1.

Damned thief. I argued with the Chief about hiring him in the first place. Only agreed under sufferance. And now, years later, we're still hiring him - on a regular basis.

Yes, I know he's the best. Yes, I realise he can get us in to places quicker than we could with even our most skilled agents. L and D are both fair hands at cracking safes, and all of the Alphabets have training in disabling security systems. But somehow, next to him, they all look clumsy. Like amateurs. So, here we are, using him again as an official NATO contractor. A bloody criminal. A light-fingered faggot.

But I have to admit it: his skill with locks is impressive. I watched him crack that safe last night. Caressing the lock as if it was alive and he was willing it to respond to him. Fingers gentle and sensitive on the metal. You hardly saw what he was doing, and then - it was open. Almost as if the lock had been waiting for him, longing to open up to him.

I will not let myself imagine those fingers touching my skin.

2.

The building was a bastard to get into. One of those old inner-city office blocks, no better than a series of brick boxes stacked one on top of the other. We had to go in through the roof. Watching him climb through that tiny opening - he was like an acrobat. Almost double-jointed. Strong. Athletic. Graceful.

You wouldn't think there'd be any grace in clambering through an eighteen inch wide hole in a roof under cover of darkness - but it's the only word that applies. Grace and strength - it's hypnotic to watch.

I will not think about how he might move in bed. I will NOT.

3.

He can be difficult to work with. He's a bloody thief - but he's also a member of the nobility. An Earl. The English still care about such things. He certainly cares about it.

He can be haughty. Arrogant. Conceited. He's impossible to control. Won't follow orders. All those damned thieves and hangers-on that travel about with him - they only encourage him. "Yes, m'lord. No, m'lord. Anything you say, m'lord."

And yet - for all the self-centred hauteur - he treats his men with genuine respect. He listens to Jones and Bonham, asks their advice, defers to their expertise. He treats my men well. He can read people. He can see their strengths. He can see beyond the veneer they show to the world.

Sometimes, I wonder if he can see me better than I see myself. Sometimes I wonder if I might trust him enough to show him who I really am. Sometimes I wish ...

No, I don't wish. Iron Klaus does not wish.

4.

In this game, you don't survive unless you can be unobtrusive. He's exactly the opposite. Everything about him screams, "Look at me!" The hair, the clothes, the foppish behaviour.

But now I realise that's just camouflage. Distraction.

When you look at him - really look at him, when you watch him carefully, you see that under the floaty clothes and the jewellery and the hair there's nothing effeminate about him. He has an underlying masculinity that's like polished steel. Tough and elegant.

Then, he spoils it by batting his eyelashes at me and trying to flirt. It doesn't work.

I could never be tempted by an effeminate man.

5.

Loyalty is the greatest quality a man can have. My agents are loyal - to each other, to me, to NATO. We have to be able to trust each other. Good training and discipline can only go so far. It's loyalty, genuine loyalty, that lets us function as a successful team.

Z, now. He was still wet behind the ears when he joined the Alphabets. I didn't want him - no experience. They told me he had promise. Aptitude. Within six months, he was functioning with the best of them. Loyalty is his middle name.

Herr A is a loyal man. He's a quiet operator. Solid. Reliable. I trust him, too - he's a good man to have on your side.

Herr B is trustworthy - although the fool can't operate without a leader. And G - the most surprising man on my team. People underestimate him. They think he's just a cross-dresser with a head full of fluff. He's smart. He's a man who can be trusted.

Trustworthy men, loyal men, who won't put their own needs and safety ahead of the objective.

That blasted thief is an enigma. A professional criminal, a spoiled aristocrat, a flamboyant nancy-boy, impossible to discipline - and yet, he's never let me down once. He takes risks - pushes his abilities to the limit - but never endangers his own men or mine. ‘Loyalty' seems the wrong word - and yet ... He's put his life on the line for me time and time again.

I would trust him with my life.

I trust no-one with my heart.