The dust had just about settled by the time I came to my senses. I realised that I was lying on top of Jemma. I felt her groan and move so I knew she was alive.

As my head cleared, I realised that Bathroom door had been blown off its hinges and was lying on top of us. The fact that it was solid had probably saved our lives.

For some strange reason, I remembered cursing the building inspector for insisting on it being a ‘fire door’ because the Central Heating Boiler was in the Bathroom. I moved a bit and didn’t get very far at all. The extra weight of the door would make getting out from under it a lot harder. You win some and lose some.

I chuckled to myself. It is strange what passes through your mind at times like this…

After a bit of searching, I found Jemma’s hand in the rubble and squeezed it. She responded.

“Can you move your left leg?” she whispered.

“Something is crushing my right boob.”

I managed half a smile as I moved my leg out of the way. The change in position also allowed me to move the door out of the way and then slowly get to my feet.

The ringing in my ears started to subside.

I began to hear the sounds of the emergency services heading our way. This spurred me into action.

I helped Jemma to her feet.¬ We were both covered in dust and debris.

“Someone tried to kill us. That was probably an RPG.”

Jemma carried on getting rid of debris from her hair but she grunted.

“We’ve got to contact base and arrange for extraction,” I said urgently.

Jemma didn’t reply but this time she just nodded her head. She just carried on dusting herself down. This was Jemma dealing with the explosion in her own way. I knew not to try to elicit any understandable comments from her until she’d got her mind in gear again. I also knew that if she was seriously injured she’d have let me know by now.

Thankfully my flat had a landline phone extension in the bathroom. I’d never used it but the relief I felt when I heard the sound of the dial tone when I picked up the handset was palpable.

I dialled a local number and as soon as it was answered, I entered a six-digit code from memory. That was followed by a three-digit code. The last one would alert the operator as to the severity of the call.

An operator came on the line immediately.

“Go ahead,” was all she said. I wasn’t expecting anything else.

“Someone tried to blow up Jemma and myself at my apartment. Probably with an RPG. We need a T2 extraction immediately. I think we are just shaken and not seriously injured.”

I heard the operator acknowledge the call and I hung up.

I went and sat by Jemma. She was still rather stunned.

“Let’s hope that they think that this is a terrorist act and put a security cordon around the area. We can’t risk whoever did this seeing us leave alive.”

Jemma nodded. She was shaking. Her deep level of shock was clear to see.

I held her in my arms. As I did so, I started to remember all the times we’d done this to each other over the years.

“Years!” I muttered.

“What?”

“Sorry love. Just thinking out loud,” I replied hurriedly.

Then I said to her,

“We need to get out of this game once and for all,”

“Yeah but how?”

It was indeed easier said than done but deep down inside, we both knew the answer to that question.

---

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard some movement in the main part of the flat. I really hoped that it was the Fire Service and not the same people who’d just tried to kill us.

“We are in here,” I called out.

Two fully suited firemen appeared.

“Please don’t call it in. We have to appear to have been killed. We work for MI5.”

The department was so off the books that we didn’t have a name or any sort of official recognition but there was an agreement with MI5 that in cases like this, we could use them as a cover story. Hopefully, my phone call would have alerted all sorts of people as to what had happened.

“Are you ok?”

“Minor injuries I think thanks to the door,” I said pointing at it.

“Do you know what happened?”

“RPG or remotely triggered bomb. The windows had bullet-proof glass in them.”

One of the men looked at the other for guidance.

“Rocket Propelled Grenade. I saw a lot of them in Iraq. It looks like you got off lightly.” said the other.

“We need to report to our senior officer.”

“Can you say that there are two deceased in the apartment where the explosion occurred?”

They looked at each other. They seemed unsure.

“You won’t get into trouble. MI5 will make sure that you are in the clear. Someone tried to kill us so why not make it seem that they did just that?”

The taller of the two shook his head.

“How can you be so logical at a time like this?”

“Training. You are trained to be logical and have clear thoughts when putting out fires and rescuing people. We are trained to stay alive, stay calm and logical at all times.”

“Just do it Les,” said the other Officer to the first.

He nodded.

“Come in Control, Foxtrot 1 reporting,” he said into his microphone.

“Control listening.”

“We have found two bodies close to the centre of the blast. No signs of life. Their injuries are considerable.”

“Control. Understood. Continue your Search.”

“Understood. Out.”

“Thanks Guys, we owe you one,” said Jemma.

The two Fire Officers went off to search the other apartments in the building.

---

“What do we do now?”

“We wait,” I said in a matter of fact voice.

“The protocol says that the phone will ring twice when our people are ready. It may take them a few hours to rustle up two dead bodies that can be used to take our place for the view of the world. The Media will be all over this. You don’t start blowing up third floor flats in Chelsea without attracting an awful lot of column space in the media.”

“Yeah, but how will we get out?”

“Inside a fridge or something like that. I don’t know. We are in the hands of…? Well I really don’t know but you remember the drills we had in training for this very sort of thing?”

“I do but I never thought…”

“That we’d need to use them?”

Jemma nodded and then asked…

“Having second thoughts about coming back?”

“I don’t need to have them. The explosion has got rid of any doubts I might have had. Whoever it was needs to be taken down.”

“Same here. It has to be Esteban but how did he and his crew know that we were back?”

I almost blurted out that I knew that it was him. It was his voice as clear as day on the phone. I refrained from doing so given Jemma’s still shocked state.

“That my dear is the sixty-four-billion-pound question. Sam will have some explaining to do when we get out of this mess.”

---

Three and a half hours later, the phone rang twice and then rang off.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief as we were both clearly getting a bit impatient. Jemma had a nasty gash on her forehead. I’d dressed it as best I could and the bleeding had stopped for the time being. She needed some proper medical treatment. She kept feeling her shoulder which worried me.

After the two fire orricers left, things in the building began to quieten down.
I’d crawled into the living room and retrieved my phone from the table that had once been right by the door to the bathroom. The table was well beyond repair but my phone was still working.

Back in the bathroom, we used it to follow what was happening outside. All the TV main channels were covering the incident. The Police were pushing the TV crews farther and farther back. They were resisting and some choice words from some of the ‘on the ground’ reporters that were being broadcast to the world.

Once the phone had rung, I did a total reset on the phone a couple of times and tossed it into the debris that was my former home. We had no idea where Jemma’s phone was so we’d have to take a chance that her phone had been destroyed in the blast. It had been a lot closer to the centre of the explosion than mine but that was pure luck. Our rescue was underway.

Half an hour or later a man in a Forensic White paper suit knocked gently on what remained of my front door.

“Hello? Germany Calling!”

I breathed a sigh of relief. The old and very corny WW2 Radio Call Sign was the codeword I needed to lookout for. The person I’d spoken to on the phone all those hours earlier had simply said to me, ‘Codeword is Germany Calling’. It meant that the owner of the voice was a friend.

I replied with the answer.

“This is the BBC from London.”

“Roger. Where are you?”

“We are in the bathroom,” I called out.

He appeared in the doorway with a smile on his face.

“It looks like you two have nine lives. Normal people would not have survived that blast.”

“Oh, John Smith at your service. My boss in ‘5’ has organised your extraction.”

He tossed two Forensic suits in our direction.

“Put these on and follow me. We have about ten minutes before the balloon goes up.”

We didn’t ask what the ‘balloon’ was but if pressed I would have said that some sort of diversion was planned in order to get us out.

I helped Jemma into her suit. It was obvious that her left arm was hurting. I didn’t think that she’d broken it but the grimaces on her face told me everything I needed to know.

As I zipped up my suit, ‘Mr Smith’ was looking anxiously at his watch.

“We need to go. Two minutes to Balloon time.”

He was obviously a man of few words but that didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was that we were extracted from this location without delay and without putting others into danger.

Exactly two minutes later we heard the sounds of a commotion from outside.

Then a Siren sounded.

“That’s the sound of the Gas Alert. One of my colleagues has released some natural gas in the basement. The SOP for the Fire Service is to put Gas Detectors in many parts of the building just in case there is a mains Gas leak. They will evacuate everyone and that includes us. Two of my colleagues will hide out so that the count of people in and out of the building is good. They came in an hour ago suited up like you two are now.”

Neither of us answered.

“Ladies? Shall we exit the building?”

We left the building into a scene of mild but organised chaos. That was perfect for us. We headed for a Van that was marked ‘Home Office Forensics’. That would not be out of place to people dressed like us.

Two hours later, the all clear was sounded and people started to return to the building. The two MI5 agents would slip out close to dawn. That is the time when people are at their least attentive.

---

It was well after dawn when someone got into the driving seat of the van where we were hiding. He didn’t speak but he turned around to look at us and smiled. I recognised him from our departmental selection days in Northumbria. He was one of the unfortunates who dropped out due to injury. He’d obviously found a home in MI5.

Again, and without a word, he started the engine and drove slowly away from the scene, away from my former home. I was certain that we’d never return to live there. The shortness of this one proved that beyond all reasonable doubt.

Our driver dropped us off outside St Mary’s Hospital Paddington. He still didn’t say anything but gave us the thumbs up when he drove off. We’d removed the Forensics Suits on the journey across London. The area around the Hospital and the adjacent Railway Station is busy day and night and is the perfect place for blending in with the crowd. As the protocol dictated, we were on our own for the time being. If one or both of us had been badly injured a very different extraction would have been performed.

I saw a clock on a bus shelter. It read 06:34. It also stated that a Number 27 Bus to Turnham Green was overdue. I smiled to myself as I realised how the mind gets thrown out of kilter at times like these. Normally, I would not have even noticed the overdue bus but for some reason I was trying to relate to things that were normal after the very abnormal events of the night. I looked at Jemma. She still wasn’t saying much but I saw her concentrating on a sign in a shop. It had a list of exchange rates. She looked exhausted. Shock hits people differently and at different times.

It had been a long night and it wasn’t over yet not, by a long chalk.

“Don’t worry love. We’ll be in the safety of HQ in twenty minutes.”

She managed a smile and squeezed my hand.

The street was as I’d hoped pretty busy. I flagged down a Taxi and we climbed in the back.

“Pall Mall at the Trafalgar Square end please?” I said to the driver.

He didn’t comment at our still quite dishevelled look but drove off. I only hoped that the small amount of money that was in my pocket was enough to pay the driver. The clothes provided by the extraction team contained a small amount of money. The idea was that the extraction team would have no idea where we went after they’d dropped us off. What they didn’t know they could not tell.

The driver made good time and the money was more than enough to cover the fare. I looked at the notes and for an instant, I could not concentrate on which ones were what value. In the end, I just gave him the lot. He didn’t argue so it must have been a very good tip.

---

We walked across the square under the gaze of Nelson and then down into the Underground station at the entrance on the opposite side of the square from where we’d been dropped off by the Taxi.

At the bottom of the steps, there was a door marked ‘Staff A’ with a fingerprint reader on the wall at the side of the door. It responded to the little finger of my left hand and clicked open.

Once we were inside, I made sure that the door was firmly locked behind us and breathed a sigh of relief.

We were safe at last.

The emergency extraction plan that had been drilled into us all those years ago had worked a treat.

Jemma was strangely quiet. I guessed that the explosion had dome more damage than she was letting on. The way that she was holding her arm was evident that she was in quite a bit of pain. I didn’t worry too much as Medical Attention was not far away.

We had to wait for Security to let us into the main part of the building. That took a couple of minutes which was not that unusual.

Once inside, we went down a further flight of steps and along a tunnel that too us directly under Northumberland Avenue. At the end of the tunnel we went up a few floors in a lift and entered the main control room of the department.

The place was a hive of activity. That was unusual at the best of times but for this early in the day it was unheard of at least in our time with the department. As they say, ‘the cat was well and truly amongst the pigeons.’

We were greeted by the Director. He was always known as Sam. Just like ‘M’ was to MI6, Sam was to us.

“Jemma, can you please go and get yourself sorted?” said Sam.

There was no ‘hello’s’ or ‘how are you?’ with Sam. It was always direct and to the point.

I could tell that Jemma didn’t want to go. That was her all over. She never wanted to miss a thing.

“Go love,” I said softly.

“I’ll brief Sam.”

Reluctantly, she headed off to what we jovially called ‘Sick Bay’ but was actually a fully equipped ten bed hospital. It was also where injured operatives from ‘5’ and ‘6’ came for some off the record treatment. A secret Hospital right in the centre of London.

“Shall we go into my Office?” said Sam with a stern face.

---

I closed the door to his office and sat down.

“He’s back,” said Sam.

That explained all the activity in the department.

“We’ve been pouring over the CCTV from your place and the streets around since your call. It seems that Daniel Esteban decided that he wanted to take you out personally. Besides saving him several million Euros he wanted the satisfaction of getting his revenge personally.”

“I know. He made a phone call to the flat looking for the old me. I recognised the voice. That’s how I got us into the bathroom before the place blew up. Jemma does not know that and I’d appreciate if I was the one to tell her.

Sam nodded.
“I understand and agree. She needs a lot of rest. He made no attempt to hide. It was as if he was boasting that he is untouchable.”

He called up some CCTV and played it on the big screen that dominated one wall of his Office.

Normally the screen showed a live feed from a Camera overlooking the River Thames. As we were underground, there were many such screens in the department. Today it clearly showed Daniel Esteban picking up an RPG Launcher and firing it at our apartment.

“This was posted on Social Media less than five minutes after the blast. When we got your call we naturally started looking for things like this. Most sites took it down right away but one major one wanted a court order. I called the Home Secretary and he ordered their site to be blocked in this country until they took it down. They caved but it has gone viral as you would expect.”

I was surprised at his brazenness but admired him all the same. He was a worthy foe and had been for the last five years.

“This came in ten minutes ago,” said Sam as he selected another bit of Video.

“We put it out via the Police that two people had been killed in the explosion. We were keeping the fact that it was an assassination attempt under wraps for the time being but this latest Video may mean that we have to release it sooner rather than Later. ‘5’ and ‘6’ are in total agreement and ‘5’ will take ownership.”

The second video clip showed two bodies in body-bags being removed from the building. Then to my surprise, it showed someone who appeared to be a Police Officer stepping forward after pulling out what looked like a .38 revolver he put at least one bullet into the head of each corpse. Then he surrendered.

“Several media outlets including the BBC and CNN were live streaming at the time. The cat is out of the bag as regards the explosion being an accident. I just got off the phone with the PM. She is livid and the heads of ‘5’ and ‘6’ are not on her Christmas card list if you get my meaning. That should not have been allowed to happen. That clip will probably go viral very soon. Tonight has been a major coup for Esteban. The fact that he is shown firing the RPG shows to the world that you can’t mess with him and that he is very much back in control.”

I was stunned at what I was watching. Mr Esteban certainly wanted to make sure that we were dead and I mean really dead. He was aware that sometimes a body-bag was used to carry a live body away from crime scenes. He was not going to take any chances with us pulling that trick.

“Are ‘5’ taking full ownership? I mean full ownership?” I asked.

“Yes. As of now, you are both listed as long serving operatives with ‘5’. Under very different names naturally.

“Oh, the fake Police Officer has been identified as a contract hit man from Romania named Costel Chipciu. Just before you arrived, I found out that he is wanted for murder by both the French and German Police. We can hold him on charges of “defacing a corpse” until they decide who gets first go him. He’s with ‘6’ until extradition is granted. ‘5’ has not objected they will have enough explaining to the Commons Security Select Committee about how he was let into the country in the first place.”

---

We were all well aware of the rivalry between MI5 and MI6. We often played the man in the middle as we took no sides but were there to help when needed. Both departments have had a lot of ‘egg on face’ situations saved by our actions in the past. I guessed that a few of those debts had been called in by Sam.

“Thanks Sir. So, we will be ‘Terminated’ then?”

Sam nodded.

“Last night was it for both of you. We can’t afford to have you exposed again. Now that Mr Esteban thinks that you are dead, he’ll move onto other matters of his business. We need to dedicate resources to fighting that and not protecting you two.”

Suddenly I felt a shiver run down my back.

“Are we being cast adrift?”

Sam smiled.

“No. Far from it. But you two need new faces and totally new identities if you are going to live out your lives in retirement with him still on the loose. The PM has authorised full pensions for both of you at the rank of Deputy Controller.”

I was pleased and shocked. Pleased that we would not be just let go and made to fend for ourselves but shocked that we would get a Pension at such a high level. We could live comfortably on them for the rest of our lives.

But, I wasn’t happy. We had unfinished business to attend to.

“Sam! Sorry but we as in Jemma and I, need to get Daniel Esteban once and for all. I’m pretty sure that I am speaking for Jemma in that we could never live a happy life knowing that he was still free and clear.”

Sam smiled.

“I hoped that you would have that attitude. Both ‘6’ and ‘5’ want you to retire but we do not let things go. We have never done that since the PM created us in 1943. Our only brief then as you know was to never let go until the job was done. We are not letting this go despite that others may wish and I’m happy to say that the current PM is right behind me on this but the retirement offer still stands.”

I guessed that some long and often heated calls had taken place during the night. I also knew that the Prime Minister was on an Official visit to Japan for trade talks at the moment.

“Thanks Sam. What next?”

“Get a shower and some rest. At least a full day and that is an order. It is not every day that you survive an RPG attack so you need time to recover.”

“I’ll go and see how Jemma is before bedding down if I may?”

Sam just smiled at me. He knew just how close we were so he didn’t argue.

---

Jemma and I were just about the longest serving field operators in the department so we had considerable leeway with pretty well everyone on the staff. I say almost. The former NHS Matron Miss Amanda Parkinson, who ran Sick Bay would not budge an inch when it came to protocol or anything.

As ever she put up an impenetrable barrier and would not let me see Jemma.

“I’ve just come from a meeting with Sam. He gave the go ahead for me to see Jemma.”

That fell on deaf ears, totally deaf ears.

Then I heard a cry from within ‘Sick Bay’.

“Angie? Is that you?”

“That’s me!” I called out.

“I’m fine but they want me to stay for observation. Alpha Nine.”

I was happy to hear from her. The code ‘Alpha Nine’ meant that she was basically unable to leave the room where she was. She was probably connected to all sorts of equipment. It also meant that she didn't have any broken bones.

“Ok, see you tomorrow.”

“Now Angelique, don’t you have somewhere else to go?” said the Matron still with her arms folded. Her body language told me that I was going nowhere in her domain anytime soon.

“I do,” I replied.

---

After a hearty breakfast in the Mess, I headed for one of the bits of the department that were above ground. We had one floor of a building that overlooked ‘The Strand’. Real views of the city. There were six small flats where visiting agents could stay while in London or as in our case, homeless. I saw that Number 6 was free. This was the nicest one as it overlooked one corner of Trafalgar Square.

I had a nice long shower and then slipped into bed. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep. It had been quite a welcome back to London.

Unbeknown to me, events were unfolding out in the real world that would have direct bearing on what we did next.

[to be continued]