I walked into my makeshift apartment in Romford. Even though I owned a house in London itself, it fitted my new persona to have a place in Romford too - set up by MI5 naturally. That way I could be on hand whenever things started to get rough. The first thing that I did was to strip out all of the surveillance devices that MI5 had put in place there and replaced them with my own.

Those MI5 devices were soon incinerated. I was not impressed by their over-eager attempts at pinning me down. I did not want to be spied upon while working on the Quantrell case - although for the life of me, I couldn't remember why. I knew it had something to do with the last mission yet the pertinent details completely escaped me.

I sighed and scrubbed my hands over my face, threaded my fingers through my beard to rearrange the tangled strands and readjusted my braid. I ran my gaze over my apartment and wondered if I'd missed anything - anything at all.

I hadn't.

****

The following day, I was awoken by the sound of the phone ringing. I groaned my way into full wakefulness and squinted up at the clock on the wall, past the sunlight that lanced in through a crack in the bedroom curtains. The day was bright which proved that I had slept in quite late - not unheard of on days off for me. I soon realised that it was later than I'd thought, that it was closer to midday than I'd imagined and that I'd missed breakfast by a long shot.

The phone stopped ringing and then started again - I got up and groped my way towards where I'd dropped it on my pile of clothes, in turn draped messily on a chair shoved up against the wall.

"Hello?" I asked blearily.

I didn't catch the name, sleep still fogging my brain into incoherency yet the name - Quantrell's Brasserie - certainly broke through that fog and made me perk up a little.

"Is this Oleksandr Kovalnik?" the voice asked and I guessed it wasn't for the first time.

I still was so sleep-fogged and surprised by the Brasserie's inclusion in the conversation that I'd zoned out for a moment.

"Yeah. This is Sasha," I said, and I thought again of how weird it was to be going by my father's name.

"I'm calling on behalf of Zakariah Quantrell," said the voice which paused as though waiting for recognition, acceptance, something from me.

"Yup," I said noncommittally.

"He wants you to know that you've been offered the job at the Romford Brasserie," the voice said crisply. "He wants you to start tomorrow night."

He didn't ask if that was convenient. He just said the words as though he expected to say jump and I would jump. I wondered then how much influence Zak really had on this part of town. Little did they know that I wasn't jumping because I was being told to - it was very literally part of my current job description.

"That would be acceptable," I said, smirking to myself at the short sharp bark of laughter on the other end.

"Acceptable, huh? Okay. That's the coolest response to a job offer I've ever recieved," the voice said but it was warm with laughter and not reprimand. "Your acceptance is noted and much appreciated."

I didn't say that it was the Ukrainian sense of humour shining through in me that had made me give such an answer - that, and that I wasn't intimidated by Zak as I presumed as I was supposed to be.

I just grunted, uncertain as to what else I was supposed to say. I was never very good at small talk, which I supposed served me well in my job as an MI5 agent. It meant I didn't blab things out willy-nilly as some had, and I had been trained not to squeal under torture.

"Just show your face at five in the pm tomorrow and we're all golden," the voice said.

"Sounds good to me," I said. "Acceptable, I mean."

Again that short sharp of a bark before the man said - "I can see what Zak means when he said he liked you. You have character. Even over the phone. See you at five."

I didn't get the chance to respond as the other man had already put the phone down. I was left staring at the wall, feeling amused that I had been described as having character. I was an MI5 agent. I wasn't supposed to have character - merely several assumed ones that I hid behind during missions.

I shrugged, hung up the phone and decided it was a good time to sort out a shower and to grab some food.

****

"So. Are we all clear on what we're doing?" Zak asked as he stared at me from across the bar

I'd been placed on bartender duties that night, purely because of my size and presumed ability to handle myself against drunken louts - not that Zak expected many in such a high-end restaurant yet inexcusable behaviour sometimes happened.

"Crystal," I said with a brief nod at the other man.

Zak grinned at me and my un-Ukrainian response. I had to stop myself reminding him that though I was Ukrainian by direct descent, I'd been born in Essex - much like Zak himself had been presumably.

"If you get into any trouble, just give us a shout," he said as he indicated himself with one hand pressed flat against his broad - and quite impressive - chest. "Or if you don't get into trouble, you can still give us a shout, if you know what I mean."

The guy actually winked at me, and I surprised myself by grinning back at him. It was hard not to like the fellow, even though I knew him to be a hardened criminal. He had a certain charm that had undoubtedly helped him to surf his way easily to where he was. That made him all the more dangerous. Pity I always seemed to be attracted to the charming - and dangerous - men.

"Duly noted," I said which seemed to both amuse and please Zak by turns.

He came around the counter and indicated where the baseball bat was.

"Just as a reminder that if things get too out of hand, use this," he said. "In all other circumstances - use these."

He lifted his own balled fists and grinned again.

"I assume you can box?" he continued.

"Not exactly, but I do know how to throw a punch when need be," I replied dryly.

Zak tilted his head to one side and raised an eyebrow before he said - "Oh? You look the type to be a boxer."

He then narrowed his eyes at me before he shook his head.

"No. Your face does not bear the marks of a boxer," he said and indicated his nose and his ears. "Too pretty. Perhaps you'd like to come with me sometime to train?"

"I'll think about it," I said with a shrug.

Privately I was thinking that perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take him up on his offer. That meant a legitimate way to shadow him in broad daylight without even being suspicious.

"Well, give me a shout when you've thought about it. I own a local gym here as well. You get owner's privileges," he said and winked at me. "All my staff do actually. Not that any of them have taken me up on it yet."

He laughed but it sounded as though he didn't mind too much.

"Well, perhaps I'll make the exception," I said and smiled when Zak gave me one of his most charming smiles.

"That sounds like a yes already," he said. "Well done."

I laughed at that before I said - "You seem like a man who's used to getting what he wants."

"Oh, I am one of those. Absolutely. And when I decide I want something, I usually do get it," he said and he stared at me meaningfully.

I wondered if he was hitting on me again and found that I didn't mind all that much. On a personal or a professional level.

"I bet you say that to all the boys," I shot back which made Zak laugh again.

"No. Just the pretty ones. And I like a man with character," he said diffidently.

I paused when I realised that that was the second time I'd heard that in the same week. I let the comment pass because the first time I'd heard a similar phrase had been an echo of something that Zak himself had said already.

Zak didn't seem to notice my hesitation because his attention was already pulled away by a sedate group coming in through the Brasserie's front doors. He excused himself from my side politely and went over to greet the guests personally.

I gave those guests a once over and sighed - they were, of course, people known to have associations with Zak himself. They ran illegal drug dens under the cover of strip clubs in the East End. I then knew just what type of people I would have to rub noses with every night - not that I should have wondered at that anyway.