Chapter Three - Gina
A few days later, the email pinged its arrival from my third-party consultancy, the bridge between my world and the shadowy security services.
You have a job.
I replied in the usual manner and a meeting was set up.
Using my usual mask, for my contact I parked my Ducati motorcycle and met in the basement morgue of the London Hospital.
Despite my thick, biking leathers it was chilly and my contact, Mr Grey was smothered in his grey greatcoat from the Grenadier Guards. On the slab, a body of a man with two neat jokes through his chest cavity, perfectly aligned with the heart.
"Your new job" Grey shrugged.
"Shot while escaping?" I joked thinly.
"Just shot." He replied.
Knowing my routine, the body was left for me to help me create the 'frame'. He had been a handsome man, muscular and well-endowed- I hope the assignment would give me a chance to use the king, thick shaft.
I examined the body and took in all the details. Grey handed over a secure flash drive. "Voice, video, briefing notes."
"Do I get the highlights?" my tone playful.
"A woman we want on our side would be very happy for this man to be inside her- enough highlights?"
I smiled; Perhaps I would get to fuck her with this huge dick.
"My fee?" I prodded him verbally, sending his discomfort around the dead.
"This is important and time-sensitive- 300k now, the rest when the woman comes over."
With that, he turned round sharply and left.
At home, I studied the file carefully.
Gina Swan, her code name was Lupin, was counter intelligence secondment to CIS (Cyprus Intelligence) only an analyst but discovered some dark secret intel and needed an 'out'.
The dead man was her former boyfriend and handler. Tom Harris is a cover name but one she knew him by. She had requested him to 'bring her in' but FSK (Russian Counter-Intelligence) had killed him.
A big problem for Control.
A bigger problem for me is if the woman, Gina, discovers he's dead.
The email chimed again, and my flight details were confirmed via Brize Norton (RAF Hercules flight) to RAF Akrotiri and then by military land rover to Pissouri Beach, Limassol. Control had rented a 2-bedroom villa, that Tom Harris had used before.
After an exhausting 15-hour turnaround, wearing three different masks to cover my tracks, but assuming Tom Harris's mask as I parked the non/ description Land Rover in the driveway outside. Travelling light with one hold-all and wearing Tim's clothes that had been found in his London apartment, I flopped onto the bed of the villa called 'Rosaries' and felt like sleeping the rest of the day away but I had to be sure that Gina didn't have the villa under surveillance. As Tom, I wandered on the patio and scanned for any untoward glints of metal or glass from binoculars or cameras. Seeing nothing, I retired inside and unpacked. I set up the laptop, configure the Sat phone connection, put my two phones on charge and found the house lockbox. Security services always have lock boxes as a means of housing essential tradecraft items including a sidearm. As expected, the standard Glock 25 in matt black finish resided within, complete with a shoulder holster and two full magazines and a box of 120 9mm rounds. I ejected the mag, also a full load of 15 rounds, checked the slider and reinserted the magazine and cocked the weapon, chambered a round and clicked up the safety catch. I replaced the Glock and took the whole box and put it under the bed.
