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her lips quivering.

Ramsay looked at her awkwardly. “Can we talk inside?”

“Oh, my god…”

“King’s okay,” Big Dave said loudly, covering the ground in huge strides.

“Well, as far as we know. He’s operational and beyond contact…” Ramsay protested.

“Shut up, Neil.” Big Dave shook his head, then looked at Caroline and smiled warmly. “I knew he’d fuck it up…” He looked back at Ramsay and said, “What the hell’s wrong with you man?” He paused. “It’s about something else. Alright, well now I’m here, I’ll get the kettle on so that you two can have that chat…”

“Thanks, Dave,” she said quietly, the colour returning to her cheeks and the whirlpool inside her stomach starting to subside. “You’d best come in…” She paused, then added. “And for Christ’s sake Neil, spit it out.”

Ramsay shrugged and followed her up the steps. Big Dave closed the door after them and headed into the kitchen while Caroline showed Ramsay into the lounge and sat down, surprised how much the short workout had taken out of her, and how the sudden explosion of emotions had drained what little energy she had left.

“Interpol and the Italian police have uncovered an attempt to recruit an assassin to go after King,” he said matter-of-factly.

Caroline stared at him, the colour draining from her cheeks for the second time in as many minutes. She shook her head, frowning at the thought, thoroughly perplexed. Her expression said it all: she’d thought it all behind them. “But…”

“When both you and King were attacked last year, we know that the Russian element was ultimately handled by Rashid and King, and a hostile takeover by a rival mafia brotherhood in Russia severed that link completely. Likewise, it looks like the Americans took care of their rogue agent. I have unconfirmed hearsay that it was the CIA director settling his account before an incurable illness forces his retirement. King and Rashid put down the Italian mafia hit team, but the family boss is still alive. Again, like the Romanovitch brotherhood, the Fortez family suffered a hostile takeover shortly afterwards. It’s common for rival gangs to strike while the opposition is weakened. Giuseppe Fortez got out with some of his assets intact but left his operation and businesses to the rival mafia family. He now resides on Lake Como and will likely die a wealthy, but unremarkable man. Certainly, the likelihood of heading up a mafia family again are next to nil.”

“I don’t care about the man’s career prospects,” Caroline snapped. “What are we doing about it?”

“We?” Ramsay scoffed. “You’re certainly not doing anything about it. You’re on extended sick leave.”

“Alright, then what are the service doing about it?”

“Firstly, I’ve come to warn you. To make certain that you are extra vigilant. Of course, we’ll have to move you right away…”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“No,” Caroline repeated emphatically. “I’m done running.” She paused. “We both are.”

“Tea up,” said Big Dave walking in with three mugs pinched between his giant hands, spread like they were throttling the life out of the three china mugs. “Popped some sugar in yours, luv, for the shock from the Samaritan here…”

“I think I need it,” she replied, taking the mug, and cradling it between her hands while Dave Lomu sat down. “Thanks.”

“Like I said, we will have to move you,” Ramsay said. “Things caught up with you recently, this time you might not be so lucky.”

“Lucky!” Caroline retorted. “You call what happened to me lucky?” She was about to add that she had lost her baby, but she still couldn’t say it out loud and she was damned if she was going to say it to him.

“No, I just meant…”

“Forget it,” she snapped, cutting him off. “What do you know about this attempt to hire an assassin?”

Ramsay shrugged. “Giuseppe Fortez has no pull and no men so even as a former boss of the Italian mob, he didn’t have anybody to call on for the hit, so he hired a former associate to reach the dark web and trawl for somebody willing to take on the job.”

“Any takers?”

“Not yet. But Interpol are involved because of the international nature. The Italian police…”

“Are as corrupt as Fortez is!” Caroline interrupted.

“… Are assisting Interpol with the investigation and because the associate he hired is based in Switzerland, the Swiss have handed over to Interpol as well. The thought is to create a sting.”

“A sting? Big deal. He’ll argue entrapment. At best he’ll get five or six years, commuted to two or three with good behaviour.”

“But he’ll be out of your hair for a while,” Ramsay replied tersely. “Both you and Alex can have some breathing space and re-evaluate your situation while Fortez rots in a prison cell.”

“To make contact with any number of criminals who will take the job on! He’ll be likely to dangle the job and money in front of inmates just to give himself some immunity with the criminal fraternity, the big hitters inside.” She paused. “Screw entrapment. What else have you got?”

“It’s not a task for the Security Service.”

“Great,” she said sardonically. “How’s Simon Mereweather, the new boss? Just like the old boss, or so it seems.”

“He’s actually the acting director.”

“And, by acting, then you clearly mean acting like a bureaucrat…”

Ramsay sighed. “We’re here because he sent us. He understands the development and he wants you safe.”

“For us to move, again.” Caroline paused and sipped some more of her tea. “I have contacts in Interpol, from my sabbatical working with the people trafficking task force. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“No more than I have, I suspect.”

Caroline glared at him. “I’m not moving,” she said adamantly. “I’m staying put, getting back to health and then we’re going travelling together.”

“We’ll call it a sabbatical. Keep the pensions running,” replied Ramsay. “I know you

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