"Silva is planning an attack on MI6. Some of this is already underway as we speak."
Q had taken the phone and was scrolling through the incomprehensible list of texts and numbers. Bond was leaning back against the wall, stretching his legs on the narrow bed. With what sounded like a happy little sigh, Q leaned into him again, seeking the physical contact Bond so freely provided.
"Silva wants to get his hands on a hard drive with information on your undercover agents. Why would MI6 think that's a good idea to have all of this on a hard drive in the first place?"
Bond just shrugged his shoulders. He might have tried to explain about their old quartermaster being a great tinkerer but less into this new world of online spaces or cloud archives.
"We're probably just some old battleships in need of an upgrade," Bond murmured. "Then again, being in the field, what good would a Facebook account do for me?"
"For one thing, you might find useful information of your target's whereabouts," Q answered while keeping on going through the information provided on the small screen.
"Do you know a Ronson? Currently deployed to," Q frowned, trying to decipher another part of the message, "Istanbul?"
"Sebastian? Sebastian Ronson?"
Now it was Bond's turn to jump up and begin pacing the cell.
"You know him?"
Q had adjusted his position after Bond had abandoned the bed. He followed Bond with sad eyes, a half smile on his face.
"You need to get out of here. I told you it was stupid of them to send you here in the first place! You should be in Istanbul, as a back up or something."
"What else do you know?"
Bond had come to a standstill in front of Q, who frowned. He must have sensed the change in Bond. But this time, Q didn't flinch, instead he began to relate all, he actually knew about Silva's plan.
"I know Silva wants the hard drive as a means of extortion. Also, the virus, I've–well, the virus in MI6's system, when it's activated, it will open all doors. I don't know what good that will do, but it will open everything that is locked electronically. Every electronic lock, that is even remotely connected to MI6's system."
"And you know for certain Ronson is in Istanbul. With the hard drive?"
"He–it looks like, he was undercover, infiltrating Silva's organisation. I'd no idea it's this huge."
Q tapped on a few keys, then looked up at Bond.
"Ronson is your friend, isn't he?" Q asked subdued.
"Yes."
Bond answered with more fervour than needed. The look on Q's face gave Bond pause.
"Look, Q. More than once, I've been told that I'm expendable. That any agent is. That the mission always comes first. And that's how agents work. But," Bond stopped, trying to find the right words. "But Ronson, Sebastian is a fellow agent. We're friends, we've been through a lot together, always had each others back. If he was sent to Istanbul and Q-branch cocked up his intel like they did with me–it won't just be Silva who's going to pay."
Bond was furious, but he knew how to rein in his temper, how to turn his anger into a cold, deadly weapon. Right now, he needed a plan. And help. From someone he could trust. He looked at Q and wondered, if he would regret his choice.
"You're right. I need to get out of here. And you too."
Q shook his head, the sad smile firmly in place.
"I can't leave. Silva would know something is going on."
"You can't stay! Silva will kill you!"
"James," Q was sitting up, looking at Bond like he was reasoning with a child. "If I leave, Silva will know he is compromised. Also, we only know part of his plan. As it is, you'll be taken to another facility due to your violent attack on Silva. I'll be crawling back to Silva. He'll probably take me back. He still needs me."
Q shuddered.
"Probably," Bond growled. "Including a round of punishment for having betrayed him."
Q looked at Bond with large, innocent eyes.
"Me? Betray him? To someone I've only known for a couple of hours? Who raped me repeatedly and beat me up?"
There was a prolonged silence between the two men. Bond watched Q, at first wondering if Q knew what his suggestion entailed. When Q gave a small nod, Bond had to clear his throat.
"Just, just don't make it hurt too much, if you can," Q said meekly. "You know, make it look worse than it actually is?"
