Page 49 of Gates of Tartarus

“Much, thank you. Can I offer anyone a cup of tea or coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Seef grunts and alights on a delicate settee. Elizabeth catches my eye and gives a little smirk; Seef looks ridiculously uncomfortable. Emlyn too declines and sits down beside him, twin peas in a very small pod. But there are only two other chairs in the room, armchairs, I’m relieved to see.

“Well, I’m going to have a cup of tea. Maela, you’ll join me, I hope?”

“Thanks, Elizabeth. That would be nice.”

We wait until Fallon comes back with a pot of tea before Emlyn leans forward. “Ms. Cole–”

She holds up her hand. “One moment, Mr. Ryder. Maela?” Elizabeth proffers a bone-china cup. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Just a splash of milk, thanks.” I take the saucer, placing it on a spindly, low table.

“Now gentlemen,” Elizabeth pauses and takes a sip of tea, “I assume you have some questions for me.”

“Ms. Cole,” Emlyn begins again, “while you’ve given a statement to the police, all of us in this room know that you are likely being targeted by Kronos.”

“Not necessarily,” Elizabeth interjects. “I can’t tell you the number of threats and demands for money I’ve received over the years.”

“Still,” Emlyn perseveres, “Kronos is interested in getting their hands on your latest drug, to the point that they’ve been trying to infiltrate your organization.”

“If that’s the case, Mr. Ryder, then why go to the trouble of trying to kidnap me?”

“Perhaps they decided it would be the quickest way to get what they wanted.”

Elizabeth shakes her head. “And the attempt was rather amateur. Those men couldn’t even shoot straight.”

“Luckily for you,” Seef observes drily.

“Yes, well.” Elizabeth takes another sip of tea. I do the same; it’s Darjeeling, and a very well-blended one at that. Not a supermarket own brand.

Elizabeth sets her cup down on her own spindly table. “Perhaps Iammaking light of things. And I’m fortunate in my driver. But I can’t help thinking that this was more likely to be about money.”

“And yet, the timing is quite the coincidence. Kronos wants your formula; you come to London; and five days later, you’re the subject of an attempted kidnapping.” Emlyn lifts a skeptical brow, making no attempt to hide his feelings.

“Is it? I visit London frequently, and my meetings are often reported in the press, if only for the company I keep. If the meeting’s with a member of government or a minor royal, you can be sure that some journalist somewhere will file a story on it. And, of course, our donors like to publicize their generosity. It wouldn’t be too difficult for some enterprising gang members to get it into their heads to try to make a quick buck by extorting money from me. The first time it happened was a year after I married my husband. They fared no better than those idiots last night.”

“Ms. Cole,” Seef levels his gaze on her, “while that is a possibility, a more likely one is that Kronos is behind the attack. We’d like to assign you a security detail for the remainder of your stay.”

“Absolutely not.” She locks eyes with him, the picture of defiant disdain. “I already told your colleague Agent Smith. It would get in the way of my schedule and upset investors. I thank you for your concern, but I have every confidence in my own team, a confidence which was fully borne out this morning. And now, gentlemen, I’m afraid that I do have another meeting shortly.” She stands up, and we all follow suit. “My staff will, of course, pass on any useful information that may come to light. Maela,” she smiles at me with genuine warmth, “thank you so much for dropping by. We’ll be in touch.”

I learn a whole lot of interesting new swear words on the drive home.

A Trio of Lyrical Treats

Monday, 12 November – Maela

Elizabeth wasn’t the only one targeted; someone cut Kailani’s brakes. This means no more feeble attempts at hooky for me. I need to step up my efforts to develop my embryonic precognitive abilities. If I can catch even a glimpse of a hint of what Kronos might be planning, well, it goes without saying it would be a game-changer. It turns out that the US team has been cut off from the Center for Developing Sciences – which I didn’t even know was athing– I mean, really,Men Who Stare at Goatsand all, scout’s honor– so the pressure’s just been amped up exponentially. Emlyn passes me a stack of documents at breakfast, telling me that I need to read them after my yoga session with Kavi, who’ll be dropping me off at MI6 this afternoon. And I need to pay attention during my lesson with Seef; the only reason Kailani escaped serious injury was her quick thinking and high level of physical fitness. In other words, I think glumly, lay off the wine and be prepared for extra laps. And push-ups. Uggh. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if and when feeding times have been scheduled for me, but Jorge catches my eye, looking stern, and I subside. It’s clear the guys are rattled, and me mouthing off won’t help matters.

I’m a bit skeptical about precognition – OK, yes, I had a “feeling” the once, but the whole concept just opens up weird questions about time and fate. If I can see the future, does that mean time is linear? And, is everything predestined? Or would I just catch a possibility, which, because I’d have seen it, could be changed? Would that make time circular, then, looking forwards to change the past, so to speak, which is really the present? Is there just this one reality, or are there several, like in a multiverse, where in one world I see, and the other I don’t? And how many dimensions are there? Four? Height, width, depth, and… time? And how many senses? Does extra-sensory perception count as a sense? Is that the “third eye” Kavi sometimes talks about during our yoga lessons? I can just wrap my head around remote-viewing, because I’m seeing what’s happeningnow; but if precognition is real, what isnowand what isthen? Because if I experiencethen,now… Oh help. I continue reading. Apparently, belief in precognition – prophecy, fortune telling, premonitions – call it what you like, has been around since antiquity. Remote-viewing and precognition are fraternal twins, each an aspect of second sight, so I guess it makes sense that I might be able to develop the ability. How, though, I really don’t know. Most instances happen in dreams or trances, so maybe just keep meditating? Or do I take another drug? How am I supposed to move forward when I don’t even know the direction?

???

Seef’s counterpart in the CIA, Maddox Smith, has sent through some footage of Tennireef. The first is your typical political interview – looking after Seattle, blah, blah, blah, lower taxes – blahbitty, blahbitty, blah, higher investment in infrastructure – hah, hah, hah. He’s smooth and practiced and, knowing what I now know, smarmy, but the woman – all poofy blond hair, breast implants, and make-up put on with a trowel over Botoxed face – is lapping it up. All I can think about is the last time I “saw” him, ordering a rapist to “take out the trash”, and my fists clench when I remember the terror in his victim’s eyes.I’m going to takeyouout, you bastard, I silently vow. The second recording is more interesting. Judging by your typical Hollywood crime drama, he seems to be in a police station. He’s sitting in a dingy room at a metal table, and we’re looking down at him from an angle. I hear a woman’s voice: “Oh shut the fuckup, you fucking insufferably dumb bag of rotted dic…” I can’t help it; I snort and clap a hand over my mouth. She’s asking him about Riley Beckett, toying with him, trying to catch him out, but he’s parrying, keeping on the mask of concerned innocent. Then he goes into a spiel about how much he loves Seattle, looking directly into the lens before looking back, presumably, at the woman. Suddenly, he flinches, and I hear the woman laugh and say, “I bet you do”, and I see… something. The veneer cracks, just for a second, and I seehim. There’s something there, a twist of thwarted fury that reminds me of the first time I saw him, when he was calling Magda ahora. Then all of a sudden, his eyes roll back in his head, and he falls forward onto the table, head hitting it with a satisfying thwack.

I look at Seef. “Did he just… I don’t know? Hyperventilate?”

Seef’s still looking at the screen. “Interesting. Maddox did say their Ms. Reed has a way with words.”

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