Chapter 2

Evie woke up in a strange bed. Yawning and stretching her arms over her head, she sighed and curled up underneath the blanket. Feeling cool silk under her cheek, she murmured incoherently and rubbed her skin over the material. She frowned sleepily. Hadn’t her mother warned her once that silk pillowcases were impossible to clean? Why on earth would she buy silk pillowcases?

Across the room, Harry was sitting in an armchair, watching her with interest. He’d been ordered to make sure she didn’t try to run away, and he tilted his head, listening to her sleepy whispers. He’d watched as the sunlight had drifted in through the wide, open window opposite her bed, and listened as the morning birds chirped their way around the trees.

Evie did not notice any of these things, however, as she was much too preoccupied with silk pillowcases.

Harry sat forward, studying her face. In a distant part of his mind, he knew that she was beautiful. Stunning, even. Her hair was mussed and glossy, and her skin looked far too soft to be real. One smooth leg had escaped from the blankets, and Harry’s critical eyes told him that most men would be drooling over such a sight.

Finally pushing herself out of her drowsy reverie, Evie stretched once again and her eyelashes fluttered.

Harry hastily looked away so as not to startle her.

Rising up onto her elbows, and brushing a hand over her forehead, Evie studied the room around her in a sleepy daze. She frowned, and sat forward, running a hand over the smooth, rumpled bedcovers.

“Where the fuck am I?” She whispered.

“You’re in Scotland. About an hour or so from the border.”

Startled, Evie looked up quickly to find a strange man in the corner of the room. Panicked thoughts immediately scattering through her mind, she jumped up quickly and stood on the far side of the bed, noting with relief that she was still dressed in her own baggy pyjamas.

“Scotland?” She asked incredulously.

Harry nodded. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

Evie narrowed her eyes, and pushed hair out of her face. “And who the fuck are you?”

Back in his comfy armchair, Harry wanted to laugh. Bruce had only put a small amount of tranquilliser in her tea the night before – just to calm her down and put her to sleep – but it seemed as if she’d forgotten everything about her rescue and the helicopter.

He stood up, and he saw her take a fearful step backwards. “My name is Harry.”

They stared at each other for a moment. He watched as her eyes flicked hesitantly around the room, and he waited with interest for her reaction. She snapped her fingers suddenly, and he knew that she’d reached some kind of conclusion.

She smiled pleasantly. “Uh-huh. Well… thanks for this… Harry…”

He frowned, watching her indicate the rumpled bed and the rest of the room. Perplexed, he saw a faint blush marring her light skin.

She continued. “I mean, I’m sure it was lovely. And, honestly, I’m not too sure how many glasses of champagne I had last night. But, it was Christmas Eve – and that is definitely a good excuse. And… well… I don’t really do this sort of thing that often. Never, actually. So, I’m just going to go now.”

She walked around the bed towards him and his interest rose. He had no idea what she was on about.

She stuck her hand out towards him as she approached. “Nice to meet you, Harry. If I ever need a one-night stand and extremely dangerous sex with a stranger ever again, I’ll definitely look you up.”

Harry grinned. She thought they’d had sex? Well… that was definitely a better option than telling her the truth.

He cleared his throat and shook her hand. Truth be told, he was somewhat impressed. Not many girls woke up in a strange silk bed, found out they were in Scotland, and thanked a stranger for sex without panicking slightly. But, besides a slight flush, she was handling the situation brilliantly.

As she shook his hand, Evie had to admit that she had good taste. Studying his caramel skin and dirty blonde hair, she tilted her head, finding herself strangely nervous under his critical gaze. His eyes were a bright green that seemed to be laughing at and analysing everything at once. She bit her lip as she noted his lean, muscled physique.

“Well,” She said cheerfully as they continued to shake hands. “I’ll just be off then.”

Harry nodded, and the corner of his mouth quirked. He hadn’t missed the way her eyes had flashed as she’d looked him over. “Sure you don’t want to stay for breakfast? You must be hungry.”

Evie let her lips curve into a smile. “That depends. Do you have blueberry muffins?”

Harry grinned again. She was flirting with him. He knew he was on duty but… hell, why not have some fun?

“Of course,” He said, standing up and dropping her arm, his fingers trailing down her wrist for a moment. “I might even have a cup of coffee for you as well.”

Her eyes sparked, and he knew she’d thought of something clever to say back.

She sent him a quick look underneath her eyelashes. “Only one?”

He laughed appreciatively. “As many as you’d like, princess.”

Evie smiled and followed him towards the door. There was something about that nickname that flashed some recognition within her, but she couldn’t quite recall where she’d heard it before. Maybe he’d called her that last night? Evie felt her blush deepen. Despite the fact that she was quite attracted to the man in front of her, she couldn’t believe that she’d gone home with a stranger. To Scotland, no less. She’d have to remember to tell Camilla off for letting her drink that much.

The hallway was beautifully decorated, and Evie couldn’t help but exclaim at the gold-edged wallpaper following them as they walked.

“It’s gorgeous…” She said, trailing off in amazement. “Just look at that colour.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just wallpaper.”

Evie looked at him incredulously, and he knew she wasn’t flirting anymore. “But just look at those raised edges, and the shadows they throw out. Whoever created this wallpaper was an artist, through and through.”

If Evie hadn’t been so distracted by the wallpaper and the man walking beside her, she would have spotted the small cameras spying on them as they made their way around a corner. She would have noticed the fact that there were no windows at all in this particular hallway. She would have noted that Harry was strangely dressed in all black, and that he had a small flesh-coloured radio-transmitter in his right ear, partially covered by his tousled hair.

But she didn’t, and so Harry continued his play-acting as they entered a small, tidy kitchen – similarly without windows.

“One blueberry muffin and a coffee coming straight up.” He said with a smile.

“Two sugars and a little bit of milk, please.” Evie said as she slid onto a stool behind the kitchen counter.

“Butter on your muffin?” He asked a moment later.

“I prefer plain, thanks.”

He nodded, and soon he was sliding the muffin and a steaming cup of coffee across the countertop towards her.

“Nothing for you?” She asked lightly, the back of her mind stumbling slightly as she realised that there were no windows.

“Not hungry.” He said cheerfully.

“Oh.”

Her eyes began to flick around the kitchen, noticing with a dull feeling in her stomach that the cupboards were almost entirely empty. There were no signs that anybody actually used this kitchen for cooking or dining. She saw a knife lying on a bench next to the sink, and her eyes widened slightly. Something was definitely not right.

“Good muffin?”

“Wonderful.” She said with a smile as images of a psycho murderer trapping her within his huge mansion to play petty games of life and death flashed throughout her mind.

The muffin suddenly tasted like glue in her mouth.

“So,” She said, taking a hasty sip of her coffee and burning her tongue. “I think I should be going now. It is a bit of a trek back to London.”

She risked a glance at his face, and found that he was shaking his head. Her heart began to pound. He really was a psycho murderer. Her breath quickened and she felt the first adrenalin pounding shocks of fear.

“I’m sorry,” He said with a quirk of his mouth. “But I think my boss wants to chat with you.”

He nodded his chin towards the corner of the kitchen, and Evie turned in her stool, jumping in fright as she found that there was another man in the room, leaning casually against the fridge.

“Two psycho murderers!” Evie exclaimed, jumping off of her stool and backing away from them both.

Harry burst out laughing, and Evie glared at him.

“I will not submit to your sick games.” She said, pointing accusingly at him.

He held up both of his hands in a surrendering manner, sending an amused glance at the man leaning against the fridge.

Evie followed his gaze and assessed the other man in the room. He was tall and wiry, with unkempt grey hair and a long beard. His eyes were shining intelligently across the room at her, and a pair of square glasses were perched on his long nose.

Evie narrowed her eyes. “So, what’s your price, Gandalf? Half a million pounds plus sex every other hour? ‘Cause I’m telling you now, I will not surrender.”

The man chuckled, and he glanced at Harry. “Bruce was right. She is fiery.”

Harry sighed. “Trust me, she’s a handful.”

Evie turned on him with indignation. “A handful? Excuse me, but I’m not the one that dragged some poor girl all the way to Scotland for a one-night stand only to decide that I’m a psycho murderer with some other guy as my accomplice.”

Harry snorted. “I haven’t really given her the straight story yet, boss.”

The other man sent him a disapproving, and yet still amused, look. “A one-night stand?”

Harry grinned. “I couldn’t help it.”

Evie turned away from both men angrily. Her mind was spinning, and she didn’t know what to think. They obviously didn’t want to kill her… or they’d be a lot more sinister. And they didn’t seem angry or threatening. She felt her face burning as she realised that she’d made a fool out of herself. What was wrong with her? Thinking she’d had a one-night stand with a man who lived in a house with no windows in Scotland? And then flirting with him over muffins, no less.

She cringed, and turned back around to find both men studying her.

She swallowed. “I would like to know what’s going on.”

The man leaning against the fridge stood up straight, nodding seriously and looking at her. “Okay, Evie. Follow me, please.”

He turned around and opened the fridge, revealing three steps that lead down into a large, lavishly furnished office. From what she could see, there was a desk piled high with folders and a tall, expensive-looking bookcase.

The man beckoned for Evie to enter the office.

She gaped, and Harry chuckled. She closed her mouth abruptly and sent him a menacing look, stalking towards the fridge-door. She stopped before the steps, turning to the man who was holding the door open for her and saying with a nod towards Harry, “I hope he’s not coming. He’s extremely rude and has no idea how to make a good coffee.”

The man’s mouth quivered, but he nodded seriously, saying, “I will expressly forbid him from coming.”

Evie thanked him and ducked her head as she walked into the fridge-office.

The temperature in the office was slightly warmer than the kitchen had been, and Evie turned with wonder as she took in the room. It was similar to the rest of the house, with a high ceiling and beautiful, old-fashioned wallpaper. There were no windows, but wide wooden panels taller than Evie across the bottom half of each wall. Three evenly spaced portraits of disapproving-looking old men glared down at her from the farther-most wall. She looked down from these paintings and saw the huge desk, covered in piles of folders and loose paper, that she’d glimpsed from outside. A sleek computer with digits whirring across the sideways-tilted screen buzzed quietly. A plush leather chair sat behind the desk, while two similar chairs sat in front of it. Evie assumed one of the two was for her, so she sat down.

She heard the fridge close behind her, and she took a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm. This man who she assumed was the leader obviously wanted to play some sort of sick game with her, but she would not play along.

The man walked around his desk, sitting down and offering her a friendly smile. “Do you like contemporary jazz?”

“Sometimes.”

He nodded happily and spun a dial on the side of his computer. Evie heard a saxophone enter the room and the low tunes of the song echoed in the background.

“My name is Robert Fitzpatrick.”

She nodded. “Hello.”

“I suppose you’d like to know why you’re here-”

Evie cut him off nastily. “That would be nice.”

He continued in the same friendly tone. “So I shall start at the beginning.”

Evie sighed, tapping her fingers on the side of the chair. His eyes followed her fingers for a moment, and Evie almost laughed. He was obviously used to people hanging onto his every word.

He showed no sign of impatience, however. “Your father was a great friend of mine.”

Evie’s fingers stilled mid-motion. No body talked about her father. Her throat constricted. “Oh?”

He nodded sadly. “A great, great friend. We knew each other for many years before he passed away. We worked together, you see.”

For a moment, Evie wanted to run out of the room. She knew very little about her father, and she wasn’t too sure that she wanted to know very much more. He’d been a part of her life until she was sixteen, and she’d loved him with all of her heart, but she’d never known much about his work life. He was always travelling and, at one point in her childhood, he’d been gone for almost a year. Her father’s continuous absences had hurt her mother deeply, Evie was sure. But what had made it all the worse was that he was impossible to hate. She had vivid memories of him still – of his clever stories and the games they’d played. He’d brought her little puzzles and brainteasers from all over the world every time he came home, and, when she was older, beautiful silken materials and clothing from places she’d only dreamed of. He was the reason she was a fashion designer. And she missed him more than she would ever admit.

Samuel Thatcher had passed away a week after Evie had turned sixteen. She could still remember the day that the news arrived. She’d been angry at him for missing her birthday, and she’d arrived home from school to find her mother crying on the kitchen floor. They never knew exactly how he died. The letter had been short and concise – he’d been on a business trip to Brazil and the plane had crashed. There was no body to bury.

Evie cleared her throat. She didn’t want to think about that. “Really? I never knew much about my father’s work.”

Robert nodded, his eyes shadowed. “Yes, yes, I know. We had a hard job, you see. Very hard. Secrecy was of the upmost important, and it hurt your father very much to be unable to explain to you and your mother why he was always gone.”

Evie began to drum her fingers against the armrest again. Suddenly, she was annoyed. All that this man was doing was unearthing painful memories and dropping secretive hints. Evie was sick of being toyed with.

“Look,” She said, standing up rigidly. Robert stood up too, his expression concerned. “I don’t know why I’m here, or what you’re doing, but I want to leave. I do not want to talk to you about my father, or your ‘secret’ work. Maybe you haven’t realised, but I’ve actually got a job. I need to be in London. I do not want to remain in this fridge-office, window-less, creepy Scottish mansion for another minute.”

“There was a window in your bedroom.” He corrected her.

Evie threw up her arms. “I don’t care! Let me out. This is kidnapping, you know.”

He nodded seriously. “I know. But, you have to believe me Evie, it’s for your own good.”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, really? You think I’ll fall for that?”

“I’m trying to protect you. Please, just sit down and hear me out.”

“No,” She replied, turning away from the desk and making her way towards the exit. “I think I’ll leave, actually.”

He stood silently, watching her approach the door.

Evie grabbed the doorknob, twisting and shoving at the door. It didn’t budge. She threw her shoulder into the door, wanting to cry as she realised she was trapped. Swearing in annoyance, she gave a corner of the door a sharp kick.

To her left, she heard a hastily stifled laugh. She whirled around, her back to the door, and glared at Robert. “Who else is here?”

He looked annoyed, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Evie. I asked for privacy, but my employees are so used to spying on secret meetings that it seems one of them could not resist the temptation.”

He walked towards a small cupboard in the corner of the room, rapping smartly on top of it and saying, “Whoever it is, get out right now and apologise.”

Evie stared at him. He was obviously insane.

But then, much to her amazement, the cupboard door swung open and a man grinned at her from inside.

“Hello, beautiful.” He greeted her, before heaving himself out of the cupboard – neck and shoulders, waist, and then legs.

Evie knelt down and peered curiously into the cupboard. It stretched back into the wall and became a dark, narrow tunnel.

She closed her eyes in fear as she stood back up. Where was she?

Robert walked angrily back to his desk and sat down. “I thought I forbade you from spying on this particular private conversation, Miles.”

Evie looked to the newcomer curiously. He was rubbing the back of his neck and looking appropriately scolded.

“Sorry, Boss. It’s just that you said I couldn’t come… and then I started thinking about all the little secrets I’d miss out on… and then I caught a glimpse of her last night and… well… look at her…”

At this, he sent Evie a quick wink, and, to her dismay, she felt a grin tug at her lips. Miles was tall and lanky, with brown hair and bright eyes. It seemed to amuse him greatly that he’d just rolled out of a cupboard into their conversation.

Robert sighed, rubbing his temples. “Is there anyone else listening in right now?”

Miles grinned. “I think Alex is transmitting through the stereo and Holly’s behind the middle painting.”

They heard a muffled shout behind the portrait of a greying man and his hound.

Robert sighed again, and looked at Evie pointedly. “I suppose it’s what I deserve for training spies.”

Miles nodded his agreement and threw himself down onto the chair that Evie had been sitting in. “Exactly.”

Evie pressed a hand to her forehead. They were both watching her now, waiting for her reaction. She felt that almost every member of this household, whoever and wherever they were, were waiting for her response. She took a deep breath. This was only a puzzle to figure out, she told herself sternly. As simple as a puzzle. They were playing a mind game with her, and she would not lose. She glanced back at the door. And then to the cupboard-tunnel. And finally at the portraits.

“You will not be able to leave this room without my help,” Robert said softly. “I suggest that you sit down and listen to me.”

She ignored him and walked around the room, running one hand over the wooden panel of the only wall without an exit so far discovered. The wood was smooth and catch-less. She approached the bookshelf in the far corner and tilted her head.

Behind her, Miles laughed. “You don’t think we’d be so uncreative as to have a secret doorway behind the bookshelf, do you?”

“No,” She murmured, running on hand up the side of the shelf. She felt cool smoothness, and curled her fingers around the back of the shelf. After a couple of moments, she smiled as her fingers caught on a slight rise in the wood. She pressed it, and frowned as nothing happen.

Behind her, the two men were silent.

She kept her hand on the button, and ran her other hand down the side again. She stopped for a second, tapping her fingers against it, and then grinned. She reached around and pulled a book out of the shelf.

A section of the wood panel to her right slid away, revealing a narrow passageway.

“Oh-hoh!” She heard Miles laugh from behind her. “She’s a clever one.”

She heard their chairs scrape back as they stood up, and she ducked quickly into the passageway, her heart pounding.

She stopped abruptly as she found herself face to face with Harry.

“Not so fast.” He said with a grin, leaning against the cool brick of the entrance.

“Holy fuck,” Evie swore as her heart almost stopped. “What the fuck is with you people?”

He chuckled. “I thought you’d try this one.”

Miles stood behind her. “How did you get in? Boss switched the lasers on.”

They heard a disgruntled reply from the desk. “Not to mention the fact that I banned you all from spying on me today.”

Harry eased himself off the wall, walking into the office and pulling Evie with him.

“Sorry, Boss.”

Miles was shaking his head. “I still don’t understand how you got in there… I tried for a good ten minutes to switch the lasers off…”

Evie tried to yank her wrist out of his grip as he pulled her towards the desk, but he only pulled her harder, forcing her to sit down in one of the chairs. She glared up at him but he ignored her.

“Bastard.” She muttered, and Miles laughed, sitting down in the chair next to her.

“I don’t like him much, either.” He said with a grin in Harry’s direction.

Harry hit Mile’s over the top of his head. Miles started and swiped at Harry, and Robert slammed his palm down on the table.

“Stop!” He yelled, and they obeyed instantly. Even Evie found herself sitting perfectly still.

He looked at her, his expression serious. “Evie, you need to listen to me. Last night another man tried to kidnap you, and trust me when I say he would not have been as gentle as my men were. I sent my men to save you and they brought you here in a helicopter. Do you remember that?”

Evie’s world spun and she slumped low in her chair. She pushed a hand against her forehead, cursing herself for a fool a thousand times over. Memories from the night before came flying at her, and she remembered with a sour taste in her mouth the man who’d stared up at her from her dark London street.

Robert nodded. “I can see you do remember, now. I’m sorry that we’ve concealed that truth from you for so long. It was unfair.”

She didn’t say anything, her hand still covering her eyes. Harry and Miles watched her with interest.

He continued. “I have more unpleasant truths to tell you, however. And I apologise in advance. I dislike being the one to deliver unhappy news.”

Harry’s eyes flicked to Robert. He’d never heard his boss speak so gently.

“You father was a secret agent, Evie,” Robert said in a low voice. “We trained and worked together for a private sector sponsored by the British government during the Cold War.”

She sighed. For a moment, she found herself disappointed. Somehow, Evie knew that he’d been about to say something like that. The clues weren’t all that hard to piece together. And so she’d hoped that he would say something different.

“A secret agent.” She replied dully.

Robert titled his head, and adjusted his glasses. “Yes. Everything we did was legal and government-approved, but you must know, your father had many enemies. He was a clever man.”

“Right. And I suppose you had cool little gadgets and lived in a wonderful world of secret passageways as well.”

He frowned. “This isn’t a joke.”

“You kidnapped me. You have people jumping out of furniture and walls. You look like Dumbledore. So you’ll understand why I’m finding this hard to believe.”

His voice was sharp. “If we can skip the disbelief, perhaps I’ll be able to explain to you why every spy, secret-agent, thief, and mercenary in Europe is looking for you.”

Miles sat up straighter.

“W-what?” Evie stuttered.

Robert sighed, and leant back in his chair. “Now maybe you’ll understand why you’re here. And you’ll believe me when I say that I’m protecting you. Evie, your father had many enemies. But, even more so, he had powerful connections. His skills were legendary in our world… he set the bar so high… He remains to this day the only spy who has ever cracked the Gold Code.”

“Jesus.” Miles murmured, looking at Evie with admiration.

She returned his look with confusion, and remained baffled when the silence stretched out. “Sorry… but… the Gold Code?”

It was Harry who spoke up. “It’s the most sought-after treasure in the European spy game, Evie. I have no idea what its technical name is, but we call it the Gold Code. It’s difficult to explain if you aren’t familiar with the networks and security-keys, but it’s sort of like… the everything-key for the European Union.”

“The everything-key?” She repeated unsurely.

He nodded. “Government agencies, private sectors, citizen records, bank reserves… you name it, the Gold code can get you in.”

Evie shook her head. “No. Our governments protect us from things like that. There can’t possible be one code for everything.”

Robert answered her. “It’s not really like a code. Think of it like a key-card that has permission to enter any room. The Gold code grants you the authority to infiltrate ever single institution in the EU.”

Evie closed her eyes. This was unbelievable.

It was Miles who questioned Robert next. “But I don’t see why they want Evie. I mean, sure, her dad cracked it, but genetics aren’t that powerful. They can’t expect Evie to know how to manipulate the Gold Code just because her father could. Especially since she’s had no training.”

Evie glanced up, curious to hear his answer.

Rubbing his chin, Robert seemed to consider the question for a moment. “That’s very true. The reason these people want you, Evie, is because you father didn’t just solve the Gold code. He created a program that cracked it.”

She shivered. “I don’t have it.”

He almost smiled. “Oh, I know that. Everybody knows that. A man named Jack Harper has it. He stole it from me many years ago.”

“Then why does anybody need me?”

He tilted his head, and she didn’t understand why he was smiling. “Your father was so clever, Evie. He loved puzzles and mind games. I’ve yet to meet a mind as brilliant as his.”

She didn’t say anything, and so he continued. “Your father constructed a series of levels around his program. A series of traps, if you will. Each level requires de-coding and hacking. More specifically, each level requires a password. There are 8 levels. Harper has broken his way through 7 of these levels. He cannot crack the final level.”

She stared at him. “And he thinks that I can?”

He didn’t answer her question. “Almost every single secret agent in the world has tried to master level 8. No body can. No body knows the password.”

Evie shrugged. “Well, I definitely don’t.”

Harry spoke up. “I don’t think you understand, Evie. In our world, passwords are easy to figure out. We have programs that can enter any combination of letters, symbols, and numbers. Every single word in every single language. But these programs don’t work when it comes to level 8.”

She shrugged again.

Miles looked at her closely. “Which means the password he set is extremely personal. Something that only he would have said or understood.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I barely knew my father. He told me nothing about his work. All we did was play little games and solve cheap little puzzles.”

Robert smiled in satisfaction. “Exactly.”

Harry was watching her, his eyes bright and interested.

She gave an incredulous look. “He never told me anything about this Gold Code or any sort of important password.”

“He did,” Robert said. “Every player in the spy game has known that he did since the day that he died.”

Evie felt like laughing. “Okay, and I’m telling you now that he didn’t.”

“Do you know how your father died?”

“No.” Her voice was cold.

“He was captured during an assignment in Norway. He was tortured to death.”

She swallowed and looked away.

“They wanted the password, but he wouldn’t tell them,” Robert stilled for a moment. “Even to this day, I don’t know why he didn’t admit the password. Perhaps he was too proud? Too caught up in his own game? He was always obsessed with his puzzles. He believed that no body deserved anything until they’d played a mind game to get it. However… he did admit one thing.”

Evie closed her eyes, knowing what he was about to say.

“In a moment of weakness, he admitted that somebody else knew the password. I suspect that this was only in the last moments of his life… when he was so close to death that common sense or love made no difference to his pain… And then he said your name, Evie. He whispered your name, and then he died.”

She stilled.

“Most people did not even realise that the name Evie referred to his child. Some did not even know that he had a child. And thus, for seven years, every spy in the world has been looking for the elusive Evie. And they were entirely unsuccessful. Until yesterday.”