{ Look Like the Innocent Flower }
Look Like the Innocent Flower
post 6.08; Ros Myers, Juliet Shaw
She blames three people for her demise.
Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't.'
- Act 1, Scene V of Macbeth.
She lets the tears fall as she sits down.
She has lost everything; her job, her lover, her life. Her neighbour touches her arm and asks her if she is all right. It makes her want to laugh; how could she explain to this stranger, this kind-hearted stranger, that he is sitting next to a 'dirty' spy, a traitor? She doesn't try; instead she tells him that she is missing her partner. He laughs and touches her arm again, reassuring her that there is no need for tears, she'll see him again.
Ros doesn't try and correct him.
She knows she will never see any of them again.
She won't see Adam, with his handsome face and hands that could be tender one moment and deadly in another.
She won't see Harry, the man who has become her anchor. She finds that her conscience now speaks with his voice; his praise and his consternations. Right now all she can hear is three words 'My outstanding officer!'
She won't see Jo; beautiful Jo with a heart not yet tarnished by this life. Ros wonders how long it will before something takes hold of Jo's heart and squeezes it tight, drawing out all that kindness until she is as cold as Ros herself.
Ros hopes that never happens; she isn't the sort of person you should emulate.
She won't see Malcolm; brilliant Malcolm, so sharp and analytical yet so attuned to those around him. Without Malcolm, Ros won't have someone to simply talk to about anything except work.
She won't see Connie; the woman she knows she will become. Cunning Connie who knows exactly how everyone thinks and how everyone works.
Ros turns away from her neighbour, who continues to talk in a vain attempt to cheer her up, and cups her chin with her hand and looks out the window, saying 'goodbye' to England.
--
Russia is as she remembers it; cold and dreary, and Ros walks through the streets with her hands deep inside her pockets. Adam had given her a great deal of money, enough that she need not work for a while. People pass, though she sees no one, and she finally comes to rest at a bridge and looks out over the water. It reminds her of Adam and she quickly begins walking again.
He has been haunting her lately; more than she wishes. She keeps reliving their time in the field, assuring herself that what she said there was true.
"Me and you is broken."
Adam's voice tells her she is wrong.
"We could try."
Ros shakes her head and quickens her pace, leaving phantom Adam behind.
That night, she finds she can't shake his presence.
She should have known it wouldn't take phantom Adam long to find her and she turns her back on him and curls into herself. Ros tries to make herself smaller, to make him leave her alone, but he remains ever-present, mere footsteps away.
She loves him; she knows that now.
Ros rolls over, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he is already gone. The curtains rustle though there is no wind and she wonders if it were him slipping through the window. The logical part of her dismisses the idea and she swings her legs around and sits upright, holding her head in her hands.
She wants to go back; to him, to the Grid, to England.
Ros stands and pads across the room to the bathroom where she splashes water onto her face. She has an epiphany and leans against the vanity, wondering why she didn't see it before. She calls Harry, at home rather than on the Grid, and she waits whilst he splutters at the other end. She realises that Adam hadn't told him and imagines that receiving a phone call from a dead woman would be strange indeed. After a pause he asks the pertinent question.
"You want to come back?"
She smiles, and hopes that he can see this despite being so far away.
"Of course, though I need some time before I can start."
Her epiphany includes her revenge to those who took her life away.
"Ros..."
She cuts him off.
"Please, Harry?"
For once she is asking rather than simply stating and she waits with bated breath for him to reply.
"Will one month be enough?"
"Yes."
There is silence between them which Harry breaks.
"Good luck, Ros."
She doesn't respond and he hands up the phone. Ros looks around her hotel room and gathers her things. She has one month and despite what she said to Harry, Ros knows she will need every minute. Shalto and Magritte will be easy enough to find, but Juliet is another matter.
And Juliet is the one she cares most about.
--
Yalta has been disbanded, but Ros follows a lead from an Algerian source and discovers that Magritte is hiding in France, in a small village near Paris. She catches a plane the next day and finds Magritte's flat easily. She lives on the top floor but Ros picks the lock and waits in the living room, leaning against the wall in the shadows. Magritte enters at five o'clock, looking as Ros remembers, and places her keys on the bench and continues into the living room.
She doesn't see Ros until she speaks.
"Bonjour."
Instantly Magritte reaches inside her coat for her gun but Ros is quicker and shoots her in the leg. The bullet passes cleanly through her thigh and Magritte falls to the ground. Ros admits she is impressed by the other woman who has only given one cry of pain. Most would be howling in agony but Magritte merely watches as Ros approaches and kneels down. She takes the gun from Magritte and tucks it into her jeans.
"I watched you die," Magritte says, becoming paler by the second as she loses blood.
Ros smiles.
"Yes, you did."
Her voice is soft, almost seductive, and she sits down on the sofa and crosses her legs. Magritte doesn't move, perhaps she can't, and less than a minute later she is still. Ros rises and leans down to touch her neck.
There is no pulse.
She smiles again as she steps over Magritte's body and begins to search the small flat looking for Shalto or Juliet's location. In a small book, hidden in a bedside drawer, she discovers that Shalto is now living in Prague.
She leaves for Prague that night.
--
Shalto's tastes are more grandiose than Magritte's; something that doesn't surprise Ros. She sits in her rented car outside his apartment, which is the entire fifth floor, and sips coffee. As she brown liquid touches her lips she is reminded how many times she sat in the car with Adam; how many conversations they shared. She places the coffee in the cup holder and can't help smile as one of the more recent memories brings itself forward.
"Unless you're planning on a one-man mission to Tehran by tea time."
"Don't put it past me."
She misses him. She misses cocky Adam, with his contagious smile; she misses lover Adam, with his soft hands; she even misses dangerous Adam who held a needle to her throat.
She misses him.
Shalto walks along the footpath, with his curious shuffling gait, and Ros winds down the window. She wants to taunt him before she kills him. His attention is caught by the moving glass and she turns her face away and only lets her hair show. Ros' hair is distinctive, she knows that, and she knows that Shalto will start to panic, though he won't show it to the outside world. Ros raises the window and pulls out from the footpath. She drives past Shalto, knowing he can't see through the tinted glass, and allows a smirk to tug at her lips.
Shalto will soon wish he had never recruited her into Yalta.
--
Ros slips into Shalto's apartment building after a delivery man and ascends the stairs. She steps out into the fifth floor hallway and walks to the door. Ros scans the door with the trained eye of a spook and notices the hair that sits between the frame and the door. It is an old spy trick, and she picks the lock anyway and slinks inside the apartment.
On a whim she replaces Shalto's hair with a strand of her own.
As she sits on the kitchen bench she hopes the old man doesn't have a heart attack before she kills him. Shalto enters slowly minutes later, and he creeps around the corner and turns on the light. Ros' eyes take a moment to adjust but she is already training a gun on him. She and Shalto both know her aim is nigh surpassed and he stands still, his hands held loosely at his side. Like Magritte, his eyes are wide as looks at the living dead.
Nosferatu.
"Rosalind," he says finally. "What brings you here?"
Ros raises one eyebrow. If the old man thinks he can trick her with mind games he is mistaken.
"You," she answers succinctly.
"I thought so."
He steps into the kitchen and they are only six feet apart. He moves forward again and Ros pulls the trigger. She aims for the right side of the chest, so he will have time to tell her where Juliet is before he dies, and Shalto falls to the ground, gasping for air. He reaches up, his eyes begging and Ros kicks his hand away.
"Where is she?"
Shalto shakes his head. He is on his back now, holding his hand to his chest in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding, and Ros knows he will not tell him Juliet's location.
She shoots him again, this time between the eyes.
Ros searches the apartment but she can't find an address book but there is a key to a safe-deposit box. She walks to the bank and places the key on the counter. She knows there are security cameras and knows she is taking a risk but she wants Juliet.
And she will do anything to find Juliet.
The young man behind the counter falls easily as she batters her eyelashes and he hurries away and comes back with the box. Inside is a small, black notepad and Ros flicks through the pages. All she finds are old names and addresses and she feels annoyance flood through her veins until her eyes fall on a hastily written number.
64-4-4722722
She thanks the young man, who blushes and stammers something. Ros doesn't listen and she walks outside and takes out her mobile. She dials the number, not surprised when a grating accent answers.
Intercontinental Hotel, Wellington.
Juliet is in New Zealand.
--
The flight takes seventeen hours and Ros is tired when she steps off the plane. It is summer in New Zealand and she takes off her overcoat and drapes it over her arm. Slowly she makes her way to a nearby hotel where she fights the urge to collapse onto the bed. Instead she takes out the laptop she bought in Prague and sits it over her knees. In an instant she has brought up her banking details and a smile flickers across her face as she sees that the sale of her house has gone through.
She is a wealthy woman.
Tiredness abated, Ros changes her clothes and hurries out the door.
She needs a change of wardrobe before she can go to the Intercontinental Hotel.
--
Ros catches a glimpse of herself in the hotel lobby and assesses her appearance for the umpteenth time that day. She is well aware she is attractive and as her eyes look over every inch of her body, she fancies she can see Adam over her shoulder, knowing he would approve. She has chosen a simple outfit; one that is understated yet screams 'money.' She approaches the front desk and quickly books a room. As the receptionist turns her back briefly Ros reaches over the counter and takes the woman's security pass. She slips it into her jacket pocket and smiles as the woman hands her the key to the room. Ros has chosen one of the larger suites and she walks toward the lifts quickly, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
Once inside her hotel room, she withdraws the card and places it on the coffee table.
Satisfied with her days work, she strips off her expensive clothing, and moves to the bedroom where she gets beneath the sheets.
Moments later she is asleep.
Like most nights she dreams of what she has lost. The dreams are so real that she can almost feel Adam's arms around her waist, pulling her close. She can almost feel his lips against hers, against her neck, against her collarbone but when she wakes she is alone. Ros' eyes are open and she looks out the French doors. The sky is clear and is spattered with stars. Part of her, the often suppressed romantic part, wonders if Adam looks at the same stars.
She doubts it.
She wonders if Adam has been able to move on; if he has found another Ana.
She doubts it.
--
Ros takes more precautions getting into Juliet's hotel room. She opts for one of the more dangerous routes and she allows herself to fall onto the veranda from the room above. She lands without a noise and creeps through the French doors. The suite is empty, with Juliet at dinner, and Ros quickly searches the room, finding three guns hidden in various places; one in a bedside drawer, one beneath the dining room table and one in a small hutch.
Juliet is - as ever - cautious.
Ros walks to the kitchen and takes out one of the bottles of wine. She pours herself a glass of white wine and sits down on the sofa, waiting for Juliet to walk through the door. She is only mid-way through her wine when she hears the door open. Ros peers through the darkness as Juliet places her keys on the small table and moves toward the living room. She turns on the light and Ros watches in satisfaction as she is struck dumb.
"Hello, Juliet," Ros says, breaking the silence.
The other woman moves toward the hutch and Ros lets her open the small drawer, amused when annoyance and a thread of fear flashes over Juliet's face.
"Harry trained me too well, I'm afraid."
She nods toward the three guns she has unloaded and placed on the coffee table.
Juliet takes a deep breath as she crosses the room and sits opposite Ros.
"Serpentine to the last," Juliet says, a touch of admiration in her voice.
"Indeed."
Juliet crosses her legs and feigns nonchalance.
"Should we get this over-"
Ros doesn't allow her to finish her sentence as she pulls the trigger. The muffled gunshot rings through the room as Juliet slumps forward. Ros takes no chances and rises to her feet and shoots her again. Satisfied her quarry is now dead, Ros turns on her heels and walks to the door. She had disabled the video cameras the previous night and isn't worried as she goes to the elevator and presses 'down.'
She glances at her watch; she can make the airport in one hour and be in Moscow tomorrow.
From there, her work will begin.
She can't wait.
post 6.08; Ros Myers, Juliet Shaw
She blames three people for her demise.
Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't.'
- Act 1, Scene V of Macbeth.
She lets the tears fall as she sits down.
She has lost everything; her job, her lover, her life. Her neighbour touches her arm and asks her if she is all right. It makes her want to laugh; how could she explain to this stranger, this kind-hearted stranger, that he is sitting next to a 'dirty' spy, a traitor? She doesn't try; instead she tells him that she is missing her partner. He laughs and touches her arm again, reassuring her that there is no need for tears, she'll see him again.
Ros doesn't try and correct him.
She knows she will never see any of them again.
She won't see Adam, with his handsome face and hands that could be tender one moment and deadly in another.
She won't see Harry, the man who has become her anchor. She finds that her conscience now speaks with his voice; his praise and his consternations. Right now all she can hear is three words 'My outstanding officer!'
She won't see Jo; beautiful Jo with a heart not yet tarnished by this life. Ros wonders how long it will before something takes hold of Jo's heart and squeezes it tight, drawing out all that kindness until she is as cold as Ros herself.
Ros hopes that never happens; she isn't the sort of person you should emulate.
She won't see Malcolm; brilliant Malcolm, so sharp and analytical yet so attuned to those around him. Without Malcolm, Ros won't have someone to simply talk to about anything except work.
She won't see Connie; the woman she knows she will become. Cunning Connie who knows exactly how everyone thinks and how everyone works.
Ros turns away from her neighbour, who continues to talk in a vain attempt to cheer her up, and cups her chin with her hand and looks out the window, saying 'goodbye' to England.
--
Russia is as she remembers it; cold and dreary, and Ros walks through the streets with her hands deep inside her pockets. Adam had given her a great deal of money, enough that she need not work for a while. People pass, though she sees no one, and she finally comes to rest at a bridge and looks out over the water. It reminds her of Adam and she quickly begins walking again.
He has been haunting her lately; more than she wishes. She keeps reliving their time in the field, assuring herself that what she said there was true.
"Me and you is broken."
Adam's voice tells her she is wrong.
"We could try."
Ros shakes her head and quickens her pace, leaving phantom Adam behind.
That night, she finds she can't shake his presence.
She should have known it wouldn't take phantom Adam long to find her and she turns her back on him and curls into herself. Ros tries to make herself smaller, to make him leave her alone, but he remains ever-present, mere footsteps away.
She loves him; she knows that now.
Ros rolls over, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he is already gone. The curtains rustle though there is no wind and she wonders if it were him slipping through the window. The logical part of her dismisses the idea and she swings her legs around and sits upright, holding her head in her hands.
She wants to go back; to him, to the Grid, to England.
Ros stands and pads across the room to the bathroom where she splashes water onto her face. She has an epiphany and leans against the vanity, wondering why she didn't see it before. She calls Harry, at home rather than on the Grid, and she waits whilst he splutters at the other end. She realises that Adam hadn't told him and imagines that receiving a phone call from a dead woman would be strange indeed. After a pause he asks the pertinent question.
"You want to come back?"
She smiles, and hopes that he can see this despite being so far away.
"Of course, though I need some time before I can start."
Her epiphany includes her revenge to those who took her life away.
"Ros..."
She cuts him off.
"Please, Harry?"
For once she is asking rather than simply stating and she waits with bated breath for him to reply.
"Will one month be enough?"
"Yes."
There is silence between them which Harry breaks.
"Good luck, Ros."
She doesn't respond and he hands up the phone. Ros looks around her hotel room and gathers her things. She has one month and despite what she said to Harry, Ros knows she will need every minute. Shalto and Magritte will be easy enough to find, but Juliet is another matter.
And Juliet is the one she cares most about.
--
Yalta has been disbanded, but Ros follows a lead from an Algerian source and discovers that Magritte is hiding in France, in a small village near Paris. She catches a plane the next day and finds Magritte's flat easily. She lives on the top floor but Ros picks the lock and waits in the living room, leaning against the wall in the shadows. Magritte enters at five o'clock, looking as Ros remembers, and places her keys on the bench and continues into the living room.
She doesn't see Ros until she speaks.
"Bonjour."
Instantly Magritte reaches inside her coat for her gun but Ros is quicker and shoots her in the leg. The bullet passes cleanly through her thigh and Magritte falls to the ground. Ros admits she is impressed by the other woman who has only given one cry of pain. Most would be howling in agony but Magritte merely watches as Ros approaches and kneels down. She takes the gun from Magritte and tucks it into her jeans.
"I watched you die," Magritte says, becoming paler by the second as she loses blood.
Ros smiles.
"Yes, you did."
Her voice is soft, almost seductive, and she sits down on the sofa and crosses her legs. Magritte doesn't move, perhaps she can't, and less than a minute later she is still. Ros rises and leans down to touch her neck.
There is no pulse.
She smiles again as she steps over Magritte's body and begins to search the small flat looking for Shalto or Juliet's location. In a small book, hidden in a bedside drawer, she discovers that Shalto is now living in Prague.
She leaves for Prague that night.
--
Shalto's tastes are more grandiose than Magritte's; something that doesn't surprise Ros. She sits in her rented car outside his apartment, which is the entire fifth floor, and sips coffee. As she brown liquid touches her lips she is reminded how many times she sat in the car with Adam; how many conversations they shared. She places the coffee in the cup holder and can't help smile as one of the more recent memories brings itself forward.
"Unless you're planning on a one-man mission to Tehran by tea time."
"Don't put it past me."
She misses him. She misses cocky Adam, with his contagious smile; she misses lover Adam, with his soft hands; she even misses dangerous Adam who held a needle to her throat.
She misses him.
Shalto walks along the footpath, with his curious shuffling gait, and Ros winds down the window. She wants to taunt him before she kills him. His attention is caught by the moving glass and she turns her face away and only lets her hair show. Ros' hair is distinctive, she knows that, and she knows that Shalto will start to panic, though he won't show it to the outside world. Ros raises the window and pulls out from the footpath. She drives past Shalto, knowing he can't see through the tinted glass, and allows a smirk to tug at her lips.
Shalto will soon wish he had never recruited her into Yalta.
--
Ros slips into Shalto's apartment building after a delivery man and ascends the stairs. She steps out into the fifth floor hallway and walks to the door. Ros scans the door with the trained eye of a spook and notices the hair that sits between the frame and the door. It is an old spy trick, and she picks the lock anyway and slinks inside the apartment.
On a whim she replaces Shalto's hair with a strand of her own.
As she sits on the kitchen bench she hopes the old man doesn't have a heart attack before she kills him. Shalto enters slowly minutes later, and he creeps around the corner and turns on the light. Ros' eyes take a moment to adjust but she is already training a gun on him. She and Shalto both know her aim is nigh surpassed and he stands still, his hands held loosely at his side. Like Magritte, his eyes are wide as looks at the living dead.
Nosferatu.
"Rosalind," he says finally. "What brings you here?"
Ros raises one eyebrow. If the old man thinks he can trick her with mind games he is mistaken.
"You," she answers succinctly.
"I thought so."
He steps into the kitchen and they are only six feet apart. He moves forward again and Ros pulls the trigger. She aims for the right side of the chest, so he will have time to tell her where Juliet is before he dies, and Shalto falls to the ground, gasping for air. He reaches up, his eyes begging and Ros kicks his hand away.
"Where is she?"
Shalto shakes his head. He is on his back now, holding his hand to his chest in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding, and Ros knows he will not tell him Juliet's location.
She shoots him again, this time between the eyes.
Ros searches the apartment but she can't find an address book but there is a key to a safe-deposit box. She walks to the bank and places the key on the counter. She knows there are security cameras and knows she is taking a risk but she wants Juliet.
And she will do anything to find Juliet.
The young man behind the counter falls easily as she batters her eyelashes and he hurries away and comes back with the box. Inside is a small, black notepad and Ros flicks through the pages. All she finds are old names and addresses and she feels annoyance flood through her veins until her eyes fall on a hastily written number.
64-4-4722722
She thanks the young man, who blushes and stammers something. Ros doesn't listen and she walks outside and takes out her mobile. She dials the number, not surprised when a grating accent answers.
Intercontinental Hotel, Wellington.
Juliet is in New Zealand.
--
The flight takes seventeen hours and Ros is tired when she steps off the plane. It is summer in New Zealand and she takes off her overcoat and drapes it over her arm. Slowly she makes her way to a nearby hotel where she fights the urge to collapse onto the bed. Instead she takes out the laptop she bought in Prague and sits it over her knees. In an instant she has brought up her banking details and a smile flickers across her face as she sees that the sale of her house has gone through.
She is a wealthy woman.
Tiredness abated, Ros changes her clothes and hurries out the door.
She needs a change of wardrobe before she can go to the Intercontinental Hotel.
--
Ros catches a glimpse of herself in the hotel lobby and assesses her appearance for the umpteenth time that day. She is well aware she is attractive and as her eyes look over every inch of her body, she fancies she can see Adam over her shoulder, knowing he would approve. She has chosen a simple outfit; one that is understated yet screams 'money.' She approaches the front desk and quickly books a room. As the receptionist turns her back briefly Ros reaches over the counter and takes the woman's security pass. She slips it into her jacket pocket and smiles as the woman hands her the key to the room. Ros has chosen one of the larger suites and she walks toward the lifts quickly, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
Once inside her hotel room, she withdraws the card and places it on the coffee table.
Satisfied with her days work, she strips off her expensive clothing, and moves to the bedroom where she gets beneath the sheets.
Moments later she is asleep.
Like most nights she dreams of what she has lost. The dreams are so real that she can almost feel Adam's arms around her waist, pulling her close. She can almost feel his lips against hers, against her neck, against her collarbone but when she wakes she is alone. Ros' eyes are open and she looks out the French doors. The sky is clear and is spattered with stars. Part of her, the often suppressed romantic part, wonders if Adam looks at the same stars.
She doubts it.
She wonders if Adam has been able to move on; if he has found another Ana.
She doubts it.
--
Ros takes more precautions getting into Juliet's hotel room. She opts for one of the more dangerous routes and she allows herself to fall onto the veranda from the room above. She lands without a noise and creeps through the French doors. The suite is empty, with Juliet at dinner, and Ros quickly searches the room, finding three guns hidden in various places; one in a bedside drawer, one beneath the dining room table and one in a small hutch.
Juliet is - as ever - cautious.
Ros walks to the kitchen and takes out one of the bottles of wine. She pours herself a glass of white wine and sits down on the sofa, waiting for Juliet to walk through the door. She is only mid-way through her wine when she hears the door open. Ros peers through the darkness as Juliet places her keys on the small table and moves toward the living room. She turns on the light and Ros watches in satisfaction as she is struck dumb.
"Hello, Juliet," Ros says, breaking the silence.
The other woman moves toward the hutch and Ros lets her open the small drawer, amused when annoyance and a thread of fear flashes over Juliet's face.
"Harry trained me too well, I'm afraid."
She nods toward the three guns she has unloaded and placed on the coffee table.
Juliet takes a deep breath as she crosses the room and sits opposite Ros.
"Serpentine to the last," Juliet says, a touch of admiration in her voice.
"Indeed."
Juliet crosses her legs and feigns nonchalance.
"Should we get this over-"
Ros doesn't allow her to finish her sentence as she pulls the trigger. The muffled gunshot rings through the room as Juliet slumps forward. Ros takes no chances and rises to her feet and shoots her again. Satisfied her quarry is now dead, Ros turns on her heels and walks to the door. She had disabled the video cameras the previous night and isn't worried as she goes to the elevator and presses 'down.'
She glances at her watch; she can make the airport in one hour and be in Moscow tomorrow.
From there, her work will begin.
She can't wait.