From Paris, With Love. Samantha Tonge

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if you’re doing your official work and then this on the side… Don’t you get any free time?’

      ‘I bloody make sure I do,’ said John.

      Joe shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’m married, with someone else to think of, dinners to prepare, outings to arrange… My time is my own.’

      ‘Sounds like you talk from experience and have been hitched in the past.’ I smiled.

      For a second his maple-syrup eyes darkened. ‘I don’t discuss personal details.’

      Ooh, I sensed a bit of emotional baggage.

      ‘Jet-setting Joe and I don’t have the time to follow up every lead,’ said John, his voice over-friendly. He stretched out his legs. ‘There are lots of rumours to follow up and hopefully rule out during the coming months. The commemorative events grow in number during the summer and we are here to eliminate all potential terrorist or criminal threats. At present, we’re focusing on the security of the world leaders visiting Paris the day after the football match, for a peace conference.’

      My stomach tingled with excitement, now that I was reassured these two men honestly meant me no harm. Joe Bloggs, international spy, was actually asking for a favour. But why get little old me involved?

      ‘What good will I be?’ I shrugged.

      ‘Last year you carried yourself off perfectly as Abbey, fooling the public and the Croxleys,’ said Joe. ‘Gemma, you are loyal, determined and take initiative. Whatever the consequences, once your mind is made up, you see a mission through… And today has confirmed that you’ve got guts. I believe you are one tough woman.’

      ‘That’s what comes from growing up with two brothers who think hiding spiders in your knickers drawer is funny…’ I cleared my throat, still not quite believing what was happening.

      ‘But what makes you really special,’ continued Joe, ‘is that I can tell you’re a royalist. Kate Middleton is one of your heroes. Your heart will be in the job and that’s the most important thing of all.’

      John muttered something snidey. But I got what Joe said. Guilty as charged. Like Abbey, I totally crushed on KMid, plus loved funny William and cute little George… Auntie Jan was royal mad. I’d been brought up drinking out of Prince Charles and Diana mugs. There’s no way I’d stand by and let them come to harm.

      ‘All in all, what more could I ask for in an undercover assistant?’ Joe half-smiled. ‘The dealmaker was that you’d be in Paris, just at the time I needed you.’

      I stared at him for a moment and then my jaw dropped. ‘That mix-up over our jobs – you somehow changed them, right at the last minute so that I’d be working at Chez Dubois…’

      Joe nodded. ‘I pretended to be a catering recruitment agency headhunter and persuaded a kitchenhand to leave Chez Dubois – not difficult, as he didn’t get on with chef Jean-Claude. I sent him to the restaurant you were supposed to be working at, as well as writing them a letter of apology from you, saying for personal reasons you could no longer accept their job. Then I emailed your details to Pierre, still in my fake role as a recruitment agent…’ A muscle in his cheek flinched. ‘Of course, I’ve mostly observed you on the television. I don’t know you well. It’s a risk, for me, getting a civilian secretly involved. And it’s a risk for you – whilst it’s unlikely this is a real terrorist threat, I won’t rest until every avenue has been thoroughly explored, and that could be dangerous.’

      ‘Good old strait-laced Joe becoming a rogue agent, going behind his bosses’ backs… who’d have thought?’ said John, in a smarmy voice and shook his head.

      ‘I’m trusting your absolute discretion,’ said Joe, staring me bolt in the face. ‘Relying on you not to let me down. Counting on your judgement. And most importantly, I need you to understand that things could get unpleasant.’

      ‘Why aren’t MI6 backing you, about carrying on the investigation, if I’m free and willing to help? Even if they think the risk is minimal, what have they got to lose?’

      ‘Sometimes, agents’ hunches are wrong and lead to trouble for the organisation, girlie,’ said John. ‘To be honest, I’m not convinced about this threat either, but seeing as I’m deployed here with Joe and in a position to help him…’ He shrugged. ‘Joe will owe me a favour. And if he’s wrong and the investigation goes pear-shaped, it’ll be him taking the rap. Tell her about the 2012 Olympic fiasco, Joe.’

      ‘An investigation was started into some coded emails with the subject title BlowUpOlympia,’ said Joe. ‘The agent who’d stumbled across them discovered a group of around fifty suspicious people who regularly met up, with their laptops. Some belonged to gun clubs. Others followed fighting sports, such as the martial arts. My colleague became convinced they were plotting to set off bombs in the Olympic stadium.’

      Wow.

      ‘It turned out they were simply war game fanatics and Olympia was the name of a town in their favourite game. Everything was coded because they knew of another group on the internet, determined to defend this virtual town. It’s was an interactive game where you worked in teams.’

      ‘Did MI6 find out in time?’ I said.

      Joe shook his head. ‘No, and agents manhandled several members of the group who turned up at the Olympic venues – they were simply genuine sports fans. Embarrassingly, one of them was related to a tabloid newspaper’s editor. MI6 had to call in a lot of favours to keep that story out of the press. We were overstretched in 2012, trying to deflect potential terrorist attacks. C was furious and swore she’d never let anything like that happen again.’

      ‘C?’

      ‘Our Chief. She keeps an extra close eye on every investigation now.’

      ‘Oh. I thought she’d be called M – you know, like in James Bond.’

      John rolled his eyes. ‘No – she’s named after the very first Chief of MI6, Mansfield Cumming, who used to sign himself as C.’

      I nodded and stared from one agent to another.

      ‘So? Are you in?’ asked Joe and shifted uncomfortably. ‘I know it’s a big ask. On paper there’s no evidence, the risks are minimal… But I’d be lying if I guaranteed that you were going to be one hundred percent safe, one hundred percent of the time.’

      Of course I was in! If the safety of the royal family was potentially under threat, I had no choice. My chest glowed warm. Imagine, someone like Joe cherry-picking me to protect the royals. And what a guy – putting his reputation on the line, out of a sense of duty… What a contrast he was to that creepy John.

      ‘I don’t know,’ I said airily, not wanting to look keen. Well, there were conditions, of course! ‘For starters, I um, would need a cool codename.’

      ‘Yeah? Erm… What about Margherita?’ Joe gave a half-smile.

      ‘Margherita!’ I spluttered. ‘After the name of a pizza?’

      ‘Exactly.’ He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘Didn’t you used to work in an Italian restaurant?’

      ‘Yes but…’

      ‘Okay,

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