Extracts from Chapter 2 and Chapter 23 of The Trap by Ava Glass

 Chapter 2

As the two men shook hands, Emma stood stiffly; her mouth had gone dry. The man talking to Ripley was the most important person in British Intelligence. His real name was Giles Templeton-Ward but to everyone in the country he was known, as all heads of MI6 always had been known, simply as ‘C’.

‘Glad you could get here so quickly. The situation is developing.’ C spoke quietly. His accent was nearly identical to Ripley’s, making him a product of Eton or Harrow and then Oxford, undoubtedly. 

C glanced at Emma with enquiry, and Ripley said, ‘This is Emma Makepeace. The one I told you about.’

‘Ah, of course.’ In C’s cold gaze Emma saw that he already knew everything about her. He knew about her Russian parents, the languages she spoke, her time in the army, and everything she’d done right and wrong in her three years at the Agency. He would have a list of all her weaknesses.

‘Good to have you.’ Dismissing her with that short comment, he turned back to Ripley. ‘The Prime Minister is demanding answers about our plans for securing the G7. He would like those answers yesterday.’ Lowering his voice further he added, ‘He’s under pressure on this from the Cousins. They’re threatening to withdraw if they don’t have assurances our security is on track.’

‘The Cousins’ was intelligence code for the Americans.

‘Yes. I can’t say I’m surprised,’ Ripley said, dryly.

‘Indeed. Thinking hats will be needed.’ C glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better go in. They’re waiting.’

As she followed the two men through the door, Emma exhaled quietly and forced herself to relax. But she was beginning to wonder what she was doing here. Ripley had done all the talking on the way here, leaving her little time to wonder why he’d wanted her to come along. Only now did she consider whether that might have been intentional.

Inside was a small antechamber and another door, this one made of thick metal. It reminded her of a bank vault. Ripley and C walked through it without pausing.Squaring her shoulders, Emma followed them into a small, crowded space, more an oversized cupboard than a boardroom.

Although she’d never seen one before, Emma recognised it instantly. The Americans called them ‘Sensitive Compartmented Information Facilities’, because of course they would. In Britain they were known simply as ‘Secure Chambers’. The steel-walled rooms would be bug-proof and safe from prying eyes, built in secret locations for situations like this one. 

Three people already sat at the table. The first was Patricia Allan, the head of MI5, barely five feet tall and recognisable by her short steel-grey hair, which gave her a pleasingly androgynous look. Next to her was Dominic Larch, the Home Secretary. Not yet forty, he’d only been in the job three months. Everyone thought he was too much of lightweight to handle being in charge of police, security, and counter-terrorism.

Emma suspected they were right.

Beside him sat a confident, tall woman with shoulder-length blonde hair in a charcoal-grey suit. Emma recognised her from news reports as Lauren Cavendish, the Prime Minister’s special advisor.She and Ripley took the two empty seats on the far side of the table, squeezing past in the confined space. 

As she sat in a black leather chair, it struck Emma that there were no computers in the room. No phones. Not even a notebook. No records would be kept. When it was over, to all intents and purposes, this meeting would never have happened. But decisions would be made here.

The heavy metal door swung shut slowly. She heard a faint electronic buzz as it sealed until that sound faded disconcertingly to silence. Nobody spoke, but the tension was so palpable she could almost see it. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that the Home Secretary’s right foot had begun to jiggle unconsciously.

Sitting at the head of the table, C looked at them with weary solemnity.

‘Let’s begin.’

Chapter 23

‘Is he dead?’

Nick Orlov stood in the doorway, staring at unconscious, blood-covered man on the floor of his hotel room. The hand covering his mouth trembled as Emma strode over to him, pulling him inside and closing the door.

Reaching past his shoulder, she switched on the lights. The subtle glow illuminated a spacious room, walls covered in taupe silk wallpaper that caught the light and glimmered. The king-sized bed had been turned down invitingly, the curtains pulled across the tall windows. 

Every item in the room had been skilfully chosen and beautifully arranged. The only thing out of place item was the bloody body on the floor.

Crouching next to Fridman, Emma set the gun down and picked up his thin wrist. His skin felt warm. She put a hand over his mouth and noted the steady passage of his breath. 

‘He’s alive.’ She remained beside the unconscious man for a few seconds more, thinking through their situation.

When she stood up, she picked up the gun and ejected the bullet cartridge, checking it with a quick professional glance. Fridman had fired three times. There were thirteen bullets left.

Lucky thirteen.

Extracted from chapter 2 and chapter 23 of The Trap by Ava Glass

The Trap by Ava Glass (Penguin in Paperback) Out Now £9.99)

How far would you go to catch a killer? This is the question UK agent Emma Makepeace must ask herself when she is sent to Edinburgh for the upcoming global G7 Summit. The Russians are in town and Emma and her team know a high-profile assassination is being planned. But who is their target? There is only one way to find out. Emma must set a trap using herself as bait. As the most powerful leaders in the world arrive and the city becomes gridlocked, Emma knows the clock is ticking.

More information about Ava Glass can found on her website. You can also find her on Twitter @AvaGlassBooks and on Instagram @avaglassbooks