleanor had been personally tasked with finding a solution, and after a chance report had hit the desk of one of her contacts at the FBI, she felt she had one. It was a complicated plan, involving a number of third parties and big geo-political plays – all of which made her feel very uncomfortable. She would have preferred to keep this firmly within her own sphere of influence, but unfortunately that just wasn’t an option. Instead she needed the British, and they in turn had assigned her Kieran Bates.
Staring across the desk at him, Eleanor brightened her expression into a smile, carefully masking the doubts she had about this man. Was Bates really up to the task? Then again, Parker himself had put him forward for the job.
When she had initially made contact with the head of MI6, Fabian Parker had told her that he had just the man for her. He had first pointed to Bates’ aptitude tests, before going through his list of previous assignments. They had been impressive, with only one notable exception in the Yemen where one of his field operatives had been killed. But no career was perfect. If one seemed to be, there was usually something missing from the file.
But more than Bates’ list of achievements was the fact that he had been physically absent from MI6 for the last three years. Continuous tours of Afghanistan and, prior to that, the Yemen had made him all but a stranger to his own department. It was exactly what Eleanor Page was looking for. She needed someone detached from the normal remit of MI6, but who could ensure that the British kept their end of the bargain.
With so much at stake, it was vital that as few people as possible knew of the plan’s existence. Parker had even decided that the British Prime Minster need not be fully informed. Instead, a desultory report had been sent upriver that was as vague as he could make it without piquing the interest of the oversight committee.
Adjusting the glasses on top of her head, Eleanor’s smile widened a fraction. It was a knowing look, as though she and Bates had been friends for years.
‘So, who exactly is this Beatrice Makuru?’ she asked, her voice tinged with the slightest trace of a New York accent.
‘My man’s ex-girlfriend. She’s a mining investigator for Anglo-Africa, so I thought a little reassurance wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘Well, I’m sure a man like you can handle her easily enough. No doubt you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her from asking any more questions.’
Bates nodded, trying to ignore the flattery.
‘And this contact of yours, Luca Matthews. You seem confident he’ll
For the last sixteen years, Eleanor Page had been chief adviser to the Director General of the FBI. In all that time she had witnessed a succession of new administrations come and go, and with each, had viewed their passing with unshakeable equanimity. Long ago she had realised that such events were mere blips in the course of history and that, for as long as the underlying factors remained constant, life would continue largely as is. It was this perspective alone that had kept her diastolic 80 under 120.
But in the last six months all that had changed. There had been a fundamental shift that would affect all US interests, both foreign and domestic. So far only four people in the US administration had seen the same report, with the Director General specifically labelling it a ‘game changer’. The document had concluded with the warning that they would be able to keep the status quo for precisely eighteen months, after which time the full horror of their country’s predicament would be laid bare on the world stage.
Eleanor had been personally tasked with finding a solution, and after a chance report had hit the desk of one of her contacts at the FBI, she felt she had one. It was a complicated plan, involving a number of third parties and big geo-political plays – all of which made her feel very uncomfortable. She would have preferred to keep this firmly within her own sphere of influence, but unfortunately that just wasn’t an option. Instead she needed the British, and they in turn had assigned her Kieran Bates.
Staring across the desk at him, Eleanor brightened her expression into a smile, carefully masking the doubts she had about this man. Was Bates really up to the task? Then again, Parker himself had put him forward for the job.
When she had initially made contact with the head of MI6, Fabian Parker had told her that he had just the man for her. He had first pointed to Bates’ aptitude tests, before going through his list of previous assignments. They had been impressive, with only one notable exception in the Yemen where one of his field operatives had been killed. But no career was perfect. If one seemed to be, there was usually something missing from the file.
But more than Bates’ list of achievements was the fact that he had been physically absent from MI6 for the last three years. Continuous tours of Afghanistan and, prior to that, the Yemen had made him all but a stranger to his own department. It was exactly what Eleanor Page was looking for. She needed someone detached from the normal remit of MI6, but who could ensure that the British kept their end of the bargain.
With so much at stake, it was vital that as few people as possible knew of the plan’s existence. Parker had even decided that the British Prime Minster need not be fully informed. Instead, a desultory report had been sent upriver that was as vague as he could make it without piquing the interest of the oversight committee.
Adjusting the glasses on top of her head, Eleanor’s smile widened a fraction. It was a knowing look, as though she and Bates had been friends for years.
‘So, who exactly is this Beatrice Makuru?’ she asked, her voice tinged with the slightest trace of a New York accent.
‘My man’s ex-girlfriend. She’s a mining investigator for Anglo-Africa, so I thought a little reassurance wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘Well, I’m sure a man like you can handle her easily enough. No doubt you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her from asking any more questions.’
Bates nodded, trying to ignore the flattery.
‘And this contact of yours, Luca Matthews. You seem confident he’ll
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