.
though Murphy was looking forward to getting out of there and back to the hotel, he gave his full attention to James. He was hoping that he would soon finish his story, and he would be on his way home.
“The minister was talking with the head of SVR,” James continued. SVR was the Foreign Intelligence Service of Russia, the successor of the then terminated KGB. “It was a light and friendly chat, as they talked about how things were changing and that they were expecting the relationship with the United States to deteriorate even further. The SVR head got into how spying proved to be the major problem for Russia, especially from Americans. I still remember the irony of the whole situation. ‘If they only knew,’ I thought. Then I heard something that truly shocked me. The SVR head explained how they had their deep roots in western society, and how they collected some very sensitive information after the end of the Cold War. He continued to express his amazement on how no one had figured out that the accident of Diana and her then boyfriend, was not an accident. How it was a complete hoax.” James looked at Murphy as he raised his eyebrows. “He had bulletproof evidence.”
“An idiot, trying to impress his superior.” Murphy shook his head in disbelief.
James continued to explain how he had managed to investigate a bit further while he was in Moscow, taking advantage of some of his well-connected sources there. After a year, the new facts he had collected blew him away. He had some evidence, even though not confirmed, that Diana was possibly pregnant at the night of the accident, and that they kept it a secret from everyone. The plan was for them to find a way out. The only clue he could follow was the motorcycle. The two people riding the bike was the single lead. But almost fifteen years later, that would prove extremely difficult.
James ignored Murphy’s adverse reaction as he turned towards Lucas.
“The other cameras?” James pointed out with his index finger on several cameras in the tunnel. “Can we have easy access?”
“Ah,” Lucas exclaimed in sarcasm, “It’s been a long time, I doubt you can find any information that hasn’t been found yet.”
“Can you take me there?” James continued in defiance.
Lucas, clearly exasperated, flicked his head towards the direction of the car and started walking. Murphy quickly grabbed James by the elbow.
“That’s it for me tonight, James,” Murphy said. “I’m heading back to the hotel, had a long day. I’ll pick up a cab.”
“I was hoping you would be more understanding, Murph. I was looking for some acknowledgment, at least,” James explained in disappointment.
“I’m sorry, but I think you are chasing ghosts, fairytales,” Murphy replied as he gently released James’s hand. “If you need anything else, you have my number.”
Murphy saluted him casually as he turned around and slowly walked away from the tunnel in search of a taxi. James went in the opposite direction and joined Lucas in the car, who accelerated into the tunnel.
Chapter 2
10 Years Later
The rain was pouring down. Ominous, flashing thunders continuously lit up the dark sky. La Guardia airport had just received their last flight, a private jet, before its impending temporary shutdown. The storm was getting dangerously close. The plane slowly took refuge under the enormous empty hangar, which was being battered by the heavy rain.
A black, polished antique Cadillac from the nineteen fifties was parked on the corner of the hangar as the plane came to a slow halt. The driver, an old grey-haired man, leaned against the car’s hood with a cigarette in his mouth and an open newspaper in his hands. The paper was dated two thousand and twenty-one. He was lost in-between the sheets of paper, focused on the current events around the globe. The front-page article read, in huge black letters:
“Is this the end to the pandemic?”
The plane slowly opened to reveal a set of steps; the driver quickly threw his cigarette on the floor and agitatedly put it out. He shoved the newspaper into the front seat and quickly fixed his tie as he hustled towards the stairs. A lean figure started to emerge.
“Evening Murphy. How was your flight?” the driver asked while reaching for Murphy’s one-piece leather suitcase; Murphy shrugged off the help.
Murphy looked completely different at first glance; the almost ten years that had passed since he last met with James, were clearly visible. What he had experienced had created a wiser, more dynamic individual. The long hours were evident on his face, but his passion for his job had only intensified. The few strands of grey that were sprinkled through his dark hair increased the sense of wisdom and prestige surrounding him.
“The flight was long. Long and rough. I desperately need a drink,” Murphy replied while walking down the plane’s staircase. He looked grumpy and exhausted. “And it’s freezing cold, that’s one of the many reasons I don’t like New York,” he continued while removing a beanie hat from his luggage and covering his hair.
He wasn’t dressed for the occasion. The weather in New York was one of the worst in years, with temperatures struggling to inch past below zero. Murphy was not prepared at all, wearing his classic button-up shirt, blazer, and jeans. The only weather-appropriate piece of clothing was his cowboy boots, which he wore as frequently as possible.
“What other reasons do you hate New York for?” the driver asked with a grin on his face while following him towards the car.
“Well, people. There’re too many people in New York. How are you doing, Ethan?”
“Except for the fact that I’m running only on one hour of sleep?” Ethan asked sarcastically. “I’m doing great, but I don’t think it’s going to last. Am I right?”
Ethan opened the car’s back door for Murphy. Murphy, with one foot in, paused for a minute and looked at Ethan with a sense of compassion. He nodded in agreement. He didn’t want to make fake promises.
“I don’t think it's going to be a very long night. No promises, but I am hoping it’s just a quick thing. In and out.” Murphy quickly got in the car while Ethan took a deep breath.
A family man, Ethan ditched his wife and daughter in the middle of dinner. His last words to them, a simple promise that he would return before they got to bed. A commitment that he would not be able to keep. He shut the door to the back seat, forcefully.
Murphy quickly pulled a yellow dossier from the seat next to him and meticulously started studying the contents while Ethan fidgeted in the driver’s seat. The car’s engine resounded as the engine turned over.
“Where to?” Ethan asked.
Murphy was too absorbed in the folder’s intriguing information; his eyes nailed on the first page:
Name:
James Collin
Nationality:
British
Date of Birth:
16th September 1975
Employer:
MI-6
Background:
2000 to 2004 – British Special Forces
2004 to 2012 – MI-6
Skills:
Espionage, Cryptography, Cryptanalysis
The list went on, revealing numerous trivial and personal information of MI6 agent James Collin. Since their last meeting, they hadn’t had any crucial interactions, just casual crossings. Murphy did hear rumors about him. Reading through his file, Murphy was kind of envious of the information listed on his resume, but a few phrases stood out more profoundly: Ticking bomb; unreliable; liability; not to be trusted with sensitive information. Those phrases made Murphy feel a sense of relief, as they made his