Out of the Shadows (Akira and Deane Thriller Series Book 1) (7 page)

‘NO!’ A sweat
drenched Olsen sat up quickly in his bed as his heart continued to
pound away inside his chest. It had been a nightmare. Terrifyingly
real but thankfully, just a nightmare. When he had been just 16
years old and for several years after that, Olsen had endured
nightmares regarding the death of his father but none of those had
ever seemed so real. After reading the official operation documents
the day before and discovering the truth about his father’s death,
he had been unable to relax at all. Olsen rubbed his eyes and tried
to calm down as he made his way to the kitchen.

Burton watched
the rain trickle down the windows of his office. The dark,
miserable looking clouds reflected how he felt in every way. The
conversation he’d had with a colleague at the drinks machine had
been playing repeatedly in his mind. As much as he didn’t want to
admit it, his colleague was right. Asking for an advance in pay
didn’t worry him, just whom he had to ask did. So far, his day had
been dominated by his financial problems, together with the small
amount of work he had completed for the Royal visit to Oman. His
breakfast had consisted of a greasy fry up at a nearby pub and a
whiskey. At that very moment, all he could think of was yet another
drink. ‘Like that’s really gonna happen around here.’ He
mumbled.

‘Huh?’

Burton looked
up at his assistant who was poking her head around the doorframe.
‘Nothing, Dawn; I’m just having one of those days, you know?’ He
walked over and took hold of the door handle. ‘Did you manage to
circulate that schedule and get a positive response from
OMA1?’

The young woman
wearing a smart burgundy office suit smiled back. ‘The security
receipt came back ok, sir.’

Burton feigned
interest and gave the door a push to close it. ‘Fantastic, Dawn.’
He resumed his seat and pondered his next move. The last thing he
wanted to do was ‘work from home’ and see his wife. A large
argument regarding the financial difficulties was looming and so
far, Burton had no solution or improvements on hand. The thought of
borrowing money from another friend came to mind but was quickly
dismissed.
Never borrow from your
mates!
He looked in the mirror,
straightened his tie for the tenth time that day and tucked in his
shirt. For the first time, the face staring back at him appeared to
be drawn, tired, worn out even. Despite the view, Burton held his
head high and gave a positive nod. ‘This one’s for you
Kate.’

Ramsey dropped
several files into his briefcase and rummaged through the rest of
the stack on the other side of his desk. Before he could finish,
the intercom buzzed.

‘Hal Burton is
here to see you, sir. He says it’s important. Shall I send him
straight through?’

The acting
Chief of MI6 paused for a moment, wondering what it was. ‘Yes
please.’ Ahead of him, the door swung open rapidly to reveal a
weary looking Burton who looked like he had the world on his
shoulders. ‘Take a seat, Burton. No problem with the schedule, was
there?’

Burton had a
sweaty forehead, which he wiped as he sat down. ‘No, everyone has
received it and the security receipt came back from OMA1 no probs.’
He shifted in the chair, trying to think of the words to start the
request. ‘This is something else, sir; it’s to do with what’s
caused my slight dip in efficiency of late. You know, what we were
talking about before?’

‘You mean what you refused to
talk about yesterday.’ Straight away he scolded himself; he hadn’t
meant it to sound so condescending.

‘So anyway,
um…well, you’re right, there is a problem; one that I need to be
sorted. Look my wife Kate doesn’t know the full story as yet so
it’s a bit delicate ok?’

The broad
shoulders of Kevin Ramsey relaxed as he sat back in his chair, put
the pen and folders back on the desk and gave his full attention.
‘Just what is the full story, Burton? I mean
everything.’

‘Well, to be
honest, I’ve been having financial difficulties of late. We’re not
talking a couple of grand in the red here; I’m talking bigger than
that. I’m six months behind on the mortgage, totally broke and I
haven’t paid the instalments for other things like the car and
stuff. That’s the problem.’ Burton sat up straight and convinced
himself he had done the right thing in not mentioning his huge
gambling debts.

‘Well, there it
is. I appreciate you telling me this, Burton. It can’t have been
easy. Believe me, if I had those problems hanging over me I would
be reacting in exactly the same way.’

Somehow, I
doubt it mate
. ‘Wouldn’t we all, sir?’
Burton managed a smile at the same time.

‘It can’t be easy for you or
your wife.’

Burton felt
pangs of guilt as he thought of his wife, Kate. ‘No sir, it’s never
easy when things get this bad. We’ll work things out.’

‘So, you’d like
me to arrange a visit from a careers counsellor? I’m convinced they
could help you here, Burton. At the very least, point you in the
right direction.’

‘Actually sir,
it was you I wanted to see. I need to ask a favour.’ Burton noticed
his superior’s face light up at the mention of the word. ‘Not
exactly protocol I know but I was wondering if it was possible to
have an advance in pay? Obviously this is a personnel matter but
they would require authorisation from you, wouldn’t
they?’

‘That’s correct. You do realise
that we’re not in the business of bailing out members of
staff?’

‘I realise
that, sir, but I’m desperate here. You know, I can hear the wolves
at my door.’ The expression on Ramsey’s face did not change. ‘I
have worked for the service for close to thirty years, sir. I’ve
never once made a request like this before now, have I? Well, have
I?’ The desperation could be heard in Burton’s voice.

‘That’s true,
your record has been exemplary up until this moment.’ Ramsey placed
his hands together, looked away and thought hard about his next
response. ‘Ok Burton, I’ll authorise the advance in pay. I’ll
explain everything to Elliott on his return.’

Burton suddenly
looked energised. ‘Thanks, sir! I do appreciate it, really I do,
I’ll put in extra hours or something, I’ll make it up to you and
the service!’

‘Fine. I’ll
have my assistant inform Personnel to authorise the advance of five
thousand pounds to your account immediately. Just make sure you use
that money to get yourself back on track, you hear me Burton? We
can’t afford mistakes in our line of work.’

Burton’s forehead began to
sweat again, as he tried to recall the last ten seconds of
conversation. ‘I’m sorry, how much did you say sir?’

‘Five thousand
pounds. I’ll also need to see proof of your mortgage papers, bank
statements and any letters of relevance.’

‘Right…um…don’t
think I’m not grateful for you bailing me out like this sir, but
I’m going to need more than that. I mean, I’m at rock bottom here,
you know? I was thinking along the lines of at least twenty
thousand. I’ll probably end up spending most of the five grand on
nappies for god’s sake!’

Ramsey scowled
at the agent in front of him. ‘Maybe you’ve forgotten who you’re
talking to Burton but it’s only because of your commendable service
over the years that I’m authorising this advance at all! Your
problems are yours alone; we all have them. I can’t pay off every
bill for you, is that clear?’

Burton
struggled to keep his tone of voice in check. ‘Well, obviously I
can’t believe that after working my ass off for the service,
putting my life on the line, all I’m worth when I hit the skids is
five measly grand!’

‘Don’t kid
yourself, your days as a field agent are long gone, not to mention
short in the first place. The five thousand advance stands. Either
take it…or leave it, is that understood?’

He paused and
wondered where the last thirty years had gone. Despite his
daydream, he knew it was better than nothing. ‘No. That’ll be
fine.’ He ran his hand through his hair and began to massage his
aching forehead. ‘I’m out of line here, sir, I…apologise. The
advance will come in handy. I appreciate it.’ Burton’s mouth went
dry as he finished. ‘Um…thanks for listening and all.’

‘Well, I’ll
sort out the advance straight away.’ Ramsey walked over to the
window and grimaced slightly, wondering whether he could have
handled the situation better. He returned to his desk and reached
out to the intercom, connecting him to the outside office. ‘Could
you come in here for a moment, please? I have a couple of things
that need processing straight away.’

A sweaty palm
pressed the lift button as Burton leaned against the mirrored
walls. A digitised voice called out each floor as it passed by but
the exhausted father of one didn’t hear any of it. The lift doors
parted as the basement presented itself. Burton stumbled out in the
direction of his parked car, some metres away. Upon reaching the
vehicle, he threw his briefcase and jacket angrily onto the back
seat. He had no idea how to explain everything to his wife, let
alone find a long-term solution to the financial problems he faced.
Any feelings of anger towards Ramsey or the service were now fading
away, being replaced by guilt of that of a failed father and
husband.
What sort of a future am I
providing for little Oscar? Kate deserves better…

Olsen’s second
workout of the day had done nothing to help his frame of mind. If
anything, he felt even more wound up than yesterday. He was still
coming to terms with the nightmare and its terrifying realism. One
question continued to linger.
Why didn’t
Tom tell me the truth?
As the lift opened,
he still hadn’t come up with a plausible answer. Olsen made his way
to the large double doors that led to Operations Command, the hive
of MI6. His ID card gave a green light and the large doors slowly
parted.

The soon to be
S.U.C.O. team leader had spent many hours in ‘Ops’ as it was
commonly known. The place was teeming with technicians, other
agents and people from all walks of life; all working around the
clock to keep the peace as best they could.

Olsen caught
sight of Agent Carter, who was leant over a laptop computer. ‘Hard
at it, Dan?’ Feeling like he was getting better at repressing
everything, he managed a smile of sorts.

Carter turned
around, clutching several printouts. ‘Nothing of interest. I’m
surprised you’re still here, thought you had a lunch date with
Rachel?’

Olsen smiled at
the mention of his fiancée and remembered her concern surfacing
again when they had spoken earlier. Her voice had sounded so soft
on the phone. Olsen had worked hard to reassure her that it would
all be ok. ‘Had to postpone. We’ll see each other nearer the end of
the week, before I head out to Oman.’

‘Bet she loved
that. Won’t be like that when you’re married, you know.’ Carter
said sarcastically.

The thought of
having a wife didn’t bother him at all; he couldn’t wait for the
day.
Will you still be a Government
agent?
asked a voice inside him. ‘Thought
I’d stick around tonight and do some research. Have you seen
Burton? I wanted to go over the schedule.’

Carter checked
his screen. ‘Says here that he’s not online, so it might have to
wait.’

Olsen found a
workstation of his own and began to log on. Several screens flashed
by as clearance was given to different parts of the main server.
Olsen was heading for one area; his secure email connection. He
drummed his fingers on the nearby mouse as a connection was made,
glancing up from his terminal to the main ‘Ops’ display screen,
ahead of him. A vast digital wall of screens was at the far end,
currently detailing a map of the Middle East. Surrounding it were
numerous clocks, all displaying different time zones from around
the world. Technicians were pointing out areas on the map to other
workers. Olsen’s attention drifted back to his terminal as the
email screen displayed no reply from Deane, otherwise known as OMA1
in Muscat, Oman. Olsen clicked on the ‘refresh’ icon but there was
still no reply. He sighed to himself and went in search of some hot
coffee.

Burton turned
the car into Draycott Avenue, South Kensington and pulled into the
driveway. Several trees lined the path of the large detached house.
Burton reached the white door and tried to make out any movement
through the frosted glass as his key turned in the lock. In the
hallway, he stopped and listened for any sounds. Silence filled the
entire house. Not even 15-month-old Oscar could be heard crying, a
common occurrence after a recent bout of colic. Burton kicked off
his shoes, passed the staircase and dining room and entered the
living room. His wife, Kate, was sitting at the far end of the sofa
with her left hand supporting her head.

As her husband
lingered in the doorway, Kate Burton, with her long black hair tied
in a ponytail, focussed her hazel eyes on him. ‘Nice of you to come
home so early, Hal. I’ve been worrying all day over just how bad
things are for us.’

Hal looked
away, as feelings of guilt consumed his stomach once more. ‘Yeah
hon, I’m sorry, one of those hectic days at the service. you
know?’

‘At least tell
me what was more important than your family, Hal. I’ve been sitting
on this sofa, that we don’t even own by the way, wondering where
we’ll be in a couple of months time!’