ICE. In Case of Emergency. Like now, like this emergency, right here.
Adrian’s little joke. Adrian’s blood.
Bridge’s sense of humour, silenced by the hammer of bullets.
5
“You seem distracted this morning. What’s on your mind?”
Bridge stared into her coffee, only half-hearing Dr Nayar’s question. Last night had been a bad one. The same episode over and over, reliving Adrian’s death, helpless to save him, unable to prevent it. No, that wasn’t true. She knew that. What she didn’t know was, why now? She hadn’t suffered a Doorkicker nightmare in months, yet this morning she’d woken up sweating like a goth at the beach.
“You don’t have to talk, Brigitte, but if you don’t tell me then I can only make assumptions, and I’m sure they’re worse than the truth. Family trouble?”
Dr Nayar’s tone was soft, friendly, comforting. Everything about her was comforting. Her lightly aged skin, her soft brown eyes, the gentle grey streaks in her gently styled hair. Her office, in a corner of the SIS building at Vauxhall Cross, was soft, quiet, and comfortable. The whole package, designed down to the last detail to put intelligence officers — men and women trained to be permanently suspicious, alert, verging on paranoid — at their ease.
She often wondered how many of her colleagues came in here, sat on this oh so comfortable sofa, every day, every week, to unburden themselves and ensure their psych evals were up to date. Surely not that many. Prior to the Doorkicker incident, Bridge had only encountered Dr Nayar during her interview and selection process, and that had been in the Doctor’s regular Marylebone offices, which were well appointed but not quite so comfortable. Here, though, she had an entire corner office to use whenever she needed.
Even Giles Finlay didn’t have a corner office.
But over the past three years Bridge had come to know every inch of this room, this comfortable sofa. Every other day at first, then every three days, then once a week, then monthly — until she argued with Giles before the Carter mission, and discovered Dr Nayar had betrayed her trust. This was her first session since, but while Giles had undoubtedly briefed the good Doctor on the sting, she hadn’t mentioned it, or Bridge’s absence.
“No, my family’s fine. I’m having dinner with Izzy tonight, Mum’s still in Lyon, Dad’s still dead.” Her father had passed away long ago, while Bridge was still a teenager, but she half-hoped Dr Nayar would rise to her flippancy.
No such luck. “Do you think about him a lot?”
“Dad? All the time. What kind of question is that?”
“When was the last time you spoke to your mother?”
“Last week,” Bridge lied. “She’s fine.”
“But you’re not. What are you angry about?”
“How long have you got?” She fixed Dr Nayar with a stare. For a moment she was fourteen again, glaring defiantly at her mother from under a fringe carefully cut to seem like it had been achieved without a care in the world, and bracing herself for an unbroken string of French expletives.
Dr Nayar sipped at her cup of tea. “Giles tells me you still don’t think you’re ready for another bash at OIT.”
“I’m not. I nearly threw up yesterday.”
“Nearly, but you didn’t. I’ve seen the tape, and I thought your performance was excellent. You did exactly what you needed to, and no more, without seeming at all outwardly nervous.” Bridge didn’t know what to say to that, so stayed silent. “Brigitte, I think you’re ready to take the next step. It’s completely natural that you’ll be nervous at first, and honestly, I’d be concerned if you weren’t. But I’m just as confident you’ll overcome it. I’m going to formally advise that you’re ready for OIT.”
“I had the nightmare again last night.”
Dr Nayar paused mid-reach for her reading glasses. “The whole incident?”
“Just the part where I got my partner killed.”
“You know that’s not what happened. Adrian Radović was an experienced officer, and the senior operator in theatre. It was his job to assess the risks.”
“And my job not to freeze up when someone pointed a gun at me.”
Dr Nayar sighed. “A relapse is unfortunate, no doubt. But this is the first time in…” She consulted her notes. “In four months that you’ve had this nightmare. That’s a really good sign. I wonder what triggered it now?”
Bridge shrugged.
“Well, do come and talk to me if they become more frequent. It’s possible the anticipation of getting back in the field will trigger an anxious response. Again, perfectly natural, but I’ll want to stay abreast of it.”
They’d danced this waltz many times before, and Bridge knew every response the Doctor would give, just as she in turn must surely know what Bridge would say. But this time, she was changing the steps. “I don’t think I should go back on OIT.”
“As I said, I know you don’t think you’re ready. But your own actions demonstrate otherwise.”
“I want you to take me off the list completely.”
Dr Nayar paused for a moment, then said, “Brigitte, if you don’t get back on this horse now, I fear you may never ride again.”
“Good.” Bridge stood, picked up her leather jacket from the back of the sofa, and walked to the door. “Tell you what, make it permanent. If I can’t trust myself, how can I ask another officer to?” She tried to slam the door on her way out, but it was rigged to close slowly, ruining the effect.
6
The child had seen the man before, in the market. There were always a lot of people there, but he was very sure it was him, because of the way the man looked at the child’s mother. The same way his father sometimes looked at her, though not very often these days, since everything changed.
Now the man was in his father’s bedroom,
