Kara - Present Day
Iwalkhomeina daze. The rain still pelting down, making my clothes cling to me like a second, soggy skin. The cold seeps in through everything, making my bones ache.
The grey clouds match my mood. The highs of a decent kill and a bloody good shot have been completely dampened by the memories of my past that are now threatening to drown me.
I’m Kara Snow, not Lucy Cook.
I’d buried her and Owen a long time ago, but apparently he still has me in a chokehold.
The streets are empty as people have taken shelter from the shitty English weather, only a few sad sods like me walking in the downpour.
Apex offices are in Canary Wharf, with small safe-houses belonging to the security agency peppering the city for us all to call home. But I called home outside the central hustle and bustle of London, living a short train journey away in Clapham.
Knowing that I’m about to embed myself in Owen’s life, it made sense for me to stay in my Westminster safe house. So that is where I’m headed.
In the rain.
To my temporary refuge, and most importantly, my bubbly bath.
Although a walk would clear my head, it’s too far so I grab the Jubilee line, the stuffy tube warming me as I head straight to Westminster.
I’m soon standing facing the beautiful Houses of Parliament. Where it’s been shrouded in scaffolding for over a year, seeing it back in its majestic glory makes the skyline complete again.
Shame it’s full of wankers who have made their living by lying to us, but even I can’t help taking in the beauty of Big Ben, its golden edges still bright even on this dreary day.
Armed police stand guard at all the main entrances. Black iron gates wrap around the perimeter, with bollards peppered on the pavement protecting those inside from any potential threat.
I walk past, eyes on me.
Watching, waiting, alert.
Just as I am.
What they don’t realise is as they watch me, I watch them. I can see where they are positioned. I’ve noted their weapons, how they hold them, whether they aretrulyas alert as they try to portray.
Even with all the security, I scout out the weak spots—because everywhere has them.Everyonehas them. It’s just a matter of finding them. And exploiting it.
By the time I’ve walked the breadth of the landmark, I’ve already planned the approach I’d take if I was trying to break in. I’ve located the entrance with the least number of security guards, bored looking ones at that. I’ve counted the guards, and I’ve watched a car being admitted with its chauffeur driven politician hidden by black-tinted windows.
This is Owen’s world.
He’s working with the very people who let us down as kids.
Bubbles surround me like a cocoon, the warmth from the water taking the last of the chill away as I relax in the security of the safe house, tucked down one of the side roads past the Houses of Parliament.
The hustle and bustle of Westminster is mere metres away, but the road the safe house is on has seen only one car come down in the last hour. It’s like a different world, even though chaos is just around the corner.
Chaos and calm all within twenty meters of each other.
The safe house is small, but comfortable. It’s where I’ll be calling home until this blasted assignment ends.
Keep Owen safe. That should be reasonably simple.
The only thing that makes me uncomfortable is that I don’t have all the information.
I live my life planning. I plan every mission; I plan for thewhat ifs. Each assignment has a Plan A, B, C—hell, we even have anIt’s gone to shit plan.But now all I have is the file.
“Owen will brief you when the time is right.”Okay thanks, Andrews that fills me with such confidence.
