“Well, thanks for sending them. That was another surprise you sprang on me. A nice one, this time, though.”
“I’m glad you like them. I wasn’t sure they’d be an appropriate ‘welcome to the team’ present, in the circumstances, though.”
“Why not? What’s inappropriate about boots?”
“Well, I remember you saying you couldn’t wait to leave the hospital. Now, here you are, having to stay.”
“True. But it’s not a problem. I’ve been stuck in worse places. And I’m very adaptable.”
“Can you adapt to working with us, do you think?”
“Why shouldn’t I? Or are you unusually hard to work with?”
“I wouldn’t say so. But from what I hear, teamwork isn’t normally your forte.”
I shrugged. Working in teams wasn’t usually a problem. It was leaving them intact when I’d finished that was the issue. Specially if one of the team members was hiding any unsavoury motives, which they usually were, if there was a reason for me to be involved. And looking across at the agent, I couldn’t help wondering if that would be case, here.
“How many times have you operated in the UK before?” she said.
“I never have,” I said. “Does that matter?”
“I think it might. Look at how you just responded to those cameras. And our CCTV’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve seen a list of the places you’ve been posted to lately, and I don’t care where your passport says you were born. There are very real ways the UK’s going to be the most foreign place you’ve ever worked. I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
I didn’t say anything, but I was beginning to think she might be right.
“I don’t want to be lumbered with a fish out of water,” she said. “Specially not an angry, violent one. Because there are laws here. Laws that are enforced. That’ll make your usual methods impossible. That frown on people who pulverise everyone they come across who they don’t like.”
I played back how things had got started with the three yobs, and realised it was no coincidence. Following the debacle with Jones she’d set out the field deliberately to see if there’d be a repeat of the violence. That made her supremely opportunistic. Maybe even manipulative.
The more I saw of this woman, the more I liked her. How typical that she came with a health warning.
“Those guys who were hassling me?” she said. “You wanted to stop them, didn’t you? You wanted to hurt them. And you would have done, if that one hadn’t taken a dive.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Someone had to do something about them. And it fell to one of us.”
“Why?”
“Think about it. They pick on the disabled. Damage public property. Spoil this garden for others. They’re like a cancer.”
“That’s a little harsh.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then why didn’t you call security?”
“A security guard was here before you arrived. He tried, but he couldn’t do anything about it.”
“So call the police.”
“He did. The police aren’t interested.”
“That doesn’t make dealing with it your job. Or mine.”
“Not our jobs, no. But it’s still an obligation. We were here. We could have done something. Turning a blind eye was wrong. And... forget it.”
“What?”
“Well, you know who I work for.”
“Obviously.”
“Then you know I’ve been lucky. I’m still here. But a lot of my friends aren’t.”
“The Security Service loses agents too. What’s your point?”
“I’m asking a question. These people – yours, and mine. The ones who’ve given their lives, defending this country. What did they die for? To build a safe haven for thieves and drug addicts? Or for vandals, like the idiots we just let walk away? Degenerates who rot the place away from the inside, little piece by little piece. It makes me wonder, why do we even bother?”
She didn’t answer.
“Don’t you ever feel that way?” I said. “It must be worse for you, having to live here with them all the time.”
“It doesn’t strike me that way at all,” she said. “Where there’s freedom, there’ll always be crime. That’s how societies work. The big problems, we deal with. Other than that, it’s about finding a balance, and most of the time we do that pretty well. You’ve got to keep things in perspective. And guys like them? They’re not threatening anything fundamental. They’re not smart enough. They’re morons. Who cares?”
“So, freedom and crime, two sides of the same coin. Don’t you find that depressing?”
“No. I don’t. It’s a glass half full, as I see things. It gives me hope.”
I caught some movement to our left. The door had opened again. A doctor and a nurse were looking through, but when they saw the garden wasn’t vacant they turned and disappeared back down the corridor.
“You know, my stomach’s telling me it’s nearly lunchtime,” I said. “Are you hungry?”
“Maybe, a little,” Melissa said, after a moment.
“Fancy helping me hunt down a sandwich?”
“That might be nice,” she said, hesitantly. “But I need to make a couple of calls first. Check up on a couple of things. I’d do it later, only it can’t wait. You can come with me, if you like.”
I thought her offer over for second, but decided to decline. There was no point looking over her shoulder. Not when she was expecting me to, anyway.
“No thanks,” I said. “Why don’t we meet somewhere when you’re done?”
“Deal,” she said. “How about the hospital canteen? Half an hour?”
Chapter Eight
I found the hospital canteen on the top floor of the wing that contained the offices. Outside, a plaque said it had been opened eighteen months earlier by some junior minister from the Department of Health. Inside, it looked like it had been transplanted from a mid-scale department store. Circular tables, each large enough for four people, were scattered seemingly at random throughout half of the space. A sweeping, curved counter provided shelter for the people serving the food, and behind them were three parallel rows of shiny stainless steel kitchen units. It all looked good - very sleek and industrial - though there was no sign of anyone doing any actual cooking.
Around half the tables were occupied. I could see little knots of nurses. Physiotherapists. Doctors. Clerical workers. Each group was set apart by their clothes and separated by where they sat, as if they were divided into hostile clans. The only exception was the occasional huddle of patients or visitors who had managed to find their way into the place. Several of them scrutinised me as I bought a mug of coffee, presumably categorising me by my hospital pyjamas. But I belonged to none of the groups, so I just collected my drink, retreated to an empty seat in the corner furthest from the door, and settled down to wait.
A quick inspection the other customers’ footwear revealed no sign of my boots, so I turned my attention to the garden. It was deserted. I wondered if that was because no one wanted to be there, or whether people were put off by the kind of yobs we had encountered earlier. I was still feeling surprised by Melissa’s attitude to the situation. I hadn’t expected her to accept the hooligans so readily. I thought back to the other MI5 people I’d crossed paths with over the years, and couldn’t imagine any of them seeing things that way, either. Especially not the field agents. Either she was the exception that proves the rule, or the Security Service had changed dramatically in recent times. And I certainly couldn’t see her point of view finding much favour in Naval Intelligence. In my world things were much more black and white. There was a threat, or there wasn’t. Someone needed to be eliminated, or they didn’t. I was beginning to think that spending time with Melissa could be interesting, if only for the shades of grey she brought with her.