Part two
Chapter three
Hunley was taken through a maze of stone-walled corridors and up a set of metal stairs into a small room that was dimly lit by several monitors above a row of control panels. He was forced onto a metal garden chair that was placed in the middle of the room with the hands behind his back and the handcuffs were threaded through one of the vertical bars that formed the back of the chair.
"Now, Mr. Hunley," the scar-faced woman said behind him, uncomfortably close to his ear. "Maybe the well-being of your friend is enough of a reason to jog your memory. But by all means, take your time."
The secretary stared at the screens in front of him. They showed the room he had been held in, one zoomed in on Ethan, who was still lying hunched up on the floor, the other from further up, behind the grid that separated the room from the outside world. Water was running down the walls, rapidly covering the floor.
"In case you are wondering," the woman continued. "This room is connected to the storm drains, to store excess water in case of a storm and prevent flooding. Of course, there is an overflow drain, but I'm afraid that's above the safety grid. And of course, the intake and outflow valves are controlled by us."
On the screens, Ethan had gotten up. The water already stood waist high and was rising steadily.
"I don't know where Morpheus is," Hunley answered.
"I am impressed by your persistence," the woman replied with a shark-like smile. "You do realize that it could cost your friend his life?"
By now Hunt was treading water. The high walls of the room suddenly didn't seem so high anymore as the water level rose.
Hunley's jaws clenched. "I don't know where he is," he insisted. "I haven't seen him in years and I have no way of contacting him."
Ethan was now close enough to grab the iron bars, clinging to them in the desperate attempt of staying above the surface as long as possible. Then the grid was swallowed up by water and he disappeared in the floods.
"How long do you think he can hold his breath?" the woman sneered.
The secretary knew that as long as he didn't move and conserved oxygen Hunt could make it for several minutes, but not indefinitely.
"I don't know where he is," Hunley repeated. He didn't know what else to do. It was the truth.
"And if you did you wouldn't tell me," his interviewer chuckled, a cold rasping sound. "Come on, that trick is old."
Hunley bit back a comment and instead let out a relieved sigh. On the screen, the water was retreating. As soon as the metal grid was visible, Ethan's face popped out of the water, gasping for air.
"It looks like you'll have a little more time to reconsider your answer," the scarred woman commented with a smile that sent a chill down Hunley's spine. "Until the next rainfall."
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Brandt's head narrowly escaped the bare foot that passed millimeters from his face, but his right hand easily caught it, when it arced back around. He tried to use it to bring his opponent down, but instead, she used it to slam her other foot into his face. Brandt managed to block the kick with his other arm, but it made him stagger backwards and they both landed on the mat.
Both fighters quickly rolled over to face each other again for a new round, but it was like a silent agreement between them that they would catch their breath for a moment.
"So, how is it you're not a field agent anymore?" Brandt asked breathing heavily. He had neglected his exercise routine shamefully lately and now he was paying the price.
Sanders grinned. After leaving the office today, the analyst had been in a mood to hit something and his watchdog had volunteered as a sparing partner. "Got a knife in the eye. Lost twenty percent of my vision on the left," she explained. "Could have been worse, but put me out of field work."
She was compensating very well, Brandt thought when she came at him with another, lower side kick which he caught easily, but turned out to be a feint when she used his hand as a stepping stone to wrap her other leg around his neck in a stranglehold. He noticed it early enough and pulled her down, but instead of around his shoulders her knee ended up in his ribcage and the combination of weight and momentum brought them both down. Another round ended in a draw.
Just as they had taken their positions again, there was a knock on the door-frame of the open sparing area. "Am I interrupting?"
"No," Sanders replied immediately and stepped off the mat, grabbing her towel.
Brandt followed her reluctantly. He dried his own face and hair in an effort to win some time, although he knew it was stupid. When he put the towel away, Elaine was standing right in front of him.
He looked at her with mild surprise. She was wearing tight fitting dark jeans, a beige hooded vest over a dark blue long-sleeved shirt and a thin loop-scarf with a floral pattern in muted blues. The scarf cleverly hid the bandaging still covering the stitches on her neck and while the padded bandages on her hand had been exchanged for band-aid like dressings, she kept her arms drawn back into the sleeves. It was still casual, but a lot more elegant than what she would usually wear.
"Hey," he said, failing to think of something better.
"Hey," she replied with a grin that seemed darkly foreboding to Brandt. "We're going out tonight."
It wasn't a question or an order but the irrevocable statement of a fact. "Any special occasion?" Brandt asked, wondering for a panicked moment if he had missed her birthday. But he had a bad feeling he knew what this was about, and it wasn't a birthday.
"Only that you should see something other than your office for at least one evening," Elaine replied with the same unsettling smile.
"Well," Brandt said and threw a questioning glance at Sanders.
"I think that should be alright," the redhead replied with a grin that was eerily similar to Elaine's and headed for the wash-rooms. Whatever was going on, Brandt felt she was in on it. "Just keep an eye on him."
Brandt quickly swallowed his discomfort and smiled back. "Can I shower first?"
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
When Hunley was returned to the stone room, Ethan was sitting on the floor staring up at the ceiling. He didn't move when the goons chained them in place again nor when they shut the door behind them with a clang.
"Hunt?" the secretary asked.
"I'm alright," Ethan replied. After a moment he looked over with a tired smile. "Why do they want this Morpheus so badly?"
"I don't know," Hunley replied. "And I can't tell them where he is."
Hunt nodded understandingly. "What do you know about him?"
For a moment Hunley pondered how much he should say, considering that they could be listening. But there hadn't been any indication of audio surveillance in the control room and with the damp walls, the room wasn't easy to bug anyway. "He first showed up in the fall of '94, just walked into the lobby in Langley, handed the guy at the front desk a cellphone with instructions to give it to me," he explained. "He was very careful not to show his face to the camera, no one ever saw what he looked like. Back then I worked in the narcotics unit. Two hours later that phone rang and he gave me intel on freighters shipping cocaine into the States. He always seemed to know which operations we were involved in and kept his fingers out of those. Over the years he gave me tons of information, usually little bits that led to larger discoveries. I always gave it to analytics before passing it on, and it always checked out. And then, just before Christmas '99, it stopped."
"And you have no idea who he was?" Ethan checked back.
"No," Hunley replied. "He knew what he was doing and never gave us anything we could have identified him by. We tried to trace back the call several times but he always hung up before we could narrow it down properly."
Hunt bit his lip. "Who knew about Morpheus?"
"I don't know exactly, but not a lot of people," the secretary replied. "My direct superior in the office. The chief analyst, I guess, and probably the director."
"So whoever is looking for him now must have had a connection with him then," Ethan mused thoughtfully.
"Probably," Hunley replied dryly. "But that doesn't help us get out of here."
"No," Ethan sighed. "No, it won't."
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
"So, where are we going?" Brandt asked. The wet street reflected the light from the street-lamps that were standing out brightly against the inky black sky. The rain had stopped earlier and now a harsh cold wind was blowing in from the sea. Still, Brandt was sweating. He felt more anxious than he ever had on the most dangerous missions, but without knowing why.
"The Spice?" Elaine asked.
He suppressed a relieved sigh. They had been to the Secret Spice several times since that first date and he liked both the place and its owner, so at least there wouldn't be any more surprises there. "Sure."
They walked in increasingly awkward silence. Elaine didn't seem to care, but Brandt felt their not talking weighing down on him, grinding him into the ground. Yet he couldn't think of anything to talk about and when they reached the restaurant it felt like it granted him only a short respite.
Kamal nodded a greeting at them and Brandt returned it with a smile, then he turned to hang up their coats. His smile faded when he saw that instead of their usual places at the bar, Elaine was headed for a window table. This was serious.
The bartender came over immediately once they were seated. "The usual?" he asked with a knowing grin. The question hardly required an answer.
Once he was gone, they resumed their awkward silence. Brandt was aware Elaine was watching him intently, but he couldn't get himself to look up. Instead, he studied the pattern on the tablecloth and the reflections of the street light on the wet concrete outside the window until he had formulated his sentence. "I'm sorry you didn't get to see much of me the last two days."
"It's alright," Bray replied. "We've all had a lot of work."
It sounded sincere. And Brandt knew it was sincere but to him, it still felt like an excuse. "But we make time for the things that are important."
"Our work is important," Elaine countered. "Especially right now."
"Still." Brandt cleared his throat. "I feel like I should have made more time for you."
Elaine's eyes widened slightly, making them glow like glass and her gaze more intense. Her cheeks flushed slightly in a rare display of embarrassment. It hardly lasted a second. Then she looked down and a moment later she had regained her usual composure, but the warm smile lingered. "It's fine. Really."
Before the silence could stretch again, they were saved by Kamal bringing their drinks. Elaine took a long sip, then looked thoughtfully at Brandt for so long he started to get anxious again. "I'm thinking about moving out of the office."
"It is a bit small in there," Brandt replied, turning his glass in his hands, wondering where this was going.
Elaine chuckled dryly but refrained from a comment. "Well, I'll be grounded for another couple of weeks, so I thought now might be the time," she said instead. "And I thought maybe you'd help me find a nice place..."
Her voice trailed off and she first glanced then stared out of the window. Then she suddenly jumped up, almost knocking her chair over in the process. "I'm sorry," she said hastily. "I love you, but I got to go." Then she turned and ran off through the door.
Brandt sat and stared for a shocked moment, not knowing which part of that sentence to process first. His mind still felt like it hadn't fully caught up when he got up. He gave the bartender and apologetic glance as he passed, but Kamal just waved him through. Will only slowed down to pick up their coats at the door, then he ran off after her into the night.