Chapter 2

Adrianne advised me that I should look my best when I went to see Helen. I didn’t take much urging. Since leaving the hospital I had been trying to be the best Babs around. I had spent a bit of my savings on clothes and shoes. All that time on courses with all food and shelter provided had given me a good bank account. My outfit was smart, yet sexy. Four-inch heels, smoky hose, tight skirt, and a silk blouse that showed my cleavage, and a bit more.

I was now proficient in doing my own make-up and hair. The one thing that I didn’t have was a lot of jewellery or even pierced ears. They were a no-no when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, as they can be pulled off, causing a distraction that could lead to your death. Adrianne rated me as ‘hot’ and declared that whatever Helen had for me to do, I would knock it out of the park.

It was with some trepidation that I went, with Adrianne, in her car to South Bank. I had never been there in all my time with the service and expected Helen to be in a big office with a view of the river. Nothing so grand. Adrianne led me through the security, where I was given a one-day pass, and down two levels. The office was large, I give it that, but there were no windows and Helen had put up a big picture of a Monet garden to lighten the bland wall. Helen stood as we walked in and came over to give us both a hug, much better than a handshake, any day.

“Welcome to my hide-away, Barbara. You certainly came up trumps with that make-over, I was told that you would be good, but you, my girl, are truly amazing. You’re going to make a splash when we set you to work. The first job I have for you will be right up your street. Do you remember the embassy where you spent some time? Well, there’s a rumour that the aid to the Ambassador is being a naughty boy and mixing with the wrong crowd. He’s very much the ladies’ man and you’re just the lady to find out the facts.”

With that, she led us through another doorway into a short corridor. We went into a large room where a middle-aged woman was sitting at a workbench, looking at a passport through a magnifying lens.

“Gloria, meet Barbara, our newest addition. She will be going after King Dick for us, as you can see, she has all the attributes required. All she needs from you is the back-story and paperwork that we have discussed. Now, Gloria will spend a couple of hours with you, and you will fly out this evening. Adrianne is going now and will be set up to meet you. You are old friends, meeting in an exotic city to have a good time. Good luck and I’ll see you when it’s over.”

With that, both she and Adrianne gave me a hug and left me with Gloria. She went to a desk where a thick file was resting. Tapping it, she looked hard at me.

“Sit down, Barbara. Take the weight of your feet. I’ve been looking through your file and I’m impressed. What made me smile was an interview with a young lady who was trying hard to fake an orgasm when you arrived on her bed. She was quite forward in telling our agent that she had the orgasm she was hoping for and has never missed having one since. Doesn’t that make you feel as if you’ve provided a service?”

I smiled, dutifully, as the memory of that event was something I had tried hard to forget.

“I’d rather not think about that, Gloria, as it was the start of a lot of pain and the big change in my life. As well as multiple fractures, my manhood was removed by a ceiling joist I managed to straddle on the way down. I want to consider myself as a natural woman, so that I can keep from making mistakes. Adrianne has already provided me with a day-to-day history that is verifiable. It wouldn’t do me any good to start talking about my days in an all-boys school, now, would it?”

“No, that would not do at all. What I’m going to give you is a short history of your identity for this job. You are Davina Holdsworth, an actor’s agent, visiting Adrianne, to catch up and check out the local theatres for new talent. Our mark is a budding actor, and we think that there are bad guys among his friends. He may well have been caught in a honey trap, which is why we think he’ll be stuck on you. There’s a quiet room, next door, with a comfortable chair and your background, with all the paperwork. There’s also a file on our target. You have two hours to get it all in your head. I’ll give you a short test and then you take the new papers, and the suitcase next to the desk. Leave all the current paperwork with me, for safe keeping.”

She escorted me back into the corridor and opened another door for me to enter the room.

“This will be locked while you’re here. There is a toilet cubicle if you need it. When you leave, you leave as Davina, got it?”

I nodded, went in, and sat to study. My back-story as Davina Holdsworth was simple, yet effective. Study at an all-girls school, a history of drama classes but not big roles that could be researched. The move to working with an agency, and now a freelancer looking for talent, paid a commission when they were signed on. There was a complete set of matching papers, including a passport, and driving licence, plus a wad of business cards, credit cards, cash, and a bundle of business cards for agencies. One had a circle on the top right corner, and there was a note in the file that this was the one I should ring if I found talent. I expect that it was a front, with someone there knowing that I may ring.

The file on the target was bulky and took most of my time. He was, like me, a public-school boarder. His marks had been ordinary and was considered lazy. He, also, had been interested in drama, and the impression I got was of a person who went through life as if it was a stage play. No, make that a bedroom farce! The pages on his sexual conquests were impressive, until you noted that none of his relationships lasted very long. He had only been at this embassy for a few months, so hadn’t been there when I was.

When I was satisfied that I had learned all I could, I turned my attention to the suitcase, and then to a portable rack with some clothes hanging from it. This was my Davina look and I was interested to find out what sort of woman I was to be. In acting, you can take your cues from the clothes. A chinless wonder is always believable in a tuxedo, while a lady always wears long dresses. What I saw was a long dress with a fashionable cut and good accessories.

I stripped out of my clothes, folding them carefully and placing them on the table. Then I went to the bathroom and showered, making sure I removed all the make-up I had so carefully applied this morning. Dried off, I got dressed in my new persona, noting that everything was top end goods. Davina must have a bit of wealth, another pointer to my role.

At the two-hour mark I was sat, reviewing the files, as Gloria opened the door.

“Are you ready, Davina?”

“Why, yes, Gloria. Is someone going to carry my suitcase, or do I have to haul it myself?”

“Sorry, you’ll just have to take care of it.”

“Just this once, Gloria, they don’t treat you like this at the Hilton, you know.”

She checked that I didn’t have any remnant of Barbara’s life and picked up the day pass before leading me back towards an exit door. On the way she quizzed me on my story, then gave me my plane ticket.

“Use the cash and cards as you see fit. There will be a taxi waiting for you outside. It will take you the tube station. Go anywhere for an hour or more, then get a taxi to the airport. Your flight is at five, so you’ll have plenty of time to check in and eat. If you pick up a watcher along the way, ring this number and describe them.”

The number was on a card which went into my new bag. The day pass was given to the security detail, and I was back out in the open air and on my first job. I got in the taxi; the driver was a girl with a scarf over her head. She said nothing and drove me to Victoria station and waited just long enough for me to get my bag out, before driving off, with a little wave.

I stood at the kerb and considered my position. I was here and it was lunch time. What would a passenger do? Well, eat, of course. I towed my case into the Railway Station and stood for a while, looking at the timetable, all the while trying to pick up my tail. I knew that they would expect me to go straight down to the tube, like a good bunny. What I did next was to walk confidently to the entrance to the Grosvenor Hotel, asking if there was somewhere I could leave my case while I had a meal. There was no way a lady of my breeding would use a fast-food outlet!

I had noticed a likely suspect loitering near the escalator to the tube platforms, and, as I was seated at a table with a waiter asking if I wanted something to drink, I saw him pop his head into the dining room and then disappear. I ordered a soft drink and looked at the menu. I then held my phone to my ear and looked angry. When he came back with my drink, I gave him my order and asked if the head waiter could come to my table. When he approached me, he looked worried.

“Madam, is there a problem?”

“Only with my flight. Is there any way I can book a small room for the night? I can give you my card to use.”

“Certainly, Madam, I will see to that immediately.”

My meal was being put on my table as he came back.

“Your card and receipt, Madam. Here is the room access card.”

“Thank you for that, could you please arrange for my case to be taken up? Here is the tag, it’s in the storage area. Here’s ten for yourself and another for the bell-boy.”

“You’re so kind, Madam. I’ll see to that little job. I hope that you have a pleasant stay and I trust that your flight is all right tomorrow.”

I finished my lunch and went to find the room. I opened my case and looked at the choices for a complete change. I found some nice tan slacks and a light sweater. I tied my long hair back into a ponytail and changed into the new outfit, adding a pair of sneakers. There was another bag in the case, and I transferred all my things to it, then repacked the case ready to go again.

I left the room and went to the main entrance of the hotel, walking out and blending with the crowds. I hailed a taxi which took me to Piccadilly Circus, where I paid him and then went down to ride the rails for a while. An hour later I called the number I had been given. Gloria answered. I reported in.

“Your boy is in his mid-twenties, wearing a grey hoodie over a blue denim shirt and jeans.”

“Well done, where are you and what did he do wrong?”

“I’m at Liverpool Street and I guess he’s still waiting for me to finish my lunch in the Grosvenor. I would have invited him to join me, but he wasn’t dressed for it. What I really want to know is if you’ve put a second tail on me. This one would be out of place at the Circus, he looks too much like one of the bad guys we’re after.”

“I can guarantee that we only put one lad out there for training purposes. Describe the new guy and tell me why you think he’s tailing you.”

“He’s wearing a black bomber jacket over black jeans and work boots. He’s black-haired and looks a bit Arabic.”

“You haven’t been watching the TV news, then. That sounds like the guy who the police are trying to catch. He is alleged to have raped several girls in tube toilets. Get yourself back to Victoria and I’ll alert the police to monitor everyone getting off the train.”

I did as she asked and got on the next train heading towards Victoria. Just to keep it interesting, I changed trains and he stayed with me, but well behind. At Victoria, I was going to walk right past the young agent, then took pity on him.

“Buddy, the guy I called in about is about fifty yards back there on the platform and coming this way quickly. Black clothes, black hair. I think that this is his preferred spot to get me into a toilet to work his evil. Get yourself some brownie points and show him to those police. They’re waiting for him but haven’t seen him before. Now, go!”

I walked away and was almost at the door of the Grosvenor as the police pulled the hooded man from the escalator tunnel. He was swearing fit to burst and then went quiet when a female officer hit him with her truncheon, in a place that made every man within sight want to cross his legs.

Back in my room, I showered and changed back into the long dress, let my hair down, checked my make-up and picked up the case. At the reception I handed in the door card, telling them that the airline had put on an extra flight, so I wouldn’t be staying the night. The doorman waved to a taxi for me, and I was off to the airport to catch my flight.

While I was waiting to board, I was visited by a detective. He was polite and wanted to know my side of this afternoon’s events. No doubt he had been briefed that I was on government business and not to mess with me. I gave him a complete report of when I had picked up the tail and had reported it to my manager. He smiled as I said that the man seemed to resist arrest. I told him that I thought the female officer was trying to hit him on the leg but missed. He told me to enjoy my flight as the boarding announcement sounded.

The trip was uneventful, if one discounts screaming and crying children, or the guy next to me who wanted to put his hand on my leg until I stabbed it with the bamboo fork from the food tray. After clearing the very intensive immigration at Sofia, I hugged Adrianne and we waited until my case came into view. She led me out to a car, so small that it could hardly take the two of us and the case.

That evening we just chatted and went out to a café for a snack and drink. She told me about all the drama clubs and the current shows. I had a list of likely places to find talent, with a tick beside the few where I might find my target. Of course, we were spoken to by burly men with beards and bad body odour, none making it past first base.

The next day I was out, checking out the various theatres and buying a few tickets to see shows that looked well produced. I also had lunch near the embassy but didn’t see anyone from the building. I didn’t fret, this could take weeks to move forward. In the meantime, I was creating a genuine interest in my cover story. On the fifth evening, I saw my target in a production. The plot was difficult to discern, the acting was questionable, and the script stupid. Big Dick was, however, quite believable as a chinless upper-class twit.

I was slow in getting out of my seat and heard a voice behind me as I went towards the aisle.

“Just woke up, eh! You’re the lucky one. I’m paid to sit though crap like that.”

I turned to see an elderly man that I had seen several times at shows.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t sleep, but must have gone into some sort of trance. That was bad, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but my problem, now, is to write a review that lets the public know that it’s cutting-edge satire, in the modern idiom, and that you need to be broad-minded to experience the ambiance. There you go, my next arts column in a nutshell. I’m Gregor, the critic, by the way. I’ve seen you at a few shows, recently.”

“Davina Holdsworth, talent spotter. I’m here for a few weeks to see if there’s any raw talent that could make it in a wider world. So far, all the actors seem too raw for words. There’s just not enough heat to make them medium, even.”

“Ha! I’ll have to fit that into a future column. Have you been invited to the after-party, although it should be called a wake after that performance.”

“No, I haven’t yet met anyone who is involved in this show.”

“Well, Davina, would you join me so that we can show a united front of sensibility to these jumped-up thespian wanna-be’s?”

“Why, Gregor, I thank you for the invitation. Who knows, the cast might have more life than the producer of this show could give them.”

He led me out of the theatre and to a hotel, just along the road. The cast hadn’t arrived yet, so we found a table and talked about the theatre, in general. I was dredging up memories of school plays, films of plays, and books that had been turned into plays, to hold up my end of the conversation. He was certainly well versed in all things theatrical, spoke perfect English, and I let him regale me with stories of the stage. Eventually, he asked me if there was anyone who had stood out, today.

“Why, yes. There was a character in the play, an upper-class, arrogant little prick, and the actor was so good at portraying that, I thought that he must have been just acting as himself.”

“Well said,” he chuckled. “That is the one and only Richard King, who likes to be called Ricardo Soverino. He works in the British Embassy. He fancies himself as a debonair man about town, and the ladies seem to fall for him, before falling by the wayside. Look, here’s Crystal, coming towards us. She has been though the mill, so to speak.” He reverted to Bulgarian. “Crystal, darling, this lady is an agency recruiter from England, and thought that King Dick was very good in that play, today. A natural, or so she believes.”

“Ha! That’s a good one. That man is spending his whole life living a part that only he knows. He looks good, he sounds good, and he’s not bad in bed – the first time. His problem is that he recycles his day, to the point where he’s so predictable, he gets boring. The only person in his life is himself. Oh! And Vlad Moneybags, of course. Stay away from him, or you may end up losing part of your life the way I did.”

She carried on to the bar and I looked at Gregor, raising an eyebrow.

“Vlad Moneybags?”

“Vladimer Abramovich, You’ll know him when you see him,” he grinned. “Or when you hear him.” This as a mighty bellow of laughter came from the doorway. I looked and saw a great bear of a man, with a red beard and twinkling eyes that looked around the room before resting on me. He lumbered our way and Gregor smiled.

“Gregor,” the man bellowed. “Who is this lovely lady you brought to meet us. Does your wife know?”

“Vlad, allow me to introduce Davina Holdsworth, from Britain. She is in town as a talent scout, looking for new faces to grace the British screens. She is still to find any.”

“Davina, that’s a beautiful name. Tell me, did you like our little play?”

“I’m in two minds whether to consign it to the rubbish bin, or to look at it as a new version of “Waiting for Godot.” It was a couple of hours which seemed to last an eternity, yet left you wanting more, a bit like a sour gobstopper.”

“Ha!” he bellowed. “Boris, come over here. This lady is a true critic and just told me that you write like Beckett!”

Boris came over and knelt beside me, taking my hand, and kissing it.

“Thank you, beautiful lady. I knew that there would have to be one person in the world who would see my work as I intended.”

With that, Vlad helped him rise and pulled him towards the bar, calling out.

“Make way for the new Beckett, everyone. Drinks all round, on me!”

I looked at Gregor and could see that he was having trouble holding himself in.

“Priceless, dear girl. You’ve now given me the headline of the column, and the chance to raise young Boris to new heights. When Vlad calls for drinks all round, it’s always the good vodka, and it keeps coming until he calls it a night, or else when everyone is flat on the floor. I can suggest something, and that is that you drink up and I’ll escort you out. They accept that I must leave early to write my piece. The only times I’ve written it after staying too late, I wrote rather scathing pieces, and they all want me to do something nice.”

So, we drained our glasses and made our way out while Vlad was regaling the crowd with ideas about new plays, based on other oddball works. He took my arm as we walked along the street.

“Davina, would you be good enough to come to my home. My wife will have made dinner and she always cooks too much. I would like her to meet you. She will be able to help you with your task, seeing that she had been on the stage before we married.”

I agreed, and he hailed a taxi. It took us into the suburbs and pulled up outside an apartment block. Leading me in, we walked up one flight of stairs and along a corridor. He pulled out his keys, unlocked the door and ushered me in, calling out to his wife to be decent as he had brought home a guest.

She was still beautiful and welcomed me with a hug and kiss on both cheeks, French style.

“Come in,” she cried. “Take off your jacket and come through to the kitchen. I’m about to serve up and there’s enough for three. Where on earth did Gregor find you? Oh! I’m Sofia, by the way, same as the city but not quite as large.”

“Sweetheart, this is Davina Holdsworth, a talent spotter from England. She’s given me the bones of the best column I’ve written, for ages. I’ll have to leave you two to talk after dinner, I have a masterpiece to write.”

Sofia was a very good cook, and I had the best meal in all my time in Sofia. The table talk was about the stage, the various actors, and today’s play. Sofia was hard on Boris, as a playwright, and laughed out loud when Gregor related my short meeting with him. After I helped clear the table, Gregor took himself off to his office, while Sofia sat me on a comfortable chair in the lounge, pouring us both a good sherry.

While we talked, I learned that she now had a small business, providing baked goods to several embassies. It seemed that each embassy liked goods that reminded them of home and that she had a collection of bakers who could make the various cakes, pies, and breads to suit the customer.

I also discovered that Gregor wasn’t just an art critic. No, he had a proper job. He was the Cultural Attache at the Hungarian Embassy.

Marianne Gregory © 2023