The Caretaker's Son Part 1

Leo patiently waited for his father to complete securing the premises; his father had served as the caretaker at St James’s School for over a decade. They moved in six months after his mother died in a car accident, in which Leo survived with horrific head injuries. With years of therapy and Physio, Leo was..., well, not one hundred per cent.  

Now the nineteen-year-old university student, Leo, was in his second year of a cybersecurity program. After the accident, Leo contracted Congenital Insensitivity to Pain (CIP), a rare medical condition that made him incapable of feeling physical pain, a circumstance that was both distinctive and presented unique challenges.

They made their way together back to the caretaker’s cottage, the sound of their steps ringing out on the cobblestone path. Looking over his shoulder, Leo saw the old school standing tall behind them. The science building is quiet and untouched after years of closure.

At first, he believed he was unstoppable, climbing the highest trees, jumping off towering rocks, using the school grounds as his own skateboard park, and never shedding a tear when he got hurt. Eventually, though, he realised pain wasn’t just something to endure; it taught important lessons. Without pain, Leo had to depend on his own judgment, caution, and the help of his one and only friend.

On this bitterly cold evening, Leo noticed something unusual: a window in the abandoned science lab stood open. He remembered rumours that it was haunted. The Old Lab had been off-limits for a decade following the mysterious ‘incident’ that everyone avoided discussing.

Leo wasn’t scared. He grabbed one of his dad’s flashlights, climbed through the window, and found himself surrounded by dust and shattered glass. On the tables were a collection of vials, test-tubs, and jars. A Bunsen burner stood under a tripod; on top was a flask, with blue liquid in it. A crust had formed on top. He noticed cupboards, some still locked and others with broken locks, their contents scattered across the floor. On a shelf above a sink, he noticed a row of notebooks; one stood out, its spine had cryptic symbols. He reached up, pulling the book from its resting place. Years of dust fell over Leo, making him sneeze.   

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the hallway. Leo ducked behind a desk, heart pounding. The shadow of a large cat flickered across the wall. He held his breath as footsteps approached, and as they got closer. He noticed it was only the school scabby cat; the only reason the principal allowed him to stay was that he is a good mouse catcher. Leo slowed his breathing, took the notebook, and retraced his steps. He slid out of the window.

The next morning, Leo walked to a local Cafe meet Nina, a friend from his school days “What’s up with you?” Nina inquired.

“Check this out,” Leo whispered, sliding the notebook across the table.

Nina opened the notebook, and inside was a key. “Is this the key to the secret door in the school's storeroom?”

“Well, yes, I guess so.” He said with a confident smile.

That afternoon, when the school day had ended, the two friends waited until all the children had gone home and his father was doing his rounds. They tiptoed towards the storeroom, hearts pounding. Leo’s dad was nowhere in sight. Nina held the notebook open.

Leo’s hands shook as he took out the key. He pushed it in the hole and turned it to the left. A loud click could be heard within the door.

The door moved; a waft of stale air came from within. “Are you sure about this?” Nina asked.

“Nope. But let’s go.”  Leo pushed the door inward. A light switch was screwed to the wall, just inside. He flicked the switch, and a dim but usable light came on. The lights ran down the centre of the ceiling, and now his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He could see the stairs going down.

Leo crept down the stairs first, each step groaning under his weight. Nina followed close behind.

At the bottom was another door; his hand trembled. He tried the handle; it clicked open. Nina followed.

The door swung inward.

The smell hit him first, dust, old paper, something metallic. He stepped inside and flicked on the light. The room was bright, and what was revealed was something he wasn’t expecting.

Maps covered the walls, layered and pinned with red string connecting cities across Europe. Newspaper clippings in other languages were taped in clusters; some yellowed with age, others crisp and recent. A corkboard displayed photographs of people in crowds; their faces were circled in red ink. Some were smiling. Some looked frightened.

Leo momentarily paused his breathing.

He moved toward a desk in the corner, with Nina right on his tail. On the desk lay a metal case, a stack of passports, and an elastic band holding Euros, US Dollars, and a notebook. He flipped open a passport.

His father’s face stared back at him. But the name wasn’t his father’s.

Leo swallowed hard. He opened the notebook. Coordinates. Surveillance sketches. List of names.

His stomach dropped. A floorboard creaked; Leo spun around.

His dad stood in the doorway. “You weren’t supposed to find this,” his dad said quietly.

Leo clutched a Passport to his chest. “What is all this? Who are you?”

His dad stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click. He looked tired, not the kind of tired from work or chores, but the tired of someone who had been carrying a truth for too long.

“I’m your father,” he said. “But I’m also something else. Something I hoped you’d never have to know.”

Leo’s pulse hammered. “Are you… a spy?”

A long silence.

Then his dad smiled, “Well, I’m nothing like James Bond, if that’s what you're asking.

Leo looked at Nina, then back at his dad. “Can you tell us?”

His dad noticed Leo and Nina were holding hands, “Sit, I’ll tell you what I can.” 

The three spent an hour together, during which he revealed only the key details: he worked for an agency and occasionally had to work beyond his official authority, sometimes even outside typical boundaries and the law itself.

“You mean you had to kill people?” Leo stood up and waited for an answer.

His dad nodded, I’m not...”

“I think I should go home,” Nina said quietly.

“Ok, come on, I’ll walk you.”

Leo walked Nina home in silence. At her door, she kissed him goodnight and asked, “Will you be OK?”

“I don’t know, it’s a lot to take in. Knowing my dad was a..., Well, I don’t know what he was or is,”

Nina squeezed his hand before letting go.

He tried to smile, but it felt thin. “He didn’t even tell me who he really was. How am I supposed to trust him now?”

Nina hesitated, then brushed her thumb across his cheek. “Because he’s still your dad. And because he told you now, when it matters.”

Leo watched her disappear behind her front door; the porch light flicked off a moment later. The street suddenly felt too quiet, too exposed. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started home.

Halfway down the road, his phone buzzed.

A message from Dad: - Come straight home. Don’t talk to anyone.

Leo stopped walking. A cold ripple ran through him. He typed back: - Why? What’s happened?

Three dots appeared. Disappeared and reappeared.- Then: Just hurry. Please.

Leo broke into a jog.

When he reached his street, he saw that his house lights were off. Not dimmed. Off. Completely. His dad never turned them all off if he hadn’t come home yet.

Leo stepped closer, heart pounding again. The front door was ajar.

A whisper of movement came from inside.

Then his dad’s voice, low and urgent:

“Leo, stay back.”

Leo froze. “Dad?”

A figure stepped into the doorway, not his father.

A stranger. Tall. Calm. Wearing a coat too long and thick for a summer evening.

He smiled as if he were greeting an old friend.

“Leo,” the man said softly, in what sounded like an Eastern European accent“, You look just like him.”

Leo inhaled sharply. “Who are you?”

The man inclined his head. “Someone from your father’s past.”

Behind the stranger, Leo heard his father groan, his voice faint and restrained.

At that instant, Leo understood what was happening—his thoughts were leaping unpredictably, filled with ideas he had never considered before.

His breath grew unsteady as the stranger advanced into the doorway, obscuring the dim light from the hall.

The man’s accent was unmistakable, Eastern European.

“Come here Boy” he said.

Leo’s pulse thudded in his ears. “Where is he? What have you done to him?”

The man smiled, but it meant nothing to Leo. “He is alive..., For now.”

A muffled thump came deeper inside the house, not loud, but enough to make Leo flinch.

The man’s gaze flicked to Leo’s hands, checking for a weapon, then back to his face. “You look frightened. That’s good. Fear keeps you smart.”

Leo swallowed hard. “What do you want?”

The man stepped forward, slow and controlled. “Your father took something from my employer many years ago. Something valuable. He wants it back.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

"That's not my concern," the man said, his softened tone making things even more uneasy. "You're leverage, and that's valuable, right?"

Leo’s mind raced. He needed to stall. Think. Survive.

Then, from behind the man, his father’s voice, strained but clear:

“Leo, run.”

The man in the doorway didn’t turn. He raised a hand, palm outward, as if he calmed a child. “No running. Not tonight.”

Leo’s phone buzzed in his pocket; a vibration so small it felt like a lifeline. He didn’t dare look.

The man tilted his head. “You will come inside now. Quietly. Or your father’s situation becomes… complicated.” He took out a gun from a shoulder holster.

Leo’s legs felt like they were made of jelly. But he stepped forward.

And then, a shout from the end of the street, “Leo.”

Nina was jogging toward him, waving, oblivious to the situation.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

Leo’s stomach dropped.

“Your Girl?” the man murmured, waving his gun.

Leo’s voice cracked. “Nina, go home!”

But she was already too close.

The man shifted his stance, not attacking, not yet, but calculating.

Leo decided before he could think it through.

He didn’t just charge forward; he launched himself, slamming into the man so hard they both spun sideways. The gun flew out of the attacker’s hand, bounced on the cobbles, and vanished somewhere under the hedges.

The man stumbled back and managed to stay upright.

“So... this is how you want to play it, do you?” The man stood with his fists out, without blinking. He took a swing, hitting Leo in the jaw, and his head shook.

It felt like being hit by a hammer, but that was it, no pain. Leo shook it off, “Is that all you got?” He asked.

Leo launched again; they landed on the ground in a heap. No clean moves, no technique, just flailing limbs. The man grabbed Leo’s jacket and yanked him sideways; Leo grabbed whatever he could, an arm, a collar, and dragged him back. They rolled again, smashing into the gravel. The man smashed Leo’s head into the door frame. He just shook it off.

The man tried to scramble up; Leo clung to his leg, dragging him down. The man kicked free, Leo lunged, and they collided again, both slipping on the loose stones. A wild elbow caught Leo’s shoulder; Leo shoved back blindly, sending the man staggering into the gate post with a hollow thud.

Leo got to his feet first, barely, swaying, hands up, ready for whatever came next. The man rose too, furious, off‑balance, breathing like he’d swallowed fire.

From somewhere behind them, Nina’s voice cut through the chaos, breathless and triumphant.

“I have his gun!”

Without turning, Leo replied, “Keep hold of it, don't point it at me.... Please”

He swung once more with his right hand; this time, Leo predicted the move. Leo stepped back on his left foot, rotated his body, and brought his right knee up into his abdomen, effectively knocking the wind out of him.

Coughing and trying to fill his lungs with air, the man leaned against the door frame, one hand braced against the fading wood. His eyes watered, but the glare he shot Leo was pure venom.

“You… shouldn’t… have done that,” he wheezed.

Leo shrugged, rolling his jaw as if he was testing a hinge. His body ached but there was no pain. “You shouldn’t have punched me. We all make mistakes.”

The man pushed off the frame, steadier now, though his breath still came in short bursts. “You’re just a school kid.”

The man reached into his jacket slowly. Leo tensed, ready to move, but instead of a weapon, the man pulled out a small, battered phone. He tapped the screen, eyes never leaving Leo’s.

“I have back up, let’s see how you handle this”

A car’s engine started up in the distance, and moments later, the noise got louder.

Leo thought of different scenarios. His first was to set his dad free.

“Nina, pass me the gun, please”

The man charged. Leo stepped to the side and moved forward, bringing up his elbow, catching him in his nose. The top half of his body stayed still; the bottom half followed through as his legs kept running.

Landing on his back, his head caught the doorstep, with a deep thud, then a crack. Leo looked down, and a small pool of blood seeped from his ear; a larger stream came from the back of his head.   

Nina caught up to Leo, “Oh My God, Leo”

Leo took the gun, pocketing it. “Can you go check on Dad?” 

A car came to a sudden halt outside the cottage gates,

Leo’s heart hammered.

He had seconds. Maybe less. “Go,” he shouted.

A man sprang from the car just as a gunshot echoed through the air. Instinctively, Leo ducked behind the garden’s low wall. Without thinking, he inspected the gun in his hands; unfamiliar with its operation, he discovered a round in the chamber, and a magazine was full. He crawled to his right, away from the gate and the car, peeping over the wall, he could see two men, one on either side of the car. Kneeling behind a bush, he aimed and fired; the bullet passed through the driver's door into the man crouching behind it. With a thud, he fell to the ground. The other man set off a volley of shots towards Leo. He had already moved position.

Now, behind the old Oak Tree, Leo could see him in a kneeling position, moving towards the gate.

Aiming the gun, Leo shouted out, “Just go Man, it's not worth dying over”

The man shouted back something in a foreign language, then in broken English, “I have job to do”

“And if you get killed doing it, who will miss you?” Leo shouted, steadying his breath, keeping the oak between them.

The man hesitated. Just a flicker, barely a heartbeat, but Leo saw it.

“My family,” the man called back. “They depend on me.”

Leo shifted, circling the tree, keeping low. “Then walk away. Go home to them. No one else needs to die today.”

A long silence followed, broken only by the ticking engine of the abandoned car and the distant hum of traffic. Leo could hear the man breathing, ragged, uncertain.

Then the man spoke again, softer this time. “You don’t understand.”

Leo felt the weight of that on his shoulders.

“Listen,” Leo said, lowering his voice but not his aim. “You step through that gate; you’re not getting past me. But if you drop the weapon and walk away, I swear I’ll not shoot you. You have my word.”

Another pause. Leaves rustled. A crow cawed overhead.

Then, a clatter. The man’s gun hit the gravel.

Leo exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. He stepped out from behind the oak, weapon still raised but no longer shaking.

The man stood slowly, hands lifted, eyes tired and defeated. “I don’t want this life,” he murmured.

“Then this is your chance,” Leo said. “Take it.”

The man backed away, step by step, until he reached the far side of the car, stepping over the dead man. He glanced once more at Leo. Something like gratitude flickered across his face, “Who are you?” He asked.

Leo waited. He was about to say I’m nobody then he said out loud, “I’m the Caretaker's Son”

Only then did he lower his gun.

The car door shut with a bang, followed by the sound of gears grinding as the vehicle sped off.

Leo ran indoors to find Nian with his dad; she had untied him and dressed his wounds. He hugged her tightly.

“What was all that about?” She asked.

“I think Dad can explain that.” They both looked at his dad.

“Just let me make a call, I need to get a cleanup crew here before the Police.” He picked up his phone and found a pre-set number.

Chapter 2,

Leo, his dad, and Nina sat at the kitchen table while he told them everything. A cleanup crew had been and, cleaned everything up, the two bodies the spent cartridges; they even cleaned up the blood from the road.   

“I was a fixer, working for the British government, if something needed doing, that was, how can I say, off book”

“Illegal,” Leo asked.

“Not Illegal, the things I did were for the greater good.”

Leo leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes narrowed. “Greater good sounds like something villains say in films.”

His dad stayed calm. “Villains and heroes may act alike, but who they serve sets them apart.”

Nina glanced at Leo, uncertain yet beginning to grasp the truth. “Tonight—was that not in the past?”

He answered softly, “Well, it looks like my past has returned.”

The room tightened around them. Even the hum of the fridge seemed to hold its breath.

Leo’s voice dropped. “Those men… they were after you?”

His dad hesitated, and that hesitation was worse than any answer.

“They weren’t after me,” he said finally. “They were after you.”

Nina quickly covered her mouth with her hand, while Leo experienced a sudden sense of the ground shifting under him.

“Me? Why?”

His dad rubbed his temples, suddenly looking older than Leo had ever seen him. “Because of who you are. Because of who I was. Some people think you might be useful leverage.”

Leo’s pulse hammered. “Leverage for what?”

His dad looked up, eyes sharp again, the old operative flickering back to life. “For something I stole. Something they want back. And they’ll keep coming until they get it.”

Nina swallowed hard. “So, what do we do?”

He stood, pushing his chair back with a quiet scrape. “We don’t panic. We don’t run. We prepare.”

Leo stared at him. “Prepare for what?”

His dad’s answer was calm, almost gentle.

“For the rest of them.”

Chapter 3

Leo didn’t sleep that night. He lay awake listening to the house breathe, replaying every word his dad had said. Leverage. Stolen. They’ll keep coming.

By dawn, something inside him had shifted, not bravado, not recklessness, but a quiet, stubborn resolve.

When he came downstairs, his dad was already at the table, a mug of tea cooling between his hands.

“You don’t have to do anything,” his dad said, before Leo even sat down.

Leo shook his head. “You’re wrong. I do.”

Nina hovered in the doorway, still in her dressing gown, arms wrapped around herself. “Leo, this isn’t a school project. This is… dangerous.”

“I know,” he said. “But it’s already here. It’s already happening. And if they’re coming for me because of something you did, then I’m part of it whether you like it or not.”

Finally, his dad stood and crossed to the old sideboard; the one Leo had always assumed held nothing but takeaway menus and mismatched cutlery. He slid out a drawer, pressed his thumb against a hidden panel, and a false bottom clicked open.

Inside was a small black notebook, battered at the edges, held shut with a strip of worn elastic.

He placed it in front of Leo.

“This is everything,” he said. “Names. Locations. What they want. What they know I still have.”

Leo stared at it. It looked so ordinary.

Nina stepped closer, her voice soft. “You don’t have to do this, let’s call the Police.”

Leo looked up at her, really looked, and something steadied in him. “I can’t ring the Police, this is something I have to do.”

His dad exhaled, a long, defeated breath. “If you’re going to take this on… you need to understand something. I didn’t finish the job because I realised at the time the job was wrong. The people I worked for then weren’t the good guys I thought they were.”

Leo opened the notebook. The first page was a list of names. Some crossed out. Some circled. Some underlined twice.

“So, I finished it differently,”

His dad met his eyes.

Leo closed the notebook with a quiet snap.

“Good,” he said. “Because they’re about to find out I’m not leverage.”

He stood. “I’m the Caretakers Son.”

Chapter 4

Leo didn’t tell his dad he was leaving.

He waited until the house had settled into a deep sleep. Just after midnight, he slipped the black notebook into his jacket and stepped out into the cold. The streetlights hummed. The world felt thinner, like a film set after the actors had gone home.

He followed the clues the way his dad must have done a hundred times, not with confidence, but with stubbornness. The name circled twice. A warehouse address scribbled in the margin. A note beside it:

It took him an hour to get there on foot. The building sat at the edge of an industrial estate, half-abandoned. A single light glowed behind a high window.

Leo’s heart thumped in his chest. He wasn’t ready. He knew that. But he also knew he wasn’t turning back.

He crept around the side, found a rusted fire door, and pushed. It opened with a soft groan.

Inside, the air smelled of oil and damp concrete. Shadows stretched long across the floor. And then he heard voices, the kind of voices that belonged to men who came to the school earlier.

He edged closer, peering around a stack of crates.

Three of them. Hard faces. Military posture. One of them was cleaning a pistol. Another was on a laptop. The third was pacing, muttering into a phone in Polish.

Leo’s breath caught.

He didn’t feel brave. He felt sick. But he stepped out anyway.

“Hay, you, looking for me?” He shouted.

“And who the hell are you?”

“The caretaker's son” he shouted back.

All three froze.

The pacing man turned first, eyebrows lifting in disbelief. “Well,” he said, lowering the phone. “The boy shows up on his own. That’s… unexpected.”

Leo swallowed. “You wanted leverage. I’m here.”

The man smiled. “We don’t need leverage anymore. We need the notebook.”

Leo tightened his grip on his jacket pocket. “Then come and take it.”

The man nodded to the others. “Złap go.”  (Grab him)

They moved.

Leo didn’t run. He didn’t fight like an action hero. He did the only thing he could think of — he grabbed the nearest crate and shoved it hard. It toppled, crashing into the men, scattering tools and metal parts across the floor.

Leo bolted deeper into the warehouse. Behind him, footsteps thundered.

“Get him!” One shouted.

He ducked behind a forklift, chest heaving. He needed a plan.

A hand clamped onto his shoulder.

He spun, swinging wildly, connecting with someone’s jaw. The man grunted, then grabbed Leo by the front of his jacket and slammed him against the forklift.

“You’re out of your depth, kid.”

Leo’s vision blurred, but he felt no pain. He pulled his knee up, connecting with his groin.

The man frowned and buckled over, “Bękart.” (Bastard)

A loud metallic sound echoed around the warehouses, then the lights snapped off.

Leaving total darkness.

For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Then the room erupted.

Footsteps scraped across the floor. Someone let out a sharp curse. The three men slipped into their own language, shutting Leo out as they discussed their plan to capture him.

Leo dropped low, letting instinct and adrenaline take over. He couldn’t see, but he could hear.

A flash of light flicked across the room. One of the men raised a handgun, sweeping the beam wildly.

Leo grabbed the nearest object, a metal bar from the floor and hurled it. It struck the arm of the man holding the torch, sending it spinning. The beam danced across the ceiling before clattering out.

Darkness again.

A heavy breath behind him, then someone lunged. Leo felt the rush of movement and sidestepped, using the attacker’s momentum to send him crashing into a stack of crates, headfirst, the man went limp, as he fell to the floor. The impact echoed through the warehouse.

Then came a war cry as another man charged, he was holding a long-bladed knife and shouting something in his native language. Leo changed his stance, waiting for him to connect. As he did, Leo caught his arm, twisted, and forced him down. The man’s knife skittered across the floor.

Leo didn't pick it up; he didn't have to. Catching his breath, Leo wrapped his legs around his body, locked his right arm around his neck, and tightened his grip with his left. Cutting off his air and blocking his breathing. It didn’t take long for him to die.

The last man, the leader, shouted out in the dark. “Hey, Boy, all I want is the book, then you can go home... Yes,”

Checking his pockets, it was still there, “I’m going to do what my father should have done all those years ago,” Leo walked over to the fire Pit they had been using to cook;  on the floor were the remains of what could have been a goose or a swan. He took out the notebook.

The leader shouted “No” and ran at Leo.

He couldn't be doing with another fight, so he lifted his handgun and shot once, hitting the man between his eyes. He dropped to the ground in a heap.   

He’d done it. He'd got rid of the threat, but for how long? Walking towards the exit, Leo didn’t look back.

Chapter 5

Leo walked home as the sun began to rise; the notebook tucked in his pocket, the adrenaline slowly draining from his system. The streets were quiet, washed in that pale pre‑dawn blue that made everything look unreal.

When he opened the front door, his dad was sitting at the kitchen table, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He looked up the moment Leo stepped inside.

“You went after them,” he said. Not a question.

Leo nodded.

His dad stood, crossed the room in three strides, and pulled him into a fierce, unexpected hug. “You are a stupid, brave idiot,” he muttered. “You could’ve been hurt.”

“I wasn’t,” Leo said. “I handled it.”

His dad pulled back, searching for his face. “You shouldn’t have had to.”

“But I did,” Leo replied. “And I will go again. Because this isn’t going away.”

Nina appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a blanket, eyes wide with worry. “You’re both impossible,” she said softly. “But I’m glad you’re alive.”

Leo managed a tired smile. “Me too.”

His dad sank back into his chair, rubbing his temples. “Leo… I left that world for a reason. It takes everything from you. It doesn’t give anything back.”

Leo placed the notebook on the table between them. “Then I’ll take something back. I’m not doing this in the shadows. I’m not running around blind. I’m going to do it properly.”

His dad frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Leo said, steady and sure, “I’m signing up. With the agency. Your old agency.”

The room went still.

Nina blinked. “Leo… are you serious?”

“Completely.”

His dad’s expression shifted. “They’ll eat you alive,” he said quietly.

“Then I’ll learn to bite back.”

His dad let out a long breath. “If you do this… you do it with your eyes open. No illusions. No hero fantasies.”

“I know,” Leo said. “I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m trying to stop this from landing on our doorstep again.”

His dad studied for a long moment, then nodded once.

“I’ll make a call,” he said. “They won’t make it easy. They’ll test you. Push you. They'll break you down.”

Leo straightened. “Good. Then I’ll know I belong there.”

Nina stepped closer, touching his arm.

Leo looked at her; he really looked. Something softened in him. “I won’t die,” he said.

His dad stood, walked to the old landline on the wall, and dialled a number from memory. When someone answered, his voice dropped into a tone Leo had never heard before, crisp, controlled, professional.

“It’s me,” he said. “I’m calling in a favour. My son..., he wants in.”

A pause.

“No,” he added. “He’s not like me.” He glanced at Leo. “He's better, much better.”

Chapter 6

Three weeks later, Leo found himself back in the same frigid briefing room at an unknown address. It felt as lifeless as ever, glass, steel, and an oppressive quiet that seemed to swallow sound. A woman in a charcoal-grey suit pushed a folder across the table toward him.

Agent Maloy’s voice softened, not with warmth, but with something closer to respect.

“I met your father, James. He was a fixer. The best we ever had. When a situation was too delicate, too volatile, or too politically inconvenient for anyone else to touch, he was the one we called. He never failed us.”

She slid the folder fully into his reach.

“And now, Leo… the Agency is prepared to offer you the same mantle. One thing I must bring up is one thing. Your condition CHIP.”

“Cip,” he corrected her.

“CIP, what happens when you get injured?”

“It is an inability I have, not to feel physical pain due to various rare genetic conditions, brought on by the accident. Well, I say that I have had it since birth, Hey Ho. Sometimes it can be a blessing, but others can be dangerous. 

Maloy eyed him up then continued, her tone steady and official again.

“Inside this folder, you’ll find your contract, your new identity, and your first assignment. Once you sign, Leo Hartley exists only within the walls of your home.

Beyond that, you work as an asset, unseen, uncredited, and called upon when the world needs something handled in silence.”

She held his gaze.

“This is not a life of glory. You won’t ever be thanked. You won’t be known. But you will make a difference, just as your father did.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“When you’re ready,” she said, nodding toward the pen beside the folder, “sign on the final page. And your new life begins.

After signing, Agent Maloy smiled.

“Your first assignment,” she said. “Consider it a test.”

Leo opened the folder. A photo of a smiling man in sunglasses. A cruise ship behind him, all white decks and blue water.

“Who is he?” Leo asked.

“Elias Varro,” she replied. “A Corporate Consultant. Amateur philanthropist. Professional liar.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “And what do you want from him?”

“Not him,” she said. “What he’s carrying.”

She tapped the photo. “A hard drive. Encrypted. Stolen from one of our partners. We need it back before he sells it.”

Leo flipped to the next page — a map of the Mediterranean, the cruise ship’s route marked in red.

“He will board a cruise ship this afternoon in Barcelona, it sails at Six O’clock local time,” she continued. “You’ll intercept him before the ship reaches Malta.”

Leo leaned back. “So, you want me to sneak onto a luxury cruise ship, find a man I’ve never met, and take something he’s guarding with his life.”

“Yes,” she said. “Quietly.”

He exhaled. “Right. Quietly.”

She slid a small envelope toward him. “Your cover identity. You’re a guest. Solo traveller. Wealthy enough to blend in, forgettable enough to ignore.”

Leo opened the envelope inside was a passport in the name of Tobias Etchings, a boarding pass, and a credit card with a limit that made his eyebrows jump.

“Any support?” He asked.

“Minimal,” she said. “We want to see how you operate.”

He nodded slowly. “And if Varro realises I’m after him?”

She gave a thin smile. “Then we’ll see how you improvise.”

Later that afternoon.

Leo stood on the dock in Barcelona, the cruise ship towering above him like a floating city. Music drifted from the upper decks. Laughter. Clinking glasses. The Mediterranean breeze carried the scent of salt and expensive perfume.

He adjusted his jacket, checked the boarding pass, and stepped into the queue of holidaymakers.

Nina’s voice echoed in his head: "I love you, come back to me.”

His dad’s voice followed: “Keep your eyes open.”

Leo inhaled deeply.

This wasn’t a fight in a warehouse. This was a different kind of battlefield, one with tuxedos, cocktails, and hidden agendas.

He boarded the ship, passed all the security checks, and received his cabin number.

Lights, music, and laughter from over a thousand strangers, all with one goal: to enjoy themselves.

And somewhere among them, Elias Varro was carrying the hard drive that could make or break Leo’s first mission.

Leo straightened his shoulders—time to work.

Leo had barely settled into his cabin, sleek and modern, far too expensive for him. When the ship’s horn sounded, the engines rumbled to life. He checked the mirror, straightened his collar, and tried to look like someone who belonged here. He was surprised how the agency had picked out and had ready a full set of casual and formal clothes in such a short window.

He grabbed his jacket and stepped out. The pool deck was a postcard: turquoise water, white loungers, waiters gliding past with trays of cocktails that looked like they cost more than his monthly rent. Sunlight glittered off the sea. Music drifted lazily from hidden speakers.

He scanned the crowd. Elias Varro was easy to spot, leaning at the pool bar in white linen trousers, flip-flops, and a loosely unbuttoned lavender shirt. His sunglasses rested on his head as he sipped a drink garnished with pineapple, his laughter irritating everyone nearby.

Leo moved closer, weaving through guests, keeping to the shadows. Varro looked smug. And dangerous. The hard drive was inside his jacket, on the left side. Varro kept tapping it.

Leo needed a distraction. The ship's band started to play, and one of the entertainment officers was grabbing random people up to start a conga line. The music was getting louder, more joined in, as the line drew near. Chairs were being moved to allow them to get through. Elias stepped back, joining in with the party mood, singing and swaying to the beat. Leo waited for the right moment, then slipped behind Varro as laughter rippled through the crowd. His hand brushed Varro’s jacket, quick, precise, and practised. His fingers closed around the hard drive.

He had it. Pocketing it, Leo carried on dancing and singing. He hopped between two women, holding on to the woman in front's hips, and the woman behind did the same to him.

And then, a gunshot cracked through the night.

The music stopped.

Guests screamed. Some dropped to the ground, others ran to cover. But as no one knew where the shot had come from, Leo turned to see Varro with a gun in his hand, pointing it in the air; another shot rang out.

Varro’s eyes were blazing, reaching for anyone who looked suspicious.

Leo bolted as the deck erupted into chaos, champagne flutes shattering, and chairs being overturned in the chaos.  

He clutched the hard drive and sprinted toward the stairwell.

Behind him, Varro shouted, “Stop him!”

The chase had begun.

Chapter 7

Leo didn’t stop running, clutching the hard drive; he ducked down a service corridor, adrenaline burning in his veins. The ship’s alarms blared; security staff rushed past, focused on the cry of “gunshot on deck.” But Leo moved in the shadows, slipping through the lower levels toward the stern, and the Jet Ski station marked on the ship’s map Leo had memorised from when he embarked.

He paused, catching his breath in the dim light. The hard drive felt heavy in Leo’s palm, more important than ever.

“I can’t go back to our cabin,” he mused.

Leo glances at the glowing exit sign.

He reached the Jet Skis, where a crew member was waiting to see him. Leo pressed several banknotes into his hand. The Jet Ski was lowered into the water. Moonlight silvered the Mediterranean as he sped away from the cruise ship, its glittering decks shrinking behind them.

He had already planned on how to get home; he just needed it to be put in motion.

Leo grinned, pulling out his phone and tapping out a coded message to his dad.

Thirty minutes later, Leo was standing on the beach in Spain, awaiting a taxi, then a flight back to the UK.

Back at St James’s School

Leo unlocked the door at the caretaker’s cottage; the hard drive was tucked deep in his backpack.

His dad was waiting, eyes wide with relief and worry. “You made it,” he said, voice rough, pulling them both into a tight embrace.

Leo placed the hard drive on the kitchen table. It was scuffed, but intact. “I have it. Varro’s done.

His dad nodded. “The agency will want a debrief. But you did it, Leo. You brought it home.”

Leo laughed, finally letting the tension slip away.

As sunlight crept over the school’s cobblestones, Leo glanced out at the science block, his old scars and new memories mingling in his mind. He was no longer just Leo; he was the one who survived, the one who fought back, and the one who brought the mission home.

Nina nudged him. “Come on, you upstairs, you can tell me all about it?”

Leo smiled at her, his dad, and the school that kept their secrets. “Now, I rest.”

Chapter 8

Leo was awakened by a knock at the door; his dad, already downstairs, had opened it for Agent Winter. He handed him a folder. "Morning, James."

“Morning, Agent Winter, how can I help you?”

“I was looking for Leo?”

Leo made his way to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of the man in the doorway. Tall, trench coat dusted with rain, eyes like polished steel.

“Morning Leo, congrats on your last Job, the agency is grateful, and the owner of the Information you retrieved has signed another contract with us. So..., it's a win-win situation.”

He took a drink from his Starbucks cup, then said, “Paul Watkinson works at Brit-Aero, a company that uses ultramodern nanobots. He’s passing information to a competitor at a book club he runs.”

Winter tapped the folder.  Leo read the words CLASSIFIED. On the front.

“What’s this about?” Leo asked.

“It’s about Paul Watkinson,” Winter said. “You know him?”

“Paul? Yeah. He runs the book club in the village. Why, what’s going on?”

Winters’ jaw tightened. “Brit-Aero has been compromised. Wilkinson’s been passing nanobot schematics to a competitor and using that book club as a cover. We have been tasked with finding out who the third party is and stopping it.”

Leo’s breath caught. Brit-Aero. The name was everywhere in the news, pioneers in ultramodern nanotechnology, the kind that could rebuild cities or destroy them.

His dad shook his head slowly. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Winter said. “The club gave him access to people, conversations, and plausible deniability. We believe he’s been leaking data for months. He copies the blueprints and then hides them in books and passes them on under the cover of the book club.”

Leo’s stomach churned. He remembered the last meeting, the way Paul lingered after everyone left, whispering into his phone, eyes darting like a man with secrets. At the time, Leo thought nothing of it. Now it felt like a fuse burning toward an explosion.

Winters turned, his gaze sweeping the staircase until it locked on Leo. “You might have seen something,” he said, voice calm but heavy with expectation. “Anything unusual?”

Leo swallowed hard. His mind raced. Should he tell them about the phone call? About the brown envelope, Paul pocketed it so fast. His throat felt dry like sandpaper.

“I… I don’t know,” Leo stammered.

Winter stepped closer, the weight of his presence filling the hall. “Think carefully, son. Brit-Aero’s tech isn’t just cutting-edge; it’s strategic. If it falls into the wrong hands, we’re not talking about corporate espionage. We’re talking about national security.”

Two days later, Leo arrived at the Cafe where the book club was held.

The café smelled of roasted coffee and old paperbacks, a cosy disguise for secrets and lies. Leo pushed through the door, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. The book club was already gathering, laughter and chatter masking the undercurrent of something darker.

Paul Watkinson positioned himself at the rear of the room, methodically arranging chairs while keeping a composed demeanour. To observers, he appeared to be a benign individual with a passion for literature. However, Leo had become aware that behind this exterior was someone who had betrayed their trust and had access to technology with the potential to significantly change global affairs.

Leo grabbed a chair, forcing his breathing to steady. He had rehearsed this: casual and friendly. Nothing that would raise suspicion.

“Leo!” Paul’s voice was warm and familiar. “Glad you made it. Thought you’d skip after last time.”

Leo smiled, masking the knot in his stomach. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ve been thinking about that discussion on Orwell. You were right, control isn’t always obvious.”

Paul chuckled, eyes crinkling. “Exactly. Power hides in plain sight.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Leo wondered if Paul was talking about books or Brit-Aero’s nanobots.

As the meeting started, Leo played his part. He laughed at jokes, debated themes, and even complimented Paul’s insights. Every move was calculated, every word a thread on the web he was weaving.

When the session ended and people drifted out, Leo lingered. This was his moment.

“Paul,” he said, lowering his voice. “You ever think about… real-world tech? Stuff that could change everything?”

Paul’s gaze sharpened, just for a second. Then the smile returned. “Interesting question. Why do you ask?”

Leo shrugged, feigning curiosity. “I read about Brit-Aero. And the Nanobots that can heal or destroy. They should be used for the greater good, not making cars, or on a meat pie-making production line.”

Paul’s fingers tapped the table, slow and deliberate.

Leo felt the hook catch. He was in.

A man from the group, whose name Leo didn’t catch, was lingering in the doorway,

As the café started to empty, leaving only the hum of the espresso machine and the faint scent of cinnamon. Paul leaned back in his chair; eyes fixed on Leo with a calm intensity that made the room feel smaller. “What’s your game?” he asked inquisitively.

Raising both hands in a mock surrender, “Hey, no game, man, just saying it as it is.”

“Let’s chat next week, I have a meeting,” he pointed to the man at the door.

“Yeah, sure, see you next week.”

Paul walked out of the Cafe with the mysterious man. Leo walked over to Philip, the Cafe owner, “Hey Phill, can I have a look at your CCVT, I just need to...,”

“Leo, you know I can’t do that,” They both eyed each other up for a few seconds.

Then Phil said, “I just need to empty these bins, do you mind watching the shop?” His eyebrows rose.

Leo gave Phil a ‘High Five’ as they swapped places and Phil walked out the back, taking a half-full bin bag. Leaning in, Leo flicked on the monitor, then, using the mouse, he found the CCTV footage. Scrolling back two hours, he found a good shot of the mystery man taking out his phone, and he took several Photographs. Pocketing his phone and switching off the monitor. He waited for Phill to come back in.

Back at the Cottage, Agent Winter was in the garden on the phone, and Nina and his dad were sitting at the table. “Well,” the agent asked as he walked behind Leo.

“I have a photo of the man he met up with. I also noticed Paul passed him a book, and the other man gave him an envelope.”

“Show me,” the Agent was impatient. He took hold of Leo’s phone, “I’ll send this to our tech team.” He turned his back on them all while he did it. “Right, all we can do now is wait. You may as well get some sleep.”

The next morning, Leo and Nina were sitting in the garden having a coffee when a black Range Rover stopped at the end of the driveway. The back passenger side window opened; Leo could see Paul. His heart skipped a beat.  

Leo froze, mug halfway to his lips. Nina felt him still and followed his gaze.

Agent Winter was out of the cottage before Leo could stand. He strode across the gravel.  His hand hovered near his holster.

“I need a word with the kid,” Watkinson said.

Nina touched Leo’s arm. “Don’t”

Winters stepped in front of Leo, blocking his path to the car. "If you want to talk, say it now, and speak directly to me."

Paul glanced at Leo with urgency in his eyes.

"Leo, please hear me out. " He lifted his hand to show Leo he was in handcuffs.

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

“I thought you were just the caretaker's son.” his voice croaked, “I thought you were different, I thought you...”

Agent Winter shouted to the driver, “Get this piece of shit out of here.” The car accelerated, sending dust and stones through the air.

The Agent looked at Leo. “We have the other man, as I said, he worked for their competitors, and Watkinson had been selling snippets for years.”

“What’ll happen to them?”

“Well, they won’t be going home tonight,” he said, settling back in a chair as though the matter was already boxed and labelled. “Fraud, breach of contract, industrial espionage… the list is long enough that the magistrate won’t blink.”

Leo swallowed. “Will he talk?”

A faint shrug. “He’ll talk. Men like him always do. He’s already halfway to a confession, keeps trying to convince us he only sold ‘harmless bits’, as if that makes any difference.”

“So that’s it, then? Case closed?”

He gave a dry laugh. “If only. This wasn’t just two greedy men passing notes under the table. Someone funded this. Someone directed it. And whoever that is… they’re still out there.” Agent Winter took out a pen drive and passed it to Leo. Your next assignment if you are ready.

Leo and Nina looked at each other. “Where’s dad?” he asked, flicking the pen-drive around his fingers

“He went to the COOP for some milk.”

Chapter 9

As James came out of the COOP with milk, bread, and bacon, he saw a neighbour crying at her doorstep. “Hey Bernie, whatever’s the matter?”

“Hello James, it’s Danny, he tried to..., He..., I had to cut him down from the tree in the garden...,”

“Is he OK? Where have they taken him?”

“He's alive, and we will get through this..., but it's what he told me. Sorry, I’m waiting for a Taxi to take me to the hospital.”

“Can you tell me? I might be able to help? James asked, touching her arm.

“Drugs, that boy who drives past every night on the electric bike he’s got Danny involved, and he now owes him money, he didn’t know what to do, so he tried to..., you know.”

“Sit down, right start from the beginning, tell me everything.”

“It started..., now this is what Danny has told me.”

“Ok, I understand, please go on.”

“The lad on the electric bike asked Danny to look after a package for him for a couple of days, and said he would let him have a go on his electric bike. So..., Danny being Danny, and always wanting to please. Bernie nodded her head, “Wanting his own electric bike, he said yes.”

“OK, so what was in the package?”

“I don’t know, probably nothing. When he came to pick up the package, he said something was missing, and he wanted it back. Or he would have to pay a thousand pounds. Bernie started to cry.

“What happened then?”

“Last night, Danny told me everything. I told him we should call the Police, but he hit the roof, shouting at me, saying the boy said if the Police were involved, he would come and hurt him and then me.”

“So, what happened today?”

“I came home from work, at the same time I do every night, I do the night shift at the Royal Mail, sorting mail. When I got in, I shouted for him to get up. There was nothing. I went into his room and found this:” she passed over a handwritten note, (Sorry Mum, I can’t do this). I looked outside and saw him... in the tree. I ran down and grabbed a knife, and in the garden, I cut him down. As I was doing CPR, I rang for an Ambulance. He must have done it seconds before I arrived.” Bernie started to cry. A taxi stopped outside her house.  

“Right, you get to the hospital, leave this to me. Oh, and please don’t tell anyone else.” They both stood up and hugged, “I will sort this, Bernie, you look after Danny..., and yourself.”

She looked him in the eye, “Thank you, James.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

James walked home in a hurry. As he reached the school, a Black Range Rover shot past him.

“Dad, where have you been? Winter has given me a new assignment.”

His dad wasn’t listening; he just said, “Inside now.”

Nina and Leo stood up and followed him into the kitchen “Dad, what's up? You have me worried.” Agent Winter also followed him into the house.

“That kid on the electric bike, you know the one who hangs around the school gate every night looking for the vulnerable, you know, easy targets.” They both nodded “Well, he found one, young Danny from number Two, Two, Seven; his mum works nights at Royal Mail.

“So, what happened? We noticed an Ambulance.”

“He did the stuff missing out of the jiffy bag trick, Danny took it badly and tried to take his own life.”

Leo and Nina both gasped, “God, is he all right?” Nina asked, her look of concern was real.

“Yes, I think it was a cry for help, he did it, seconds before Bernie, his mum came home from work.”

“What do you want us to do?” Leo asked, still flicking the hard drive around his fingers.

James looked at Agent Winter. He shook his head, “OK. I’ll give you two days, then I need Leo on this case,” he snatched the pen drive back.  

Three thirty that afternoon, Leo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to look like a bored caretaker rather than a nineteen‑year‑old running an undercover sting. The boiler suit sleeves were too long; he’d rolled them twice, but they still hung past his wrists. The screwdriver felt heavy in his palm.

Nina’s voice crackled softly in his ear.

“Remember, you’re not confronting him. You’re watching. Just get a look at what he’s doing.”

Leo muttered under his breath, “Yeah, yeah, watching.”

His dad’s voice followed, low and steady.

“Leo, focus. If this kid’s running a scam that’s hurting people, we need proof.”

The electric bike kid crossed the road, hooded up, and shoulders hunched, circling. He slowed and narrowed his eyes at Leo.

The bike's motor stopped. “Hey, you work here?”

Leo turned to face the biker, “Yeah, caretaker, can I help you with something?”

The biker sniffed up, “Looking for Danny, he should have rang me at lunch, but his phone's off”

“Yeah, I know, Danny,” Leo wanted to walk over and punch him in the face, drag him off his probably stolen bike and give him a good kick. “Not seen him today,” Leo turned away and started to tighten a screw on the noticeboard. Over his shoulder, he said, “I can give him a message if you want?”

“Nar, I’ll pop down to his house.” The motor of the bike started up, and the bike pulled away.

“Dad, did you hear that he’s going to his house?”

“I pre-empted that move, so I’m here,”

James was waiting behind the front door; he had left it unlocked, hoping he would walk in, and he did.

Stopping his bike outside Two, Two Seven, he got off, looked up and down the street, it was empty, apart from the Caretaker working on the noticeboard. Walking up the path, he took out a knife from a sheath, tapping on the door, he shouted, “Hey, Danny Boy, you home?”

There was no reply. He noticed the door was ajar, looking around, he pushed the door with his foot, inch by inch. It opened. “Hey, Danny, you got something for me?”

Still no reply. The biker took two steps across the threshold; the knife was out in front. He never saw it coming...Darkness hit him...

He woke up tied to a chair in the caretakers' storeroom.

James and Leo stood before him, holding his bank card and student bus pass, which displayed a photo of a spotty teenager. On the workbench lay his upturned man bag, its contents scattered: six bags of white powder and ten packets holding small blue pills, each embossed with the letter ‘V’. And Nine Hundred and Fifty pounds split in Twenty-, Ten- and Five-pound notes.

Holding a bag of white powder, James asked, “Hello Oliver, can I call you Olli? Yes, I think I will. You use this stuff?”

“Nar, it's a mug's game, just sell it.”

“Who’s your supplier?” Leo asked.

“I Ain’t goanna tell you that, anyway you're just a caretaker, what the fucks it got to do with you?”

James emptied some of the white powder into a cup, then ran some water into it. “You know what this is mixed with?”

“No, don’t give a fuck, just sell it”

Stirring the powder up in the water, James walked over to Olli, “Think you could do with a drink, you look a bit dehydrated, what do you think, Son?”

Leo got the message, gripped Olli’s head and clamped his finger and thumb on his nose.

“Hey, hey, you can't do this...,”

“Who is your supplier?”

Olli started to kick out and struggle. James held his chin, opening his mouth, then poured the water down his throat. “I think this will make you remember.”

He started to gag as he swallowed the water, then started coughing.

Leo released his grip on Olli, saying, "You're going to die for this."

Swaying his head from side to side, James answered, “We all die at some time; it's the little things, like when and how, that matter.” Taking two of the blue pills, he squeezed the bicker's mouth till it opened. “I’ll ask again, who is?” he popped one of the pills in Olli’s mouth. “Your supplier” The second pill went in.

Leo opened another bag of powder and emptied it into the same glass, adding some water, “I always need water when I have pills, they stick on the back of my throat. What about you?

“No, no wait, I’ll tell you”

Olli froze, chest heaving, eyes darting between the two men. Whatever bravado he’d walked in with had drained him, leaving only a trembling kid who’d realised—far too late—that he was playing in a league he didn’t understand.

James set the glass down, untouched, right where Olli could see it. He didn’t need to say what it implied. The threat hung in the air like a third man in the room.

“Good lad,” James said softly, almost kindly. “Start talking.”

Olli spat out the two blue pills. “It’s… It’s not one person. It’s a crew. They run out of the estate by the canal. The old garages. I just picked up my stuff from a bloke called Marsh. I don’t know his real name.”

Leo folded his arms. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not!” Olli squeaked. “Look, I didn’t go inside. They don’t let runners in. Marsh meets us by the bins. That’s all I know.”

James crouched down so they were eye‑level. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Now listen carefully, Olli. You’re going to stop running for them. Today. Right now.”

Olli blinked. “They’ll come for me.”

“No,” James said, standing. “They’ll come for us. And that’s the point.”

Leo began gathering the scattered notes and packets back into the man bag, “We’ll return these,” he said. “With interest.”

Olli stared at them, confused. “Why… why are you doing this?”

James gave a thin smile. “Because someone needs to remind your friends that this community isn’t theirs to poison.”

Leo jerked his head toward the door. “Get up. You’re going home. And you’re staying there.”

Olli hesitated, then scrambled to his feet. His legs shook so badly that he had to steady himself on the bench.

As Leo guided him out, James paused by the workbench, glancing at the blue pills, the powder.

He zipped the bag shut.

“Time to pay Marsh a visit,” he murmured.

James updated Agent Winter and said they would be back in an hour or two.

The garages by the canal looked abandoned from a distance, with rusted doors, graffiti, and weeds pushing through cracked concrete. But as James and Leo approached, the signs of life became obvious: a lookout perched on a broken wall, a motorbike idling somewhere behind the units, the thump, thump, thump of bass leaking from inside.

Leo nudged James. “That’ll be Marsh’s boy.”

James didn’t break stride. “Good. Saves us knocking.”

The lookout straightened as they came closer. “Units are private,” he called out, trying for authority but landing somewhere closer to nervous. “You need to—”

“We’re here for Marsh,” James said, calm as a man ordering tea.

The lookout hesitated, then tapped on a metal door. A moment later it rolled up halfway, revealing a dim interior lit by a single hanging bulb. A man stepped into view, mid‑thirties, shaved head, tracksuit top zipped to the throat. Marsh.

He looked James and Leo over with the bored confidence of someone used to being feared. “Don’t know you two.”

“You don’t need to,” Leo said.

Marsh’s eyes flicked to the man bag in James’s hand. “That mine?”

James held it up. “One of your runners dropped it. Thought we’d return it. Face‑to‑face, so to speak.”

Marsh smirked. “You’re good Samaritans, yeah?”

“Something like that,” James replied.

He placed the bag on the concrete just inside the doorway. Marsh didn’t touch it. He just stared at them, weighing and calculating.

“You hurt the kid?” Marsh asked.

“No,” James said. “But he did try some of the samples he was carrying.”

Marsh’s smirk faded. “What do you want?”

Leo stepped forward. “Here’s how it’s going to go. You’re done using kids from our village. You want to poison your own doorstep; that’s your business. Not ours.”

Marsh let out a short laugh. “You think you can walk in here and tell me how to run my—”

James cut him off with a raised hand. “Not telling. Just Informing.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to chew.

Behind Marsh, two more men appeared, drawn by the tension. Marsh didn’t look back at them; he kept his eyes on James.

“You’re making a mistake,” Marsh said quietly.

James nodded. “Probably. But it’s the right one.”

For a long moment, no one moved.

Then Marsh stepped back, just half a pace, but enough. A signal. A concession. A warning.

“Take your good‑citizen act somewhere else,” he muttered. “And stay out of my business.”

James turned. “Stay out of our Village.”

He and Leo walked away without looking back. Only when they reached the towpath did Leo exhale.

“You think he’ll listen?”

James kept walking. “He heard us. That’s enough for today.”

“And tomorrow?”

James’s expression hardened. “Tomorrow, we see if Marsh is a smart man… or a problem.”

To find out what happens to Leo, James and Agent Winter, Please Read Part Two.