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Ian had barely been home an hour when the doorbell rang.
He had been in the process of unpacking from his trip to Monaco, where 24 hours ago he had successfully completed his first mission for MI6 Special Operations. He had still been riding the high of his success as he returned to his London flat and he'd only really had time to take a quick shower so far. He had been looking forward to spending the rest of the afternoon catching up on his sleep, before perhaps going out to a pub for dinner.
He hadn't been expecting any visitors, certainly not so soon after coming home.
Still cautious after his recent mission and more than a little curious, he checked the spyhole before answering the door, and frowned in confusion. The face that greeted him was both familiar and completely unexpected.
Ian opened the door, quite unable to hide the surprise on his face.
"John? What are you doing here?"
His brother smiled at him. “Heard you were in town, thought I’d drop by. Can I come in?”
John looked much as he had the last time Ian saw him some months back. Smooth, handsome face, his hair still kept short despite John having left the Paras months ago to get some job at an insurance company. He was casually dressed in a dark brown jacket, a white shirt and jeans. Not exactly the clothes of someone who worked in the City. It took Ian a moment to remember that today was a Saturday.
"Yes, of course," Ian said, still puzzled as he moved aside to let John enter.
He and John weren't close, exactly. They got along well enough when they spoke, but they had done so only rarely these past few months, each busy with his own career. John had his job in the City and Ian...
Well, Ian had had an especially busy time lately, as he made a career switch into becoming a secret agent.
When military intelligence had come calling to offer him a job, Ian had immediately been interested. They had told him to think it over and Ian had taken that day and night to consider it, but he already knew he was going to accept. While he had enjoyed his time in the army, lately he had been craving something different. Something with a bit more action, and a bit more independence.
MI6 would provide that. It would be dangerous, it would mean going undercover and cut off from support behind enemy lines, but deep down Ian knew it was the right choice for him.
He had rung them the next morning to accept the offer.
There had been intensive training afterwards, nearly a full month spent at the SAS training camp in the Brecon Beacons. It hadn't been easy, but Ian was in his mid-twenties, physically in good shape, and he had always enjoyed a challenge.
He’d thought of John then. His brother had gone through one of the toughest training courses the British army had to offer to join the Parachute Regiment, and Ian longed to ask him about it and compare experiences.
But there had been security briefings as well, and the same message drilled into his head over and over again: tell no one, keep your secrets. Even family and friends should ideally be kept in the dark. No matter how much you trusted them, people talked, and a known secret agent was soon to be either useless or dead.
And so Ian had kept quiet.
He’d told everyone, including John, that he’d simply taken a new job at a bank in London and that he was going on a holiday to the south of France for a few weeks.
Ian did his best to recall the details of his cover story now, as he let his brother in. He hadn’t expected to need to lie again so soon after returning from his first undercover mission, but he could already feel the rush of adrenaline sharpening his mind, making him more alert. His brother had always been perceptive–Ian would have to be very careful with what he said.
John glanced around curiously as he stepped into the living room, and Ian realised he couldn’t remember his brother ever visiting his flat before. He had moved in months ago and both of them lived in London now, but somehow they rarely saw each other.
London could be a very big place when you each had your own lives. And keeping his new career a secret hadn’t made it any easier to reach out.
Despite having never visited before, John settled on the sofa like he came by every other week. His brother had always been like that, able to fit in anywhere. He looked perfectly at ease in just about any situation, rarely getting flustered. A younger Ian had both envied and resented his brother’s confidence.
“Want some tea?” Ian asked, out of some half-remembered routine of hospitality. It had been a while since he’d had anyone over.
“If you’re making some,” John said easily. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”
“Not at all, I’ll put the kettle on.”
He went over to the kitchen, trying to ignore the way John was studying the rest of the living room, still with the same air of curiosity.
Ian couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about it all. Why was John here? Why now? His brother was acting like this was just a casual visit, but John had never paid Ian a visit like this before.
“You just got back?” John asked as Ian set out two mugs on the counter.
“A bit over an hour ago. Earl Grey’s fine?”
“Earl Grey’s more than fine,” John said. “After the stuff we got in the field, I’m hardly picky.”
Ian hummed, busying himself with the tea. He was aware of John examining the books on the coffee table, turning one over to read the back. He watched his brother from the corner of his eye, trying to make sense of John’s sudden appearance.
“So how’ve you been?” Ian asked.
John looked up. “Not bad, not bad. Helen moved in with me, did I tell you about that?”
Deciding the tea had brewed for long enough, Ian brought over the mugs, handing one to John and sitting in the chair across from him.
“You hadn’t, but congrats,” Ian said, meaning it. He’d only met Helen a few times since she and John started dating, but he’d liked her. She had a quiet warmth to her that seemed to bring out a better side of John as well. “You two are doing well, then?”
“Yeah, it’s been good.” John smiled as he sipped his tea. “She’s got a new job at St Dominic’s, in North London.”
“The private hospital?”
“That’s the one. She’s in radiology.”
"What about you? How's your job treating you?"
John's smile got a little wider, and Ian got the sense that there was a joke he wasn't in on.
"Oh, you know, can't complain," his brother said. "It's exciting enough.”
"Really," Ian said, a bit dubious. "I'd have thought you'd be bored out of your mind getting a desk job after leaving the army."
"Well, it's not quite a desk job," John said cryptically. "And you'd be surprised what goes on in insurance when there's millions of pounds involved."
That Ian was willing to believe. As he'd discovered on his mission to Monaco, there were people willing to sell out their country for a lot less.
But what did John mean, not a desk job? Perhaps his position required meeting with people, some form of consultant. John had always been good with people. Ian had never actually asked John what his job entailed. He was about to ask now, but John was too quick for him.
"And how's your new job then? Settling in all right?"
"It's mostly just been orientation so far," Ian lied. "But it's good. Nice change of pace."
Again, the smile. "I'm sure."
Silence fell as they sipped their tea.
Ian was still confused over why John was here, making small-talk with him. There was something about his brother’s smile that was putting him on edge.
"I've been abroad for the past few weeks," he offered, when it didn’t seem like John was going to say something.
“Right, you mentioned it. How was Monaco?” John asked.
It was asked so casually that Ian almost didn’t realise the mistake before he spoke. Almost.
“It wasn’t Monaco but Marseilles, and it was fun. I mostly did the big tourist attractions, but it’s definitely worth a visit.”
“Oh, was it Marseilles? My bad.”
John sounded amused, and a chill went down Ian’s back. Suddenly, John’s knowing smile became something more sinister. What were the odds that his brother would accidentally mention the exact place Ian had visited on his mission?
Ian didn't tense. He knew better than to show any reaction, but inside his mind was racing.
John knew. Somehow, Ian was certain that John knew. But how could he? Ian hadn’t slipped up, he knew he hadn’t, which meant that John had to have got the information from someone else. Where?
And how? No one was meant to know about Ian’s missions, they had made that very clear in his training. Secrecy was paramount. And yet here John was, knowing things he shouldn’t.
Someone must have had him under observation. Perhaps they had seen him arrive at the airport from the wrong plane, or perhaps they had known even before that. Suddenly, Ian felt his neck prickle. Had they been in his flat while he was away?
Ian’s heart beat faster as a more ominous question rose up in his mind. Who was John working for?
John huffed a quiet laugh. "Relax, Ian. I'm not your enemy. In fact, we work for the same side, quite literally."
Ian lowered his mug. When he spoke, his voice came out steady. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say I wasn’t as done serving my country as I implied back at Christmas,” John said, with a slight shrug.
The words took a moment to penetrate the whirl of alarmed thoughts. As they did, Ian's frantic mind slowed.
On the same side. Of course, there was no reason to assume the worst. All the secrecy around his new job was simply getting to him. Perhaps some part of Ian was still back in Monaco, constantly on the lookout for danger.
“You mean… ?” Ian trailed off. He needed John to be the one to say it.
“Rather secretive lot. Doesn't officially exist, and yet they pay decently well. It's not quite James Bond, but Smithers does his best with the gadgets."
At the mention of the MI6 gadget master, something in Ian's chest eased.
John, working for Secret Intelligence, who would have thought? And yet, it made a surprising amount of sense. More sense than John’s insurance job ever had. Like Ian, his brother would be suited to the life of a special agent. He had the skills and personality, perhaps even more than Ian himself. John had always been good at getting people to trust him.
One last niggling doubt reared its head. Would they really have kept it from him? Wouldn't they have told him if they had recruited John?
The answer came to Ian almost immediately after. Of course they wouldn't. Military intelligence thrived on secrets. It had been the first rule they taught him: never tell anyone anything you don’t need to tell them.
And MI6 wouldn't have wanted the family connection to influence the results in any way. If they approached John, they might have told Ian after John had passed the tests, but certainly not before. That way, there would be no harm done if it didn’t work out.
Although, from the way John was acting, Ian suspected it was his brother who had been recruited first.
“How long have you been in the service?”
John shrugged. “Ten months, give or take.”
"So your job in the City…?"
"All a cover. I mean, really, Ian." John smiled. “Can you see me working for an insurance company?"
It had struck Ian as odd at the time, but John had always been a very good actor. He’d given a convincing story about being done with the armed forces, and Ian was ashamed to admit that he hadn’t seen his brother often enough to truly question it.
"And then the month-long training exercise you did before you got your new job..."
"Training with the SAS at the Brecon Beacons, same as you, I imagine. Although they let me skip the parachute course."
Old fascination welled up in Ian again. "Was it very similar to the training you did for the Paras?"
John shrugged. “Not that different all in all. Got yelled at less, though.”
“Yeah, that certainly took some getting used to.”
The SAS officers in charge of training had been surprisingly silent during the long marches they had to do, completely unlike the drill sergeants Ian was used to from his earlier army experience. No yelling, not criticism or encouragement. They would simply give recruits their next instructions and send them on their way. It was unsettling.
Still, Ian knew the reason behind it. When you were alone in the field, there would be no one urging you to keep going – the motivation had to come from within. It was how the SAS filtered out people who could push themselves, who could keep going when things got tough, both traits MI6 valued too.
“I thought that march would never end,” Ian said, shaking his head. “Did you get lost?”
“No, but it did start raining three hours in.” John smiled wryly. “I’ve had better days.”
“Oh, that’s rough,” Ian said with a wince, but internally he was smiling.
It felt good being able to talk with John like this. He almost couldn’t believe he finally had the chance, and found himself full of questions he wanted to ask his brother.
“So what sort of missions are they sending you out on?”
“Can’t tell you,” John said, but he grinned. “You’ll need higher clearance than you’ve got now to hear the details.”
More secrets then, but that was all right. Just having someone who knew the truth about his job was already a relief, in a way. There was enough to talk about that wasn’t classified.
John checked his watch and sighed, his smile fading.
“I have to go,” he said, apologetically. “I’ve got a debrief in less than an hour, but when I heard you’d joined up, I had to come see you.”
“I’m glad you did,” Ian said, and meant it.
But he couldn’t help feeling disappointed when John put his teacup down and stood, Ian copying him.
It was too short. He would have liked to talk to John more, to really catch up, without more lies between them. He didn’t want to go back to the way they had been before, only seeing each other a few times a year.
John cast another glance around the flat, about to leave, then hesitated.
“You should come for dinner tonight,” he said suddenly, meeting Ian’s eyes. “If you want to catch up."
Ian felt a warmth in his chest. “I’d like that.”
John nodded.
“Helen’s got one of her shifts, so she won’t be home,” he explained. “But I’ll cook something up for the two of us.”
Ian couldn’t resist teasing him. “I do hope your cooking’s improved since that time you burned spaghetti when I was fourteen.”
John let out an almost surprised laugh.
“I’d forgotten about that,” he said softly. “I haven’t burned food in years.”
He looked at Ian now, a strange look in his eyes, as if seeing him for the first time.
It struck Ian suddenly that there were likely very few people who remembered John at that age. Who else was left to remember those days? Their parents were dead, and neither of them had many long-lasting friendships.
But Ian had been there. Ian, his brother, who had known him his whole life, even if they hadn’t been very close.
And now they were both working for MI6 and able to share that secret with each other.
"It’s good you joined, Ian," John told him quietly. "I can’t say much, but there’s a mission that they’re thinking of sending me on. A long one. And I'd need to go deep cover for it. I'm glad that I won’t have to lie to you as well."
Deep cover. Something shivered inside Ian at the words, a mix of trepidation and excitement. His own assignment had been thrilling, the constant tension of whether he would be discovered, but that had only been a few days. Deep cover was another thing entirely.
With deep cover, you would be completely on your own. And the longer an operation ran, the bigger the risks.
Ian wanted to ask about the mission, but he knew he shouldn’t and that John wouldn’t tell him if he did. In truth, his brother probably should not have said as much as he had.
“I need to go,” John said again. “Blunt won’t be happy if I’m late. We can talk more tonight.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
With that, John took his leave. Ian saw him out, then leaned against the door, staring back at the two mugs on the coffee table. He let out a quiet laugh.
John and Ian Rider, both spies. What were the odds? It seemed that without knowing it, Ian had once again followed in his brother’s footsteps. First the army, now the secret service. Perhaps they were more alike than Ian had thought.