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Because she never complained or asked him details in turn, he never told her about anything he experienced, not that there were many of them which could be considered luxurious or potentially enjoyable and he stuck rigorously to cockroach related stories to make her feel better.

At that moment though, Rebecca wasn’t thinking about the Spa.

Originally she had toyed with using the approval as a carrot as part of her strategy to get at Wasir, but she had changed her mind when one of her junior analysts advised her that the Americans had requested increased monitoring and information on Litchfield’s interests plus on his investment in Adwalland.

When she listened to his telephone conversation with the President of the country she quickly decided there and then Thomas represented a much better chance of revenge, if she handled it correctly.

With British interests over the last two years becoming focused on ongoing Gas supplies and Asian export Markets like India and China, Her Majesty’s Government, since the election, had moved away from the supporting American Foreign Policy goals and focused heavily into the rebuilding of relations between Russia and China using the position of a trusted ‘neutral,’ following the parliament’s vote over military action in Syria representing a prime example.

First, the Litchfield deal had been parked on the sidelines on the basis it was considered advantageous for British business but when the Americans had turned up on the scene, this meant as far as Rebecca was concerned that situation presented a much better bargaining chip that she could use on him.

The Vauxhall Bridge analysts had immediately grasped this by watching his first interview describing it as hostile, to say the least, for a network his company was a major shareholder in.

With the Director General instructing Michael to be “helpful” towards the Americans, in effect, meaning “all assistance short of help” so to allow the opportunity for the “deal” to bed in one-way or another.

Using her rank she had quickly taken over the liaison with the Americans using excuse that as she had the most knowledge on Litchfield and having established links of communications with him and senior members of his organization, she was the most logical choice. Secretly though it was because she instinctively knew she could use him as a lever in her quest to revenge Christopher.

“Bloody Americans! I take it we are being ‘helpful.’ I don’t want us to be caught up in a pissing contest between them and Ivan primarily as the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary have both expressed their support in this deal!” the Director General had said to Michael and her in their weekly briefing at his offices in Vauxhall Bridge.

“Of course, Sir” Michael had replied.

“We are also happy to confirm that we don’t believe he is an agent of the SVR,” Rebecca had added, handing him her report.

“Excellent news! I will let Foreign Secretary know so he can brief the Home Secretary and Number 10.” He smiled. “I had the ‘comic relief’ boys on at me why we were taking so bloody long—now I can tell them to bugger off,” he had said taking the report from her, having used his Service’s nickname for the MI5 which came about due to the red nose of Sir Francis Walsingham, the famous spymaster of Elizabeth I that formed part of their crest.

Like always, Michael, ever the inquisitor, had eyed her with a thoughtful eye when she presented her case for taking over the file.

Originally she had planned to tell him that Thomas actually knew her real name due to the politics surrounding him because she still wanted a career in the service, but relying on her instincts she had changed her mind on her way back to the office from their meeting at the Connaught over a month ago.

At the time, she processed the decision as low risk because he hadn’t let on he knew her in any of their public meetings so why take oneself out of the game, plus, though she didn’t want to admit it, she wanted to see him again having enjoyed the mental swordplay and flirting with him.

That had all changed the moment when she saw the photos of Wasir, to the point that she actually thought it might have been fate, for if she had told Michael he would have taken her off the assignment immediately. The direct consequence would have been that she would never have seen Wasir’s picture, and as such missed her opportunity to get him.

“Bashert!” meaning destiny in Yiddish she had thought at the time.

“Makes sense, Becks” Michael had said in support at the time when she offered him her dressed up false flag logic. “I will let Langley know you’re the new case officer.”

The phone buzzing in her room pulled her away from her thoughts and her unpacking for the night.

“Mrs. Field?” asked the regular public school voice of an older gentleman when she picked it up.

“Yes.”

“Angus Mackintosh.”

“Hello, Angus, and how are you?” Rebecca replied, recognizing the voice.

“Very well, Mrs. Field. I was wondering if you’re free for a meeting with Sir Thomas this afternoon?” he asked with the typical style of a British Army Officer not bothering with small talk, something his wife told him he was useless at in any case.

“Of course, what time would suit you?”

“How about three?”

“That is absolutely fine,” Rebecca answered.

She didn’t ask to bring Michael because she wanted to take the opportunity to find a baseline as to what type of leverage she might be able to use. If Michael attended the meeting he possibly could weaken that position by expressing or giving up the fact the service was only going through the motions with respect to their increased interest in Awdalland.

At a quarter to three Rebecca made her way down the stairs of the hotel. Finding Angus waiting at the bottom they shook hands then got into his golf buggy and proceeded to drive towards the main house from the hotel. Making a terrible attempt at small talk by using every Englishman’s old friend of the weather as a subject, Angus never mentioned that he knew her real name by sticking religiously to Mrs. Field all the way.

Taking five minutes to reach the main house, Angus parked up the buggy. Whereupon a member of the household staff quickly ushered them inside to the study.

Finding Thomas was already standing. It pleased her that he made no reference to their meeting at the Connaught as he shook her hand and smiled.

“Mrs. Field. I trust everybody is looking after you at the hotel?” he said using her cover name as a way of telling her that as Angus was present he wouldn’t call her by real name.

“Very much so, Sir Thomas,” she replied smiling in return, playing along.

“Excellent. I hope you don’t mind Angus being present?” he then asked.

“Of course not,” she replied. In her mind over the last hour she had toyed with a couple of scenarios as to how she could use the man standing in front of her now in the personal quest; in the end she settled on testing him first with respect to his relationship with Wasir and whether the phone conversation with the President was just to keep him on side.

Getting the small talk out of the way she went straight down to business.

“Sir Thomas, what can you tell me about your relationship with Wasir Osman Hassan?”

That question in itself immediately told both Angus and Thomas two things: firstly the British had him under surveillance, something both had expected so not surprising, and secondly the Interior Minister was a person of interest to the British.

“Why are they asking about him?” Thomas thought.

“I am sure you know more about him than we do, Mrs. Field,” Angus stated in return, surprised that a field intelligence officer was actually telling them they were under surveillance despite them both suspecting they would be.