We stood in front of the gold antique mirror that looked new despite its old age. My sister and I gazed at our reflections. Sarah's scarlet waves cascaded past her shoulders, which curled up at the ends. She leaned in close to the mirror to apply a layer of rouge lipstick. Her ruby cocktail dress hovered just above the knee, she wore matching seven inch stilettos and a black trench coat, to conceal her old worn revolver. Sarah wore dark smoky eye shadow that framed her emerald eyes. Sarah is my older sister, and I Selene was eighteen at the time being guided by my sister, a trained assassin for MI5. I was just a trainee- Sarah's partner in crime.
Our mission- to kill a malicious arms dealer, who has developed into a threat on national security. His name Jean-Bernard Lasnaud, a French man who has been reported trading weapons with Britain's most notorious terrorists.
Dread soon rose in my throat at the thought of killing someone, dreads icy grip choked me; I finally eluded dreads grip keeping his icy fingers away. We were going to kill someone who had caused thousands of lives to be cut short. He has to die by my hand. I slipped on my own trench coat and knee high, heeled black boots.
I took one last look around our extravagant apartment, knowing the woman who came back would not be the same girl who left it. A picture of dad hung on the wall in a gilded frame, I straightened the picture so it became level. A ghost of a smile danced over my lips, I knew I would have made my dad proud, following in dads footsteps. Sarah's hand gripped my shoulder "He would have been so proud that you want to protect people and for being as grown up as you are." With those words my heart ached, I missed dad so much, all I said in return was, "I know".
Rain pummelled at my umbrella, brief case in hand. Crack! Thunder rumbled in the sky. Dark clouds slithered through the sky overhead. Giant buildings loomed over us, their walls coated in graffiti, the buildings watched our every move like a hawk watching its prey. On the side of one building in the murky alley, was a phosphorescent sign that illuminated the dark abyss ahead. We stood in front of the grey metal door to pandemonium, a surly, bald bouncer was a wall between us and our mission. Sarah stared him out, he shifted uncomfortably under the intensity of her glare, "We're here to see Jean-Bernard." His face twisted into a sneer. He led the way through a forest of gyrating bodies and thumping music, the fetid stench of sweat was thick and engulfing in the claustrophobic prison. After what seemed to be eons, we reached a grey concrete door, he led us inside.
Slam! The door shut, the bouncer gone. Before us stood a short barrel-chested man, he studied us for a few seconds then a sardonic smile formed on his flippant face. This is the man who worked in collusion with terrorists? "Hello my friends, I am Jean-Bernard, but you already knew that. So what are the daughters of Simon Clarke doing here." He knew dad? Sarah spoke up her tone turned the air to ice, "How did you know our dad?" Her question only confirmed my thoughts, he obviously knew dad. The question awkwardly hung in the air, creating an engulfing atmosphere of tension. "Your father is one of my closest friends, we work together," he wasn't lying, I've had training to be able to tell. But I would know if someone was lying I have told my share of lies.
Shadows slithered from the dim, forbidding, abyss of this poorly lit cell. They materialized into a lamented spectre. The grey, bare, concrete wall seemed to be closing in on me. The spectre had the same emerald eyes that seemed to search through our souls. Simon Clarke- our father, a dead man, faced us. Shivers slid down my spine as a ghost of a smile danced over his mouth, unable to reach his eyes. "Dad?" I asked the question, already knowing the answer in my heart, and it made me feel sick to the bones. That was just a ghost, a callous shadow of my father.
"Sarah, Selene, I see you have met my partner in crime" as he said the words he gestured to Jean-Bernard, amusement covered his abhorrent face. I grimaced we had to kill both of them. My country's safety comes before Simon Clarke. My family comes first, he is not family, wasn't then isn't now. Not after he left us to become an arms dealer, how much blood is on those hands? No wonder MI5 told us that Simon Clarke was killed in a bombing, dad was killed there by this monster who wears my dads face and answers to his name.
I pulled my revolver from my black trench coat; all eyes on me. I aimed. My finger reached the trigger. Bang! He fell to the floor. His feeble fingers grasped at his chest, that did no good, as always my shot was accurate, through the heart. Scarlet seeped through his long fingers, pooling on his white shirt. His emerald eyes locked with mine, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His face became free of malice, he became the person we knew so long. He met a fate he should have met long ago, and by my hand. Simon Clarke- our dad dead.
Sarah spoke up as she pulled her revolver from her coat, "Any last words Jean-Bernard?" Her cold glare locked with Jean-Bernard's, his face twisted into a sardonic smirk. "You won't shoot me, your sister might have just killed your father, but you dear are obviously not a killer" his harsh tone was challenging and full of animosity. Sarah gave him a sad knowing smile, "You underestimate my character, I'm a trained assassin for MI5 so I have blood on my hands" she shrugged and aimed the gun. Bang! That day we delivered two monsters to deaths door, but their cynicism drove them to their deaths, two of the most notorious arms dealers vanquished.
Plaintive sobs erupted from Sarah's throat, all I could do was give her a rueful smile for her canniness. A retinue barged in accompanying M (Muriel, but M thought that was an old ladies name thus us calling the head of MI5 'M' her code name). M was a small woman with grey hair, who held a regal air, her grey eyes like an owls, wise and all-knowing. Her grey eyes glistened with pride, she always saw us as nieces as she was our godmother. M switched back into director mode, her eyes scanned the onslaught that we had caused. "You two have just killed the most elusive arms dealer. But who was the other body?" M asked the question but something in her gaze told me she knew the answer. I gestured to Simon Clarke's corpse, "That, was Simon Clarke, Jean-Bernard's partner in crime." M's grey eyebrows quirked up a look of genuine surprise crossed her face that was quickly masked, one must remain regal and all-knowing, of course.
... Two weeks later, M's office, debriefing. Sarah and I sat on two contemporary black chairs in front of a immaculate desk, upon it was four files and a black laptop. The office had three white walls and one side floor to ceiling windows, the windows over looked the Thames, the sky cloudy and rain showered down a ray of light peaked through the dark and foreboding clouds. M sauntered into her office, her posture businesslike and regal, she wore all grey. As she sat down I opened my mouth to speak, about to share my wishes to resign, after much rumination I decided this wasn't the life I wanted. M raised her index finger to silence me, as always she already knew what I was going to say. Her gaze shifted from me to Sarah, then back to me, the icy hands closed around my throat cutting off my airways, we were going to discuss Simon Clarke's death. M cleared her throat the hands let go, "You're not cut out for field work are you Selene?" her steely gaze held mine. I shook my head "No ma'am, I'm not cut out for field work", M began calculating. A luminous smile crossed her generally impassive face, "I've heard you're rather good with computers, is that true," I furrowed my eyebrows and attempted to solve the conundrum of what she planned. "Yes, ma'am, but I am not sure as to how this applies to the mission debriefing," I felt like a petulant child when I said that, but ultimately I wanted to know. "Report to the IT department Monday 8AM sharp, tell them that you're the new head of the IT department, I have been meaning to fill that vacancy all month and you're perfect for the position. And If they have a problem about the sudden assignment of a new head tell them to report to me," Although her tone was light, it had a slight menacing note to it, I felt elated at the thought of being head of a department. "Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am," she smiled and gestured that we were dismissed. A grin broke across my face, I must have looked like a lunatic.
... 47 years later. Looking around the IT department I become amazed as to how much it has changed during my time as head. Screens cover every wall, rows of computers that present maps and data to my agents. I gaze around my vast department from my office that overlooks the floor below, so I can see my whole department from my office, behind me a view of the Thames and a clear blue sky illuminated by the dazzling sun. My desk is clear of everything but a box holding my plethora of items that I have collected over the years. My immaculate office has two great walls, black tiled floor and a silver banner that says 'happy retirement' my retirement party is tonight. Beside me stands a young scarlet haired woman with emerald eyes, Skye, Sarah's daughter who is the next head of the IT department. I admire all the work that is happening in the department, how many peoples lives have we saved?
I smile and walk away from the office I have had for 47 years, walk from one life to another, I walk out of this office another woman. Not the girl who came here to work with her sister all of those years ago.
