CHAPTER1: THE OFFICE ANGEL
The hum and the clatter of keyboards filled the air, the same grey symphony that played every morning in Whitehall. Nina Patel sat at her desk, shuffling through briefing papers she did not understand when she felt a presence beside her.
"First day?" a soft voice asked.
Nina looked up. A woman stood there with a gentle smile; a tin of biscuits balanced in her hands. She was in her early forties, with a neat bob, blonde hair tucked carefully behind her ears. Her blue eyes were calm,watchful ,softened by laugh lines at the corners, she looked like the type of person to remember someone's' birthday without having to check the calendar.
" Yes," Nina said nervously standing in awkward stance.
The woman smiled at Nina warmly, setting down the tin of treats." Do not worry love, we all find way to survive the week somehow." I am Eleanor. But everyone calls me Eille.Biscuit?"
Nina hesitated, then she took one. Eleanor's lipstick was a rose-pink, neat, and captivating, the kind that brightness her whole face. She wore a cream blouse under a grey cardigan, sensible and modest, but the was an elegant feeling to her appearance. Around the office every greeted with smiles on their faces as they passed. Moring Ellie"." Bless you for these cookies." It was clear she was beloved here by everyone in the department.
You will find this place gets...heavy sometimes," Eleanor went on, lowering her voice as if was sharing a secret. "Deadlines, pressure, the rest of it. But tea, biscuits, and kindness, now that is the trick."
Nina smiled instantly feeling uplifted. Something about this woman was disarming. Almost maternal. But when Eleanor turned her head towards the window ,her expression shifted ,just for a second ..The smile faded and her eyes ,caught in the pale winter light ,seemed distant ,cold like glass .It was gone in an instant ,quickly replaced by warmth as she turned back .
"Come along then "Eleanor said clapping her hands softly ,"We've got work to do"Nina watched her walk away ,cardigan swaying tote bag slung neatly over her shoulder, The Office Angel, everyone called her. And Nina believed it. FOR NOW.
The day passed like a blur. Meetings and paperwork have gone by. Eleanor Marks smiled where she needed to, offered advice to the junior staff, and let the tin of biscuits open on the communal table. She typed reports in neat, measured strokes, her expression calm, her voice warm when spoken to. At half past five, the office began to thin. Coats were pulled on, computers shut down, conversations drifted towards pubs and trains home. Eleanor gathered her tote bag into her grey cardigan as id preparing for another ordinary evening.
"Goodnight, Ellie" called her manger across the desks. She waved back with the same gentle smile." Goodnight. See you tomorrow."
Down the stairwell, past security and out on the chill London dusk ,the streetlights flickered against the mist. She walked calmly, steadily, her bag tucked under her arms .No one noticed that she did not turn towards the station .Instead ,she crossed Whitehall ,her steps precise ,her pace unhurried, she moved like a woman who knew exactly what she was doing .
At the corner of the street, she paused beneath the glow of a lamppost. From her bag ,she withdrew a pair of leather gloves , ,slipping them one finger at them on one finger at a time. Then ,carefully she checked the contents of the tote: rope, a small bottle wrapped in cloth, surgical tape. Everything in its place. Her reflection in the shop window stared back at her: blonde hair tidy, lipstick slightly faded, blue eyes clam. An ordinary. But Eleanor smiled at herself, but something was this time. More cold, more terrifying. By the time Big Ben struck six, she was outside a council block in Hackney. She glanced at the different dimly lit windows till she found the one she was looking for. Arthur Bennett. Sixty -eight. Retired bus driver. Lived alone. Eleanor had memorized the details days, from records no one even realized she had access to. She walked forward and pressed the buzzer. When the door clicked open and the tired old man's voice called out, Eleanor stepped inside, her kind smile returning as easily as a mask. By the time colleagues were sipping wine, Eleanor had already chosen her next victim.