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“I know our NATO partners and their Special Forces divisions. Part of my job.”
“And what job is that?”
“Let’s say I’m in planning and leave it at that.”
“Well, that’s more than Rachel’s ever told me.”
“She doesn’t talk about her job much?”
“Not at all.”
“Our superiors would approve. We’re in a rather… delicate sector of MI6.”
“Is there anything more you can tell me?”
“If I did, I’d have to kill you,” he joked. “Or hire someone else to do the job, more likely.”
I chuckled politely. I’d heard a couple dozen variations of that answer from Rachel.
If I told you, Lars, I’d have to kill you… only AFTER I fucked you, though.
If I told you, I’d have to kill you… which would be a pity.
If I told you, I’d have to –
“You a career man?” Alistair asked politely. “In the military, I mean?”
“No – actually, I’m leaving at the end of my bid.”
“When’s that?”
“Twenty-four months, two weeks, and six days from now.”
Alistair laughed and raised his eyebrows. “You know it down to the day.”
“And the hour, but I figured that would be overkill.”
“And after you get out…?”
“I’ll move here.”
“To be with Rachel,” he said, nodding.
“That’s the plan.”
“Doesn’t Sweden require you to be available for involuntary recall for ten years after you leave the service?”
The man knew his NATO partners; I’d give him that.
“They do, but that usually only gets enforced if they really need warm bodies.”
“Hopefully World War III doesn’t break out, then,” Alistair joked.
“Hopefully.”
“It must be hard on the two of you. I can’t imagine that you have a lot of time off. Or as much as you’d like, anyway.”
“I don’t.”
