Camilla was on the edge of a strange dream with crotchless when she snapped back. No time for that. She rolled out of bed and headed straight for a cold shower, letting it slap her awake. In the mirror, her face stared back at her. Make-up could wait. Maxley could wait.

Dressed in minutes, her mind already whirring with the complexities of the day ahead, she moved to her office. The door—slightly open. That was enough to jolt her senses into high alert.

Inside, a tall figure stood by the images on the wall. General Philip Morgan. The man appeared like a ghost, always when least expected. His presence was both a comfort and warning.

"Good to see you, professor," Morgan said, his smile wide.

"General," Camilla replied, apprehension unspoken between them.

Morgan didn’t waste time. He wanted an update. Camilla gave it straight. “Top suspect is Gordon Adams. Cleaning Manager with access to top-secret areas. Moonlights as crotchless Spiderman. He’s getting paid seventy grand in gigs every year. Someone’s feeding him. He’s the hotspot at Maxley.”

Morgan listened, absorbing every word, the weight of his presence shifting the air in the room. He asked how he could assist. Camilla didn’t hesitate.

“I need updates on all foreign operatives. Shortlist every spy in the area.”

Morgan nodded, eyes cold with intent. “That’ll be my number one priority.”

His timing was perfect. Before leaving, Morgan gave Camilla a firm pat on the shoulder and added in a low voice, “Watch yourself on this one. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

The words hung in the air after Morgan left. Camilla felt it too. Greg had died on their last mission, and this one was shaping up to be just as dangerous. Shaking it off, she headed out—and bumped into Ben.

“Was that Morgan?” Ben asked.

“Yeah,” Camilla replied, keeping it brief.

Upstairs, Eric and Harrier were already at the breakfast table. Camilla scanned their faces. “You two get any sleep?”

Eric had. Harrier’s guilty look said enough. Breakfast was routine, the kind of meal where no one tasted anything, minds already on the day ahead.

They moved to the meeting room, the air thick with tension. Camilla broke the silence. “Anything happen overnight?”

Ben was first. “Checked in with everyone. Nothing.”

Harrier spoke next. “I spoke to Hunter’s Commanding Officer. He agreed he’s not ready for Military Command, so he’s coming to us today.”

Ben perked up. “Who’s Hunter?”

Camilla filled him in. Harrier reassured them. “Hunter’s been vetted thoroughly. No issues.”

Camilla smiled, nodding. “Good work, Harrier. Now, today’s priority is Adams. We need to find his handler, the one feeding him. That could break this open. But don’t get tunnel vision. We’ve got multiple threads here. We are getting a full list of every spy in the UK—their names, locations, agendas.”

Ben and Harrier nodded, sharp and focused. Camilla continued. “How does Adams’ communicate? Ben?”

Ben rattled off the list. “Gmail and Twitter, though he’s not very active. We’ve got a fake Facebook account. He accepted our friend request. He’s close to the 5,000-friend limit. No dark web activity so far. He’s slow on the keyboard, bad spelling. We’re checking for dead drops or innocent-seeming posts. Basic spy-craft.”

Alec appeared in the doorway. “Cleaner just got his regional newspaper delivered.”

Camilla half-smiled. “Thanks, Alec. ” Harrier was already suggesting the military code-cracking team take a look at the paper.

Camilla knew they needed CC1—the elite code-cracking unit. Eric offered ground support. “I can get out there and do some surveillance. And maybe bring a few more hands to the game.”

Camilla nodded. “Let’s get those extra hands.”

Ben visibly relaxed. The team was pulling together. Camilla added, “And let’s not forget, Adams isn’t alone. Someone’s feeding him leads from somewhere.”

The maze was growing clearer. But every step forward felt like it could trigger something lethal.

They adjourned. Camilla returned to her office, pinning notes to the wall, connecting dots. Adams was at the centre of something far bigger. The real players were still in the shadows.

Harrier poked her head in. “Hunter should be here by dinner.”

Camilla glanced up. “Willingly or kicking and screaming?”

Harrier grinned. “Willingly Camilla.”

Camilla chuckled. “How many suitcases?”

Harrier paused, smirking. “I’ll spy on him when he arrives.”

Moments later, she returned with a report. “Two foreign operatives in the area.”

Camilla took the report and circled a third name. The usual suspects—Russia, China—were already in play. Now North Korea was in the mix.

An emergency briefing was called. They gathered quickly, tension thick. Ben grabbed his phone, “I’ll get onto Military HQ for a situation report.”

Ben’s call confirmed the Russians and Chinese were already being watched. North Korea? Unchecked. Not for long. Camilla laid out the strategy, razor-sharp.

“We go through the front door on this one. Full recon. Move in. Arrest everyone. Strip everything—files, computers, the works. Leave nothing.”

Ben and Harrier mobilised, gathering intel. The plan was in motion.

Hunter arrived, his tactical mind on-point. Camilla welcomed him, giving a quick tour of the office.

Camilla’s secure phone rang, so Harrier whisked Hunter away for the full tour, seamlessly slotting him into the team.

But unease clawed at Camilla. Hunter was stepping into Greg's shoes, and that wouldn't be easy. Hunter didn't have the full picture. After dinner, she pulled him aside.

“I need to be upfront with you. You’re taking over the role of someone who was more than just a colleague. His name was Greg. He was killed on the last mission.”

Hunter met her gaze. “What happened?”

Camilla explained the raid. “We took fire. Tactical, but fatal. Your role won’t be like his, but there’s danger. We’re talking £400 million and state secrets.”

Hunter didn’t flinch. “I’m in, all the way.”

Camilla nodded, relieved. “Good. Though I still haven’t figured out how you beat me at chess.”

Hunter laughed. “Care for a rematch?”

“Now? ” Camilla said.

Before they could continue, Harrier reappeared. “Next meeting?”

The tension in the meeting room was electric. Camilla started. “Anything new?”

Harrier reported. “CC1 found nothing in Adams' newspaper.”

Ben added. “Picked up a possible radio signal near Adams' house. Could be short-wave comms. We’re still checking.”

Camilla nodded. “Good. Anything else?”

Ben continued. “Wellington’s at his club. Mrs Wellington’s rent boy is on site. Gordon’s got a gig tonight. We’ve got extra hands on the Koreans tomorrow.”

The pieces were moving. The operation was escalating.

Everyone took positions in the Ops Centre, including Hunter, tension palpable. Nine guests were on their way to Gordon’s depraved show, and Camilla’s team was ready. Each face caught on camera was analysed.

Then MI5 got a hit—Josh Barron, known drug dealer. Another piece in the puzzle.

Harrier couldn’t help but laugh. “Has the show started?”

Camilla shot her a look. “Keep it together.”

Ben stayed focused. “Any link between the Wellingtons and drugs?”

“Nothing solid yet. We could arrange a drug test Monday,” Ben suggested.

Camilla nodded. “Do it. No one exempt.”

Just then, Ben’s team reported. “Rent boy’s gone.”

Camilla tensed. “Can we get his place wired?”

Ben sighed. “Too risky. The building’s full of paranoid dealers.”

Harrier jumped in. “I can help with that. I’ll see if the council has any flats overlooking.”

Ben nodded, relief flickering across his face. “I’ll take any help.”

“I’ll get onto the council tomorrow,” Harrier added.

“We’ll monitor his phone,” Ben said. “And if the team can get close, we’ll plant a tracker on his car.”

The train was picking up speed, and F2-1C was hurtling towards something explosive.

=================================================

Chapter Three The Cleaner and the Pimp

Hunter was just about to slip into one of those strange dreams where everyone was wearing crotchless outfits when he yanked himself back to reality. Lingering in bizarre fantasies was not on his agenda. He jolted out of bed and headed straight for the shower, letting the cold water sharpen his senses. Staring into the mirror, he noted the scruff creeping in. No need for a shave today—he wasn’t planning to face the fire at Maxley. Not yet.

He dressed quickly, mind humming with the complexities of the operation. His big chess game had just begun, and every move from here would matter. There was still time before breakfast, so he made his way to his office. Approaching the door, something immediately felt off. It was open—just enough to send a spike of alertness through him.

Inside, a tall, slim figure loomed. It was General Philip Morgan, a ghost in the military, always appearing when least expected and vanishing just as quickly. The General’s presence was both a comfort and a warning.

"Good to see you, professor," Morgan greeted him, his smile tight.

"Good to see you too, boss," Hunter replied, the air between them charged with unspoken tension.

Morgan wasted no time. He wanted an update. Hunter laid it out, concise and to the point. "Our top suspect is Gordon Adams, a Cleaning Manager with access to top-secret areas. He moonlights as a superhero—Spiderman, to be exact. But not just any Spiderman. Crotchless Spiderman. Someone is feeding him around seventy thousand pounds worth of gigs every year. That’s where we need to dig deep. I’ve only interviewed the top two at Maxley so far. Today, I’m focusing on this cleaner—he’s the hotspot."

The General listened, absorbing every word. His presence always carried weight, the kind that shifted the air in the room. He asked how he could assist. Hunter didn’t hesitate. "I need updates on all foreign spies—where they are, what their agendas might be. We need to shortlist all possible foreign suspects, especially in this area."

Morgan nodded, a promise of action in his gaze. “That will be my number one priority. I’ll be all over it.”

His sudden appearance was perfectly timed, a reinforcement when Hunter needed it most. The General’s parting words were a mix of soldierly wit and something darker. “Sorry, I can't stay long old chum, I’ve got a date with a hot Russian prostitute.” They both laughed, but as Morgan left, he gave Hunter a firm pat on the back and added in a low voice, “Watch yourself on this one. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

The warning lingered in the air after Morgan’s departure. Hunter stood for a moment, letting the reality of it sink in. Wayne had died on their last mission, and this one felt like it was shaping up to be even more perilous. Shaking off the dark thoughts, Hunter turned to leave—and bumped straight into Ben.

"Was that Morgan I just saw?" Ben asked, a frown forming.

"Yes," Hunter replied, curt and to the point. That was all that needed to be said.

Upstairs, Eric and Harrier were already at the breakfast table. Hunter scanned their faces, reading the exhaustion beneath their professionalism. "Did you two get an early night?" he asked, his tone light but probing.

Eric had, but Harrier’s guilty look told the usual story. Getting Harrier to rest was a mission in itself, but she never faltered in her work, so Hunter let it slide. Breakfast was routine, the kind of meal you ate without tasting, minds already locked on the battleground ahead.

The meeting kicked off soon after. The air crackled with anticipation as Hunter asked, “Anything happen overnight?”

Ben responded first. "Checked in with everyone—nothing of relevance."

Harrier followed. "I spoke to Kate’s Commanding Officer. He agreed she’s not ready for Military Command , so he’s sending her our way today."

Ben perked up, "Who’s Kate?"

Hunter quickly filled him in. Harrier reassured them that Kate had been thoroughly vetted, and Ben relaxed, the tension easing from his shoulders.

Hunter smiled, the responsibility of leadership showing in his measured tone. “Well done for making that happen, Harrier. Now, we’re not changing much today. Let’s keep everything steady, but we’re doubling down on this cleaner, Gordon Adams. We need to find his handler—the one feeding him all this business. It’s crucial. This could crack everything open, but we can’t get tunnel vision. There are likely multiple threads at play here. Today, we are getting a list of every known spy in the UK—their names, locations, agendas.”

Ben and Harrier both nodded. This was the kind of asset they needed—intelligence that could turn the tide.

Hunter continued, “We also need to run through all the possible ways Gordon could be communicating. Let’s hit the likely methods first. Ben?”

Ben read from a list. “He’s got a Gmail and Twitter account, though he’s not very active. Facebook—we set up a fake account, and he accepted our friend request. He’s close to the 5,000-friend limit, so we’re sifting through. He does go online, but we haven’t seen him on the dark web—he’s not exactly tech-savvy. He takes ages to write something, and his spelling is atrocious. We’ll leave the complex methods such as anything to do with codes from the list for now.. I’m thinking more along the lines of dead drops or innocent-seeming social media posts—the basic spy-craft.”

Just then, Alec appeared in the doorway. His presence always carried an edge of urgency. “Eyes on the cleaner just spotted him getting the regional newspaper delivered.”

Hunter half-smiled. “Thanks, Alec.” Harrier immediately jumped on the opportunity, suggesting she reach out to the military code-cracking team to see if there was anything in the paper worth decoding.

Hunter knew this level of complexity was beyond F2-1C. They needed CC1—the Ministry of Defence’s elite code-cracking unit.

Eric chimed in, offering his boots on the ground. “I don’t mind getting out there and doing some surveillance. Maybe I can also bring in a few extra hands.”

Hunter nodded. Reinforcements were exactly what they needed—this web was vast, and they were spread thin. “Let’s work on getting more hands first.”

Ben visibly relaxed, appreciating the support. They were gearing up for something big, and Hunter could feel the tension tightening around them.

“Let’s not forget,” Hunter added, his tone more serious, “Gordon’s not acting alone. He could have someone inside feeding him information, and we need to find out who.”

The maze was becoming clearer, but it was a labyrinth filled with traps, dead ends, and unseen threats. Hunter and his team were stepping deeper into the heart of the operation, knowing every step forward could trigger something dangerous. But they had a plan, and Gordon Adams was at the centre of it.

The meeting adjourned, and each of them moved to their respective battle stations. Hunter returned to his office, knowing this was just the beginning. The real game was about to start.

Hunter began adding more details to the wall. The tension in the room was thick as he meticulously pinned notes, connecting the dots in his mind. He knew better than to get too fixated on Gordon—there had to be others involved, shadows lurking just out of reach. This was a web of deceit, and he needed to stay sharp.

Just then, Harrier poked her head around the door, her tone light but charged with anticipation. "Kate should be here by dinner time."

Hunter glanced up, curiosity piqued. "Did she come willingly or kicking and screaming?"

"Willingly," Harrier replied, a grin teasing her lips. "She said she couldn’t wait. Left me wondering if you're cheating on me, Hunter."

Hunter let out a sharp laugh, the tension easing for a brief moment. "How many suitcases is she bringing?"

Harrier paused, thinking, then smirked. "Feels like it’s bags packed. I’ll double-check when she arrives and let you know."

As she closed the door behind her, Hunter couldn’t help but smile. Moments later, she burst back in, her energy electric. "I’ve got the latest UK spy report," she announced, her voice filled with urgency. "Quick glance—two foreign operatives in our area."

Hunter’s eyes narrowed as he eagerly snatched the report from her hands. Together, they spread it across the desk, studying the names and locations like predators circling their prey. Hunter quickly circled a third possibility—North Korea. The usual suspects—China and Russia—were already on the hit list, but North Korea was now in the mix. The challenge was clear: get close, watch their every move, and figure out who was reaching out to Gordon.

An emergency briefing was called. The team gathered quickly, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Ben and Eric were brought up to speed in minutes.

"I’ll get onto GCHQ—Government Communications Headquarters," Ben said, already reaching for his phone. "We need to know who’s already watching these targets so we don’t step on any toes."

Things were heating up fast. Ben’s call confirmed what they suspected—there were eyes on the Russians and Chinese. But the North Koreans? They were running unchecked. Not for long. F2-1C was mobilising, and soon, every move would be under scrutiny.

The other agencies monitoring the Russians and Chinese quickly agreed to share intelligence. This was bigger than any single agency—this was a coordinated strike.

Hunter laid out the strategy, his voice calm but with a razor-sharp edge. "Here’s the game plan: we’re going straight through the front door on this one. Full recon, move in, arrest the lot, strip everything—files, computers, the works. We leave nothing."

Ben and Harrier moved fast, gathering intel from the other teams. Data started pouring in, the pieces falling into place.

Just as Hunter was about to dive back into the maze, Kate appeared at his door, her presence like a gust of fresh air in the tense atmosphere. Harrier trailed behind her, holding up two fingers—a silent report on Kate's luggage situation.

Hunter smiled, extending his hand. "Welcome to my world, Kate."

Kate’s excitement was palpable. "No need for any more interviews. If you want me, you've got me. I can’t wait to get stuck into this."

Hunter was pleased—her energy was exactly what they needed. "Welcome aboard, Captain. You’ve arrived just in time. Let me give you a quick tour, introduce you to the team, and then we’ll have dinner. No operational talk over the meal—just social chit-chat. Anything work-related stays down here, where we’re soundproofed from the outside world."

Just then, Hunter’s secure phone rang, interrupting the moment. While he took the call, Harrier whisked Kate off to complete the grand tour and introduce her to the F2-1C team. By the time dinner rolled around, Kate had already slotted in effortlessly, bringing a new dynamic to the group.

But for Hunter, there was an unease on his mind. Kate was taking over the position of someone who had been more than a colleague—Wayne. He knew it was only fair to tell her. After dinner, he took her aside to explain.

"Kate, there’s something you should know," Hunter began, his voice low and serious. "It’s only fair. I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just be direct. I worked here with one of my best friends. He was killed during a gun battle with the Russians. You’re taking over his job."

Kate paused, her eyes reflecting the seriousness of his words. "Can I ask what happened?"

"Of course," Hunter replied, the memory still sharp. "We raided a Russian safe house. They opened fire. It was all tactical, but these things happen. I’m not expecting you to go into the field like Wayne did—he was Special Ops. But this role isn’t without danger. There’s a lot at stake—£400 million, plus state secrets. People will fight back. The first six months will be about getting you up to speed. You’ll know everything I know. Harrier, Eric, Ben—we’re all in this together. There’s a lot to learn. If you’re looking for action and job satisfaction, this is it."

Kate didn’t hesitate. "I’m in, boss. All the way. I signed up to protect this world, not back down when things get tough."

Hunter smiled, relieved. "That’s exactly the spirit I saw in you when we first met. Though, I still haven’t figured out how you cheated at chess."

Kate laughed, the tension breaking. "Well, your tone makes it sound like you’re challenging me again!"

Before they could continue, Harrier appeared at the door. "When’s the next meeting?" she asked.

Hunter glanced at Kate, then back at Harrier. "Let’s do it now."

Harrier smirked at Kate. "You’re about to meet ‘Crotchless.’"

Kate shot a puzzled look at Hunter, who chuckled. "It takes all sorts to make the world go round."

They all gathered in the meeting room, the atmosphere thick with purpose. Hunter started, "Anything new?"

Harrier took the lead. "CC1 found nothing in the newspaper."

Ben followed. "We might have picked up a radio signal near Gordon’s house. Could be short-wave communication. Not jumping to conclusions yet—it could be a nearby amateur enthusiast. We were scanning when we picked it up, but it disappeared as fast as it came."

Hunter nodded, keeping his thoughts tight. "Good work. Anything else?"

Ben continued, "Mr Wellington’s heading to his country club. Mrs Wellington’s rent boy just walked in—same guy as usual. Gordon’s got a gig tonight. Thanks to Eric, we’ve got extra muscle arriving. Tomorrow, we’ll brief them and deploy them on the Koreans."

The pieces were moving, and the game was in full swing. Hunter knew that this operation was only going to get more intense from here. Next on the agenda was the live feed from Gordon's gig to see who the participants were. Hunter brought the meeting to an end so everyone could take up positions in the Operations Centre.

With everyone now at their battle stations in the Ops Centre you could feel the tension and hear the low hum of chatter filling the room. Everyone's focus was razor-sharp, their attention zeroing in on Gordon—the man at the centre of a twisted game Hunter could barely stomach. Nine guests were set to arrive for Gordon’s grotesque show, and Hunter’s mission was clear: identify each of them, track their movements, and piece together how they fit into the larger puzzle. Listening to the depraved conversations coming from Gordon’s apartment made Hunter grit his teeth. This wasn’t his world, and the things Gordon was orchestrating didn’t align with anything Hunter could understand.

One man, the so-called winner of the night’s twisted lottery, had been given the dubious honour of lying in a bath tub to greet guests as they arrived. The ritual? To have each one urinate on him. Hunter clenched his jaw as the well-placed hidden camera caught every face that walked through the door. The images streamed directly to MI5 headquarters, where they were being run through an extensive database of persons of interest.

Suddenly, Ben’s phone rang, cutting through the tension. MI5 had a hit—Josh Barron, a known drug dealer. A target to drill down on.

Harrier couldn’t suppress a laugh any longer, asking with dark humour, "Has the show started?"

Hunter shot her a look, the slightest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Get a grip," he murmured, but the tension in his voice was palpable.

Turning back to Ben, Hunter asked, "Any chance either of the Wellingtons are involved in drugs?"

Ben thought for a moment before replying, “No solid evidence yet, but it’s early days. We could arrange for a drug test on all employees Monday—build a clearer profile on that front.”

Hunter nodded. “Good. Make sure no one slips through, and that includes the directors.”

Alec chimed in. “We’ve got all the details of Wellington’s companions at the country club. Unless someone shows up late, it looks like he’s got himself a card game. The details are already with MI5.”

Ben nodded approvingly, “Well done.” Then he turned to Bingham, who had been keeping tabs on Wellington’s wife. “What’s the status, Bingham?”

Bingham’s voice crackled over the radio, laced with distaste. “The rent boy’s finished his strip show. Now he’s bouncing her up and down on the bed. All I can hear is Mrs W. screaming.”

Hunter cut in sharply, “Get eyes and ears on that rent boy tonight. The moment he leaves, I want to know who he contacts next. Don’t let him out of sight.”

Back at Gordon’s place, the party was in full swing, music pounding so loud it made it nearly impossible to catch any meaningful conversation. But then, another hit came through from MI5—a possible link to North Korean operatives. The lead was thin, barely worth getting excited about, but Hunter filed it away. Every detail mattered.

Alec glanced over at Hunter, frustration creeping into his tone. “If I had to play cards with Wellington tonight, I’d have shot myself. Their conversation is mind-numbing.”

Hunter didn’t miss a beat. “Stay sharp. All it takes is one slip, one nugget of information, and we’ve got them. Keep listening.”

Suddenly, one of Bingham’s men raised his hand. “Rent boy’s leaving.” Ben immediately snapped into action, radioing the team to follow him. Wherever rent boy was headed, Hunter needed answers—and fast.

The game was escalating, and every second counted.

A few minutes later Ben get's the call from Bingham, the team on rent boy had been given the slip – he'd just vanished. Ben gave them strict instructions to go to his apartment and wait for him to get back.

Hunter looked at Ben and said, “Can we get his apartment wired up so we can listen in?”

Ben said, “We've tried. The problem is the building is full of people like him, drug dealers, they are all super paranoid of a strange face – any face. We did look at getting an apartment opposite, this way we can keep a better eye on him.”

Harrier jumped in there, “Can I help you with that Ben?”

Ben's face said it all with a look of relief – things were now getting to a maximum of tense, the train was moving down hill now with no breaks, “Yes, I'll accept any help,”

Harrier said, “I'll get onto the Council first thing tomorrow and see what I can arrange. I'll also get his cell phone monitored. Can the boys stick a tracker on his car when they next catch up with him?”