ominously, opening the door for us to go through.
Karen Hanson sat at her desk, dressed in an expensive grey suit, her dark hair in a perfect chignon, her manicured hands holding a heavy Parker pen. Her age was hard to tell; she looked like one of those women who was very careful with herself and therefore could be anywhere from thirty-five to fifty-five.
Maria and I exchanged glances. Now I sort of wished I wasn’t wearing five-year-old denim shorts and five quid sandals.
“Maria de Valera and Sophie Green,” she said, looking up at us in the right order. How did she know that?
Oh, yeah. File photos. Right.
“I’m the new director of SO17. My name is Karen Hanson, you can call me Karen if you want or One if you’re more comfortable with that.”
One was our old director. His name was Albert, but we figured One had a more Bond-ish sound to it. Plus it was easier to store him as One in my mobile, with everyone else as numbers according to seniority. He was shot and killed not long after I started working for SO17.
“I’ve been in Saudi for six months working undercover for a sheikh suspected of connections with Osama Bin Laden. In case you’re wondering, he was cleared. I’ve trained with the SAS and been with MI6 for ten years. I am married with two grown-up children who have no idea that I’m not the oil company executive I have always told them I am. The existence of SO17 came as a surprise to me, and it must continue to be a surprise to everyone else. I expect total complicity in keeping this organisation top secret, as well as your full loyalty and cooperation. Do you have any questions?”
I barely had any brain functions left. This woman was my own personal nightmare.
Maria raised her hand, a clever move that showed off her scar. “Will SO17 be getting any additional funding?”
Karen Hanson shrugged. “I will try to secure some extra funds, especially in the light of your recent activities, but MI6 has plenty more things to worry about than your pay packets.”
“I didn’t mean pay packets,” Maria said with a cut-glass smile, and I took a very small step back, “I meant funding . For equipment. Weapons. Surveillance. Perhaps someone to man the lab?”
“I will do that,” Karen Hanson said. “I am a qualified doctor.”
What a surprise.
“Miss Green,” Karen Hanson clipped, and I jumped. “You have nothing to say?”
“Not right now,” I said cautiously.
“Nothing wrong with keeping quiet.” She shuffled some papers, and I wondered what they actually were. Did everyone in a high-powered position have papers to shuffle when they want to change the subject? Was it one of those things you learn in management school? “Now, a new job just came in. Surveillance and possible personal protection.”
“You mean bodyguarding?” Maria frowned. “With all due respect, Mrs. Hanson, SO17 doesn’t take on contract work.”
“Does SO17 want to be paid?” Hanson asked waspishly. “Then SO17 takes on contract work. It’s not a breach of security, the client already knows of our existence. Her parents were agents.”
Even though her own kids didn’t know of the agency? I glanced at Maria and saw she was thinking the same thing.
“When do we meet the client?” Luke asked. He’d been standing to one side, evidently having exhausted all other questions and arguments this morning.
“Agent Five is escorting her in. They should be here any minute now.”
“I thought I was Agent Five,” I said in a small voice.
“No, you are Agent Four,” Karen Hanson said dismissively.
Ooh, a promotion. Probably because the old Four is currently serving a life sentence, having shot the old One, as well as several other people. I started hoping the number wasn’t jinxed.
We stood there in silence for a bit. Then, “Did you show her the lab, Luke?” Maria asked.
“First thing,” Hanson said, before Luke could speak. “I’m impressed.”
“Shame it was ordered to the spec of the
Karen Hanson sat at her desk, dressed in an expensive grey suit, her dark hair in a perfect chignon, her manicured hands holding a heavy Parker pen. Her age was hard to tell; she looked like one of those women who was very careful with herself and therefore could be anywhere from thirty-five to fifty-five.
Maria and I exchanged glances. Now I sort of wished I wasn’t wearing five-year-old denim shorts and five quid sandals.
“Maria de Valera and Sophie Green,” she said, looking up at us in the right order. How did she know that?
Oh, yeah. File photos. Right.
“I’m the new director of SO17. My name is Karen Hanson, you can call me Karen if you want or One if you’re more comfortable with that.”
One was our old director. His name was Albert, but we figured One had a more Bond-ish sound to it. Plus it was easier to store him as One in my mobile, with everyone else as numbers according to seniority. He was shot and killed not long after I started working for SO17.
“I’ve been in Saudi for six months working undercover for a sheikh suspected of connections with Osama Bin Laden. In case you’re wondering, he was cleared. I’ve trained with the SAS and been with MI6 for ten years. I am married with two grown-up children who have no idea that I’m not the oil company executive I have always told them I am. The existence of SO17 came as a surprise to me, and it must continue to be a surprise to everyone else. I expect total complicity in keeping this organisation top secret, as well as your full loyalty and cooperation. Do you have any questions?”
I barely had any brain functions left. This woman was my own personal nightmare.
Maria raised her hand, a clever move that showed off her scar. “Will SO17 be getting any additional funding?”
Karen Hanson shrugged. “I will try to secure some extra funds, especially in the light of your recent activities, but MI6 has plenty more things to worry about than your pay packets.”
“I didn’t mean pay packets,” Maria said with a cut-glass smile, and I took a very small step back, “I meant funding . For equipment. Weapons. Surveillance. Perhaps someone to man the lab?”
“I will do that,” Karen Hanson said. “I am a qualified doctor.”
What a surprise.
“Miss Green,” Karen Hanson clipped, and I jumped. “You have nothing to say?”
“Not right now,” I said cautiously.
“Nothing wrong with keeping quiet.” She shuffled some papers, and I wondered what they actually were. Did everyone in a high-powered position have papers to shuffle when they want to change the subject? Was it one of those things you learn in management school? “Now, a new job just came in. Surveillance and possible personal protection.”
“You mean bodyguarding?” Maria frowned. “With all due respect, Mrs. Hanson, SO17 doesn’t take on contract work.”
“Does SO17 want to be paid?” Hanson asked waspishly. “Then SO17 takes on contract work. It’s not a breach of security, the client already knows of our existence. Her parents were agents.”
Even though her own kids didn’t know of the agency? I glanced at Maria and saw she was thinking the same thing.
“When do we meet the client?” Luke asked. He’d been standing to one side, evidently having exhausted all other questions and arguments this morning.
“Agent Five is escorting her in. They should be here any minute now.”
“I thought I was Agent Five,” I said in a small voice.
“No, you are Agent Four,” Karen Hanson said dismissively.
Ooh, a promotion. Probably because the old Four is currently serving a life sentence, having shot the old One, as well as several other people. I started hoping the number wasn’t jinxed.
We stood there in silence for a bit. Then, “Did you show her the lab, Luke?” Maria asked.
“First thing,” Hanson said, before Luke could speak. “I’m impressed.”
“Shame it was ordered to the spec of the
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