Pandora

Pandora, Deliverance and The Bonus

All AJ Adams novels can be read as standalones, mainly because cliff-hangers drive me nuts. But if you want to read them all, then you may be curious about order.

Pandora features Pandora and Xavier. I wrote it when I was writing as Storm Chase, so it's third person. It was the last book I wrote as Storm. Writing is a journey and with Pandora, I understood I wanted to go totally dark. 

Deliverance features Mac and Pepper. Mac has a cameo in Pandora, and if you ready closely, you'll realise Pepper gets a mention too.

Because Mac is mates with Kyle, Mac gets a cameo in the Bonus, which is Chloe and Kyle's story. Mac and Pepper also pop up in Dirty Dealings, because I thought you'd like to know how they're getting along.

Xavier also plays a small part in Twisted, and Jorge chats briefly with Pandora - an experience which leaves him somewhat crushed which doesn't sit well considering he's just been reamed by Persia. 

But hey, that's what you get with messing with the girls, right? 

I love Pandora, Chloe, Solitaire, Nats, Bliss, Pepper and all the others because they are solid gold.  Loving and indominable, they stand side by side with their dark-hearted men.

So, enjoy Pandora and please tell a friend about the AJ Adams novels.

Cheers, 

AJ

Chapter One

She’d messed up again . Sir Harry Bassington-Smythe was glaring. Well? he asked icily. What do you have to say for yourself, Ms Fitchett?

I didn’t w-want to do it, Pandora stammered. I had no choice. The order came from MI5.

I don’t believe it! Sir Harry snapped.

Pandora blinked rapidly, forcing back hot tears. It’s true. Ask Brigadier Reeves.

Never heard of him. What department is he in? Who’s his boss?

He said, but I didn’t quite catch it.

What the blazes do you mean, you didn’t quite catch it?

Brigadier Reeves talks like Pontius Pilot. You know, the one from Life of Brian, Pandora whispered. But he had a badge. It said MI5.

Sir Harry’s eyes narrowed. Maybe he gave you his card too?

The sarcasm went straight over Pandora’s head. I asked, but he said they don’t carry them.

Sir Harry stared at her, his watery blue eyes bloodshot from fury and too much gin at lunchtime. You’re making it up.

I’m not!

Yes, you are and it’s outrageous, he snorted. I come back to find you in my private office. Stealing files from my computer! You know you can go to jail for this?

It was an official investigation, Pandora said desperately. He said it was purely routine, but I couldn’t tell because of protocol.

And how long have you been spying?

Only one other time, Pandora confessed.

And what did you take? The tenders for the new missile system? The proposals for the new aircraft carriers?

He just wanted to see your diary.

My diary? You handed over my diary to this chap? Sir Harry spluttered.

Yes. Pandora’s stomach lurched and sweat ran down her back. All they wanted was your diary for the last three months. Nothing else. It didn’t seem very important.

That’s not for you to decide.

I checked, Pandora protested. MI5 headquarters is in Thames House. I called them and they confirmed Brigadier Reeves works there.

To Pandora’s surprise, Sir Harry froze and gulped. He was a pompous ass, but he had won medals in the Gulf and Bosnia. He couldn’t be frightened of a routine investigation. Admiralty House was the clearinghouse for Royal Navy administration, and most particularly the highly secret tenders detailing plans for new weapons and ships. Security was always tight, so Sir Harry must be used to official check-ups.

Sir Harry took a breath, barking, He may have been an impostor.

I knew it was him because we met in Thames House, Pandora offered nervously. When I wouldn’t email him over an insecure line, he told me to come to his office instead. And he gave me a pen drive to use. A special one so that everything was encrypted. I know how important it is to maintain security.

Sir Harry blanched. I don’t believe it. His fingers tapped a nervous tattoo.

Pandora shifted miserably. Ever since the call from MI5, she’d been sick with nerves. If only she could close her eyes and teleport to a tropical beach. She wanted to bake herself senseless in the scorching sun. Instead, she was in soggy London, dressed in three layers of clothes—and still cold.

Stay here, Sir Harry ordered. I will have to investigate. His mobile rang. The ring tone was a jaunty version of Rule Britannia. He picked it up irritably. What? Then he shot a cautious look at Pandora, mumbling, I can’t talk at the moment.

Mistress, Pandora thought. Taking in her elderly, balding boss with the huge salt and pepper moustache that always seemed grubby, she hid her distaste. Power could make women lust after anyone, but there wasn’t enough of it in the world to make her like Sir Harry.

He was old enough to be her grandfather, but that hadn’t stopped him from pestering her. When she’d started working in his office just over a month ago, he’d dropped by her desk, pawing her shoulder and looking down her blouse while pretending to take an interest in her career development.

She ought to have confronted him, but as she was desperate to hold on to the job, she daren’t complain.

Instead, she’d tried to avoid him. One morning when she’d seen him ambling down the corridor, she’d dived into what she thought was the ladies - it had been a stationery cupboard. She’d been locked in until Gary from Accounts heard her banging on the door and let her out.

Sir Harry must have heard everyone gossip about it, but he hadn’t said a word. To her relief, he’d taken the hint and left her alone. For days she’d half expected him to fire her on a trumped-up reason, but funnily enough he hadn’t. He just snapped at her whenever she came within reach of his office.

But now he’d caught her pilfering files from his computer. Even if it had been at the orders of the Secret Service, she was in real trouble. If only she could get out of there. Permanently. Pandora hated intrigue: being forced to spy on her boss and keeping secrets had been nerve-wracking. Being caught was worse. She’d never enjoy a James Bond film again.

If only the kids would take her on. But while Kidz With Needz were grateful for her volunteering, they couldn’t offer her a paid position. For that, she’d have to upgrade her degree in applied behaviour analysis with a master’s. Pandora sighed. She would have to go back to working shifts at Starbucks. It didn’t pay as much as Admiralty House, but at least it was straightforward.

Sir Harry was staring at her as he listened intently to the voice on the phone. There was a furtive look in his eye. Yes, I understand, he snapped. He slammed down the phone. Stay here!

He marched out, leaving Pandora to slump over the desk. Sir Harry would fire her for this. Her father would be furious. He still hadn’t forgiven her for breaking off her engagement.

The scene rushed back, the pain and horror fresh as her father snarled at her. Useless, bloody girl. I wanted Richard as one of my directors. How dare you mess this up? You’re throwing over a decent young man with excellent career prospects, and for what? Because you can’t love him? You should be damn grateful he even looked at you.

Her mother had broken into equally damning lamentations. You have no common sense, Pandora. We warned you about taking that silly degree. Behaviour analysis is nonsense.

I want to help people, Mummy. Autistic kids need a lot of support.

But they won’t pay you, will they? You wasted your studies, can’t get a proper job, and when a perfectly marvellous man wants to take you on, you reject him.

Pandora had been so upset that she’d rushed back to London. Distraught and worried about her future, she was relieved to find an employment offer waiting: administrative clerk at Admiralty House. She was only temping for one of the staff who was off on maternity leave, but at the time it seemed like an opening to a new life.

Pandora accepted instantly and threw herself into the job with all the fervour of a convert. Once Sir Harry had given up pawing her, she didn’t mind the long hours or the tedium of paperwork; the responsibility cut down on the time she spent worrying.

Despite her degree and constant reading, her work focused entirely on number crunching. It took skill and persuasion to convince staff to fill out Sir Harry’s demands for information, but it was a far cry from a career in a children’s hospital or mental health charity that Pandora had visualised.

It helped that her father’s endless stories about his military career paid off. She adapted easily to the working style of the officers she came into contact with, had an instinctive grasp of protocol, and enjoyed the idea that she was serving her country in her own way.

It might even have been fulfilling, if it hadn’t been for Sir Harry. Although the senior bosses didn’t care about his roving eye and habitual bottom pinching, most of the female staff loathed him. So when MI5 came calling, Pandora suspected one of his old victims was using them to get him kicked out.

The problem was that Sir Harry was the extremely well-connected war hero and senior government official, while the shadowy people of MI5 had mysterious powers all of their own. For Pandora, a low level nobody, it was a no-win situation. Being stuck in the middle had been giving her nightmares for weeks, and now her worst dreams were turning into reality.

As Pandora frantically wiped away escaping tears, Miss Pickles, Sir Harry’s private secretary and chief sucker-upper, sailed in and put a cup of tea in front of her. Comfortably dressed in designer country tweeds, she looked like a yummy mummy who’d escaped from the pages of Tatler magazine.

Sir Harry sent this from the officer’s mess, she sniffed.

Pandora took the cup gratefully. Maybe it would be all right after all.

Sir Harry has given orders that you are to stay in this office and not contact anyone, Miss Pickles smirked. She hadn’t liked Pandora since the day she started. She was clearly delighted that she was in trouble.

Miss Pickles marched out, slamming the door behind her. Minutes later, the outer office door opened and shut. Pandora guessed she was leaving before Sir Harry could return and ask her to stay even later.

Glancing at her watch, Pandora saw that it was almost seven o’clock. It was dark outside and from the drops on the window, raining too. It was a typical cold winter night. Summer and the sun were months away.

Pandora wiped away her tears, blew her nose and then picked up the tea. It was scalding hot and very strong; quite unlike the usual tepid, weak brew that flowed through the office. Sir Harry had access to private stock. One of his perks, no doubt.

Unfortunately, it was loaded with sugar. Pandora sighed. Miss Pickles knew Pandora liked her tea unsweetened. The woman really loathed her.

Pandora drank a little but couldn’t finish it. She wondered what would happen next. Would Sir Harry just fire her? Could he? The Brigadier had reminded her she’d signed the Official Secrets Act when he had given her his orders. And everyone knew that MI5 trumped every other government department. On the other hand, as MI5 weren’t part of her organisation, could Sir Harry argue that she was no longer trustworthy?

Pandora sighed. She hadn’t a clue and didn’t even know who to ask. Since she’d come to London just over a year ago, she had made no friends.

She’d hung out with a London clubbing crowd at first, but that had been disastrous. She’d falling head over heels for Micah, but after a wild week of romance, he’d taken her to bed and ghosted her immediately after.

When she’d started dating Richard, she’d met his friends, but she didn’t like them very much. It was probably best, Pandora thought, seeing as none of them had called her after she’d broken up with him. Pandora felt utterly alone.

Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion swept over her. She had not slept properly since breaking off her engagement. At first, her father’s cold strictures haunted her dreams. When the brigadier had demanded her cooperation, the fear that Sir Harry would find out augmented her nightmares.

Although she kept herself busy with her work during the day, her mother called at night, moaning that she couldn’t face her friends since everyone assumed Richard had dumped her. Pandora stifled a shuddering yawn. Luckily there had been some snafu about bills and her mum’s phone had been cut off a week ago.

Digging in her handbag for a tissue, she spotted the letter. More damn trouble. Pandora shivered with apprehension. Richard had taken rejection badly. Pandora had listened to his rants and apologised until she was hoarse, but it made no difference. When she’d blocked his number and ignored her doorbell, he’d emailed her at work.

The deluge had finally stopped, but Pandora’s relief vanished when she discovered the reason behind the sudden silence. As Richard was an up-and-coming lawyer at Smith & Wells, a massively successful legal firm, his rage was now manifesting itself in the law. A registered letter had arrived that morning, demanding she repay him the money he’d spent on her during their courtship.

Courtship, Pandora thought woozily. More like a drawn-out siege. Richard said he loved her, but he hadn’t approved of her. He had criticised everything from her clothes to her kitchen skills. Admittedly, her cooking was appalling, but shouldn’t a man in love overlook toast that was a bit scorched and pasta that was still hard in the middle? Richard hadn’t.

I wish you’d buck up, Pandora. How are you going to throw dinner parties when we’re married if you can hardly boil water? Marriage is a partnership, and I expect you to pull your weight. Promotion doesn’t come automatically, you know. You must do better.

Pandora hated arguments. Being told off in an icy voice was bad enough, but being shouted at made her feel physically sick. She’d snapped back, but that only made him angrier. After he’d reduced her to tears two nights in a row, she’d given up talking back. That, and a surprise call from Micah, apologising for bad behaviour, had helped crystallise the fact that she didn’t love Richard, couldn’t even bring herself to like him very much, and that she would have to tell him so.

Pandora rehearsed her speech for a week, downed two glasses of wine in quick succession for Dutch courage, and had broken it off.

At first Richard had been dismissive. You’re talking nonsense, Pandora. It’s just nerves.

She’d fought the urge to back down. It’s n-not. I’m v-very sorry. Uhm, here’s your ring back.

Tucking the ring in his hand finally pushed the message home. His roar of rage had flattened her. The slap that followed galvanised her to flee and confirmed she’d been right to break it off.

But sitting in the gloomy office, Pandora realised the escape had been temporary. Richard would take her to court, claim that she’d led him on, defrauded him in fact. Her head warred against her heart. Her sense told her the slap was an assault but guilt sabotaged her. When it all come out, the entire world would hear how awful she’d been.

Her stomach roiled, and she could taste bitter bile. Given her troubles, she’d become used to continuous diarrhoea and vomiting. Now, thinking about what Sir Harry