Queen Guinevere

By Ruby O'Connor

After a coup leaves the agency devastated and Tom presumed dead, Sophie returns from North Korea before to rebuild the agency and help recruit a new class of agents at Pendragon. Just as the agency is coming together and everything seems in place, a new threat emerges from long time foe Sullivan Nero which calls Sophie back into the field.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruby O'Connor
• Release date: Jun 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781838420505

Ruby O'Connor

Ruby O'Connor is a bit of a philodox, and a killjoy. She'd also like to take this opportunity to apologize to Howard Jones. Why is not important. She has lived here and there, learning this and that, and chronicles these adventures as Arizonacolleen on various social media. Proud creator of Sophie Hollander and Minuet Nero so far. Friend, expat, activist, and unique dresser. Ruby does most of her social drinking near her husband and their two dogs in Wexford, Ireland. She's very grateful you checked out her profile. Seriously.

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Queen Guinevere

Queen Guinevere

Ruby O’Connor

Queen Guinevere by Ruby O’Connor 

© 2021 Ruby O’Connor, Arizonacolleen

Excerpt contained within this work: 

Donne, John. The Good-Morrow. Poetry Foundation, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44104/the-good-morrow.

Lyte, Henry Francis. Abide with Me. Public Domain Lyrics,

https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Abide_with_Me_(Illustrated_Victorian_Songbook)

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

[e-mail]

Cover designed by Emma Clinton.

ISBN: 978-1-8384205-0-5

Table of Content

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

for John

Part One

It had been a terrible day for Tom Strachan. He remained in the office to await possible mission orders after a protest in Kyiv erupted into police violence, leaving hundreds injured. When none came, he thought to take a moment in the office of the Department of Grail Pursuit: a silly ritual he sometimes indulged when he found himself missing his wife. This effort was interrupted, howbeit, by the surprise arrival of an extraction team in the underground corridor. At first, Tom busied himself with a file to deflect his actual purpose there but his attention was drawn to the chatter he heard, followed by the appearance of Merlin at the threshold of sickbay. As the body bag was carried through it, Merlin shot him a stern and mournful look and Tom’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he agonized at the thought that it might be his Sophie. Tom then swallowed, composed his dizziness, and stepped over to find out.

Merlin took a step forward, intercepting Tom at the door. Best you remain here, Merlin instructed, until he has been reassembled. Tom looked up at him, horrified at the description, "He has been reassembled? The sudden and comforting acknowledgement that his wife was still sound, wherever she might be, left Tom deeply ashamed. Who? he asked, returning his focus to Merlin. Merlin removed his glasses, crestfallen as he deeply sighed and answered, Spence. In death, Pendragons were referred to by their Christian names. As quickly as Tom’s relief swept over him, it was replaced with the devastating weight of loss. Spence had been a dear friend to Tom, and also to his beloved. Tom only hoped the news failed to travel as quickly as it normally did, for her sake. Sophie’s going to be crushed, he admitted softly. Merlin nodded softly, Aye, as am I." Tom offered him a sympathetic nod before leaving him to his work and returning to the shop, bound for home.

Tom sat at his desk, sipping his scotch slowly by the light of the single lamp across the room when the telephone rang. Puzzled, he looked over at the small clock beside the lamp, noting the time, 0103. Tom blinked a few times, sat up and loosened his tie before lifting the receiver. A bright voice recording on the other end greeted him as it began.

You have an international call from, the recording began as Tom listened, only to sit up when he heard bird calls instead of a name at the greeting. Would you like to accept the charges? the recording continued as Tom grasped the receiver and replied aloud, Yes, please. There was a moment’s silence and Tom listened intently when her voice softly broke the static and calm. Is it true? she asked, her brokenhearted hush near a whimper.

My love, Tom said softly, where are you?

He listened to the silence before Sophie replied a second, slower time, Tom. Is it true? I am terribly sorry Canary, he replied, It is true.

Tom Strachan then sat listening as Sophie wept on the other end of the line, powerless to ease her woe. It was a sound Tom would have stepped in front of a black cab to stop.

Canary, he gently coaxed, where are you? Are you safe? Would you take a nice, deep breath for me? Tom listened as Sophie attempted to take a broken breath, softly gasping as her crying slowly subsided. Another few breaths, and if she continued to weep it seemed to fade to silence. I’m in the bathtub, Sophie answered him at last, not in a bath, just in the bathtub. Just sitting here in the empty bathtub. Her response confused Tom, but he said nothing on the matter, allowing her to find her words. I just saw him, Sophie acknowledged, her voice developing a slight rasp through her tears, it doesn’t seem real. Sophie rested her temple against the cool wall of the bathtub, wrapping her sweater around her waist with an audible sniff.

You just saw him? Tom queried, Certainly not since I’ve seen you? Tom drained his glass, reaching for the decanter he brought into the office with him to refresh it as he listened.

No, it was over Christmas, Sophie explained, Spence invited me to Norwich with his family so I wouldn’t be alone, but I declined. I wanted to spend the holiday with you undisturbed. Tom blushed, remembering her secret ritual as he listened to the harmony of her voice. Still, he did take me to a Christmas party so I wouldn’t stay inside the entire holiday, Sophie remembered, a slight laugh trapping in her throat, We took third place in the dance-off.

I’m sorry I missed that, Tom mused, only to hear Sophie’s soft sob return on the line. He tried to tell me he loved me, Tom, she confessed, her tears returning, but I didn’t let him. I left him there and now he’s gone. Tom stared up at the wall of covers, each reminding him of a previous triumph as he lamented the day’s events. His silence worried Sophie and she added hastily, Not that he wasn’t a complete gentleman, Tom. It wasn’t like that. Sophie sniffed loudly and cleared her throat as she explained, He said because it had been ten years and nothing changed, he just thought I should know. As a friend.

Why did you stop him? Tom asked cautiously.

I didn’t want to create a row between the two most important men in my life, Sophie answered simply, or between such good friends. I told him you told me - that I knew, which stopped him.

Sophie sighed, a barely audible whimper escaping her. Please don’t be cross with him, she requested meekly, he did not mean anything untoward. 

How could I be cross with him? Tom asked innocently, It’s well-known that every man of any discernible intelligence and taste in London is in love with you. Tom smirked slightly, sipping his scotch as Sophie scoffed loudly at his remark, I’d be reduced to fisticuffs in the streets were I to take offence at those so beguiled by your loveliness.

You ridiculous man, Sophie cooed, her voice notably brighter. Tom smiled upon hearing it. When you were in Korea, it wasn’t me who discovered your code, Tom admitted, Spence brought it to me, and covered for me when I went to you. He was a brilliant friend. I am grateful he was there with you when I couldn’t be. Tom sighed, tipping back the last of his drink.

He thought the world of you, Sophie offered gently, noting the sadness in her husband’s voice. She held the receiver, drawing her knees up and hugging them to her chest as she listened to his movements on the line. Tom set the glass on his desk, looking across as he swivelled in his office chair with a huff. Sophie could tell he was a bit drunk from his tone but said nothing.

And now… he said, I have to elect a candidate to replace him. Tom tapped a stack of folders on his desk as he said it, clearly frustrated with the responsibility. I cannot relate, Sophie replied, I’ve never been allowed that particular privilege.

I would not wish it upon you, Canary, Tom disclosed, it can prove quite an arduous task.

You always choose brilliantly, Sophie assured him, but Tom gazed over his shoulder at the stack of folders and sighed, exhausted at the notion. He didn’t wish to consider the task at present.

Where are you? Tom asked her, hoping to lighten the mood. Sophie idly attempted to straighten the worn phone cord, only to have it coil in another spot.

I’m just outside a place called Eden, Washington, she answered, It is a pit, Tom. I’m tracking possible cult activities, and it’s a perfect fit for one out here. There’s no internet to speak of, and practically no one has a mobile. That’s why I had to call you like this. As she acknowledged this, Sophie gasped, pulling her interwoven fingers from the phone cord and clutching her face. Good Lord, she exclaimed, this is a trunk call! Tom, this must be costing you an absolute fortune! Tom grinned as his wife fretted in his ear, taking a wicked moment to bask in it before replying with a kind but resolute, I don’t care at all about that. His stern response rendered Sophie to quiet, and for a moment they both sat holding their phones in silence.

I’m glad you called, Tom said, letting his words fall to silence for a moment before he confided in her, to my great shame, when his extraction arrived, I found myself seized with fear only to be relieved to discover it was not you. Sophie listened as Tom poured his grief upon the floor, wishing only to be there with him at that moment. You had been on my mind all day, Tom explained, in fact, I was only in that corridor because I thought to pop into your office for a moment of quiet reflection when he arrived. Tom took a deep breath, exhaling heavily into the receiver as Sophie pressed hers to her ear.

My love… she whispered adoringly, comfortingly.

My breath caught in my throat, I became dizzy, and what was a simple case of missing you grew until I couldn’t stand it, Canary. Tom paused, furrowing his brow in his chagrin.

You’re too hard on yourself, Sophie offered, We often think of loved ones after a loss.

I am deeply sorry about Spence, Tom said, but as I sit here thinking of him and wanting answers, I’m still thinking of you. I want to hold you. I want to kiss you and look into your eyes and smell your lovely hair. Tom poured another dram of scotch, pausing to take a sip as Sophie listened. Then, as I’m sitting here in the dark, the telephone rings and it’s you, Tom said sweetly, filling my ear with your lovely voice and lifting my spirits with your presence. Just when I most needed to hear that you were safe, you came to me. How did you know, Canary? There was a slight slur in Tom’s voice as he asked, making Sophie’s heart ache as she heard it. I thought of Aidan, she admitted, I remember how your spirits were lifted when you returned home and I was there. Sophie sniffed once, holding the phone tightly, I thought it might help. Oh, my dearest one, Tom replied, it has, tremendously."

I wish I was with you, Sophie offered, but it will be six months at least before I’m finished here. Sophie lifted, sitting along the side of the bath nearer the small heater in her room. I’m going to miss Spence’s funeral, she lamented, I miss everything, always so far away. You are doing noble work, Tom reminded her, sitting up in his swivel chair, Spence would understand if anyone would, although I would warn you to stay sharp, my love. I have lately suspected we have a mole among the Pendragons. I am seeking evidence but I keep running into dead ends. As far as I am concerned, Spence’s death confirms my deepest fears. Times are perilous in our beloved organization. Tom paused to finish his scotch when his wife responded in a tone he seldom heard from her.

Sharp, and with a tinge of vindictiveness, Sophie called to him, Tom? Find out who is responsible for this.

Tom swallowed hard as he heard her chilling request, surprisingly aroused at the hearing of it. I will, he assured her, you have my word. There was a charged moment which passed between them, this vow easing both of their woes.

It’s late, Sophie broached, shifting the subject and beginning the closure of the call. Tom looked at the clock, noting the late hour as he replied, Is it? You know it is my love, Sophie replied, I want you to wash your face and drink a full glass of water before bed. You wouldn’t wish a headache come morning, especially if you are toasting his memory. Her instruction, dense with her adoration, made Tom smile as he listened dutifully.I will Canary, he assured her, standing and rounding his desk as he stretched the phone cord, I love you, Sophie. Thank you for calling.

Thank you for loving me, Sophie countered, twenty years is an awfully long time to be lucky.

I don’t like luck, Tom replied, luck runs out eventually. True love is eternal. Eternal, Sophie scoffed, that makes twenty years sound like nothing at all.

Tom smiled, swaying slightly from the combination of scotch and fondness as he leaned against his desk. It’s a beginning, he assured her tenderly. Some 4,900 miles away, Sophie smiled as she looked out of the small bathroom window and up at the half-moon above them both. Goodnight Tom, she said softly.

Goodnight Sophie, he replied sweetly, Be safe.

Always, she replied, lowering the receiver and hanging it up. She looked back out the window before seeking a cup of tea. With the kettle on the stovetop, she again wept for her friend. Tom rested the receiver against his chin for a moment, turning her words over in his mind when something jumped out at him. Pushing the stack of prospects out of the way, he turned back to his desk and opened his laptop.

Aidan Connelly… he mumbled to himself, typing quickly in the darkened room.

Part Two

It had been months since Sophie sat in an empty bathtub, pouring her grieving heart down the telephone line under the full moon to her dearest husband. Sophie sat on the toilet of her modest Portland hotel, sloughing the dead skin from the heel of her foot with a slight frown. Too much walking about barefoot in that bloody cult, she thought as she tapped away the flakes of callus from her rasp. She felt the bottom of her foot, smiling subtly before she crossed her legs to focus on the opposite foot when she heard the faint chime of her door lock. Sophie instinctively pressed her thumb to the rasp, sliding the blade lock and releasing the razor contained within as she stood and stepped between the door and the toilet. As her threat passed, his reflection crossed the bathroom mirror as Sophie slipped the flexible razor between her fingers and flattened her palm. Sophie then released a slow, careful breath and flushed the toilet to announce her exit.

She walked from the bathroom, bracing for her attacker as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her back to him. Sophie immediately reached behind her, pressing her palm to his face and quickly pulling downward as the razor sliced from his forehead down across his eye and cheek. Her attacker let out an anguished snarl, throwing her into the desk with great force and firing in her direction as she scrambled over the nylon bedspread and ducked on the other side of the bed. As the assailant held his bleeding face, Sophie looked around for her bag before giving the bed a light shove. It moved with ease, and Sophie capitalised on this by pressing her shoulder into the metal frame and charging toward her attacker. The bed struck the temporarily blinded assassin, and as he stumbled he dropped the gun in his hand. Sophie wasted no time, scrambling under the bed to grasp the weapon.

Furious, the gunman looked around the floor for his bed before grabbing the frame of the bed and lifting with both hands, flipping it away from him. Beneath it, laying on the floor was Sophie, who quickly took aim and emptied his weapon into his head. The attacker fell backwards into the bathroom, dead before he hit the floor. Sophie drew a calming breath, her heart in her throat as she turned her eye to the door and pondered if this man had been alone. As the shock subsided, she rolled to her side, keeping her focus on the door as she climbed over the mattress and flipped the security lock across the door for good measure. Sophie then looked at her hands, scowling at the residue as she went to her handbag and retrieved one of Edwin’s wipes. She carefully removed her fingerprints from the weapon before setting it on the dead attacker’s stomach. She checked his pockets but predictably found nothing. Who were you? She wondered with a disappointed sigh.

Sophie then left the body, reaching across to the sink to collect her glasses. She gave them a light tap as she left the body and returned to her duffle in search of a clean dress. Call HQ, she called, rummaging through the bag as she slipped into her simple slingback flats. When her call failed to connect, she paused before tapping them again and issuing her command. She listened carefully on the second attempt, noting the lack of sound coming from the device. Curiously, she removed her tablet from the side pocket of the duffle and keyed her passcode in for the Pendragon network. Sophie frowned as nothing loaded, the network failing to connect after a second and third attempt. Sophie began to grow alarmed, trying her glasses a final time as she looked back at the feet which extended from the bathroom door. Sophie then removed the glasses, snapping