Warren pushed up from the desk. “We could cut and run.”
Jude tipped his head, mouth curving. “’England expects that every man will do his duty’. Nelson, Trafalgar, 1805.” He moved for the door. “Think of Reuban. He might still be here next year if we stay and do this.”
A shadow brushed his side. Warren stepped close, sliding his hand up Jude’s back, strong fingers resting at the nape of his neck. A single stroke before he pulled away fast at the sound of approaching heels.
“Ah, Jude. There you are.” Mrs Turner appeared, sharp smile in place. She clocked Warren, maybe the non-distance between them, maybe not. “Next week, I’ll need you on isolation duty every lunch.”
“Of course.” Jude nodded.
“Great. Good.” And she was gone again, brisk as she came.
Jude exhaled, glancing back at Warren with a half-smirk. “Cut and run sounds better every second.”
Warren leaned close, his breath warm, voice pitched for him alone. “Your country needs you.”
Jude let out a low laugh. “Not a direct quote, but I’ll take it considering you’re a geography man.”
“And you do have a cracking rock formation.” Warren’s mouth curved, then he leaned closer still, voice rough and quieter. “How about—Ineed you.”
The shiver came before Jude could stop it. His chest clenched, his body answering before his mind caught up. He turned, caught Warren’s gaze, and for a heartbeat neithermoved. The silence swelled, charged and dangerous. Then Warren leaned in and pressed his lips to Jude’s.
The kiss was brief but consuming, a clash of restraint and urgency. The papers almost fell from Jude’s arms and Warren’s hand returned to his nape, before pulling away to rescue the marking.
They laughed.
Because if they didn’t, they might not make it over the edge.
* * * *
Within the hour, Jude’s shirt was half undone, collar pulled wide as a technician threaded a length of fine cable down the seam in a backroom of the SEROCU headquarters.
“Keep still.” The woman’s fingers were quick and impersonal as she secured the mic onto Jude’s chest. “You’ll forget it’s there after five minutes. Signal strength’s strong, battery gives you eight hours. Don’t knock it. Don’t sweat through it.”
Jude managed a hollow laugh. “I’m already sweating.”
From across the room Warren shifted in his chair, gaze fixed on the process with a tension Jude could feel across the distance. Patel caught it too, clearing her throat.
“This isn’t optional, Ellison. The wire isn’t about trust, it’s about evidence. You’re about to sit across from a man who will incriminate himself if he feels safe. We need that on record. Jury needs to hear his voice, not ours.”
Jude managed a nod. “I know.”
He’d had every briefing. Every drill. Talked through scenarios until the words blurred, tested and retested until it felt more like drama improv than life or death. Naomi had run him through role-plays, Patel hammering in the procedure, Havers ticking off contingencies. And in the quiet between those sessions, Warren had given him the real guidance. Low-voiced reminders, post-coital strategy whispered into Jude’s hair whiletheir fingers laced. Jude leaning back into his chest, clinging to the hand that steadied him.
So yes, he knew what he was doing. He knew what he had to get.
Didn’t mean he wasn’t shitting himself.
Naomi leaned on the edge of the table, close enough to Warren to catch the tension rolling off him. “You’ve got two safewords.Red pen, we pull you out clean.Year ten, we move in hard and fast. Anything else—play it straight. Let him believe he still holds the power.”
Jude nodded again. He liked Naomi. Understood why she and Warren had once worked, maybe even more than that. No-nonsense, results-driven. But she had a humanity the others sometimes tucked away. A clarity making space for the fact he was more than a pawn. Because everyone in this room knew what was at stake. What it meant for him to step into the firing line.
But he wasn’t doing it for Patel’s operation.
Nor even for Warren.
It was for his kids. Those in his classroom. Because what was the point of teaching them history if they never had the chance to live long enough to make their own?
Havers tapped his tablet. “Entry teams are staged two minutes out. We’ve got Reid to urge Radley into the basement office, which is usually locked, invite only. We’ll have full visual surveillance. Keep conversation natural. Don’t lead him. We need disclosure, not entrapment.”
