Chapter 10: In The Cruelest Way
PJ is drawing again.
They'd given him a notepad and some pencils after he'd resorted to painting stories for Chris on the walls, using the tomato sauce and salt they'd bring in with dinner. It kept him calm- being productive, working again. It had been far too long since he'd created anything and it was driving him mad.
Pulling back the orange pencil, he examines the portrait. The Queen of England, complete with fake tan, nose piercing and purple highlights.
"Well that's a definite improvement." Chris leans over PJ's shoulder, resting his chin in the crook of his neck. "Do you think they'd send it the way of her stylists? You could be responsible for a new generation of monarchists!"
"You're an idiot Chris." It's an affectionate criticism they can both relate too.
"But, you love me! So deal." Chris sits heavily down beside PJ on the couch, one of two, made from a strange green leather- the sole piece of furniture in their room besides the bunk beds and the cramped dining table. "And it's not like I've got much competition around here anyway, so I am going to keep on being an idiot until you give me a kiss."
From the other side of the room, Charlie looks up from his sixth reread of The Time Machine and smiles faintly at their embrace.
"I don't get it."
Alex's voice carries from the lower bed, and Charlie leans over the side of his mattress, flipping his head so that his long hair comes flapping down with gravity as he enquired to his friend, "Don't get what?"
Alex gestures at Chris and PJ.
"Have they completely forgotten about Phil? About Carrie? Heck, I still can't get Dan out of my mind and it's been forever since he disappeared! How do they just keep smiling and cuddling like nothing's changed!"
Charlie swings off the top bunk and squishes himself in next to Alex. It's a close fit, but the warmth and solidness of Charlie's frame beside his has an almost immediate calming affect on Alex.
"They haven't forgotten. People just deal with stressful situations differently! Chris can be strong when PJ is, it's about being calm together and coping day to day for them. But they're both testing the guards at every opportunity they get, asking for different kinds of things, enquiring about updates, befriending the guy who brings our meals! Unlike some people who prefer to just sit around and mope-"
"Hey! I do not mope!"
Curling an arm behind his best friend's neck, Charlie sighs and leans back against Alex's shoulder.
"Yes you do, and so do I. There's no point in pretending this isn't anything except awful and terrifying as far as I'm concerned. But that doesn't make me want to find a way to help the others any less than Chris and PJ and their funny schemes! Everyone's just different."
"You're right, I know you are Charlie!" Alex sits up a little more, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. "But I just can't stop thinking, not ever, not even at night. I mean, where do you think they are now? What if they found Carrie, but then-"
"Did someone say my name?" Carrie's voice wafts through the opening door like a dream, fresh and clear despite the clearly exhausted form which follows through the gap shortly after. She smiles back at the suited man who lead her to this point before the door shuts- as soon as it does, she falls back against the verticle surface, sliding down to the floor.
"Carrie!" Alex springs to his feet and rushes over, the other three boys joining them a heartbeat later, but Carrie waves off their gush of concern with one hand.
"No, no don't worry, I'm just exhausted! It's hard to keep smiling and standing straight when you've hardly had a good meal or a decent sleep in so long, but I wasn't about to collapse before those- those bastards!"
Chris lets out a tiny giggle, leaning forward and gripping her shoulder with a confident hand. Alex, on the other hand, is shocked into silence; Carrie was always the one to chastise them for their crude language. In just one sentence, he feels like the last thread of hope of ever returning to their pre-madness lives, crumbling away.
"Alex?" Her voice is more quiet this time and he watches as the others shuffle back a little, giving them privacy but still unwilling to truly leave Carrie. "Are you mad at me for leaving you, when I followed Phil? I had no idea what was going to happen, but you did warn me! Not that you were really warning me about this, but- oof!" The air is knocked out of her as Alex's arms encircle her in a tight hug, too hard, too desperate, but the ache is a comfort to them both and she clutches back just as hard a moment later.
"I'm so glad you're okay, I was going mad from worry." His mumbles fill her left ear, her heart sore at the sound of his voice, his accent, the scratch of his stubble against her neck. "Just the though of you out there on your own…"
"I wasn't on my own silly! I had Phil and he's far more resourceful than we've ever given him credit! Though I think we all manage the impossible under stress, even I coped with singing at that awful, seedy club somehow!"
Alex kneels back onto his ankles, a quizzical frown across his brow.
"Singing?" He can hardly keep the judgement from his tone.
"Yes."
PJ's eyebrow rocket upwards, "At a seedy club?"
Her grin finally spreads from grateful to genuine glee. "You'd never believe what they had me wear!"
Charlie extracts Carrie from Alex's grip and brings her over to the couch, supplying a blanket and a glass of water. She accepts gratefully and gulps it down in one mouthful,- "They never did bring me anything to drink, even after I asked twice!"- before relaxing back against Alex's shoulder, as the rest of the boys sat down around them.
"Well then, I suppose you want to hear what we got up to since- how long has it been? No matter, I will not disappoint you! It's quite a story indeed- starting with when we got back from the park to find the house empty…"
"…but once Carrie was gone, I immediately realised that there was no further steps I could take on my own. Despite everything, the one thing I could rely on was the knowledge that wherever all my friends were disappearing to was where I would most likely end up too. With the cash I'd found and the phone, I made my way to the café-"
"So you chose not to take the gun with you?"
"Yes."
"Why not?"
A pause.
"I don't know how to fire a gun. I don't like guns. You pick which one works best."
The man opposite him in his immaculate, black suit makes a small note.
"Was this a café you had frequented before?"
"No."
"What motivated you to select this café in particular?"
Phil pauses, one hand tracing unintentional shapes onto the back of the other, trying to figure out the best way to answer the question. The suited man, who had introduced himself as Agent Sloan, sits with his pen poised over the light blue paper, complete with government seal imprinted on the top corner of the page. He's big on details, on motivations; Phil feels like the past few weeks have been dissected down to the most irrelevant details, so that anything that this Agent wants to know will be consequently completely distorted by the ridiculous detail at which he is being examined, but he tries to remain as composed as possible. Every questioned answered has to be a step closer to Dan.
"It was out in the open."
"Why was this a motivation for you Mr Lester?"
Mr Lester. They insist on calling him that, from the moment they sat down at his table at the café, three of them, black suits and formal words. We'd like you to come with us Mr Lester, it would be best for everyone if you don't make more of a scene Mr Lester, he's already explained that Phil was more than fine and no one in his entire life had ever called him 'Mr Lester', but upon that and a great deal many other seemingly menial things, they've remained firm.
"I already knew that it was only a matter of time for me. I didn't want to be cornered in some alley though, or taken on the underground. It just seemed like the right way to do it."
"To do what precisely?"
"To chance the pace."
Another pause, the questions and the pauses taking their turns patiently, milling out a hapless story, and emotion withheld at every turn.
"Is this a race for you Mr Lester?"
Phil angles his head slightly, considering the statement.
"Less a race, more like a game. I just got bored playing along and realised that the rules were biased anyway."
"I see."
Phil watches as he scribbles more indecipherable letters onto the paper with his inky, black pen. The scrawl is intentionally illegible to him, as the agent had pointed out earlier, so there is no point in leaning over and trying to reveal the notes. Phil doesn't plan on revealing anything to this man that he didn't wish to, so it was an unneeded warning, but more information for him, so he hardly protested.
"We know the rest of your story from there on in, given it was my personal agents you met there. We appreciate your cooperation in regards to how you've arrived here." He hardly sounds like he appreciates anything about Phil, but it's a nice touch nonetheless. Turning over a new page of his notepad, Agent Sloan clicks his pen twice; a tad more violently than Phil would think was necessary, but apparently steeling himself for something more. His tone is deadly grave as he looks up at Phil, who can't help but feel that despite the already long interview, the worst for him is hardly over.
"Tell me about your relationship with Mr Howell. How much did he tell you of his live prior to meeting you? Were there any aspects about your domestic cohabitation that concerned you? This could be strange visitors, late night trips, anything you might think to be pertinent to our data- I would request that try not to forget anything that is relevant."
At this point, Phil stills. His hand is still resting on the table between them and, if someone were to look closely enough, they might have seen a slight twitch of his fingers. After a pregnant pause, he looks up again, determination all too evident in his glare.
"No."
Agent Sloan coughs twice, patting his chest reflexively.
"I do beg your pardon Mr-"
"I said no." Phil pulls back his hand, his shoulders squared and more confident in this than he'd been with anything for a long time now. "I've answered your questions and now you'll start to answer some of mine. I'm not telling you about anything to do with my relationship or connection to Dan until you give me some reason to trust you."
The hand moves from his chest to his hair, running greasy fingers along the already oiled strands, irritated and overheating beneath the bare globe which shone above them.
"I don't think you understand the severity of this situation, Mr Lester. This is hardly some diminutive rivalry between friends or even a concern we can tolerate to remain confined to a single government agency. Our government survives as an interconnected network of exclusive offices and to go beyond an individual district of concern is a rarity. Despite your lack of clearance, I have been authorised to reveal to you that I am an agent from Section 4 of MI6. I do understand if a young boy like yourself cannot elicit the consequence of that fact, but believe me when I say, Mr Lester, we are not a department who take individuals such as yourself lightly. This business of Mr Daniel Howell is of international concern, so whatever your fastidious, uneducated opinion on the matter may be, I can assure you that you are by no means competent of handling this business with which you've managed to become entangled. We have your friends and we can keep all of you for however long we deem necessary. It is in your best interest that you start talking and start talking now."
"And I don't think you understand what I'm going for here." Phil steels his fingers against the edge of the table, refusing to be intimidated by his pompous speech. "Like you say, I have no clearance, and I've know that means I'm at your mercy. But I also know that whatever is happening with Dan, it's got you all scared and worried- enough to abduct a bunch of us who don't even know what the hell is going on?"
"Your link to Mr Howell was evident, and we needed to collect you for your safety just as much as his own, so-"
"No. I'll tell you what I know about Dan but not until you tell me some of the story, the stuff we've missed. What's going on? Where is Dan and what's he got to do with MI6 anyway?" Phil is sincerely beginning to hope the movies he's seen where the government tortures their own citizens for information are false, but before he gets an answer, there's a sharp rapping at the door and Agent Sloan rises, frowning momentarily down at Phil, before crossing the room, indicating for the armed guard there to step aside, and opening the steel door.
"Did I not clearly state that I was not to be interrupted during this interview? Richards, this had better be important!"
The interuptee stammered through his message, "I'm s-sorry sir, it's just I thought you'd want to know that they saw Howell sir, at an airport, he got away thought but-"
The door was abruptly slammed shut, so whatever ensuing rage was directed at Richards fell deaf on Phil's ears, but he still he sat, facing the door, shocked.
Dan was at an airport? He got away? Good, a small part of his brain feels a surge of pride, he clearly doesn't want to be caught... Phil was still certain that Dan had his reasons for everything he'd done, reasons he hoped would become evident shortly, his time spent with the agents only reassured his confidence in which side of this chase he was most loyal to.
Another part of Phil was reeling at the concept that someone had sighted Dan, who meant that Dan was still alive- and intrigued that this didn't relieve or calm him in anyway. Despite everything, he'd never felt that Dan was dead, murdered or otherwise, and despite an inability to justify his reasoning.
Agent Sloan suddenly came thundering back through the door, slamming a piece of paper down onto the desk, glaring daggers at Phil, who leant back in surprise, overwhelmed by the force of his gaze.
"I thought I made it perfectly clear to you that lying to me would not place you well in here! But then you go ahead and tell me you've had no contact with Howell, despite evidence catching you red-handed of doing precisely that?"
Confused, Phil glances down at what appears to be a printed email. Reading the first few lines, he wavers from perplexed to shock, and then back to defiance, glaring right back at the agent.
"Well perhaps if you learnt to read, you'd realise that this email is clearly from Carrie and not me, I know we have a similar hairstyle, but really-"
"This is no time for jokes!" His face is beet red now, fury pulsing in the artery over his temple, "You told us yourself that you and Ms Fletcher were together, do you honestly think I'd believe a jerk like you, messing around with things far beyond your understanding, sitting here with that smug look on your face and telling me, an MI6 agent, that you never-"
"I think that's quite enough of that, thank you Agent Sloan."
The new voice is soft-spoken, but the words carry clearly into the room, and Phil peers into the dark corridor, trying to identify the source. Soon enough, a tall, slightly rotund man emerges, walking calmly across the room, until he is standing beside Agent Sloan, who has shrunken several inches at his mere presence.
"But sir, we've just discovered-"
"I said; enough. You're dismissed from this interview, effective immediately. Please leave Mr Lester and I to chat." He smoothens the front of his pinstripe suite and Phil takes this opportunity to pipe up once more about his name.
"I actually do prefer Phil you know, otherwise everything you say sounds like I've been caught smoking by my mum again and I'm really in trouble." The new man chuckles, a warm smile gracing his flabby features, before turning pointedly to face his Agent, who marches out of the room, face flushed and eyes averted to the ground.
Indicating for the guard to leave the room, and close the door behind him, this new man sits down, brown buttons protesting against the increased pressure.
"You must forgive Agent Sloan, he's been working very hard on this case, hardly had a break since it all started. He may seem irate but I assure you he only presses you with the best of intentions." He leans forward slightly, stomach digging into the table, "Allow me to introduce myself, Phil, I am 'G'."
"I thought I recognised your voice!" Phil was beyond caring about the impossibility of his situation now, fascination taking over. "You're the person I spoke to on the phone!"
"I am indeed. It is to our misfortune, Phil, that the agents managed to track the phone so quickly. I was in Cardiff when you called, but luckily for you, the number you dialled will always ring through to me, and I always pick it up. Otherwise, goodness knows how many rings you'd have had to jump through before we finally had the chance to meet."
He pauses for a moment, scratching his chin thoughtfully, the stubble noisy beneath his nails. "But where to begin! I have questions for you just as you have for me, yet I would prefer to continue our conversation somewhere a little more hospitable than this. Shall we start with the most pressing matters? I will answer three of your questions now, but do try to be specific with the information that you request, and then we can move on to," He pauses, giving the table a condemnatory glare, "more aesthetically appealing pastures to continues our discussion. How does that sound?"
Phil doesn't really have much of a choice, but its kind of this man, G, to give him at least the illusion of autonomy. He nods to indicate his agreement and then squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out the room and it's inhabitant, trying to make the wisest choice he can. The first question is the easiest to word.
"Where are Chris, PJ, Charlie, Alex and Carrie and what is going to happen to them?"
G tut-tuts softly, "That is really two questions my boy! But no matter, I understand your concern. Allow me to reassure you that your friends are all safe; in fact they are in a room not to far from here. They have not been harmed, but they have been told nothing of your arrival, in what I believe to be an attempt from Agent Sloan to elicit your level of organisation and communication within the group. As for what is going to happen to them, I was going to invite them to join us for a discussion about our next move, perhaps after we've discussed some more delicate matters? I do hope that is a satisfactory answer."
"Yes, thank you! Far more than anyone's been able to tell me in a long time, I'm so glad they're okay." A small weight is lifted from Phil's shoulders and he slumps back a little into the chair, weighing up his two remaining questions, attempting to select the order of his enquiries and to find the best wording.
"What is your function in MI6?" This time, his question makes G smile with approval.
"Much better Mr Lester. That is the kind of question that skips the nonsense of titles and names, I'm glad to see you're learning. My function is to coordinate and manage the international, undercover agents who are collecting data and completing missions on behalf of the Royal Military Intelligence task force. I have command over all the agents within each sector and my personal jurisdiction extends to direct orders to any agent operating within another country, orders they are not permitted to disobey." He seems saddened by the final phrase, as if disappointed in himself, or perhaps someone else, but Phil doesn't press him for details. A commander of MI6? As if he needed any more indication of how big this drama had turned out to be…
The final question had really been his first, and his second choice, but Phil somewhat dreaded the answer as much as he was dying to find out what had been bothering him for so long. Finding a way to ask it in a single question was not easy, if this man worked for MI6 there was no doubt that he could work his way around any question he didn't wish to answer.
"What is the nature of your relationship, current or previous, with Daniel Howell?"
G leant forwards, elbows propped on the table and sausage fingers tucked beneath his chin.
"I was the operator in charge of Daniel James Howell, or Agent Artemis as is his official title, on his final mission in Russia fourteen years ago, and the individual responsible for his rehabilitation and integration into civilian life, complete with pseudonym, backstory and managing of assets. My currently relationship with Artemis is, well, tedious to say the least. He has evaded our every attempted at communication for the past few months, a fact which truly demonstrates the extraordinary capacity I saw in him, in his skills of espionage and stealth, all those years ago."
Phil blinks, twice for good measure.
"You mean that Dan is a spy?"
G chuckles again. "We try to avoid calling our agents that, but yes, for your intents, Daniel is, or was, a spy for MI6. And despite being only seven years old when I first met him, he was one of the very best we've ever seen."
Phil tries to come up with a response, but his mind is reeling and his mouth abandoned him moments earlier.
"I know it's a lot to take in, but I promise it will only make more sense once I've explained more about the situation we all find ourselves in. Now, perhaps, we can take this back to my office?" G stands, straightening his waistcoat and jacket. "I assure you that in a position such as mine, the government has no hesitation with providing some degree of luxury."
Phil rises silently to his feet, eyes still wide, a memory playing through his mind on repeat- the first time he saw Dan naked, the grotesque scar just below his hip, the awkward silence and assumptions – he follows G silently, scanning through every moment of their lives together until this moment, unsteady and nauseous as he tries to work out just how little he knew about his best friend, and inaudibly dreading what else he was about to find out.
Hello my friends and phangirls! The scene is set and now the real trouble begins! I hope you liked this chapter- I promise it doesn't slow down from here on in, I will try to be a little better with my uploads though! For whatever reason, I spend so much longer ruminating over these chapters than with any other story I write, I hope it's paying off!
Thank you so much- yes you! For reading this, my first multichapter Phan, for sticking by me despite the frequent update droughts, if you've made it this far! It's nearly come to 14,000 views, which is absolutely mindboggling!
Special thanks to those wonderful people who send me their thoughts, particularly NeverlandNat (I've been terrible with leaving things unanswered but hopefully this chapter cleared some of that up! :D), the-perks-of-being-a-youtuber (thank you! Soon is relative, right?), Malteser24 (naww but I love hearing your ideas! It was all a bit vague until now :P), DevTheManiac (HERE YOU GO :D), vogonsoup (Thank you w I was going for a very suspenseful style so I'm glad it's working!), Locofoco88 (Thank you so much :3), justthatonefangirl (if a book ever comes out, I'll let you know! Until then I'm sticking to studying and phangirling :D) and ledanimal (Are you okay? *blushes* thank you that's very sweet!) for their lovely reviews since the last chapter! This is for you :)
Until next time!
xx panfs