The bedroom was a wide, windowless room with a huge bed in the middle and mirrored wardrobes all along one wall. The fish tank was the best in the building. It took up most of the wall at the foot of the bed. A tropical reef environment complete with crustaceans and anemones and schools of tiny fish.

Sorrow put her coat away on a hanger. She stared at the Bergen rucksack sitting on the floor of the wardrobe. Should she empty it, hang up most of her gear and put the rest in the drawers? She preferred to keep things neat but she also liked to be ready to move. The decision could wait.

She approved of the bed. When two tall people who don't know each other well have to share a small bed, someone is going to wake up with a face full of elbow.

Sorrow threw herself onto the bed, put her feet in the air and began to unlace her boots. The bed was a little too soft for her tastes but it would do. From below came the thud as the book case slammed shut and the clanging as Number 7 climbed the stairs.

She could feel him staring at her as she fiddled with the laces.

'Do you need a hand with your boots?' he said.

'If you would,' she said.

There is no sexy way to remove tightly laced army boots but he made a decent go of it. He handed the boots to her. She turned her head slightly, sighted the gap she'd left in the sliding doors of the wardrobe and flung the boots straight in. They landed on the floor next to the Bergan.

'You have lovely feet,' he said.

'You got a fetish?'

'No. I just remember what mine were like when I wore those every day. Skin like a cheese grater.'

'Department mandated pedicure. They insist. When I first signed on there Cepha gave me this speech about taking care of my feet. I still don't know if it was a wind up or not.' She rolled off the bed and onto her feet. 'There's a suitcase in the other end of the wardrobe. I assume it’s yours. Did you have one packed already or did one of your people pack it for you? I know it wasn't one of ours because I'd have been informed of its contents if it was.'

'I always have a case packed,' he said.

Sorrow grabbed the suitcase and dumped it on the bed.

'I'm not going to insult you by asking if you can tell whether it's been tampered with and I don't expect you to tell me your method. I just want you to inspect it without opening it.' Sorrow turned away and stared at the fish tank. She had no interest in bypassing his security measures to search his case when he wasn't looking but she didn't expect him to believe that.

'It's been opened. Whoever did it was a pro. They reset my more obvious indicators so they knew the kind of thing to look for.'

'Stand well back.'

She found the right app on the yPhone and photographed the case.

'No sign of a device of any kind,' she said. 'Or the pockets of liquid associated with a binary liquid explosive.'

'You have an X-Ray built into your phone?' he said.

'Yeah, the same backscatter tech that the CIA use. We miniaturised it ages ago.' She sniffed the case.

'I don't smell any explosives. And everything smells freshly laundered so it's not been spiked with someone's underwear.' She glanced up at him as she spoke and caught a smile flitting across his face. It made him look younger but it turned into a frown almost the moment she saw it. Obviously the biggest prankster he knew was one of the dead or incapacitated.

'I can't let you open this,' she said.

'Agreed.'

'So I'm going to open it.'

'How is that better?'

'It's not a bomb or a mechanical trap so it's most likely a poison or incapacitant and those don't work on me. You should go downstairs in case it's gas.'

'It's not gas. Any canister would have shown up on the X-ray. I'm not leaving you alone with the contents of my case.'

'Fine. But stay back in case it's a spray.'

She braced herself and opened the case. Nothing happened. She ran her fingers round the edge of the case, expecting a needle or a blade but found nothing.

'I'm going to have to take everything out to be sure.'

'Get on with it. I'm sobering up.'

'Garment bag. I'll put that on the side and you can check if it's been opened in a minute. Dress shoes, empty. Dress shirt. Scorpion.' She lifted the sleepy, but still alive, scorpion out of the case by its tail.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

He took a couple of steps towards her but she waved him away with her free hand.

'I think I know this one. Deathstalker AKA Palestinian yellow Scorpion, Leiurus Quinquestriatus. Odd choice. The sting hurts like fuck but it's not usually lethal to adults.'

'It could be lethal if you're allergic to it,' said Dee.

'I thought you couldn't join SIS if you had allergies.'

'I wasn't allergic when I joined. I picked up a lot of stings in a short time. From that specific species. Caused a reaction. I don't know how bad it would be if I was stung again but it wouldn't be good.'

'That's not widely known, is it?' said Sorrow.

'Not very.'

'So this is a message as much as it's an attempt to kill you. This is the spy equivalent of we know where you live.'

'They do know where I live.'

'That too.' She took a picture of the scorpion with her yPhone then dialled the number for the protection team downstairs.

'Trouble?' said Corporal Ferguson, who was taking charge of the evening watch.

'Found a scorpion in his luggage. Can you send someone up with some Tupperware to put it in? And put in a call to evidence collection. They'll need to send someone to get it.'

'Fucking spies,' said Ferguson.

Sorrow searched the rest of the luggage with her free hand while she waited. There was nothing untoward. There was still the garment bag to check though.

The metal stairs clanged loudly as someone heavy and wearing army boots ran up.

'Check the garment bag.' She gave Seven as much room as she could but for a man who'd been tortured by scorpion sting he showed remarkably little fear of the thing in her hand.

She opened the door. It was Ferguson himself on the other side.

'Everyone in the forensic lab has knocked off for the evening so they're sending one of the security staff from the pharmacology labs,' he said.

She dropped the scorpion in the proffered container. Ferguson clicked the lid in place.

'Poke some holes in the lid, would you. For all we know they've got a Scorpion whisperer that can interrogate it.'

Ferguson grinned, 'See this is why I like working with you. That would never occur to me.' He turned away and clanged back down the stairs. Sorrow closed the door behind him.

'The garment bag hasn't been opened,' said Seven.

'You'll forgive me if I make sure of that,' said Sorrow.

Seven backed away from the bags and gave her space.

There was nothing in the bag but a couple of very expensive hand made suits.

'Excitement over,' said Sorrow. 'Excuse me while I get ready for bed. Unless you plan on jumping me right now?'

'I have no intention of trying anything without an explicit invitation. I like my teeth in my head.' He sounded like he meant it but he did lie to women on a professional basis.

Sorrow grabbed her T-shirt and wash bag from the top of her Bergen and headed for the bathroom. It didn't take her long to get ready. Clothes off, T-shirt on, teeth brushed, hair combed and back in the bedroom in less than ten minutes.

Seven had already stripped off his shirt, socks and shoes. She hadn't expected that and she really didn't expect the sudden lurching sensation from her groin and the pit of her stomach at the sight of his torso. He had the sort of muscle you normally only see on athletes but you didn't usually see scars like that on an athlete. And it was rare to see bruising that extensive on anyone. She wasn't sure if she was more turned on by the physique or the scars or maybe the bruises were just making her feel protective.

She avoided eye contact as he passed on his way to the bathroom, sure that if he caught her eye he'd wink at her and if he winked at her she'd want to kill him.

By the time Seven finished in the bathroom she had turned off the lights and got under the covers. The only light in the room came from the soft glow of the fish tank. She'd picked the far side of the bed so that he wouldn't have to pass her to get into bed and turned her back so she wouldn't have to look at him. She was sure that he'd be wearing even less now.

She felt the bed dip slightly as he got in. His scent had changed. 'You've shaved.'

'You can tell that from over there?' he said.

'I can smell shaving soap and aftershave lotion. Why shave before bed?'

'I tend to spoon in my sleep,' he said.

'Spoon? Seriously?'

'Sorry. I thought if I didn't shave the stubble might wake you.'

'You're planning on spooning me in my sleep?' she said.

'I'm not planning anything. I do it in my sleep.' He was grinning. She could hear it in his voice.

'Someone is definitely getting an elbow in the face tonight,' she muttered.

'Oh by the way...'

'What?'

'Be careful what you do with your hands. I sleep naked.'

'You what now?' she said.

'I'm not going to insult you with unwanted advances but it's rude to start something you've got no intention of finishing,' he said.

'You think I'm going to start something?'

'I have a reputation. You'd be surprised how many people do try to start something.'

'People? Not just women? I thought you were straight,' she said.

'I said I wasn't gay. I didn't say I was inflexible,' he said.

She rolled towards him, staring at his face in the faint bluish light, trying to tell if he was serious. He was smiling but she couldn't read his expression. 'You are utterly shameless.'

'Never had time for shame,' he said. 'Seems pointless.'

'I like that,' she said, somewhat to her own surprise.

'If you're after a shag you could just try asking,' he said.

'I walked into that.'

'But I mean it.' He rolled towards her and looked directly into her eyes, no longer smiling. The blue light from the fish tank washed the grey from his eyes. It was like looking into the sky on a clear winter day. 'You are strikingly beautiful but I bet no-one ever tells you that. They tell you all the time how strong and fast and deadly you are. They tell you that they trust you and rely on you and that's true. But no-one is writing poetry about the curve of your lips. And someone really should.'

Sorrow resisted a sudden and terrible urge to lay her head on his chest. Instead she said, 'And you have really sexy scars,' and rolled away.