Sanjana sat alone in the first-class restaurant car of the LondonâPerth Express. She absentmindedly pushed the remains of her lunch around her plate. Holding a glass of whisky, she stared out of the window at the blurring countryside â fields dotted with sheep and the occasional farmhouse standing resolutely against the winter light.
The trainâs steady rhythm mirrored the churn of her thoughts, which lingered on that morningâs meeting with âCâ. It had been their first honest conversation in months. They had discussed the Intelligence Committeeâs conclusions, particularly those relating to Lord Horatio Friggington and Charles Keane.
The discussion had rekindled her passion for an independent Scotland, free from people like Horatio Friggington. The thought of him, with his oily smirk and smug sense of entitlement, stirred her anger anew. He embodied everything she despised: privilege weaponised into cruelty.
Her mind flashed back to a particularly galling moment. Years earlier, Friggington had insulted her womanhood and ethnicity, passing it off as âbanterâ, before attempting to corner her in a parliamentary corridor. She could still feel his iron grip on her wrist and his other hand up her skirt, and she could still smell his nauseating cologne. When the incident went public, he dismissed it as a âjokeâ on TV, accusing her of lacking a sense of humour. Unsurprisingly, the CCTV footage had disappeared, and Friggington portrayed the incident as a revenge plot against him.
She wondered whether he even remembered that corridor or had simply filed it away with the many other things powerful men forget.
Charles had been right â Friggington had protectors. Men in high places who were untouchable, and always willing to clean up his messes. This made her even more determined to support Charles, no matter what it took.
The rumble of the train and the whisky sheâd drunk after lunch were making her feel drowsy. The sharp edges of her anger softened, and she remembered Charles and how they had first met.
Flashback â KazakhstanâKyrgyzstan Border, Fifteen Years Earlier
The battered old Lada rumbled along a dirt track, its tyres kicking up clouds of dust. Charles, younger but no less intense, gripped the wheel with determined force. The track was merciless, and every jolt shook the car and its occupants. His eyes constantly darted to the rear-view mirror.
Beside him, Sanjana, much younger, laughed uncontrollably â the kind of irrepressible, bubbly laughter that comes from deep within. She leaned across mid-laugh and kissed him on the cheek â impulsive and effervescent.
âMy saviour,â she whispered, her voice warm with admiration.
Charles didnât smile fully, but his eyes softened briefly. âNext time, follow the instructions,â he muttered. âYou were meant to observe the demonstration, not join in.â
âSorry.â
The memory faded, leaving Sanjana staring at her reflection in the train window. The countryside rolled on, but her thoughts stayed behind, caught in the past.
She picked up her phone, hesitated, and then dialled. There was no answer. Typical. Sighing, she opened her messages and quickly typed:
âIâm supporting you, Charles, you bastard.â
She hit send, shaking her head with a half-smile. Charles had always had that effect on her: he was reliable, gruff, unshakable, and maddeningly obstinate.
Her thoughts drifted back to how heâd stood up to the misogynists in the old guard of MI6 when they blocked her promotions and to the late-night calls sheâd received during her divorce, when his voice was the only steady one keeping her anchored. Charles had been her ally, her anchor â perhaps even her conscience.
And yet, there was a pang of worry. Would he misinterpret her actions in the coming days as betrayal?
She straightened up, pushed the empty plate aside, and took another sip of whisky. Whatever lay ahead, she was resolute. Charles would understand â or he would not. Either way, her course was set.
The train crossed the Royal Border Bridge, with the faint gleam of Berwick-upon-Tweed shining beyond the arches. Scotland.
Sanjana smiled faintly and wiped the condensation from the window. She took her laptop and diary out of her travel bag. There were notes to compile, thoughts to record, and preparations to make for the meeting that evening. She needed to arrive more prepared than Jamie expected. A prickle of unease ran along her spine â the old instinct that always told her when it was someone elseâs turn to move.
Outside, the landscape grew wilder and older, and felt more and more like home.
đ§ Cross-References
Drawing the Lines â Towards the Retreat to Valtellina
Narrative Posts in this Section
Lunch â A Whisky and Reflections Sanjana leaves for Scotland; whisky and introspection. Flashback to her history with Charles and Friggingtonâs harassment. 17 November 2025
Night of 3 March 2014 â Two Rooms, One Resolve Parallel meetings: Sanjanaâs summit in Perthshire and Charlesâs Den in London. Rossella introduced.âTwo Roomsâ structure; Friggington and Ann Fretwell named as dual threats. 24 November 2025
The Road South Sanjana after the Perth meeting. Arti and Gillian monitor remotely. Adds action, shows Cambridge teamâs efficiency. 1 December 2025
Friggington on the War Path 8 December 2025
By the River â July 2013 (Flashback) SanjanaâCharles flashback on the Thames after Angusâs death.Reinforces loyalty and moral contract. 15 December 2025
A Day Return to Cambridge Charles visits Laura; tension, flirtation, and Rizzo connection. Ends with Lauraâs dispatch to Paris. Narrative bridge; deepens Cambridge bond. 22 December 2025
The Line to London Sanjanaâs journey to London 29 December 2025
Laura in Paris and Return to London 5 January 2026
Charles, Gaia and Laura Interogate 12 January 2026
Previous Narrative Posts related to this section
Private Letter to Jamie Gordon Date: 28 February 2014 Location: Islington, London â Sanjana Jaitleyâs Study 15 October 2025
The Map to Nowhere One man dead in a Mayfair hotel. A champagne glass swapped. A dossier erased. Charles Keane is back, but off the booksâand the only clue is buried in a smile last seen in 1989. 17 May 2025
Lines in the Water Southend-on-Sea, 14 November 1989 12 May 2025 This dossier provides a background to the relationship between Charles Keane and Lord William Hancock, PC (Labour) â Born 1928 Stepney, son of a dockworker and a seamstress. Labour peer and civil-service reformer who chaired the Inter-Party Parliamentary Committee on Intelligence Oversight (1983â89). Mentor to Charles Keane; his insistence on âtruth over tribeâ shaped the younger manâs entire career. 12 May 2025
The Sleeperâs Web Begins 9 November 1989 â Berlin, West Germany. Bornholmer StraĂe Border Crossing 1 May 2025
Dossiers
đ Butler Britain â Laundromats, Livery Companies, and the Oligarch Welcome Committee Editorâs Noteâ this isnât about conspiracy, but complicity.
Triple Edge Diaries
Gillian Gordon â Private Diary 6 November 2025
The Wrong Questions Were Never Asked. In the silence after Matlock, Charles confronts the consequences of what wasnât asked â and who was already watching. 20 June 2025
Observations, intercepted messages, field sketches, and whispers from the ground.
Charles Keane â Private Notes (Handwritten Fragment) (London Safehouse -Den, 23:47 BST) 26 February 2014 13 November 2025
Viktor Pavlov â Private Notes (Geneva, night flight back to Moscow â undated) 10 November 2025