The train slowed, then pulled into Oxford Circus station, and the doors slid open. Anupa got off and made her way to the Bakerloo line, then doubled back and stood on the platform. She opened her bag and took out a makeup case with a mirror. Holding it up to her face, she pretended to inspect herself, but in truth, she was looking at the people on the platform behind her. Were any following her? Nobody seemed to be. She closed it and headed to the Victoria line. She repeated the mirror search, then got on a southbound train. Anupa got off at Vauxhall and made her way to the SIS building, the headquarters of the Secret Intelligence Service or MI6 as it’s commonly known.
Sitting at her desk, she started her morning trawl through the overnight events. Anupa was new to her role, having transferred over from MI5. She’d been through her orientation course and done well. The two services were different but had more similarities than differences. There was no such organisation as MI6 of course, but the SIS knew that was how most people knew it. There was no point fighting this, so it embraced it. Many of its few public-facing documents referred to it as MI6. It was more flash and debonair than MI5, more boys club military, the nicknames, the pranks, yet more ruthless than MI5. It had been a mild culture shock for Anupa. Nothing notable in the news seemed to jump out at her, only some Libyan signals traffic for the Lebanese embassy. It could be a message to an ISIS deep cover operation; she’d check that out with GCHQ.
A face appeared over the desk partition, an office screen. The man had fair unkempt hair and was typically unshaven.
“Morning Crutch,” he smiled. That had become her nickname.
“Morning Aqualung. Is your razor still AWOL?”
“Undercover job.”
“You still on that one?”
“Yeah, tramps don’t shave or wear Gicci.”
Anupa rolled her eyes. “That’s Gucci.”
“Whatever. How was your little trip back oop north? Family and friends good? Manchester’s slag heaps still smoking?”
“It’s Accrington, not Manchester, Aqualung. And yes, I had a good trip home.”
Aqualung shook his head. “They say it’s grim up north. Look, I saw Biggles this morning, the Head Shed wants to see you.”
“Rudolph?”
“That be ‘im. Aye me hearties. Yeah, cross me heart job.” Aqualung smiled as Anupa got up and headed to the lift.
Aqualung grinned. “Oh, she’s off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz. Good luck Crotch.”
Anupa turned and frowned. “That’s Crutch.” Anupa knew she’d have to stop pulling them up about the Crotch thing, it would only make matters worse.
THE LIFT TOOK HER TO floor six, and she entered the head’s outer office.
“Hello, Helen. I’m here to see him.” Anupa smiled.
“I’ll let him know.” She picked up the phone, propping it against her cheek and shoulder. “Hello, Sir. She’s here to see you. Right, Sir.” She nodded to Anupa. “Go on in.”
In the large, well furnished office, Rudolph stood, leaned over his desk and shook her hand.
“Hello Crutch, please sit. How are you settling in?”
“Ok, I think. It’s a change but I’m quite enjoying it.”
He placed his wrists on the desk, his fingertips touching together. “The feedback I’ve got is positive. Soup says you’re doing well, so it’s time to pick your area of interest. You’ll do your first tour there.” She knew this was a military term; a tour was a three year posting. Her second tour would normally be to another region. “We’ve got openings in the Far East or the Middle East, which would you prefer?”
She’d expected this, but had wondered if Latin America might come up, considering some of the things she’d been hearing about Venezuela.
“I think I’ll choose the Middle East, Sir.”
“Always something doing there. I started there before I became a Pact man.” He nodded his approval.
“I thought you’d always been a Pact specialist?”
“No, my first ops posting was Amman, Jordan.” Rudolph was virtually a fixture in Warsaw Pact; Eastern European operations. “Right, you’ll be working for Silk Purse. I’ll call her. In fact, I’ll do it now.” He picked up the phone, simultaneously sifting through papers on his desk as if he were looking for something. “Rudolph here. Hi. All well?” He listened. “Sounds fine. Ok. The reason I’m calling is that you have a new staff member. Crutch is requesting your patch.” He nodded. “Yes, she’s here now. I’ll get her to join your crew when she leaves.” He hung up.
“She’s pleased to hear that. When you get back, pack your things and report to her in the Middle East section.”
“Good, Sir, will do.” Anupa stood, preparing to leave.
“Before you go; why did they call you Crutch?”
She smiled. “Anupa Silva. It’s a Goan name; Silva, Silver. Pieces of eight were silver and are associated with Pirates and that led to Long John Silver. He had a Parrot and walked with a Crutch. So, that’s where it came from.”
He smiled. “It could be worse.”
“It is, Sir. Some have taken to calling me Crotch.”
He shook his head. “Don’t rise to the bait, worst thing you could do. Well, go and see Silk Purse. She’ll start you off.”
“Thanks, Sir.”
After Anupa left his office, Rudolph laughed. “Crotch. They can be a merciless lot.”
SHE WALKED TO THE MIDDLE East section. Silk Purse’s office was towards the back windows overlooking the river Thames. She was a dark haired woman in her early forties.
“Crutch, welcome to the Middle East section. You’ll attend an orientation course and then it’s off to your posting. That will be Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. You’ll need to liaise with the Saudi General Intelligence Directorate.
The Maslahat Al-Istikhbarat Al-Aammah is their SIS and the Mabahith is the equivalent of MI5. We normally work with the Maslahat, the external guys, but do work with the Mabahith too. I’ll set you up with Maslahat.
I’ve had a look at your file. You’re an outdoorsy type, climbing, diving, potholing.”
“Yes, I’ve done a bit of that.”
“Not much of that in Riyadh, but you’ll get out into the country. You ever been to the desert?”
“No.”
“It’s different, quite good once you get used to it. Don’t worry about the clothing. In the city you’ll have to cover your hair and dress modestly, but out in the sands. The Maslahat guys won’t mind what you wear. Welcome aboard, you’ll enjoy it, once you get used to it. Things you take for granted here, won’t happen over there. There’s a view that says it’s all repressive and harsh. There is some of that, there are some bad things going on over there. But there’s positive and fair too. Just learn, soak it up and you’ll find it’s better than you thought. See Torrance about doing the course.”
“Thanks.” Anupa knew it would be a learning curve, a bit of a challenge.
She’d find that it would be much more than a bit.
ANUPA SAT AT A CAFÉ by a side road under the shade of a large clump of trees. She drank Hibiscus tea from a tall glass. She wore a light blue loose-fitting robe with a checked headscarf and sunglasses. It was a pleasant day, as were many nowadays. It had been a culture shock in the early days, but she climbed the learning curve and now she was comfortable with the place. He’d asked to meet her. She knew him as Josh, her contact had been careful. He’d approached her with subtlety. At first, Anupa thought he was trying his hand, trying to make a pass at her. She’d dismissed him at one point. But she’d come to realise what may be going on, after an American colleague had told her that Josh was an Israeli intelligence agent. He turned up a few minutes late.