Key Pieces: Knight Agency, #2

Key Pieces

A Knight Agency Novel

by Cay Reet

© Copyright 2016 Text: Cay Reet

© Copyright 2016 Cover Design: Holz Vanderhuetten

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

One

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The unlikely pair walking down the sidewalk ignored the looks they drew from passer-byes. Jane ran her right hand through her blond pixie cut. So, where to next?

My tailor. Steven easily sidestepped a small child looking the other way and not seeing the tall man approaching.

You’re picking up another suit, old man?

He shook his head. No, brat, but you’re getting measured for one. He took a moment to adjust the burgundy tie he wore with his dark suit.

You are aware I’m a woman?

His dark eyes glared at her for a heartbeat. The way you are dressed at the moment, the whole street is aware of that, I’m sure.

She glanced down at her artfully ripped designer jeans and tight-fitting Union Jack tee. Yep, they should be. What about the suit, then?

You might need one for a job someday soon ... and you have complained several times that you can’t move completely unrestricted in the pantsuits you own ... hence you need a suit tailored to fit you and my tailor can make that happen.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes glittering with amusement. I’m not going to get out of it, am I?

No.

Oh, well, I’m going to get measured for a suit, then.

Indeed you are. He stepped off the sidewalk onto the first of a set of steps leading to a shop. And since we’re there, it’s going to happen soon.

She followed him inside. It wasn’t her first trip to the shop, but the first time she entered it as a customer. Steven was greeted very warmly by one of the employees, which didn’t surprise her. She’d never seen him in anything but a suit during the fifteen years they’d known each other - and each of them had been bespoke and tailored to fit perfectly.

What can I do for you today, Mr. Quinn?

Steven smiled. It’s not what you can do for me, Ben, it’s what you can do for my colleague here. He pointed to Jane, who smiled in their general direction. I called yesterday to make an appointment for her for measuring.

Ah, now I remember. I’ll call Clara.

The employee disappeared for a moment and came back with a young woman in tow. Even though the shop dealt mostly in suits for gentlemen, it also did some work for women, it seemed.

What kind of clothing did you have in mind? Ben looked at both of them expectantly.

Steven answered the question before Jane could: A suit for special work.

The employee’s face lit up a little. Ah, I see. He turned to the woman who’d come with him. Clara, please see to Miss...

...Browne’s... Jane supplied.

...Browne’s measurements ... I will give you specific instructions later.

Miss Browne, follow me please. The young woman walked towards one of the doors leading to the fitting rooms of the shop.

They spent half an hour taking measurements of various kinds. Jane realized just what a complex job tailoring was and felt less annoyed by the idea of getting a tailored-to-fit suit herself. She knew she might need one on short notice one day and she knew she could probably do worse than with a high-quality one made by experts. Finally, Clara put the measuring tape and the notebook back into a pocket of her frock.

I have no idea what a suit for special work is, to be honest, but Ben is going to tell me, I’m sure.

You and me, both ... I was dragged in her for measuring myself.

They both laughed at it for a moment, then they left the fitting room. Outside, Jane spied Steven and Ben discussing something. She walked over to them.

Ben smiled at her. Your first fitting will be in a week, Miss Browne ... perhaps you can call ahead?

I will call ahead, yes. Thank you.

She watched as Ben walked over to Clara and left the main room with her, then she turned to Steven. What is a suit for special work?

It’s a keyword for Ben ... or his colleagues. He smirked. It means a suit cut to allow absolutely unrestricted movement and with a few discreet secret pockets for tools in it.

They know? Jane was surprised. Are they a front?

No, but several people and institutions outside the Agency are aware of our existence. Especially Branch Two and Three regularly need bespoke suits, so several generations ago, this tailor shop was introduced to the Agency.

She shot him a dirty look herself. Were they, now?

He ignored it. And it suits me well ... I get a discount here.

She heaved a sigh. Easy on the puns here, old man. Where to next?

I don’t know what you’re talking about, brat. And I still need to pick up some manure for my roses.

All in a sudden, I know why we had to take my car for the trip.

Oh, it is smaller than mine and easier to find parking space for.

Yeah, I’m sure those are the only reasons...

* * *

In the early evening, Jane parked her light-blue mini - freshly cleaned after having been loaded with two bags of manure - in the parking lot of a small bistro. She slipped out and locked it, then she made a beeline for the front door. Inside, she stopped for a moment and scanned the room. She spied her three closest friends at a table in the back, dressed for a night out, like she was herself. She walked over to them, ignoring the looks her short skirt and tight top drew from several men in the bistro. As long as they’re only looking we’re all getting along fine. If they try more, they’re getting a few broken bones or at least a bruised ego for it.

Cynthia spied her first and waved. Jane!

Jane waved back. Hi girls!

She slipped onto the half-circular bench next to Myra, nodding to both her and Stacy. Did you order already?

No, we were waiting for you. Myra grinned. Since you’re probably going to order more food than any of us.

You can bet on that. After the shopping trip with Steven, going through that measuring, and cleaning out the mini, I feel like a good meal.

Stacy pouted. Where do you leave it?

Fitness studio, jogging track, those kinds of places. I have no reason to diet, not with the life I lead and the hours I spent training every week.

If you weren’t such a nice person, we would be forced to hate you. Myra laughed. But then, it’s not your fault for spending so much time with sports, it’s our fault for not doing it.

Oh, I’m not half as nice as you think, but thanks, nevertheless. Jane grinned. I just like sports, it’s not as if I have to force myself to do them. It does beat dieting, though.

Well, I prefer to keep a diet to spending as much time training as you probably do. Stacy studied the menu. Even though it’s a shame, given the great food they sell here.

It’s not as much as you think. I do have a demanding and dangerous job as well.

That’s what you always say. Cynthia smiled. But every other day you’re training somewhere and doing stuff like kickboxing.

It’s a great overall training ... works on the whole body. And teaches you which parts of another person’s body to use your hands and feet on ... just in case. Not that I needed to practice kickboxing to learn that ... that’s what I had ‘practical anatomy’ for when I was a kid.

What did you do today? Cynthia looked curious. Usually, you’re the first to arrive for our club evenings.

I helped my uncle with some shopping, that included a fitting at his tailor, so it took a little longer. His tailor and my measuring, but I can’t tell them that.

The guy with the sharp tongue? Myra obviously still remembered the first time Jane had mentioned her ‘uncle’ to her friends, right after putting an ex who had hurt Cynthia in his place.

Yes, that one. I actually like him a lot.

Stacy looked up from the menu. Any chance we can meet him someday?

Perhaps. Most likely not ... even without him actively wanting to, he could easily scare you to death. He earned his nickname the hard way ... just as I earned mine. I never know beforehand when he’ll be in London, he usually phones me on short notice.

A waiter arrived at their table and they ordered some food as basis for the alcohol they planned to drink later on in the clubs. Once he was gone, they returned to their talk.

So, how were your days? Jane looked at her three friends.

Myra sighed. I had a terrible row with Aaron about his trip abroad. I understand that he can’t take me along, since he’s travelling for his family, but I just don’t think he needs to take that slutty secretary his mother pressed on him along instead. She doesn’t like me and I think she wants us to break up.

Come on. Stacy rubbed Myra’s arm for a moment. You know it’s not going to work ... Aaron likes you too much.

Jane nodded. Stacy’s right ... forget about his mum, he’ll never exchange you for a secretary, slutty or not.

Yes, forget about it. Cynthia nodded as well.

Easy to say ... especially for you, Jane. I bet you’ve never met the mother of any of your boyfriends.

Jane grinned. You got me there, Myra. Men are not my main interest ... if they’re good in bed, they might stick around for a while, but that’s as far as it goes.

Stacy sighed. Nothing like that for me ... I just got a manicure and went for some shopping. She lifted her hands to present her new nails.

Myra mustered them. Nice and good work, too.

Cynthia and Jane nodded. Stacy lowered her hand again and they all turned their eyes to Cynthia.

My dad called me today. It was ... strange.

Strange, really? Myra was the first to pick up the slight decline in Cynthia’s naturally hyper behaviour.

Well, we’ve hardly spoken since he married that ... woman ... two years ago. Today, he suddenly called me and asked if anything unusual had happened lately. He even sounded worried.

Perhaps he just worries about you. Stacy smiled.

Jane tried another direction. Honeymoon for him and his new wife is over, so now he remembers he’s got a daughter?

Could both be right. Cynthia sighed. How does your dad act when he calls you, Jane? I mean, you haven’t seen him in years, too, right?

Decades ... since I don’t know who my parents are, being an orphan. But they don’t know that, since I could hardly play the rich heiress, if they knew I had no parents. We talk every now and then, but it’s just a general sort of ‘how are you’ talk. He pretends to be interested in my life and I pretend to be interested in the company. If you mean the closest thing I have to a father figure, though, we talk at least once a day over the phone and I just helped him haul two bags of manure into his garden today.

You think he believes it?

I don’t think either of us believes the other one is really meaning it. But it’s how we keep in touch.

And how’s the cutie you brought to the last Bluebell Ball? Stacy’s question came out of the blue.

Zack’s okay ... still soldiering around. And I meet him and the rest of the guys once a week, too, but not for clubbing.

Do you think he’ll be around any time soon?

Why, Stacy, do you want to date a soldier? They don’t make good boyfriends, since they’re not around a lot. And Brock has zero interest in women, not that many people know.

But he’s so cute ... so tall and muscled and ... is it me or is it getting hot in here?

Jane, Myra, and Cynthia just laughed at Stacy’s words.

* * *

Jane came home late that night - or early the next morning. She went to bed and slept until around noon. Once awake again, she rolled out of bed and grabbed her phone, calling up Steven.

Good morning, Steven.

Good morning, Jane. As always, he put some emphasis on the word ‘morning,’ it was a running gag between them. Got home late last night, didn’t you?

Have you taken to stalk me in your spare time?

No, but nights with your friends tend to end late.

Jane stepped into the shower stall and turned the cold water on. Well, I have to keep up with what is going on around them ... it’s my job.

You do ... it is.

What’s on my schedule for the day?

A manicure.

And what’s on yours?

It’s Friday.

Jane grinned. So you’re visiting the shooting range to strike fear in the hearts of the agents in training?

Precisely. She heard the amusement in his voice.

It would be even worse, if we did our shooting practice together, I guess... Jane stepped out of the shower stall, using the time to think about the possibilities for a moment. You know what? Forget about the manicure ... I’m coming to the compound, too.

It will be a dark day for the agents in training.

Or everyone else practicing today. She grinned. Give me some time for breakfast, then I’ll meet you there.

See you later, then.

Yes, see you later.

Jane hurried a little with the breakfast, grabbed her P250, and went to get her car. She left London and drove out to the ancient Blythe Manor, but turned into a forest road about half a mile from the actual manor. Soon afterwards, her car disappeared below ground. Jane parked between two jeeps and went to the main gate.

She nodded to the guard on duty. Agent Browne, Branch Two, coming in for practice on the shooting range.

He nodded back and pointed to the handprint scanner. Jane put her hand on it and waited for it to turn green, identifying her. Then she passed the guard by and entered the compound. She reached the entrance to R&D soon afterwards and stopped. Looking through the always open door, she spotted Liam Fawkes, a good friend, at one of the workbenches, so she walked inside to greet him.

Hey Liam.

He turned around and spotted her. Immediately, a smile appeared on his face. Hey Jane. Why are you here?

I’m on my way to a meeting with Steven for practice at the shooting range.

He still practices there?

Once a week, every Friday. Jane grinned. He claims he does it to teach the agents in training never to underestimate an elderly man.

Liam sniggered. And they don’t even know who he really is.

No, they don’t.

Why does he really do it?

Because he is who he is, I guess. He enjoys it.

I absolutely believe that. Well, you both probably do... He sighed.

What’s the problem, Liam?

I barely make it through the regular tests, you know. I mean, standards are lower for Branch Three and Four, since we’re less likely to get caught in a fire fight, but I still have to worry every time.

Jane mustered him for a moment. Why don’t you come with me? I’m sure Steven and I could give you a few pointers. It won’t turn you into a master marksman, but you should get better that way.

You think so?

Sure. She grinned. The old man taught me to shoot passably in half an hour when I was twelve, you know...

He stared at her. You’re kidding me.

No. Even though the main point of that exercise wasn’t to teach me how to shoot. So, what do you have to lose? He’s not going to kill you, after all.

Liam shuddered. He might glare at me.

But you’re not going to shit yourself because of that, are you?

He laughed. No.

I have it on authority of Sir Frederic that actually happened while he was still an instructor.

Really?

Well, a few times...

That I believe. I really wouldn’t have wanted to face Steven while he was still in active service.

Me neither. I’m sure he earned his nickname the hard way.

Liam grinned. And I still can’t believe he was an instructor. Did anyone learn anything in his classes? And what did he teach?

He taught assassination techniques and people learned an awful lot in his classes, including me. He might have been scary ... scratch that, everyone but me was terrified of him ... but he really could teach.

I’m not surprised you weren’t afraid of him.

I never was ... not even when I met him for the first time. We hit it off right away.

Why is he your handler now?

He decided to be ... he gave up teaching when I entered active service, so he could become my handler. And I’m extremely happy about that.

Your enemies aren’t, I bet.

Nope, they aren’t. So, are you coming or not?

He thought about it for a moment. Yes. I should do shooting practice again, anyway. And perhaps there’s a chance I get a little better.

A big one. Come on.

Two

––––––––

Jane spotted Steven the moment she and Liam entered the shooting range. He leaned against the counter in the back and chatted with the agent who provided weapons and ammunition for training sessions. She pulled Liam over with her.

Ah, there you are, Jane. Steven turned towards her and smiled. Hello Liam.

Hi Steven.

Hello Steven. Jane smiled back, then she turned to the agent at the counter. I’ll need something for my 250, please. She took the ammo he handed her. Thanks.

Steven turned to Liam. Why are you here, Liam?

Well. The younger man looked down for a moment. Jane thought you might be able to help me improve my shooting. I’m barely passing the tests, normally.

Ah. Well, let’s see what we’ll be working with. Did you bring your gun?

I ... I don’t have one. I usually shoot with one from here.

They’re not bad as a such. Steven shrugged. Then we’ll need an automatic for you.

The agent behind the counter handed Liam a standard automatic and his own pack of ammo. They walked over to one of the stalls.

Go ahead, let’s see how well you shoot. Steven gave Liam an encouraging smile.

Liam nodded and loaded the gun. Then he lifted it with both hands to steady his aim and started to shoot. He emptied a full clip and lowered the gun again. Steven called the target in and mustered the result. Several bullets had hit the human outline, but Jane could definitely tell the victim would have survived. Quite some of the bullets had completely missed, though.

Steven stroked his chin, thoughtfully. Jane, take a few shots with this gun, too, will you?

Sure. Jane put in a new clip and sent a new target out to the same distance, then she lifted the gun, aimed with one hand, and shot a few times. The bullets clustered in the head and around the heart. "Pulls a