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   Chapter 27 No.27

Black Sunrise By Christina Engela Characters: 5292

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:02

The Agency had a certain image to portray, and she just didn't fit in anymore, they said. It was hard enough for any woman to cope with for long, they said – let alone someone like her. It was why suddenly, she was redundant. Bullshit, she thought. She'd coped with it for most of her adult life, even before there was a Cindy-Mei – and if they didn't capitulate before feminine charms, well – there was always the blunt object.

She was going to prove to them all that she could still cope with it. And Mister Beck here was going to help her to pull it off. He didn't know that she'd left the Agency and wasn't technically Agent Winter anymore. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt her. They hadn't bothered to check her credentials. She hadn't even shown them a badge, not that she even still had one. Bullshit baffles brains. She smiled at Peggy-Ann before saying with quiet satisfaction:

"He'll do."

* * *

The early morning sun warmed her shoulders as Jenny Grauffis; aged 26 lowered the first post of the day into the freshly dug hole in the dry brown sand. She reached down for the sledgehammer lying with the posthole digger and the roll of razor wire. Repairing the border fences of her recently inherited farm wasn't her idea of fun. She wasn't doing it to prove anything either. She didn't see it as a "man's job", or consider herself as being particularly masculine for a woman. It was simply a job that had to be done, and she was the only one left who could do it.

The past few months had been hell, with Mom and Dad gone, killed in an unlikely barn fire. Oh, th

He was on foot, struggling. He seemed to be in trouble. He was falling down a bit much for someone just out for a morning run.

The figure staggered and fell down, making a little dust cloud as it did so. It didn't get up this time. Riveted, she let the hammer fall. Then she turned and made for the Jeepo.

* * *

Captain Bran Johannsen was having a very difficult morning – a very stressful morning indeed. He was onboard the ISS Lexington, sitting in the office of Captain James Morris, nursing a serious headache and a near-terminal case of blind panic. Small plasters decorated his face in all the places he'd cut himself shaving. He'd been requested to report to the aforementioned office, presumably to explain… He was alone, waiting for the aforementioned Captain, and using the time he had left to him as a free man, trying to think up plausible explanations for actions which he couldn't even remember. Needless to say, it was hopeless. He was going to miss his job, the salary, the title of 'Captain' – and yes, even the dear old Duval.

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