Montague's Job

[Lord C. Montague]

Chapter 1

William Merchant had been in New Brittania for a number of weeks now. He had followed Lord Montague here after he took up residence as Duke of Hyarnustar. He hadn't had a job in a while and was content to partake in some long needed relaxation while here in New Brittania. And so, everyday for the last 2 weeks he had ventured to Sudentor Memorial Garden from the house of Sir Horace Hargreaves, a Lovely sympathiser and former Lord Mayor of Willow, and sat down for entire mornings on a bench reading the paper and watching New Brittanian society go by. New Brittania had intrigued and interested him since his first visit here. The New Brittanian Empire was such a mish mash of different epochs. Willow, its capital, had its medieval quarter, enlightenment quarter and victorian quarter. Most of Willow's modern buildings harked back to the glory days of an empire fast decaying. It was as if it was the 1930s all over again in the capital. Foreigners stood out for their modern clothes and old fashioned cars drove men wearing bowler hats or trilbies to their destinations. Merchant had been conservative in his choice of fashion, opting for his preferred light grey suit with a small handkerchief in his breast pocket. Reluctantly, he had purchased a trilby which he hardly ever wore.

Another morning was passing by amicably for Merchant, for once not on the lookout for threats against his life. He glanced over the paper's articles, taking much in from his skim reading of the broadsheet. And then there she came, the Alexandrian girl. Almost like clockwork, she would leave the Alexandrian Embassy and walk across the garden to the red post box to send away messages to New Brittanian social élite who mixed with Ambassadors and Consuls. This morning, for the first time in two weeks, she shot him a cursory glance and a light smile as he made eye contact with her. He returned the smile, hiding his real thoughts on the matter. Women were dangerous. They could blow your cover, they could become too demanding and he had no time for them. He did though acknowledge the fact that if he began screwing the Alexandrian post girl, he had access to a wealth of sensitive information. He kept playing the part of an interested male, despite ruling out his spying instincts of going to her for information. He went back to his paper.

A half hour passed before he was next alerted to anything. The dark suited man, with a pale complexion, jet black hair and well built figure left the Alexandrian Embassy only minutes after he had entered it. He usually stayed in there for hours on a time. Merchant was unsure as to what he did or whether he even worked there but he didnt raise any alarm bells for him. The pale man walked his usual route down the Regency pavements before making an unexpected, to Merchant at least, change in his routine. He darted across the road in between the light flow of traffic and walked towards Merchant. Merchant was on guard, alert and worried about the pale man. He kept his composure and did nothing out of the ordinary. The pale man reached the bench and sat down.

"Good Morning. How are you?" he asked in a plummy accent.

"Oh I'm fine thank you. How are you?" asked Merchant back, mimicking the accent of a well educated and well off New Brittanian.

"Marvellous thanks. Oh, I say, that's a bit of terrible news about New Brittanian shipyards facing closure." continued the pale man. He had pointed Merchant's body to a story on the newspapers business page. It was a classic trick in a spy's handbook. Merchant wasn't obvious in noticing the man had just stuck a small case under the bench but he had seen it nonetheless and it worried him that he had seemingly had such bad luck in being involved in a spy ring, especially one run by Alexandrians, in New Brittania. Lovely's spys had had less than impressive records of getting along with those two nations.

"Well, I must be going. Enjoy your day!" said the pale man, tipping his trilby as a gesture of goodwill to Merchant. Merchant couldn't resist the opportunity that had presented itself here. A chance to break an Alexandrian spy ring was a chance that rarely came. Making sure that nobody could see him he quickly went down to tie shoe lace and retrieved the small metallic case. Bringing it up to look like a cigarrette case, Merchant feigned annoyance at not having a cigarette and placing the case in his pocket. He had taken the small paper note out of the case and was now reading it behind the large broadsheet. It was written in Alexandrian Phonic Code, a code that could not be broken by computers and was only readable by those NIA agents who had been trained to write it and read it. Luckily, Lovely had once bought one of those agents. Merchant knew how to read what essentially mounted to instructions on tone of voice and other linguistic devices which changed meanings of words.

The Lovely Secret Service had been wise to invest in buying that NIA agent, thought Merchant after a double check of what he read. For the first time in his two weeks in New Brittania, he put on his trilby and quickly left the area for his return to the mansion of Sir Horace. There Montague would be informed of what the paper said and then all hell may break loose.

[Lord C. Montague]

Chapter 2

The next morning, Montague was sitting quietly in the entrance room to King Jeremy's Room. He had already been let in to the Royal Apartments of Wellington Palace by the usher but now waited patiently as the King finished his 8:00 breakfast meeting of the Regency Council, something he was excluded from. His mind mulled over the events of yesterday, when Sir Horace Hargreaves had called his office to invite him over to dinner. The news he had learnt there that evening, in the cosy and quaint reception room of Sir Horace's home, had knocked him back and Will Merchant had been quick on his feet to suggest the plan of action that had originated from that meeting. So now Montague was here to fufil that plan with a conceivable cover story to make sure the naturally cynical and suspicious King Jeremy would not smell a rat.

Montague had turned up in his finest uniform for the occasion, although technically the First Lord of the New Brittanian Admiralty did not wear a uniform. Montague however had fashioned a uniform, complete with thick cloak and naval cap. The job of First Lord was one he was suited to after the fall of Lovely and despite reservations about his loyalty, King Jeremy had appreciated the fact that he was at least competent at what he did unlike the previous office holder. Montague heard the meeting in the King's Room end awaited the flow of people out of it to begin. The oak panelled walls of the room, decorated with various antique military heirlooms and colours, bounced the sound of suited shoes walking on the wooden floor. Montague stood up to salute Prince William of Shalta. The reply was a cursory nod from a man who did not care a jot for Montague or whatever he did. As he passed by he was followed by Rear Admiral Liam Reagan, the previous holder of Montague's office but still head of the New Brittanian Secret Service. He'd be very annoyed once King Jeremy found out what Montague had to say.

"Liam, how are you?" asked Montague. Due to the NBSS being secretive in its nature, his position was not officially recognised meaning that Montague took delight in pulling rank on Reagan, the man who had sought to have him shot or strung up a number of times. Liam Reagan gave a small bow of the head, almost forced by the piercing eyes of the Lord Protector standing at the door way.

"I am fine, my Lord Hyarnustar. How are you?" replied Liam, trying to gain some height in a futile attempt to make his 5 ft 9 frame extend to Montague's 6 ft.

"Quite well thank you. Just clearing up some of the difficulties we had before I arrived at the Admiralty at the moment. Some incompetent office work there." said Montague with a smile. Before Reagan could reply, his accompanying bodyguard or attaché, Montague couldn't quite tell, leaped to his master's defence.

"You should not speak to the Director in such a way, Lord Hyarnustar." said the man. He was as tall as Montague and moved slightly forward from behind his master's left side. Montague was intrigued by the man's blatant disregard for the rank that he held.

"And who are you, m'boy?" asked Montague, with a somewhat intrigued and puzzled look.

"This is Agent Kyle, Lord Hyarnustar. He's just back from a long stint abroad. Forgive his impudence." said Reagan, clearly pleased at the insolence his agent had shown but at least saying the proper words for atonement.

"Don't worry. The man has fire in his belly. Courage; something I could do with in the Navy. The last intake of officers were distinctly less adventurous and more bureaucratic than I'd allow in." replied Montague, hoping to gauge the agent's reaction and temperament further. The situation, however, was broken up by the Lord Protector.

"First Lord, the King will see you now." came the deep voice of the Lord Protector. Montague was obliged to enter into the King's Room on this note and smiled politely as Liam Reagan left the entrance room. Montague entered the King's Room as the Lord Protector shut the door behind him. The King's Room had a huge south window which flooded the room with light during the afternoon. In the morning, however, the light was softer as it lit the room and its occupants.

"You shouldn't goad him, Montague." said the King. King Jeremy was a tall man, about 20 years Montague's junior. However, the life expectancy of Jeremian Kings was short due to assasinations and impromptu rebellions, as well as sometimes the odd abdication. Montague wouldn't be surprised if this King Jeremy would not live out the next year.

"My apologies, sire." replied Montague sitting down in a high back leather chair similiar to the King's. The King was sitting looking over some briefing papers as the Lord Protector poured the King, himself and Montague three cups of morning tea. The toast from the King's breakfast was all but gone by this point, but the tea was still piping hot to Montague's delight.

"So, the Navy briefing Montague. What do you have for me?" asked the King as the Lord Protector's mesmeric eyes assessed Montague's every move. Montague was not fazed, having met and talked with the man many times before. He began reciting the orders of the day to fleet while stating a number of ship's positions before going onto the major news.

"We have all the forces participating in exercise GEORGE ready to go. The testing of the New South Vietnamese defences will begin as soon as you arrive to lead the defence against my fleet. I'd also like to make known my objections to any sale of New Brittanian Shipyards, Your Majesty." finished Montague.

"Don't worry, Montague. I intend to bail them out with my own money. I'm not having bloody foreigners running our defence industries. Is that all then?" asked King Jeremy.

"Not entirely, Your Majesty. You may like to read this." informed Montague, taking out the copies of the message Merchant had intercepted. He passed one to the Lord Protector and one to the King before explaining. He knew what King Jeremy's reaction would be. The reaction of the Lord Protector was what interested Montague. He studied the wizened face has the white eyebrows raised, lifting the moustache upwards, before settling down again to quizzical and studious.

"That message was intercepted by HNBMS York, sailing off the coast of Alexandria. We believe it was being sent to the embassy here. The York's computer decrypted it, oddly it wasn't in their Phonic Code, only their Priority Code. Obviously, the NIA doesn't have a man in New Brittania who can read the Phonic code." informed Montague.

"Edgard Portela wants me and the Director of the New Brittanian Secret Service dead, and if you two get killed too it'll be a nice bonus? The little Alex bastards. Get me the Alexandrian Ambassador so I can personally kick his ... back to his little arsehole country!" shouted a very angry and annoyed King Jeremy. In his book, this was a dirty trick.

"Calm down, Your Majesty." said a very calm Lord Protector.

"Calm? Why should I be calm??" shouted King Jeremy.

"Because we can use this to our advantage, sir. We have the chance to get inside an Alexandrian Spying Community within our nation. Expelling the Alexandrian Embassy will only make them close ranks. I suggest the NBSS keep an eye on the Alexs but not do anything overtly hostile towards them." suggested Montague. If the King bit on this, the plan he had drawn up with Merchant and Hargreaves would work. That depended on what the Lord Protector would advise though.

"I agree, but also because we can investigate the report further. I'll inform Mr. Reagan of the situation. I don't think Lord Hyarnustar breaking it to him will do any favours for either man's ego." said the Lord Protector, delivering a slap down despite agreeing with him.

"Good then. You can both go to your duties quickly then. I need a shower and I need to sign some bills." ordered the King. Both Montague and the Lord Protector left the room and walked out of the Entrance Room into the second floor long corridor.

"Thank you for the cup of tea, Ardy. I never thought I'd see the day that you were a glorified butler." said Montague with a grin to his colleague.

"I never thought I'd see the day you were alive after the last time we saw each other. How many treason or spying charges is it now, Monty?" asked the Lord Protector, the infamous Lord Ardashir of Babkha.

"Too many to count." replied Montague with a laugh.

"So, what're you up to with this?" asked Lord Ardashir, bluntly from behind his elderly face.

"With what?" asked Montague back.

"This plot. The York doesn't have the necessary computers to break the Priority Code. You're up to something. I know you well enough to know that you're not playing games with whole micronations, but you're up to something with this. If its true, you're running an operation here because you didnt get that information from our Navy ships." replied the Lord Protector.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ardy. But I will say, just trust me on this. If it comes off, New Brittania will be getting rid of some very bad apples." said Montague, walking down the grand staircase with Lord Ardashir, towards the main entrance of the palace. Two New Brittanian Marines came to attention as both men walked past the door out into the fresh air and the gravel drive on which Montague's car waited.

"I put up with Liam's antics against you, so I'll put up with yours just this once. Do what you need to do, but do it quietly." ordered Lord Ardashir to Montague.

"Do what? I think the time for men like us has passed, Ardy. Why can't the old days come back?" said Montague with a smile.

"The time for men like us never existed, Lord Hyarnustar." replied Lord Ardashir without a trace of humour in his accented voice.

[Lord C. Montague]

Chapter 3

For the previous three weeks, Merchant had sat on the bench he had on previously and carefully observed the counter-intelligence operation being run by the New Brittanian Secret Service against the Alexandrian National Intelligence Agency in the picturesque setting of the Sudentor Memorial Garden in spring. He was unsure whether he had been flagged by either side yet. He knew the Alexandrians could flag him and investigate him but did not know whether they had the resources to do so while running such a major operation against foreign heads of state and service chiefs. On the other hand, he knew the New Brittanian Secret Service could have one of its rare moments of clarity and purpose and do its job properly and superbly well in a situation like this.

He hid is uneasiness well though as the person he identified as counter-intelligence 1 got out into his car at 11:07. Counter Intelligence 1 swapped shifts with Counter Intelligence 2 at around this time, just in time for the Alexandrian girl to leave the office and post her mail. The postman had to be counter-intelligence 3, or so Merchant had flagged him. It only made sense that he was.

On cue, at 11:10 the Alexandrian girl left the front door. Merchant immediately knew something wasn't quite right. This morning she waved at him and gave him a smile, which momentarily distracted him as he had to keep up appearances and tip his trilby, which he had taken to wearing almost constantly, at her.  He looked over to the station that Counter-Intelligence 2 usually took up but was instantly aware that he wasn't there. Merchant looked around seeking to identify someone who was Counter-Intelligence and continuing the operation. He saw nobody.

At the periphery of his vision, as the Alexandrian girl walked out of the far gate across the road to the postbox, he noticed the two men. Dressed in almost identical grey suits with red ties they moved with the purpose of soldiers. They moved like experienced soldiers and had a steely gaze that Merchant had come to associate with professional soldiers of the highest quality. He quickly looked towards their chests, looking for the bulge that denoted whether they were carrying a weapon. He found it as well as noticing where there gaze was directed at; the Alexandrian girl.

The long strides of the soldiers had already closed the gap between her and them. By the time she had posted the letters, they would already be on her. The prospect for what would happen to her would be bad, Merchant realised. Montague had promised him that nothing like this would happen and his position was in no way capable of being compromised. Obviously the NBSS had decided to take action into their own hands without informing the King of New Brittania and by extension, Montague.

He made his mind up. He'd intervene. William Merchant folded up his paper, put on a pair of grey leather gloves to match his suit and walked towards the gate the soldiers were walking towards. They had no knowledge of him walking about 12 feet behind them, so intent they were on keeping focus on the girl. As they approached her, they branded an ID at her quickly before she had any time to react. Her arms were grabbed on both sides and she was forcibly escorted away into a back alley with a gate on so nobody could see what was happening. Merchant walked past the gate as it was shut behind him. He listened intently, hoping that it was not going to be locked. He did not hear a bolt being closed on the wooden gate and was grateful as he heard metal dustbins being kicked and knocked over as what he could only imagine would be the Alexandrian girl struggling.

Merchant looked around quickly, hoping that nobody else was noticing anything untoward. Thankfully they were not. He should have noticed earlier the commotion being caused by a blocked lorry, probably organised by those New Brittanian Secret Service heavies. All eyes were on that and would not notice him doubling back on himself and readying himself to stop the compromising of his mission by the NBSS.

He put his right hand into his pocket and gripped the silenced 7mm pistol he carried with him. Carefully pulling it out its shoulder holster he opened the door with his left hand in a swift movement designed to take anyone on the other side by complete surprise. By the time he walked through the door, it was already hurtling on its hinges towards the face of the first New Brittanian soldier who thought it would be good to stand directly next to the door. The sound of the first soldier being knocked slightly backwards was enough to alert the second, who was standing over a dazed Alexandrian girl and putting his hand to get his own gun from the back of his trousers. Merchant was quicker than he was and although the 7mm bullet from his gun was not known for its stopping power, he knew that a bullet of any size to the head usually did the trick. His aim was perfect and struck the second soldier squarely in the forehead. He crumpled backwards onto the floor as the first soldier clawed for his own pistol towards Merchant's side. Merchant, who favoured holding his pistol in one hand, turned towards the first New Brittanian soldier and briefly saw the glimpse of complete fear in his eyes as he knew his end was near. Merchant, recognising this brief show of humanity from the soldier, put his own humanity aside and dispassionately fired a single shot into the head of the first soldier.

"Who are y-?" asked the Alexandrian girl before being cut off by an advancing Merchant.

"Shut up." he said roughly before grabbing her by the arm in much the same way the New Brittanian soldiers had and hoisting her up. She struggled briefly to escape his grip but failed.

"I demand to know who you are! I have diplomatic protection!" she shouted. The withering look she received from Merchant only reinforced his following words.

"I don't care for diplomatic niceties." he replied bluntly before holstering his weapon. He pulled out his mobile phone and pressed the speed dial for Sir Horace Hargreaves.

"I need a cab." he said simply to the former Lord Mayor of Willow who'd built his wealth on a hackney cab business. That the business had, and still did, act as a very useful cover for the former CTU and now the Lovely IASA was something that escaped the New Brittanian Secret Service's watchful eyes.

Within two minutes a cab honked its horn outside the alley entrance and William Merchant bundled the Alexandrian girl into the back of the cab along with himself unnoticed, except to one dark suited, pale man who looked on hiding his annoyance at the fact that his men had just died.

[Lord C. Montague]

Chapter 4

The girl had been at Sir Horace's house for about three hours now. When she had arrived, Merchant had bundled her into the house through the alley side door. Despite the former prominence of Sir Horace, the house he had inhabited for many years in Willow was fairly modest. On one of the old main streets through the medieval quarter, the house had been in the Hargreaves' family for many generations. It had a Tudor frontage with many additions by later Hargreaves family members. In many ways it was a patchwork quilt on a grand scale.

Merchant had already deduced that the girl had some form of intelligence training in the questions she had asked him during their journey in the cab and the fact she had given him very little information when he had questioned her as they arrived. She was now in the house's cellar, which Sir Horace had neglected for many years and now made a very useful interrogation cell. Both Sir Horace and Merchant were standing at the foot of the stairs looking down into the dank cellar where the girl was bound to a wooden chair.

"When's Montague due here?" asked Merchant, making sure that his voice was low and his mouth obscured lest the girl could lip read.

"He should be here any minute, William. Do you think she's in on this plot?" asked Sir Horace. Although not a spy by training, he had picked up some of the tricks of the trade in his time. However, he still did not know some basics and talking about the discovered plot could have serious implications in the future if the girl had heard. Before Merchant could admonish his host, the door bell rang and the familiar voice of Montague was heard as he entered the hall of Sir Horace's house.

"Will, you could have left the girl and merely been a passer-by to her." said Montague as Will walked up to the top of the stairs to talk to his boss. Sir Horace was left behind in the cellar to keep an eye on the girl.

"I thought she was an intelligence officer herself, M'Lord." lied Merchant. He had no knowledge of her having any intelligence training at the time he rescued her from the New Brittanian heavies but Montague did not really need to know the exclusive details of that.

"What's she said? Anything to do with what interests us?" asked Montague.

"Nothing. Not even her name. She's just sat down there and looked straight ahead for the past three hours. I think it might take a while to crack her." replied Merchant, giving his professional opinion.

"Let me talk with her myself. We need to make this as quick as possible." stated Montague. The old man walked down the staircase with Merchant following him while Sir Horace moved out of the way of the foot of the staircase to allow Montague to walk past. Merchant kept his eye on the girl as Montague walked towards her in the cavernous cellar and as Montague's face would have been revealed by the light in the cellar he saw the girl's face twitch in recognition of him.

"I don't think we need to get her name out of her, Will. This is Lady Sophia Benavides de Corcovado, niece of His Imperial Highness Prince Augusto." stated Montague as he stood before the girl. Merchant was quite surprised as he heard her name and who she was related to. He had just rescued the Director of the Alexandrian NIA's niece and delivered her to Montague, a man who was marked for assassination by the Alexandrians. The girl was seething with rage.

"Charles deMontford, I think it would be wise for you to let me go before the NIA comes after you more thoroughly than ever before." hissed the girl in her Spanish accent.

"I remember when I was Uncle Charles to you, Sophia, so your attempt to intimidate me doesn't exactly work." said a wryly amused Montague to his prisoner.

"That was before we found out about your espionage. My uncle trusted you and you threw that back in his face. All the NIA would love to see you hang for that." replied Sophia.

"Sophia, I'm not particularly proud of my actions in those days but spying leads to everyone getting hurt as I'm sure you know. You have entered into New Brittania under a false name, because I'm sure I would have spotted you entering this country. Add to that your reactions when you were captured by my man Will here and the discovery of a plot by your agency to kill King Jeremy, it seems to me that your uncle has recruited you into his agency." surmised Montague, hoping that she'd crack due to her relatively young age. If he remembered correctly, she'd only be about 22 now.

"Plot? What plot? I was sent here to build up my experience. Do you think they'd send a junior agent to kill a head of state?" asked Sophia. Merchant wasn't sure if she'd broken or was bluffing her way through as he had seen many an enemy agent do to him. He'd learnt his mistake after the first one and never repeated it.

"They are relatively expendable." Will answered from the stairs.

"I'm not lying. Why would I? It makes no sense for me to kill Jeremy!" she shouted at Montague, her eyes flitting between him, Sir Horace and Merchant.

"The actions of desperate men, which is what I would call your Emperor, don't need to make sense." replied Montague.

"Charles, believe me! Uncle Charles, believe me!" she shouted at Montague her. Merchant felt a pang of sympathy for the girl as he saw her plead with Montague. He also thought that it was a bit pathetic. Montague had turned towards him and walked back towards the stairs as he spoke.

"Will, do what you need to do in the next few hours to get her to talk." he said while winking at Will to make sure that he understood merely to question and keep the threat of force there. He then indicated for Sir Horace to walk back up the stairs with him. At the top they closed the door into the cellar while they heard the sobbing and whimpering of Sophia Benavides.

"Do you think she's telling the truth, Monty?" asked Sir Horace once he was confident that the cellar was sealed from the noise of the house.

"She has a lot of good points. It doesn't make sense that such a junior agent should be so involved in a plot to kill a foreign head of state. Add to that the fact she's Augusto's niece it still seems even more bizarre that the Alexs would dare do such an act on New Brittanian territory. I doubt we'll have any chance of corroborating her story either, which makes it all the more difficult to decide on what is the truth of the matter. Completely off topic, Horace, but are you going to the Riponian Ambassador's Reception this evening?" said Montague, his wizened brow furrowed at the thought process his mind was going through.

"I don't think so, no, Monty. I think it'd be best if I stay here to give your lad some relief on the nightwatch over her. Heather will still be going though. She's bought a dress for the occasion and everything. Its not often we're invited out to society events these days and she misses it. Would you be a gent and take her, old boy?" asked Sir Horace.

"Of course, Horace. I'll see you later this evening when we get back. I'd like to talk to Will then as well. We need to decide on our plan of action now that the old one has been unalterably changed." stated Montague before walking towards the door and taking his and cloak off the hatstand.

"Yes, indeed. I wonder what made him decide to rescue the poor girl from the thugs anyhow?" said Horace as his butler opened the door for Montague.

"He said she showed signs of intelligence training." replied Montague to his long term ally in New Brittania.

"Yes, it could have been that. I prefer to think the lad has some humanity and did it for her figure." said Horace, giving a light laugh which made his large frame shake.

Montague just smiled warmly as he walked out the door to prepare for the reception.

[Lord C. Montague]

Chapter 5

The official car arrived at the entrance to the Riponian Embassy. Inside were Lord Montague and the wife of Sir Horace Hargreaves, Lady Heather. Before Sir Horace's fall from grace due to the curtailing of Lovelies' influence in New Brittania's affairs, he and Lady Heather had been centres of the social scene in Willow. The Lady had grown rather too accustomed to this and it hurt her badly when her husband was forced to resign from his post. During her time as Willow's premier hostess, she had gained a reputation that Montague thought was rather crude though very accurate. He often wondered how Sir Horace put up with it all.

"Oh Monty, this is really so kind of you to take me out for this. I don't often get to go out anymore." said Lady Horace as the car came to a stop.

"It's a pleasure, Heather. Just remember why Horace isn't here." said Montague, cautioning Lady Heather. Another reason why her reputation had gotten out of control was also the fact she was a good twenty years younger than Sir Horace.

"He's got a dicky stomach." she replied matter-of-factly.

A footman for the Riponian Ambassador opened the car door and both Montague and his guest got out of the car to walk up the grey steps of the Riponian Embassy. The Embassy clashed with its surroundings in both its architecture and its gardens. New Brittania's temporate climate was not one in which palm trees grew well but they adorned the embassy's front garden and the embassy's Riponian design of grey concrete slabs clashed with the picturesque setting in the heart of Willow's Victorian Quarter. They entered the embassy's reception hall together with Lady Heather on Montague's arm and already, much to his annoyance, he could sense the whispering begin. After a brief introduction to the Riponian Ambassador, Montague spotted King Jeremy and after making his excuses to leave Lady Heather in the company of some young navy officers, walked over to the King.

"Here with Lady Heather Hargreaves, Montague?" asked the King with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Sir Horace is ill unfortunately and he asked me to escort her this evening. Keep her out of trouble." replied Montague, hoping to dispel any thoughts that King Jeremy might be having.

"And you've left her with a group of sailors?" asked the King with a laugh.

"They know what'll happen if any impropierty happens." assured Montague. The King laughed before turning serious again.

"How's our special project?"

"Going well. I think we're due a major breakthrough soon." replied Montague.

"Good. Now, there's someone here I'd like you to meet." stated King Jeremy. Montague was caught off guard by this impromptu statement by the King. Jeremy gestured behind him and through the crowd of New Brittania's social elite strode a man in a dark suit with a light cloak attached around his shoulders. He was tall and met Montague's gaze with piercing, analytical eyes.

Montague knew exactly who he was, regardless of the fact the two men had never actually met. Only just pushing into his late thirties, Andreas the Wise was a man Montague had grown to hate since the end of the War of the Matbaaic Liberation. To Montague, Andreas was the man who was responsible for the deaths of his family. Montague was filled with anger as the younger man strode towards him with arm outstretched awaiting his hand to shaken.

"Sire, you cannot be serious in wanting me to talk to him?" hissed Montague at King Jeremy.

"I want my commanders to think clearly during times of war, First Lord. You will talk to him and you will learn to understand him. That is an order." replied King Jeremy as Andreas was approaching. The King and the Novatainian Foreign Minister shook hands and exchanged warm greetings while Montague seethed at the sidelines.

"May I introduce Charles Lord Montague of Hyarnustar, First Lord of our Admiralty. Lord Montague, this is Andreas the Wise of Novatainia." said King Jeremy turning from serious commander into pleasant diplomat. There was no handshake between Montague and Andreas, the latter sensing the hostility.

"I understand this may be difficult for you, Lord Montague." began Andreas.

"Forgive the bluntness, Foreign Minister, but it is extremely difficult." said Montague, his anger rising to the surface and simmering below his features. His teeth were grinding as he held back from attempting to kill the man standing before him, the man whom he held responsible for the destruction of his life.

"Would you care to walk in the gardens, Lord Montague? I think we must discuss something that bears upon both of us." invited Andreas. Montague looked back at King Jeremy and the glare that he received from his King made him know what he had to do.

"I believe I'm obliged to by the orders of my King, Your Excellency." replied Montague, making sure that Andreas knew he was not impressed with the orders he had. The two men walked out into the cool autumnal night and walked down onto the gravel pathways that weaved their way through the vast rear gardens.

"It seems to me, Lord Montague, that you still cling to the idea that I and my country ordered the deaths of your family?" asked Andreas. Montague did not reply, as he knew that the answer was obvious and so did Andreas. He knew he'd continue as he had done in various public and diplomatic protests of innocence.

"I'm here to give you the story that I have told you again and again as well as hopefully help us deal with someone who is a thorn in the side of both of us." continued Andreas.

"I'll listen but I doubt I'll believe you." replied Montague coldly.

"Our intelligence agency, the NISB, does not engage in any forms of political assasination to further the aims of the Novatainian state. During the War, the rapid nature of our deployment created problems in keeping track of everybody. In that confusion, the NISB was infiltrated by a man who we know only by our codename for him; Keryl. He has for a very long time been an agitator in Novatainia and has links to various organisations of an unknown nature. From what our soldiers testified to us, he claimed to be an NISB Agent and commandeered some of our soldiers to carry out his mission of killing your family. Who he was working for, we have no idea. But his agenda appears to have been clear from the start." explained Andreas.

"I've heard the same story before, Andreas. Why should I believe you now?" asked Montague.

"You don't need to. However, the man we call Keryl might be of mutual interest to both our countries at this point. We obtained information from some of our sources that Keryl was making preparations to enter into New Brittania and eliminate key members of the establishment here. Due to his ability to infiltrate intelligence organisations, we decided it best to inform someone with intelligence experience outside of the community. Despite our differences, that's you. So, Lord Montague, have you seen this man?" asked Andreas. He produced a photofit of Keryl to Montague and the face was instantly recognisable as Agent Kyle who he had met at Liam Reagan's side in the King's palace only . Montague refrained from showing any recognition to Andreas.

"Give me the photograph and I'll get to work on it." said Montague, snatching the photograph from Andreas' hand and walking back along the gravel path towards the reception hall.

"I hope that we can work better together from now on, Lord Montague." shouted Andreas down the path. Montague stood still before turning around to Andreas.

"Andreas, you should live up to your title because if our countries ever go to war, my family will be avenged a million times over." replied Montague coldly. He had no care for Novatainians or Tokidokans. They did not deserve his humanity much in the way their soldiers had not shown his family any humanity. He carried on through the reception hall to the young navy officers who were having to tread a fine line in looking after Lady Heather.

"We're leaving now, m'lady." said Montague gruffly.

"But Monty, I'm having such a good time with your men!" said a slightly drunk Lady Heather.

"Gentlemen, excuse me." replied Montague, putting an arm around Lady Heather and escorting her out to the front of the building. He waited for a few minutes as his official car was brought up to the front. Once inside, he rang Merchant's mobile. There was no reply. He tried the landline to Sir Horace's house. Again, there was no reply.

"Ensign, get me to Lady Heather's house immediately." ordered Montague.

Once they arrived at the house, the scene that greeted them made Lady Heather fall to her knees sobbing and Montague with a feeling in his gut that everything was going terribly wrong.