I leave the Architect’s office and make my way to the conference room, now transformed into an impromptu celebration space. About fifty people mill about – a mix of administrative staff and Alpha Team members. The atmosphere pulses with warmth, punctuated by laughter and animated conversations.
I navigate through my former colleagues, exchanging handshakes and embraces. The absence of Fosco, my old friend whose death still weighs heavily on my heart, creates a palpable void in the festivities.
In a corner of the room, I notice Ulric Panopeus observing the scene, his face an impassive mask. His eyes track my every movement with unsettling precision.
Soon I find myself surrounded by my former Alpha Team comrades.
“So, Alva,” Cina calls out with a mischievous grin, “ready for retirement life? Trading your pistol for a watering can?”
I laugh heartily. “Don’t tempt me, Cina. I might just become the king of cherry tomatoes.”
Mister E approaches, beer in hand. “Just don’t forget how to handle a weapon. You never know when we might need you for one last mission.”
“Last mission?” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “You know me, E. Once I’m out, I’m out for good.”
Al Primero, who had remained silent until now, speaks up. “We’ll miss you, old man. The team won’t be the same without you.”
“Thanks, Al,” I respond, touched by the sincerity in his voice.
A moment of silence passes before Al Primero adds with a sigh that’s half-amused, half-nostalgic:
“And now that our Italian and our Frenchman are gone, I wonder how we’ll manage to eat properly.”
A heavy silence briefly descends, Fosco’s memory suddenly hanging thick in the air. I feel my heart constrict.
But before discomfort can settle in, Cina intervenes with a bright smile:
“Well, we’ll just have to learn to cook for ourselves! Who knows, I might become the next pasta queen!”
Laughter erupts, dispelling the tension. Mister E raises his beer. “To Alva, and to our future culinary disasters!”
“To Alva!” the Alpha Team members chorus, glasses clinking in cheerful harmony.
I study each face, committing this scene to memory. Despite my resolve, I know these moments will haunt me.
A man in a grey suit approaches, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“Excuse me, Mr. Alva,” he says in hushed tones. “I’m from the equipment department. There seems to be a missing item you recovered during a mission two months ago. The ‘Heart Breaker 365’. Do you recall it?”
I smile, carefully maintaining my composure. “Really? I was certain I’d returned everything. Perhaps an error in filing or inventory?”
The man hesitates, then nods. “Perhaps, yes. I’ll check again. Thank you, sir.”
I watch him retreat through the crowd, then turn to bid my final farewells to my colleagues.
I traverse the Organization’s familiar corridors one last time, noting the sophisticated security measures surrounding me. Biometric scanners guard every door, discreet cameras monitor each angle, and security agents patrol with measured regularity.
At the final checkpoint before exit, I pause before the security guard. Colin Andrews, a familiar face after all these years.
“So this is really it, huh Alva?” Colin says with a warm smile.
I nod, producing my access card. “Looks that way. Time to say goodbye.”
Colin takes the card, scanning it one final time before deactivating it. “You’ll be missed around here. Who’s going to tell me terrible jokes during those long night shifts?”
I chuckle softly. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else to torture you with questionable humor. Take care, Colin.”
“You too, mate. And remember, if you ever change your mind…”
“I know, I know,” I interrupt with a wink. “But don’t hold your breath.”
With a final handshake, I pass through the security doors and head toward the underground parking. The subtle hum of surveillance cameras accompanies me until I reach the taxi waiting in a shadowed corner of the garage.
The driver acknowledges me with nothing more than a silent nod as I enter. As the vehicle climbs the ramp toward daylight, I cast one final glance in the rearview mirror, watching the massive garage doors seal shut behind me.
The taxi merges into London traffic, heading for the airport. For me, it marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another – one far shorter than anyone might guess.