The Diamond Conspiracy: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel by Philippa Ballantine, Tee Morris Page A

And they must have wanted something badly from him to have come all the way to Australia.
    “I’m afraid my skills have gotten a bit rusty,” he said mildly. It wasn’t that hard to be convincing as she had snuck up on him. “More to the point, why would the Department hire one excommunicated from the game? I am damaged goods, especially when it comes to being a fella you can trust.”
    “My recommendation.”
    If someone would have brushed Bruce with a feather, he would have fallen off his bar stool.
    “This would be more of a permanent placement.” Her hand dropped over the top of his and held it tight, along with his attention. “We need you, Bruce.”
    This was starting to get interesting. “And why exactly is that?”
    Beatrice’s fingers clenched around his ever so slightly. “Your knowledge of the Ministry.”
    Bruce leaned back. Those instincts were now screaming at him to punch her as hard as he could and run. “My knowledge of—”
    “Dead drop locations. Safe houses. Protocols,” she continued. “We need your help mopping up our current mess.”
    He tilted his head again. “Mopping up? I hope that is a simple way of saying bringing in agents out of hostile territories?”
    Beatrice pursed her lips, appearing to size him up. Hesuddenly felt like a wallaby being measured for the pot. “The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences has been deemed an inconvenience by the Queen. We have a few loose ends to secure. I told my superiors if there was any man capable of leading this undertaking, it was the Thunder from Down Under himself, Bruce Campbell.”
    He didn’t blink or move a muscle as they stared at each other.
    “I would have thought,” she said in a soft undertone, “after what they did to you, that wouldn’t be a problem.”
    Despite everything that had happened between him—the betrayal against Doctor Sound, the heartbreak he brought to his best mate, Brandon Hill, and his breaking of trust with the Ministry—this news hit Bruce like a kangaroo kick to the stomach. Perhaps he’d hoped someday to be forgiven, return to the comforts and friendships he’d made there. No, the Ministry had its faults as did any agency that served at the behest of the Queen, but they had been good people, the lot of them. Good people who would have opened their arms to him again, once they had seen him a reformed man.
    And yet, here was Beatrice casually telling him that was all impossible.
    He was certainly not the smartest agent. He was the Ministry’s muscle, without question. Bruce was quick enough to know when Beatrice referred to loose ends, she was talking about his fellow agents. Brandon, Eliza, and Maulik, if he was in from India. Regardless of their desire to sock him on the chin, those agents were still his mates. They were his mates . . . now deemed an inconvenience in Queen Vic’s eyes.
    Suddenly the train bushwhacker faded to insignificance. Why the hell would the Queen get rid of her Ministry?
    It had to be the fault of that plonker, Lord Sussex.
    While Bruce took a long draft of his beer, he thought about where the agents would go, how they would react to this. If he knew any of them—which he did—he knew they wouldn’t go easy. Then he thought about the Department of Imperial Inconveniences and how thorough they were when given an assignment. They might have been nitwits, but they were well-trained nitwits, and they did excel in a few skills. Tracking, for one.
    Then he thought on the unfortunate fact that he had never trusted Beatrice. He’d bedded her several times, certainly, but did a roll in the hay equal trust? Hardly. There was something shifty about the tall woman. He’d never be able to turn his back on her, and he’d always been too lazy to keep much of an eye out behind him.
    This afternoon, however, he did. And on catching the inside lining of the bloke sitting behind her, noting the signature tweed that Beatrice herself was wearing proudly in her hat and riding coat, he