With thanks, as always, to my valiant beta's. I have tinkered with the story since and as such, any mistakes and errors are mine, and mine alone. So please do not steal them.
WARNINGS: This story mentions trafficking of women - there are no graphic descriptions. It also describes injuries obtained through torture (male), not overly graphic. Please proceed with caution if the above may upset you.
Robin Locksley and Tucker 'Tuck' Fryer made their way through the early morning bustle of Spitalfields Market as they headed towards Liverpool Street tube station. They garnered no attention from the traders setting up their stalls; no one gave them a second glance as they walked side by side out of the vast building.
They blended in with everyone around them. Except Robin and Tuck were members of the Secret Intelligence Service, MI6 to the ordinary bloke on the street. Neither wore a suit, neither were armed, and they would face the wrath of the accounts department if they tried to claim anything above a tube ticket for their return to HQ.
It was a far cry from the perceived life of an MI6 officer made popular by the fictitious James Bond. There were few adrenaline-pumping, gut-wrenching gun battles, fought over roof tops and in alleyways of far flung countries. No, more than half of Robin's, Tuck's and the rest of the team's life consisted of run-of-the-mill surveillance, running down leads, quick, quiet arrests, and letting the local law enforcement agency, of which ever country they were in at the time, take all the glory.
"We're being followed," Tuck said in the same tone of voice he would have used if commenting on the weather.
"Where?" Robin asked, keeping his gaze straight ahead.
"Other side of the street. White, tall, dark haired, he's doing a good job of keeping people between us and him. I'm only catching glimpses," Tuck replied. "He followed us through the market."
"He'll have to make a move soon," Robin said, "otherwise he risks losing us in the station."
"He's catching up to us," Tuck reported. "He's…oh my god," Tuck stopped walking and stared across the street. "It's Gisborne!"
Robin's head snapped round, scanning the milling crowd, quickly spotting Guy Gisborne, who stood staring back at him and Tuck.
The thought that Gisborne looked different was lost to Robin, as with a snarl of rage he ran across the road, uncaring of the squealing of brakes and angry shouts.
Gisborne disappeared down an alley before Robin reached the other side of the road. A large hand painfully gripped his shoulder and stopped him from following.
"Careful, Robin," Tuck yelled at him, before heading to the entrance of the alleyway with more caution than Robin would have approached it.
Robin followed Tuck, his impatience clearly visible in the way he moved.
They came out onto a tarmacked courtyard, weeds and wild buddleia reclaiming the unused space. Derelict brick buildings surrounded the courtyard, patiently waiting their turn to be rejuvenated into homes and businesses.
Gisborne stood waiting for them. Robin pushed past Tuck and ran at him.
"You murdering bastard," he yelled out. He punched Gisborne hard in the stomach, following with a right to his jaw. Gisborne fell to all fours silently. Robin was raising his foot for a kick, when he was yanked backwards by Tuck.
"That's enough," Tuck growled, pushing Robin away from Gisborne.
Gisborne was known to be a vicious fighter. He was trained in various forms of martial arts and quite willing to fight dirty to gain the advantage. Yet he had just allowed himself to be hit, twice, with no attempt to defend himself.
Tuck crouched beside Gisborne as the younger man vomited bile, one shaking arm holding him up as the other clutched his stomach.
"Gisborne?" Tuck queried.
"Truce," Gisborne gasped out.
"You have it," Tuck pledged, looking over his shoulder and glaring at an incredulous Robin.
Tuck grabbed Gisborne's arm and helped him to stand, tightening the hold as Gisborne swayed.
Robin took a step forward, a sneer marring his features which turned into a puzzled frown as Gisborne stiffened and took a stumbling step backwards.
"Robin!" Tuck snapped.
Robin held his hands up, declaring his peaceful intentions. He was perplexed by Gisborne's actions and with the red mist of his rage fading; Robin took in the other man's appearance for the first time.
Although never a snappy dresser and with an aversion of every colour except black, Gisborne had always been relatively well groomed. He was currently dressed in a pair of blue jeans that were stained and dirty, as was the dark blue cable-knit jumper that was at least two sizes too big for him. His hair was so long it touched his shoulders and was lank and greasy. He was lean to the point of skinny. To be quite frank, he also smelt, very badly.
"I need your help," Gisborne bit out.
"Our help?" Robin laughed in disbelief. "Why the hell should we help murdering scum like you?" he sneered.
"It's not for me," Gisborne growled back. "I need you to organise a raid."
"A raid?" Tuck interceded before Robin and Gisborne could get into a snarling match.
Gisborne reached behind him, only to have Tuck grab his arm. Robin tilted his head to one side as Gisborne stiffened at the touch and gave Tuck a wary look, but didn't pull away from it.
Gisborne was loyal to one of the cruellest and sadistic men in the world whom Robin had spent nearly all his MI6 career trying to take down. Roger Vaisey revelled in causing pain and fear and Gisborne helped him spread it. Gisborne was evil incarnate, he was not a wary man, or someone who asked his enemies for help.
Gisborne slowly brought his hand into view and passed a piece of folder paper to Tuck, who let go of his grip on the younger man's arm.
"Kennington Industrial Estate, Lowestoft, two pm?" Tuck read out loud.
Gisborne nodded. "The estate was brought up for redevelopment, but the new owners can't get planning permission through. So, it's been fenced off and left. It's just outside the town, one road in, surrounded by woodland." Gisborne paused to wipe a trembling hand across his mouth. "It's being used as a holding area for women who have been tricked into coming to the UK."
"You're starting to sound like you care, Gisborne," Robin mocked.
"Look, Locksley," Gisborne snapped, "I don't care what you think of me. But they are innocent women, thinking they're coming to this country to do honest work and they're being sold as sex slaves."
"How did you find out about it?" Tuck asked.
"Vaisey."
"Will he be there?" Robin demand.
"No," Gisborne laughed nastily. "It's just a business venture for him. He invests and makes a profit."
"Vaisey told you about the trafficking?" Tuck questioned.
"Not exactly," Gisborne evaded.
"Gisborne," Tuck warned. "If you want our help, you have to be honest with us."
"Isn't this what you do? Go charging off on your white horses, with your armour shining, saving damsels in distress," Gisborne snapped back.
"Tuck, let's go," Robin said. "He's wasting our time."
With a measured look at Gisborne, Tuck turned and started to walk after Robin.
"No," Gisborne called after them. Tuck and Robin turned back to look at him. "Look, I…" Gisborne ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "This isn't easy."
"Yes, it is," Tuck assured. "Just tell us the truth."
Gisborne gave Tuck an anguished look. "Vaisey has six full-time staff. One of the maids did something … foolish and he gave her to the traffickers as punishment. I overheard him making arrangements to have her delivered to the holding area."
"One of your favourite bed warmers was she?" Robin said spitefully.
Gisborne surged at Robin, only stopped by Tuck's hand on his chest.
"You smug, arrogant son of a bitch," Gisborne yelled. "Thirty women are being sold into slavery. In Britain. They're going to be turned into drug addicts and raped by every sick fuck that has twenty quid to spend until they fucking overdose or die from some disease." Gisborne walked away, turning his back on the two men as he started to pace in anger.
Tuck glared at Robin, who looked back at him in shame.
"Gisborne, I'm sorry." Robin said sincerely. "I let my … dislike… for you cloud my judgement. But I'll not let innocents suffer because of it."
Gisborne turned to look at him.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness, Locksley. I'll never forgive myself for what I did. If I could free them myself I would, but I can't. I'm not even asking you to go to Lowestoft, just to arrange a raid," Gisborne stated.
"What's significant about two pm?" Tuck asked into the silence that had settled over them.
"Four women are being smuggled in on the two o'clock ferry from Amsterdam. Once they're all gathered at the industrial unit they'll be shipped out to their respective…buyers."
Robin looked at his watch. "It's just after seven. It'll take at least three hours to get to Lowestoft and we'll need to be in place by midday at the latest." He said to Tuck.
"You'll do it?" Gisborne asked in surprise.
"Of course we will," Robin replied. "It might even lead me a bit closer to bringing down your boss."
Gisborne shook his head. "You might get the buyers, but you'll never get Vaisey."
Robin frowned at Gisborne's words; there was no malice to them, just a resigned truth. Was Gisborne finally worn down by his service to Vaisey? Could they finally accomplished what Marion Knighton died trying to do, turn Guy Gisborne against Vaisey?
"But I will get a maid who just might have overhead things she shouldn't have," Robin smiled genuinely.
"You'll treat her right," Gisborne warned. "She's been through enough."
"For whatever it's worth to you, Gisborne, I promise, whilst she is in my care, she will be treated with the utmost respect and kindest," Robin said.
Gisborne nodded. "There should be only four guards at the unit," he said. "But I can't confirm that."
He looked round the courtyard, as if searching for another way out as Tuck and Robin were stood next to the entrance of the alleyway.
"Oh no, Gisborne," Robin said. "I can't arrest you and force you to admit to yours and Vaisey's crimes. Not without the wrath of Vaisey's legal team being brought down on my head…again," Robin said sourly. "But I'd rather have you where I can see you, until after the raid."
"You'll let me go with you?" Gisborne asked.
Robin paused as doubt started to creep in. Was this all a carefully planned performance to get Robin and his team to a deserted and secluded location? Or for Gisborne to kill the maid? No, as cunning as he was, Gisborne had dreadful social skills; he was blunt and spoke his mind. Robin had gotten to known Gisborne quite well when he was undercover. The Gisborne before him was as genuine as the man got.
"You'll be coming with us," Robin confirmed. "Tuck, keep an eye on him. I need to run this past King and get the rest of the team working on it. I'll need to see if we can bring Gisborne into HQ, otherwise we'll have to stash him in a safe house until we move out."
"We'll be at the café on the corner," Tuck said. "I missed breakfast," he smiled.
After speaking to Richard King, the section head of the unit, Robin entered the café situated opposite the tube station entrance. Even at this hour in the morning it was busy, most of the tables were already occupied and there was a queue at the counter. Robin spotted Gisborne and Tuck at one of the tables at the back, and fervently hoped that Tuck had ordered him some breakfast as well.
As Robin approached the table he got a clearer look at Gisborne. He was hunched over a plate of food, a fork in his right hand, as his left arm was curled almost protectively around the plate. With his long hair falling over his face and the rate he was consuming, what looked to be a, full English breakfast, Robin was struck with the image of a starving wolf.
He pulled a chair out and sat down, thankful to see a mug of tea and bacon roll on the table.
Gisborne stuffed a huge forkful of bacon, scrambled egg and mushroom into his mouth, almost choking himself. "Gisborne!" Tuck admonished. "Slow down." He curled a hand over Gisborne's stilling the next forkful of food. "You'll make yourself sick."
Gisborne gave Tuck an almost feral look. Tuck rolled his eyes in exasperation, Robin guessed this wasn't the first time Tuck had cautioned the other man.
Tuck let go of Gisborne's hand, but waggled a warning index finger at him when Gisborne moved the folk to his mouth.
"Finished that mouthful first," Tuck ordered. "No-one's going to take it away from you."
Considering that Gisborne's cheek's bulged with food, Robin wasn't sure the other man could have got anymore in his mouth regardless.
Tuck glanced at Robin and gave a barely noticeable nod towards Gisborne. Robin frowned as he gave the man a subtle once over. He was just wondering if Tuck meant Gisborne's appalling table manners, before he spotted it. Having curled his arm around the plate, the sleeve of Gisborne's oversized jumper had slid up slightly, and a ring of bruised skin peeked out.
What the hell had happened to Gisborne? That kind of bruising usually meant restraints of some kind. Who had done that to Gisborne and why the hell was Gisborne so damn hungry that he was almost inhaling food, fearful that the next meal would be a long time coming? Robin didn't like the answers his brain was coming up with and he disliked it even more that he was starting to feel any kind of empathy towards Gisborne. The other man had destroyed any camaraderie they may have once had when he gunned down Marion. Robin waited to feel the surge of rage he normally felt when he thought of that dreadful day, but as he looked at Gisborne, who was still glaring at Tuck, but eating a damn sight slower, Robin only felt confusion.
"What did King say?" Tuck asked.
"He's making some calls, but we have a go," Robin replied. He took a sip from his cooling tea, grimacing at the lack of sugar. "We've only got a couple of hours to get a plan of action together; we'll need to leave for Lowestoft by ten."
"The local armed police aren't going to take the lead?" Tuck queried.
"They are. But I want us to be there so we can take the … what's the maid's name?" Robin asked Gisborne, who had just shovelled the last of his breakfast into his mouth. Silence reigned for a few moments while Gisborne desperately chewed.
"Meg," he finally said.
"I want us to be there to provide protection to Meg. She's the nearest we've got to Vaisey for years," Robin explained. "Unless you want to man up and tell us all of Vaisey's dirty little secrets," he couldn't help but add.
"If I survived long enough to take the witness box, Vaisey would discredit everything I said. I'd get the life sentence and he'd carry as he's always done," Gisborne replied with an edge to his voice.
Robin was glad to see that Tuck was as taken back by Gisborne's answer as he was.
"We can protect you, Gisborne," Tuck said earnestly. Robin nodded his agreement.
"We'll not discuss this further," Gisborne warned. It was the first time today Gisborne had sounded like his old self.
Tuck and Robin wisely retreated, but they were far from letting the matter drop.
"We'd better head back," Robin said as he pushed back from the table. "King wants you to take a look at the area surrounding the industrial estate, best vantage points, method of entry, that kind of thing."
"Me?" Gisborne queried in surprise. "I don't know anything about such tactics."
"Yeah, right," Tuck scoffed. "The Russian's still haven't figured out how Alexi Kolkov was assassinated on his yacht, in international waters, ten miles from the coast, with nine staff on board who heard and saw nothing."
Gisborne just looked at them with an unreadable expression as he stood up from the table. He nodded towards Robin's untouched bacon roll.
"You going to eat that?" he asked.
"All yours," Robin replied.
Gisborne had eaten it by the time they had reached the tube station entrance.