I, Spy? by Kate Johnson

thing. “God knows. Luke has a warrant card, but then it could be a fake. I don’t know.”
    “She,” he jerked his head at the closed door, “has the sort of hardware you can’t buy in shops, you know what I mean? That’s black market stuff.”
    “You mean guns and stuff?” I thought about bluffing it out but ended up confessing, “I don’t really know anything about guns.”
    Macbeth shook his head. “So why’d they hire you?”
    I shrugged again. “I have no idea.”
    “You sleeping with him?”
    “No!”
    “Just checking.”
    We waited in silence for a few more minutes. I tried to think of something to say to Macbeth but my mind drew a whole load of blanks. Truth was, I was terrified of him.
    Eventually, voices sounded in the outer office, and then the door opened and a middle-aged man in a suit came in. He had that sort of distinguished look about him, handkerchief in his breast pocket, old school tie, air of supreme self-confidence. The kind of guy you’d hate to have as a neighbour—until someone tried to build over your street and he called in his old chums at the Home Office. Luke and Maria followed him, looking like rebel children.
    “This is the biggest team briefing I’ve had in a while,” the distinguished chap said, taking a seat behind the desk and switching his computer on. “I’m One. You are… Sophie and… Macbeth?”
    Macbeth nodded.
    “Interesting. What’s your real name?”
    Macbeth looked impassive, but he took something out of his pocket and handed it over to One. A passport. An old black one. They were pretty damn rare now. It was hard to get them extended.
    One read it, raised his eyebrows, then handed it back. “Miss Green?”
    I stared at him for a bit.
    “ID?” Luke prompted and I, blushing, fumbled for my wallet. I’d brought my passport too, but I hated the picture. I handed over my driving licence, figuring that if I could fly to Ireland with it, I could use it for government ID.
    One looked me over, smiling. “Luke,” he said.
    “Sir?”
    “The British spy is elegant, suave and sophisticated. The British spy is not blonde, built and…and confused.”
    I didn’t know where to look. I know I went red. Maria and Macbeth looked like they were having a hard time not smiling.
    Luke had no such reservations. Grinning broadly, he said, “She’s smarter than she looks, sir.”
    “Well, she’d have to be. All right,” One gave my driving licence back. “They’ll need new pictures for their cards,” he said to Luke and Maria, who nodded. To me and Macbeth he said, “They’ve told you the rules? Don’t discuss any business with anyone outside this room—apart from Lex. Not even a policeman. Hardly anyone knows we exist.”
    I wanted to ask about the police cooperation yesterday, but kept silent.
    “Don’t tell anyone you work for us. Don’t tell anyone we exist. If we find out you’ve been telling secrets, we will have you killed. Is that clear?”
    I nodded. Macbeth nodded too.
    “Lex has the contracts for you to sign.” He looked up at Maria and Luke again. “They’re in your hands now. Good luck.”
    With that he turned back to his computer, and Luke came forward to me. We went back to Alexa’s desk, I signed a million confidentiality things and then we were outside and it was hardly breakfast time.
    “We’re going to take a look round the terminal,” Maria said. “You want to come with?”
    I shrugged, looking at Luke. He grinned. “I think we’ve seen enough of it for now,” he said. “I rigged it with Paola that you’re off when we need you,” he went on, as Maria and Macbeth got into the 205 and disappeared. “Now it’s time for some training.”
    I swallowed nervously. Precisely what kind of training did he have in mind?
    He told me to drive back to the village, but to take a different route. I’d lived there most of my life, and I thought I knew every part of every road, but when we turned off on what I’d thought was a dirt