A. Zander: Moscow City

“Anastasia,” said Harper. “That’s a nice name.”

They watched Harper and waited for his response. He stood up and walked towards the window. There was a mist over the city and visibility was poor. He could hardly see further than a few streets across.

“I need a day to think about it,” he said finally. “You know it was a only a few weeks since we finished the last court case. I like to take a bit of time out before I jump into something new. Can I get back to you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” said Bailey. “But if you decide to go for it, you’ll leave on Monday. Come back with the goods and you’ll be heading your own squad. You’ve got my word on that.”

Harper said nothing and made his way to the door.

“There’s one more thing I wanted to ask you about,” said Bailey. “Says here you got engaged during your last op. The press has given us a lot of flack over relationships started while on the job. Do you think she’s likely to go running to the papers?”

“I doubt it Ma’am. She’s related to some pretty heavy people. I don’t think they’re the type to start getting pally with reporters.”

“Well, that’s good. How did you leave it?”

“I just left it.”

“And it was that easy?”

“It was a job. It was that easy.”

They watched as Harper walked out and disappeared back down the corridor.

“What do you think?” said Bailey.

“Seems a bit full of himself,” said Russell.

“You would be too if you had his record,” said Morton.

“How are his psych evaluations?” said Bailey.

Morton flicked through a couple of pages in Harper’s file to the psychological assessments. “Seems fine. He passed all the checks with flying colours. Why?”

“He’s been in pretty deep on some of these undercover ops. I’ve seen plenty of officers go off the rails after work like that.”

“Nothing to indicate there’s anything like that happening.”

“Is he married?” said Bailey. “I mean outside of an operation.”

“He was. It fizzled out last year. It’s not exactly easy to hold a marriage together in his line of work.”

“Sadly you’re right,” said Bailey as she stood up and walked to the door. “Let me know as soon as he makes a decision. The Commissioner wants to get this off the ground.”

Harper pressed the buzzer and stood back from the door. The detached house was in a smart area of south London. You could almost forget you were in the city in an area like this. It was a village planted in the middle of the urban sprawl. The Force always offered to pay for therapy if anyone needed it. They took care of you like that. But he didn’t want it on his record, so the £100 an hour came out of his own pocket. It was pricey, but he was hoping it wouldn’t be forever.

Tamara Wainwright opened the door and gave him a welcoming smile. The house had a certain smell to it. She had scented candles burning most of the time. It reminded him of a trip to Thailand. If she meant it to feel relaxing, it worked for him. It was his second visit. He took his shoes and jacket off and followed her into the room on the left. He sat down on the couch and she took her place on the leather chair opposite.

“How are you feeling today Matt?”

“Better than before, but not perfect.”

“Are you sleeping?”

“Sporadically. But enough.”

Tamara sat and looked at him as he slouched on the sofa in front of her. She put her hands in her lap and gave him the chance to gather his thoughts and decide what he wanted to discuss.

“I’ve got a bit of a difficult decision to make about work,” he said.

“What kind of difficult decision?”

“Another case has come up. It’s perfect for me and I am desperate work on it, but I don’t know if I could handle it with all this going on.”

“With all what going on?”

“The anxiety. I’m feeling a bit better, but the idea of getting back to work, I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

“Why don’t you think you can handle it? What do you think might happen?”

He checked himself as he thought of a way to explain things to her without giving too much away. They had agreed to leave out the details of his work and try to generalise instead.

“I’m worried I’ll lose my poise in front of people,” he said. “It could be dangerous for me if I lose my poise.”

She also considered her response carefully. Enough policemen had passed through her clinic that she had a good idea of some of the more secretive work they did. This game of cat and mouse was something she had perfected over the years for those with something to keep hidden.

“Have you taken all the advice I gave you?”

“I do everything you recommended, except giving up the coffee and the booze. But I’m working on it.”

“You know you’re not helping yourself by using either of those things.”

“Yeah, I know. But one step at a time right.”

“Of course, it’s entirely up to you whether you take this job or not, but what is happening to you is perfectly normal and not life threatening. You can’t stop living your life because of this. I want you to keep that at the forefront of your mind.”

“I just wish I could feel like I did before.”

“And how did you feel before?”

“I felt like nothing could touch me. I felt like I could take on the world and win.”

“And why can’t you now?”

“It just feels different. Like every step I take is like fighting my way through a wall of sand.”

“That’s because you’re pushing too hard. You can’t fight against this. You can’t fight against yourself. Your body is telling you something is wrong. There is no need to change your goals. You just need to work out a different way to progress to the same point.”

Harper sat quietly again and tried to take in what she was telling him. He knew it was the burning ambition and competitive streak inside him that were partly fuelling his problems. But he had never tried to dampen them before and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“I’ve always worked hard. It’s part of me. I can’t just turn it off.”

“I’m not asking you to turn it off. You just need to think why you are doing it in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“What is driving this need to work hard? What is this need to always be first?”

“It’s the way I’ve always been.”

“And what happens if you take your foot off the gas?”

“Mediocrity happens.”

“And whose judgment call is that?”

“Mine.”

“Are you sure it’s your call? Or are you afraid of what others would think?”

Harper paused as he digested the question. No one had ever called him afraid before. It’s one thing to be stressed and overworked, but scared? He wasn’t scared.

“I think we’re getting off the point there to be honest,” he said, sitting up straight. “I’m just a bit burnt out. I don’t think we need to start getting into my childhood and all that.”

“What are you afraid of talking about?”

“I’m not afraid alright,” he said, slightly louder than he intended. She shifted in her chair and he felt immediately guilty. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. This is just all new for me. I’m not used to opening up like this.”

“That’s fine. It’s a perfectly normal reaction. Just take your time. We’ll go at your pace.”

Harper leaned further back and looked at the ceiling. “Look, Tamara, do you mind if we knock it on the head. I’m just not sure this was a great idea anymore.”

“Matt, I think you should stay. You’ve only been here 10 minutes. We can just go over some more exercises if you like.”