I sat on the bed in our hotel room and tried to take my mind off what had happened earlier that day in a room so globally identical. Officer Geffen had driven us to a small hotel near the airport. He had signed us in as a married couple; Mr and Mrs Reese; American tourists. I learned that more often than not, an American couple abroad would blend in the easiest anywhere in the world; everyone overlooked them.

I was alone for the first time in days, and I really didn’t want to be; after we checked in, Daniel had taken the car and driven away into the city to dump the vehicle before it could betray our location.

Sitting alone in the soulless hotel room brought things back to me. Harriet was dead… I was wanted for her murder. I was sat in a Syrian Hotel room as a woman… minor technical detail. The most unsettling part however, was the latter didn’t seem to bother me anymore. I was in turmoil about that issue: As much as I loved how I was now, some part of me still wanted me to stop and get back to familiar ground. Now however, wasn’t the time; all I could think about was what had gone wrong… How the woman I loved had ended up being shot when she came to help me out of my mess… Indirectly, I had killed her.

I closed my eyes and lent back against the headboard. I could feel the hot tears begin to well in my eyes, and the slow trickle before the dam broke. I wasn’t sure how long I cried, but the last thing I remembered was feeling truly sorry that I had ever accepted that ridiculous offer.

When I opened my eyes again it was dark. The room was quiet, and the sounds of traffic on the road outside were the only sounds.

As I slowly woke, I became aware of a large shape in the chair on the far side of the room.

“Daniel?” I asked sleepily rubbing my eyes.

The shape stirred. “Are you ok?” he asked softly. “When I got back, you were asleep, I thought it best to leave you…”

I shrugged noncommittally. “Thanks I guess.”

As Officer Geffen hit the light switch next to him, I blinked reflexively as the room suddenly appeared all around me in a blinding flash.

“Are you ok?” he asked with a hint of compassion. “You were crying….?”

“I wasn’t., just tired.” I insisted groggily.

“Your makeup tells me otherwise, was it the hotel?” he pressed gently.

Reflexively I reached up towards my eyes; blasted mascara. “It was the cap on a lot of things.” I shrugged pulling myself upright on the bed. “I still don’t quite believe she’s gone.”

“You were in love… I have experienced that loss. Believe me.” He stated matter of factly with a sardonic half grin. “We blame ourselves… We tell ourselves that this job caused it, that we are to blame for bringing them into it. The truth? It is out of our hands…”

“This happened to you?” I asked cautiously.

“My wife and daughter were killed by a Hamas car bomb 5 years ago… Daniel offered without emotion. “When I was still with the Israeli Defence Force, they were killed by a revenge cell targeting the families of serving personnel…” he said solemnly with a shrug. “At first, I told myself that my joining up had brought this… that marrying her had caused it all… anything to blame myself,” he continued.

“It took me years to accept that I had no hand in it. Those bastards chose to take their lives at random. Your… partner?... She was an Intelligence officer also. She knew the risks, she was doing what she thought to be right. She died in the line of duty at the hands of those we fight to stop. There is no blame; there is only our duty to bring them to account for their evil acts.”

I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I listened to him talk. The strange part was, I understood what he meant. His words soothed the burning fire of guilt in my heart, but the flames would never go out.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

“For what?” he asked quietly. “All I did was tell you the truth.”

“For letting me in… for telling me about your family.” I replied in a small voice. “It helped.”

Daniel smiled; “You will heal… It just takes time.”

“Did you manage to dump the car?” I asked, trying to banish the awkward silence that followed our heart to heart. It had reassured me, but felt entirely too personal a topic to have with a man I hardly knew. The fact that I no longer viewed him as my peer was strikingly obvious to me.

Daniel nodded. “I left it in a multi storey car park, and got a cab back here.” He confirmed. “I did stop at some shops… I got us some new clothes. Sorry.” He grinned weakly. “I wasn’t entirely sure of your sizes…” he shrugged apologetically holding out a bag.

I took the bag he offered and retreated into the bathroom with a murmur of thanks. The bag contained underwear, a pair of blue jeans and a white blouse. The knickers fitted, but the bra was a total loss… men and their overestimation… The idea made me chuckle to myself. To his credit, he had a fair eye for the size of the rest of me and the jeans and blouse fitted well enough. Opting to keep my current bra and sandals, I set about removing the horror mask that my makeup had become.
As I stood before the mirror with clean skin and stared at my reflection. I fluffed my hair absent mindedly and rubbed my eyes: I looked tired, and my eyes were somewhat puffy, but it had been a very long day. I shrugged and applied light makeup before brushing my hair with my fingers and hooking an errant lock behind my ear. With a shrug, I tore myself away from the mirror and returned to the bedroom where I found Daniel stood by the window. He had changed out of his plain native dress, and was wearing a pair of cream chinos and a navy blue shirt with the top few buttons undone. It was only in the new light that I realised his beard was gone.

“You look different.” I offered, catching his attention. Daniel turned around and grinned. “I was tired of the beard…. Made me feel dirty. It fits I see..?” he added giving me a slow once over much to my embarrassment..

“Ok I guess.” I mumbled looking at my feet. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “You hungry?”

Almost in response, my stomach rumbled in protest. “I think that’s a yes.” I smirked. “Wouldn’t room service be more subtle?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, But Mr and Mrs Reese have no reason to hide… And we will be able to see a threat coming far easier in a restaurant than this room.” He offered with a smile.

As awkward as it felt, I took Officer Geffen’s hand as we left the room and made our way downstairs to the restaurant. It was part of our pretence, but it made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t know if it was my role, or his.
There was no hint of Syrian police as we dined, and I began to relax as the evening wore on. We were still in danger, Harriet was still dead, but we could cope… We had to cope. More and more I thanked god that I was not alone… That at least I had one ally in the world. I felt very alone…

I woke the next morning as rays of sunlight began to slice through the curtains in our room. The sound of rhythmic breathing next to me reminded me that the bed had a second occupant. We had agreed to share the bed the previous evening. As much as my brain protested, it had made sense. We posed each other no threat, and the more comfortable we got around each other, the easier it would be to pose as a couple. I still didn’t like the fact that I had slept in the same bed as a man.

Sitting up, I slipped my feet out from beneath the sheet and stretched. Officer Geffen lay sleeping peacefully on his side facing away from me, the sheet had slipped down to his waist. I shook my head at the image in my mind and collected my clothes from the chair and padded quietly through to the bathroom.

Slumping down on the toilet, I rubbed my tired eyes. A day passed, and I still expected Harriet to be on the end of a phone, the whole thing had gone from sickening reality to numb dream. I couldn’t quite believe she was gone. This whole event felt crafted and false, as if the players would walk off the stage at the end before taking a bow. I doubted the blood on my hands would wash off however.

Showering and dressing, I returned to the bedroom quietly. Officer Geffen was still sleeping and I was unsure as to what I should do. Eventually, I walked over softly, and gently shook his shoulder before stepping back and waiting for a response. Geffen stirred, and rolled back onto his face. I rolled my eyes and shook his shoulder harder. With a moan, Geffen rolled onto his back and opened his eyes sleepily.

He frowned momentarily before smiling. “Morning.”

“Morning.” I offered, “We need to go.”

Daniel nodded lethargically and sat up in the bed. “You feeling any better this morning?” he asked tentatively as he stretched.

I shrugged. “I can’t answer that, not till I go home.”

Daniel nodded, “Ok, well you know you can talk to me if you wish…” he offered trailing off. “I’m going to head for the bathroom now, you might not want to watch.” He smirked slyly, laughing as the look of horror and understanding crossed my face.

“Ugh you were naked?” I asked screwing up my face. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?”

Daniel shrugged flipping the covers off himself before I banished myself to the view from the hotel window. “Well its not like I packed sleep wear yes?” he chuckled closing the door behind him.

How had I gotten so prudish? I knew exactly why he was embarrassed to get up in front of me, and I knew…. I mean, there wasn’t any tension between us… he was just like me… well… just like I was…

Just before lunchtime, we pulled up outside a small shop on a backstreet. I had spoken to Terry Anderson, he had secured documents and ID for the pair of us, but was being watched closely by six. As apprehensive as the neighbourhood made me feel, the fact we were meeting covertly made me all the more nervous. We were beginning to stray into field craft techniques that I had not covered yet… The game was changing, and I lacked the skills to play.

“Where did he say the drop was?” Daniel asked casually smiling as he did so. The man was a picture of calm as we drove. His quiet confidence the result of years experience. This was his element, and he loved it.

“The corner of the next street,” I offered. “Under the post box.”

“We’re clean, you go get the items when I pull over.” He nodded.

As the car cruised over to the side of the kerb, I felt my heart begin to flutter. Quashing the feeling, I opened the door and stepped out calmly and began what felt a one mile walk nude.

I reached the post box and made to read the times listed in Arabic before casually slipping my hand underneath and feeling for the attached envelope. My heart rate tripled as my fingers closed on the manila envelope, Pulling it out as subtly as I could, I turned and walked back to the car.
Slipping into the seat, Officer Geffen pulled us sedately away from the kerb and into the street. “You got it, you did good.” He smiled at me.

“Sorry.” I frowned. “I don’t know why that scared me.” I opened the envelope and tipped out the contents. Two aged and backdated US passports, and a Virginia Drivers licence in the name of Sally Westmore, and one from California for a Mr Mark Goldstein.

All the Identity documents looked as if we had possessed them for an extended period of time, the workmanship was supreme. Looking over the markings and seals, I wondered exactly how genuine they might be.

“Who am I then?” prompted Officer Geffen turning the car onto a main street.

“Mark Goldstein, Santa Barbra, California, born 1979…” I repeated aloud without looking up from the documents I was examining.

“Daniel chuckled. “Your man has a sense of humour; Goldstein indeed…”

“Well you don’t quite look like a Smith.” I quipped flashing him a smile. “I’m Sally Westmore, from… Norfolk Virginia, born 1981. Oh I’m older.”

Daniel looked over quizzically, “How old are you?”

“I’m 24.” I offered defensively. “Why?”

“I had you pegged as around 28 like me,” he replied shaking his head with a frown, “Not that you look 28, I mean you act older..” he added backtracking.

“I’ll forget that.” I grinned, “But I know what you mean… I’ve had a lot to deal with I guess. It’s probably to blame.”

“Probably.” Daniel nodded, letting the subject drop.

We had been driving in an irregular pattern for the last 20 minutes, mostly to talk, but partly to ensure that we were clean after the collection. As it turned out, it was a good thing.

“I think… we are not alone.” Daniel muttered his eyes flickering to the rear view. “Three cars back, the blue ford. It has been with us for the last four turns.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked, regretting the words as soon as they had left my mouth. Not something a professional field officer would say at all.

“Give me a minute,” Daniel replied quietly, watching his mirror. “And don’t turn around, or they will know we are onto them. We need to test if this is a tail or not.”

After the next set of lights, Daniel made a late turn onto a side street and watched his mirror with what I could only describe as a smile. “Yes, They are following us.” He stated matter of factly. “Not nice guys.” He muttered to himself before following the road round back to the main street. In the vanity mirror, I watched our tail follow at a discrete distance. As we reached the lights, Daniel Jumped a red and make a quick right turn into the stream of traffic. Quickly turning around in my seat, I could see our pursuers make the turn and give chase.

“When the fuck did they pick us up?” I asked reaching into my handbag for the pistol to reassure me. “Was it the drop?”

“Probably someone followed your friend because he reached the same conclusions about him we did.”

Daniel’s speed began to edge up and our pursuer became more obvious as they wove through the traffic in pursuit

“Are you sure this is safe?” I yelped as we took the wing mirror off a car as we passed.

“Hey I’m Mossad trained in pursuit and evasion driving.” Daniel grinned looking over. “We are best drivers in the world.”

“That is a matter of opinion.” I grimaced.

My own fears aside, Daniel wove the car expertly between the traffic as we sped through downtown Damascus. The tail car was unable to close on us, and after 3 more sets of lights, Daniel had managed to shake the tail and pulled the car off into a side street that allowed him good views of approach in either direction. I was impressed by his cool. I was qualified to drive pursuit as a police officer, but blue flashing lights tended to clear the road ahead. Being chased however was a different matter entirely; and one I was entirely unfamiliar with. I wasn’t sure if I could have kept my cool the way he had.

“Are you ok?” Daniel asked quietly as he checked the chamber of his pistol before slipping it into his trousers. “You’re quiet.”

I nodded. “Just a new experience for me.” I shrugged dismissively trying to act nonchalant. “We’re leaving the car?”

“It would be best.” He nodded. “They know it now, and I put good money on the Syrian police having our licence plate by lunchtime.”