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I’d once considered making Cope an offer, but his father was a high-profile US senator. Any job his son moved into would need to be equally high-profile. My prediction was that one day, he’d become the director of the intelligence bureau, perhaps even become a senator or presidential cabinet member. Regardless, it would be equally important to stay in Cope’s good graces.
“Mornin’, Rile,” said Quint, walking into his kitchen.
“We are inconveniencing you.”
Quint poured a cup of what looked like black sludge and joined me at the table. “I’d argue and tell you you weren’t, but with you, I’ve come to realize you have a better idea of what I’m thinking before I do.”
“His mum was the same way,” said Darrow, joining us after pouring a cup of the same thing Quint had. “Don’t turn your nose up until you’ve tasted it,” she said, catching the look of disgust on my face.
“I have tasted it, and I’ll stick with tea, thank you.”
“What were you saying about Rile’s mother?” Quint asked.
“Right. She’s said to have a sixth sense.” Darrow’s eyes met mine as if to challenge me to deny the rumors. She smiled when I said nothing.
While not public knowledge, my mother, before marrying my father and becoming the Duchess of Soria, had been with SIS. She was credited with exposing the final two men in what came to be known as the Cambridge Five. Unlike the three others who had defected to the Soviet Union, Anthony “Johnson” Blunt and John “Liszt” Cairncross remained with SIS until a year after my mother joined MI6.
It was her “sixth sense,” as Darrow called it, that put her onto Blunt and Cairncross, eventually leading them to confess to British Intelligence.
Right before my father proposed, the Queen had offered to make my mother a Dame of the Most Honorable Order of the Bath. However, given an impending marriage to the brother of the reigning Spanish monarch, my mother privately declined the honor. Had she accepted, she would’ve been made a dame before the age of twenty-five. That alone spoke to the significance of her contributions in the short time she was with SIS.
She quietly retired from duty and, eventually, gave birth to my younger brother and me. I would be lying if I said my mother hadn’t pushed me into service.
My only regret in following in her footsteps was that joining SIS had led me to meet the one true love of my life only to lose her five years later. The pain of that loss was ever-present, deep in my soul. It hadn’t diminished and never would.
Darrow reached over and covered my hand with hers. Perhaps she had her own sixth sense.
Unlike my mother, who’d married into the duchy, Darrow was born into it. Her oldest brother and good friend of mine had become Duke of Bedfordshire upon the death of their father. Thornton “Shiver” Whittaker had been an MI6 officer, slated to become chief. Instead, he and his wife, Orina, a former KGB assassin, had retired to Whittaker Abbey and were raising a family.
“I’ve gotta get back to work.” Quint kissed Darrow’s cheek and excused himself.
“How’s your brother?”
“Which one—Shiver or Wilder?”
“Both, actually.”
“Shiver’s well. In fact, Orina is pregnant with their third child. And Wilder, as you know, married Quint’s sister. They’re all very happy back in Bedfordshire.”
“Brilliant. Please give them my regards.”
“Rile…I heard another rumor. This one was about you.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” In our world, that meant leave it alone.
“Very well,” she said, standing, smiling, and kissing my cheek before leaving the same way her husband had.
It was mid-December by the time our team completed our investigation and exonerated the woman we all knew was the love of Edge’s life.
We’d finally located the real killer after Edge and Casper had gone undercover into the Aryan Brotherhood of Texas. Unbeknown to us at the time, the FBI had also infiltrated the organization. I was livid upon finding out they were already inside, and didn’t hesitate to let Cope know it.
“The right hand doesn’t always inform the left of what it’s doing,” he told me.
“You’re telling me you knew nothing about the bureau’s involvement when your own man was inside the national organization?”
“Believe me, Rile, internal affairs is all over this.”
The bureaucratic bullshit was a primary reason why I didn’t miss my employment with SIS. It made me think of Smoke again, and wonder if he was as fed up as I was. Perhaps now would be a good time to contact him and ask him to work for the Invincibles.
