Read David Trevellyan 03 -More Harm Than Good for Free Online Page B

ground. Face down. Now.”
            “OK. Maybe I should try
a different question. Such as, why would I want to do a thing like that?”
            “You took the wallet
from the man on the floor?”
            “I did. I was looking
for some ID.”
            “Then go ahead. Look
inside.”
            I was curious, so I
looked. I found six credit cards. Two ten pound notes. An
Oyster card, for the London Underground. And an
official identity card.
            “See that?” she said. “Read
the name.”
            “Timothy Jones,” I said.
            “No. The
name at the top. His employer.”
            “The Security Service.”
            “Correct. He’s an MI5
Intelligence Officer.”
            I didn’t respond.
            “Have you seen one of
those cards before?” she said.
            I didn’t answer.
            “I have one just like
it,” she said. “Do you want to see that, too?”
            “Not especially,” I
said.
            “Are you surprised?”
            “A little.”
            “Do you like surprises?”
            “Not really.”
            “Well that’s a shame. Because I’ve got three more for you. Tell me when you’re
ready.”
            I said nothing.
            “One,” she said anyway,
and pulled a matching Sig from beneath the folds of her sweater. “Ready for the
next one?”
            I shrugged.
            “Two,” she said,
effortlessly standing up and stepping away from the wheelchair. “Don’t worry.
It’s not a miracle. And the next?”
            “Why not?” I said.
            “Good sport,” she said,
pulling a pair of handcuffs from her belt and dangling them off her left index
finger. “Guess who these are for?”

 
 
 
    Chapter Five

 
    The MI5 agent was about five foot eight when she wasn’t sitting in
the wheelchair. She was wearing dark skinny jeans with black ankle boots - flat
enough to run in - and a long grey sweater that was sufficiently baggy to hide
the holster for her sidearm. There was no sign of any jewellery .
Curly blonde hair reached down beyond her shoulders. She wore no make-up, and
her face looked like it could be quite pretty if she hadn’t been scowling so vigourously .
            I let her cuff me - she
was still holding a Sig, after all - and I didn’t interfere when she called a
medevac team for her partner. It was a little ironic, given that we were in a
hospital, but I knew she wouldn’t be ready to drop her cover just yet. I also
knew what her next move would be. To summon a snatch squad to spirit me out of
there, and without any ID it was the devil’s own job to convince her I was from
Royal Navy Intelligence and that we were on the same side. The best I could do
was persuade her to hold off calling the cavalry until she’d at least run my
code words past her liaison duty.
            “Wait by the wall,” she
said, eventually, then prodded a number of keys on her phone before holding it
to her ear.
            Someone answered inside
ten seconds, and it took her another minute to pass on her request. Then she
raised the gun and held it steady, centred on my
chest, while the person at the other end ran the
necessary checks. She was silent for another three minutes, occasionally
glancing down at the guy on floor. He was twitching slightly now, and moaning
quietly to himself. She took a step towards him but stopped abruptly,
concentrating on the phone again, then lowering the Sig to her side.
            “You’re to go to your
room,” she said, ending the call and retrieving the handcuff key from her
pocket. “Don’t go anywhere, and don’t contact anyone. They’re going to talk
about us, your people and mine. They don’t want anyone disappearing. And they
don’t want anyone muddying the water.”

 
    Julie Smith, the nurse