A Sickle In A Haystack

Chapter 12

MI6 Headquarters, London.

"Mr Blunt, I assume. You are an interesting person. Also extremely ridiculous. You have been using the Rider child for over a year now and don't seem to shred a single thought of the boy, his mental state. Are you heartless, or just utterly self-absorbed?"

The Head of MI6 stared through his glasses at the man before him. It was 10 am, a warm Monday morning, but not as hot as the friction between the two men sat opposite one another.

"No...Astrin." Blunt cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee.

For a moment, the only sounds were the distant traffic on the busy London streets below, and the sound of the clock ticking in the office.

It had been eight days since the boys had been taken to RISC, Astrin had healed well enough, insisting on going back to work and was, luckily, welcomed with open arms, only he felt those arms had been hiding a dagger. He'd heard of the head of MI6 for a while now, the rumours they had blackmailed a child into doing their dirty work...much like George had forced Sam to do his dirty work.

This was supposed to be a 'productive' meeting. Only from what Astrin had heard of the head of Mission Intelligence, he'd decided he already disliked him. His maroon eyes studied the aging man before him, analysing him like a computer would a word document...with speed and efficiency. After Blunt lowered his mug, he stared at Astrin.

"Are you sanctioned, by the government, Astrin...what an odd name," Blunt wondered.

"It's not a name, it's a cover. The work I do requires that my contacts are unaware of my true identity." Astrin said, avoiding Blunt's question.

Blunt nodded. Astrin didn't like this, there was something...sketchy in the man's eyes. "I see, well. I want you to know how we've planned this."

Blunt went on his usual, I know who I am and you are beneath me, type speech, explaining he had an agent in Paris, and had invitation cards for the boys.

"Hmm, apparently you sent Alex off without a de-brief, or necessary equipment. Is this correct?" Astrin asked, leaning on the table, looking directly into Blunts' soul...if there was one, Astrin doubted he'd see it.

Blunt nodded. "I see you dislike our way of working, if the government doesn't trust us, then what makes you so adept?" He questioned, almost scowling.

"Because we're not like you...we're not blunt. I'll have RISC handle the formalities and briefing for you, so all you have to do is handle the reports and press when it reaches the public. Sound doable?" He asked rhetoricaly.
Blunt grunted. "I have things to do." He said, taking another sip of his drink.

"Sure." Astrin promptly stood and exited the man's office. "Have a nice day Mister Blunt." Astrin joked, before calmly opening the door to leave.

"Stop," Blunt said, standing. "Perhaps we may come to an agreement."
Astrin sighed, still holding the door open. "Very well, Alan. What do you propose?"

"That we work together, we can work more efficiently if we merge our efforts."

Astrin was sceptical, every suggestion this man made seemed to have an ulterior motive. He walked up to Blunt, shaking his hand. "Fine, but if I have any reason to suspect a breach of this agreement. I'm pulling Sam out, understand?"

"Of course." Blunt smiled, then handed him a form. "In writing, here." Blunt handed Astrin a pen, and he signed simply with "A-" before leaving.

-

"You're both going to receive equipment for your mission, an alias, and a makeover, since you have just over a week it should be ample time to adopt these new lives." Derrith spoke to them as he walked down a pristine hallway towards a section marked, 'Briefing.'