What do you do with information if you don’t understand it?

I’ve been sitting here in the same position for four hours. I don’t know if this is real or a hoax, or some kind of crazy movie plot. This is…

I shake my head in disbelief.

Stupid.

I press play and listen to the recording for the tenth time, and with every new listen more fear arises.

Now, I’m just about out of damn battery and I can’t recharge until I land.

I stare out the window as I think, and I honestly don’t know what’s worse to hear: what Ben apparently does for a living, or the fact that he was right, and he did have a good reason to leave me all those years ago.

Actually, no, it’s the fact that he may be dead in a few days’ time. I put my head in my hands. This can’t be happening.

Oh, God, I feel sick.

Is this what he meant by him not wanting his past to catch up with me?

Who are those men?

What does he fucking do for work?

I think I already know the answer, but I don’t want to let my mind go there.

Not Ben. Not my Ben.

No, baby, don’t let it be true.

Please, please, please. Dear God, don’t let this be true, I silently pray.

I knew that he was into some heavy military shit before, but this is a whole other level.

I wish I hadn’t heard this. I wish I could go back six hours and just be worried about him being lonely while I was gone.

Now I’m worried about his life, and I don’t even know if this shit is real. I begin to look around in a panic. I feel claustrophobic, like the plane’s closing in on me.

I need to get off this plane. I need to get off this fucking plane now. I can’t do anything. I can’t call him. I glance at my watch, frustrated that there’s another twenty hours of flying left, with another stopover in between.

Fuck’s sake.

Is this really happening?

It does seem bizarre. I click play again.

Silence, and eventually Ben answers.

His girl. An unexpected thrill runs through me. That statement shouldn’t mean as much to me as it does. I throw my phone into my bag in disgust.

I’ve officially lost the fucking plot.

What the hell is wrong with me?

After the worst stopovers ever, and thirty sleepless hours later, I shuffle up the line toward the desk at Heathrow International Airport. After thinking all flight, and I mean all flight, I’m more confused than ever. In fact, I’m a total mess. If I call Ben to warn him of their plans, his phone might be tapped and then I will bring myself into danger because I saw who they are. Whoever they are. I frown as I think. Perhaps I could identify them if I needed to. I need to write down what they look like before I forget.

Yes, that’s what a smart spy would do. I’ll buy a notepad and pen when I get near some shops.

My mind jumps to Ben. I can’t call him.

The only two people who I think would know what to do are Joshua and Brock. Brock is the Maldives and Joshua is flying to L.A.—neither of any use at all. They can’t do anything from where they are.

I stare into space as my mind races a million miles per minute.

If I can’t call him then I can’t warn him of the car that they have tampered with.

What if he does go to Prague?

What if he dies?

Oh, God…

He told them he was going. Is that what he meant when he told me he was going to the U.S. for a few days? Was that a lie to cover for this job?

Fuck!

What if he dies, and I know that I possibly could have stopped it or warned him? My stomach drops, and nausea fills me.

He can’t die on me. I can’t let him die. He only just came home.

But do I even want him home, knowing this about him? I’m so fucking confused.

I run my hand through my hair as my stomach churns.

What if it’s all a big hoax and they are just having some fun with me?

Who am I kidding? They didn’t know that my damn phone was going to record them. I don’t even know why it does it. I wonder how I could find out if the booking is real?

I think for a moment, and then I Google ‘Park Hyatt, Prague’ and the number comes up.

Hmm, I tap my foot double time as I think. Use your brain, Bridget, think of a plan.

I look up and glance over the crowd. I know! I click on the number. It rings and the receptionist answers.

“Good evening, Park Hyatt, Desiree speaking,” she answers in a heavy accent.

Shit.

My eyes widen. “Hello. I was wondering if you could tell me if my husband has checked in yet, please? Our flights have been on different schedules and I don’t want to wake him. He said he might check in early.” I screw up my face. What the hell am I doing? “Room 278… in the name of Taylor?” I add.

“Sure, just a minute.” I hear her keyboard clicking and she returns. “Yes, that’s right, the booking is here, but he doesn’t check in until later today. I’m sorry.”

My stomach drops and my eyes close. Damn it, Ben. I put my hand over my mouth as my heart hammers in my chest. I get a vision of him checking into the hotel, oblivious to what’s about to happen. What do I do? Quick, think!

“He forgot to get a second key. Can you leave one at reception for me or him to pick up, please?” I ask hopefully.

“Yes, of course.” I hear her typing.

“Next, please,” The airline check-in girl calls, and I glance up at the line in front of me that has somehow disappeared.

Shit.

“Thank you,” I reply to the girl on the phone and hang up, and then I move up to my place at the check in desk.

She’s blonde, cute, and I hope she’s feeling helpful. “How are you today?” She smiles.

“I’m good.” I smile back as I hand over my passport. “There’s been a change of plans, though.”

She glances up from her computer. “Why is that?”

“I need to change my flight,” I say hopefully.

“Of course. Where to?”

“Prague.”

Seven hours later…

“Can you drive faster, please?”

The cab driver frowns at me in the rearview mirror.

“Hurry,” I mouth as I point toward the road to symbolise going faster.

He nods and picks up his speed. It’s 7:00 on the night that Ben is supposed to be doing whatever it is he is doing. I’m not sure if I am even going to make it.

But I am very sure that there are three things that you never ever should do in your life.

One: change your flight at the last minute and fly from Sydney, Australia to Prague. Because there is no direct route. I have had two stopovers in Bangkok and Vienna. I have not been in a bed for thirty-two hours. Delirious doesn’t come close to how I feel, and my temper is next level high.

Two: be seated next to someone on said flight who has the intense body odour of a troll. And this is after you have not slept for twenty-four hours and have had to have three drinks to try and block out the smell, only to end up being rude and asking him to go and put some deodorant on. He now hates me and I’m okay with that.

My conscience is clear, you dirty, smelly man.

Three: have a phone that randomly records shit.

Shit that shouldn’t be heard by unsuspecting eavesdroppers.

I was just happily minding my own business.

I’ve overheard a conversation that I don’t even know is real, and if I have flown on this hell trip over here for nothing, Ben’s life is in real danger from me. Forget about faulty cars. I’m just going for a king hit straight to his skull.

We drive through the streets of Prague and my heart is beating fast. It’s dark and I can’t see anything, not that I can focus, anyway.

What if I get to the room and he’s not there? What if the two men are there waiting?

My eyes widen.

What if Ben’s already dead?

Nobody knows I’m here.

I’m a travel agent and I know not to do this. Any of this.

The car slows, and he pulls into the circular driveway. “Here you are, miss.” The driver smiles over his seat.

“Ah, thank you,” I whisper as the blood drains from my face. I peer out the window at the hotel in front of me. It looks safe enough. Too bad it isn’t.

What the hell am I doing? I nervously hand over my credit card and he swipes it and retrieves my bags from the trunk. The concierge greets me. “Can I take your bags, ma’am?”

“Um.” I don’t want the bags to arrive at the room before me. “No, that’s okay, thank you.”

I grip them a little tighter and make my way to the reception desk.

Act calm. Act calm. Act totally fucking calm.

I smile at the two ladies behind reception. “Hello, can I pick up the second key for my room, please? My husband called down and arranged this earlier,” I ask as my heart hammers hard in my chest.

“What room, madam?”

“Room 278, under the name of Taylor.”

She types it into her computer and waits for the notes to come up. She smiles as she reads them and prints off the second key. Relief fills me.

“Level six, to the right.” She smiles as she hands over the key.

“Thank you.” I make my way through the lobby and over to the lift, glancing around as I wait.

Are they here? Are they watching me now?

Oh, dear God, please let this go well. I don’t particularly want to die tonight.

I’m so nervous that I’m perspiring profusely.

I make my way up to the room, and I stop out the front and retrieve my earphones before I plug them into my phone and set the recording ready to play.

I’ve been watching too many NCIS episodes because I have the plan all worked out in my head. I’ve been going over it for hours.

I grab my key, blow out a steady breath, and swipe the door. It opens in a rush.

Ben is standing by the window, and I quickly put my finger up to my mouth in a shush signal.

“What are you doing?” he snaps.

“Room service,” I reply loudly in an accent in case the room is bugged.

He scrunches up his angry face, and I run to him with my finger up to my lips, quickly placing the ear bud into his ear and pressing play. He goes to rip it out and I shake my head frantically.

“Listen,” I mouth.

He listens and then frowns. He shakes his head and presses play again as he listens once more.

“What?” he mouths.

I shake my head nervously and shrug my shoulders.

He stands still on the spot and listens again.

“Can you come with me and get some towels from the cart?” I ask.

“Yes, of course,” he replies clearly.

We walk out into the hallway, and he grabs my arm and pulls me down the corridor.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growls in a whisper.

I tear my arm from his grip. “Saving your life. You’re most welcome, by the way.”

“Don’t give me that fucking shit.” He pulls me into the bathroom near the lifts and locks the door behind us. “How did you get this?”

“My… my phone is randomly recording stuff, remember?” I stammer. “And I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared. They’re going to kill you.”

He listens to it again and shakes his head, and then he dials a number on his phone. It is answered on the first ring.

“This is Buzz, 11046,” he says, monotone.

I stand silently listening as my heart nearly goes into cardiac arrest. I put my hand over my heart to try and somehow will it to slow down.

“How can I help you?” the deep male voice answers. I can hear what the man on the other end is saying as clear as day.

“We have a security breach.”

“Who?” the other voice snaps.

“1702 and 9067.”

“Proof?”

Ben narrows his eyes at me and shakes his head in disgust. “Recording on…” he snaps.

Oh, God, he’s furious,

“Recording on…” the voice answers.

He holds up the phone and plays them the recording, and the other man stays silent as he listens.

I hold my breath as I listen, too. Is this the cops? Is he on the phone to the cops?

Who is on the other end?

Are they coming to save us now? Are we in danger?

Shit, this is hectic. I put my hand over my heart to try and slow it down.

I may need an ambulance any moment.

“Hang on a minute,” the voice says. “Locating the said agents’ whereabouts now.”

My eyes widen.

We both stay silent as we listen to keyboard typing.

He finally comes back. “They are both in Prague.”

Ben’s jaw ticks in anger. “Permission to eradicate threat?”

Oh. My. Fucking. God.