N/B: Alex Day, Tom Milsom and other youtubers accused of abusive behaviour will no longer feature in any of my stories. Thank you for your understanding :)
Chapter 12 – I Can't Help But Wish
Phil follows the echoes of Mairead's high heels down the empty hallway, not entirely sure what he's just signed himself up for but determined not to give any impression of doubt all the same. She's not said a word to him since collecting him from G's office other than "Follow me, Mr Lester", and Phil can't help but suspect that her silence is a matter of voluntary disapproval above anything else.
However, if she is attempting to confuse his orientation enough to ensure that he could never find his way back to where they started, her convoluted twisting and turning down a labyrinth of corridors and stairwells has more than successfully left Phil in a position of having absolutely no idea which direction he is facing, how deep below sea level he is and if he's even still in the same building as he was twenty minutes earlier. Perhaps secret government agencies design their buildings like this for a good reason, he decides. Were he attempting to utilise this chance to learn their building's layout, his memory and sense of direction would need to be improved by tenfold.
They finally step into an elevator and out of the fifty or so blank buttons, Mairead selects one on the left side close to the floor. Phil decides to try to at least memorise it's position, in case it might be important, but before he can count the precise position, Mairead reaches across and flips the emergency stop switch, plunging the elevator into darkness, with only the soft glow of a red light left for Phil to catch the contours of her sculpted face in.
"Why-"
"I need to check." She doesn't specify what it is she needs to check, but her tone is enough to make Phil stay silent for the moment. A few heavy heartbeats later, she speaks again, still facing the elevator doors and almost articulating the words to their reflective, metal surface.
"Why are you doing this?"
"What?" She glares at him, and he tries again, "Excuse me?"
"Why are you volunteering- do you realise how dangerous this is? It's not like the movies or the video games; the people we deal with here are aggressive, they are ruthless and they're not going to care if you're some lovestruck boy on an adventure, they will not hesitate to torture you, hurt you and absolutely obliterate you if given the smallest chance, so tell me Mr Lester, why on earth would you willingly offer yourself up for what will most likely be a venture ending in your own, violent death, without so much as a pause to consider the consequences?"
"I-" The words falter behind his lips. His determination persists, but he can't form an answer to her question that doesn't sound immature or foolhardy.
She's right, in a way. He never really thought of death or injury in the moments before he accepted G's proposal. A horrific montage of his own body, shot and slice and destroyed by masked perpetrators briefly flashes before his eyes, but he shakes it off. Taking a deep breath, he gives her the best answer he can.
"I didn't need to consider the consequences. It's Dan, I'll do anything to help him, always."
A lengthy pause hangs over the pair, Phil waiting impatiently for the reprimand to come, but it never does. Instead, Mairead eventually leans over and flicks back the emergency switch, bathing them in light as the elevator rumbles to a start once more. Phil breathes a silent sigh of relief; apparently his answer was passable.
However, just before they step out of the elevator, Mairead stretches out one hand to stop the doors from closing, barring Phil's exit.
"I believe you, not that I think bravery is an equal for reasoning and intelligence, but I do believe you."
Phil eyes her, watching her steady gaze seemingly penetrate into his mind, and before long he has to look away. But she's not finished.
"I know that you won't listen to me," Phil makes a noise of protest but she continues, "And this probably won't stop you making foolish, dangerous decisions- but always consider the consequences. It's all very well to say you'll do anything for someone, but you can end up only hurting them more, only making things worse, if you don't approach everything with a critical eye and a cautious mind. Do you understand?"
Phil nods and her arm moves down, allowing them both to step out into the corridor. As if nothing had happen, she sets off at a striking pace, with Phil half-jogging to keep up.
They finally stop outside an oddly warped metal door, which looks as if something ran into it at a high speed from the inside. Mairead raises an eyebrow, but says nothing and pushes the door open.
"Miss Tran? I've brought our latest recruit and I think he's going to need all the help you can give him."
Phil is too busy staring around in wonder to notice the insult slipped into her statement. The walls of the room are lined with a mess of benches and computers, crammed next to each other with robotics, wiring and flashing devices scattered over a table in the middle. The first word that comes to mind is 'chaos', soon followed by a mixture of amusement and wonder as his gaze is directed up to the ceiling, following the voice that replies.
"We have a new recruit? Man, no one ever tells me anything around here!" The Australian accent comes floating down from a small agent clad in black combat gear, presumably Miss Tran, decked out in camouflage gear and apparently able to climb on ceilings using whatever kind of material was covering her hands and feet, makes her way across the ceiling and down the wall, jumping the last meter before turning around to greet them, sweeping a veil of black, straight hair out of her eyes.
"Oh wow, and cute too! I'm Nat," She gives Phil a little wave, "I'm the tech and weaponry girl. I'm guessing I'll be kitting you out with some field action gear?" She glances over at Mairead for confirmation, already tapping away at a small screen attached to her wrist as she does.
Mairead nods, "But absolutely no arms for this one, just tracking and stealth for Mr. Lester." Nat pouts but turns her full attention to the tiny screen, flicking through screens attentively for a few moments before holding it up to Phil's face.
"I'm going to need to you display your eye in front of this for a few moments, try not to blink or get too excited." Phil arches his neck forward obediently, trying his best to keep his eye open, feeling the itchy tears forming at the very thought.
"Get too excited?" He queries.
"Dilates the pupil and messes up with my reading," Nat sighs, "You wouldn't believe how many times I've hoped and prayed my reading would be messed up, some of the guys and girls who get sent my way for their field kits, but I guess it's this horrid uniform that just interferes with my undeniable good looks." Phil almost squints at her, it's hard to tell if she's being sarcastic or not, but then he remembers his orders and tries his hardest to keep still and not dilate his pupils.
Eventually, the screen gives a shrill beep and Nat pulls it away, muttering her thanks, and switches over to a larger computer, typing speedily and talking as she goes.
"With the data I've taken off your iris and retina, I'm just putting together a pair of lenses which should be unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but should give you at least good comms and GPS, or good enough given that the look I'm getting says we have to have you out of here in the next ten minutes, which means no microprogramming once again," Mairead coughs pointedly, but Nat doesn't miss a beat, "Which I don't mind, of course, I don't mind at all, it's not as if I've developed this technology to be used to create mind-blowingly awesome gear that could advance intelligence agents into the world of the future and render them uncatchable, undetectable.."
The printer beside her computer whirrs into action and a transparent sheet runs beneath the laser. Ripping off her black gloves, she pulls on a pair of white, silken ones instead and presses out two small circles from the page.
"These are your new eyes. My eyes. Do you wear contacts normally Mr. Lester?"
"Yes, sometimes, when I can't be bothered wearing my glasses- and it's Phil, please." He reaches up to pull out his own contact lenses to show her. Taking it from him, she holds the thin film up to the light.
"Ah, I see. I'll have to account for your prescription then." She turns back to the computer, adding in strings of formulations that Phil can't even attempt to understand. He watches, impressed, as her hands fly over the keys, eyes flicking around the screen, catching patterns and variables as they pass and editing her own work to tailor it to his needs.
"How did you even end up here?"
She sends him a look, but keeps typing. "By here I'm guessing you mean stuck in a basement revolutionising technology and being constantly underappreciated- well after I got kicked out of ASIO there was a fair amount of headhunting that went down and I did have a lovely stay in Washington with some inviting offers from several acronyms, but then I came across to London and they offered me a deal I couldn't refuse." She grins back across at Phil, but won't offer anything else until Mairead joins in.
"Miss Tran manages to rake up nearly three billion dollars worth of fines from internet torrents, as well as a Chilean warrant for her death, and we offered to clear that debt." She manages to keep her tone neutral, but there's a suggestive smirk lurking in the corners of her lips.
"For which I am super grateful, of course." Nat holds out a tray with one hand, two contact lenses lying unassuming on its surface, and a mirror with the other. "I'm sure you can do this bit yourself." He can, and is very glad when he manages to get the lenses in on the first attempt. Looking around, Phil isn't sure what he expected, but it doesn't appear that anything has changed.
"Are they switched on?" He asks, and Nat hands him what looks like an iPhone.
"That's the beautiful of these lovelies, you can operate them entirely from this phone here- each app I've designed has an effect on the screen of your lenses, but to the outside world it just looks like you're playing on your phone. It's also voice activated for emergency apps, such as call, video, medical advice and navigation." They flick through the different programs, and as each one is selected, Phil's visual input changes entirely, from a thermal reading which plunges the world into vivid colours, hot red glowing from Nat and Mairead, and the heavy computers sitting under the desks; to a navigation system which can switch between a virtual guide before his eyes to a wider view of the area on a marked map.
"Just remember how to call, film and you should be fine." Nat hands him a small handbook that outlines each of the apps in more detail.
"How do I turn them off?" Phil blushes slightly, but Nat is unfazed.
"They are constantly on standby if you have no apps open- we can't see through them or hear anything, but we should still be able to track their location to within around 30 meters, just in case you can't respond to us." Now she pulls out a pocket knife, and Phil can almost hear Mairead bristle behind him, but Nat reassures her- "It's just defensive stuff, nothing anyone would consider arms!"
Phil takes the pocketknife from her, pulling open each arm, examining the contents. The first two are regular blades, such as you might find on any pocketknife, followed by what Nat shows him to be a miniature blow dart, a compartment for darts, a pair of scissors, a lockpick, a microfilament, a and a small smoke bomb, which she demonstrated could be detached and thrown within six seconds in order to gain cover to escape.
Flicking through the different arms, Phil tries to memorise the information Nat is giving him carefully, wanting to put this equipment to best use. She grabs a backpack from underneath one of the benches and starts shoving items into it: a compact waterproof jacket, a new passport, wallet filled with some crash and a shiny new credit card (which Mairead reliably informs him will be tracked), and earplugs- "For the plane, or explosions, they just seem to come in handy," Nat shrugs.
There's a pause as he slips in pocketknife and closes the backpack, watched carefully by two sets of eyes, until Nat gasps loudly, slapping a hand to her forehead.
"The cone of silence!" She scurries over to a filing cabinet, pulling out wiring. "Do you have something I can rig up for you, something you carry like a charm or jewellery?" Phil pats down his pockets, but there's nothing there- everything was taken when he came in, and he was never really the jewellery type to start with.
"Oh!" Phil crouches down, pulling off his left shoe and, to the surprise of his two onlookers, pulls out a small stuffed lion toy. "I completely forgot about Lion!" Nat grabs the toy from his hand, eyeing it off and giving it a quick sniff, before tossing it down onto a bench.
"This will do perfectly! Give me a moment-" Before Phil has even finished pulling his shoe back on, Nat is slicing open the side of Lion with a small scalpel, using delicate fingers to push a small electronic chip in beside the fluff. Phil gives out a small noise of protest, but Nat hushes him and begins sewing the yellow fabric back together, presenting a full and seemingly undamaged Lion back to Phil within moments.
Phil takes the toy gingerly, turning it over between his fingers. "What did you do?" Nat leans in and squeezes Lion's body firmly. A static sound emits from beneath the fabric and a flash of blue light extends out from their hands, expanding to form a small dome of shimmering blue, encapsulating them both.
"No one outside this can hear anything we say," Nat says, with a lopsided grin, "Not even Mary Poppins, and she's definitely within earshot!" Phil looks back over his shoulder at Mairead, who is glaring right back with pursed lips. Nat cocks an eyebrow, "See? It's hardly subtle but handy in a bathroom cubicle, or photo booth- private conversations anywhere you need! I'm working on the blue still.."
Phil reaches out, his finger meeting the flickering dome and slipping through, a faint tingling sensation rippling over his skin. He was going to say something about things not possibly getting any stranger, but decided to resist the temptation, so said instead- "Thank you for all your help, I think I'm gonna need it."
Nat shrugs, "Got to agree with you there! But hey, seeing as we have this moment alone," She smirks at him, speaking softly despite the fabricated privacy, "It might be worth noting that if you run into trouble, there are some brothers I know, John and Hank Green. There's a contact on your phone called Giraffe Sex-"
Phil chokes on his laugh, "What?"
"It's a thing," Nat replies, shaking it off, "Just- call them if you need help, if you need anything. They're really, really good at what they do." Phil nods and Nat goes to squeeze Lion again, but a moment before she does, her glance flits upwards once more to meet his eyes, and she mutters, "No one here even knows that they exist." A moment later the shield is down and Phil takes Lion in one hand, the backpack with his other. He desperately wants to ask what she meant by 'if you need anything', but knows the moment has gone and passed.
"Well, I think that's all I can give you!" Nat shoots Mairead a look before leaning in closer, lowering her voice, "Unless of course I can somehow convince them to let you take arms into the field, because just between you and me I've been working on the most excellent little handgun that fold up into a tiny thing, no bigger than your middle finger, and if you get caught you can hide it right up your-"
"Miss Tran! That's more than enough for now, don't you agree?" Mairead looks more amused than cross, but Nat concedes, passing the backpack and Lion back to Phil, holding his hand for a moment longer than needed.
"Good luck. If you make it back alive, we should hang- as long as we're not breaking some international law or something by doing so." Phil smiles properly, the offer seems genuine, and Nat has been a refreshing surprise in the chaos of the past day.
"I'm gonna hold you to that," He replies, and she giggles, then winks, before Mairead grabs his arm and half drags him out of the lab, muttering something about timetables and overtime and babysitting, but Phil is watching Nat make her way back up the wall again and doesn't care if they spent to long in her lab, it was well worth it. With her equipment on hand, suddenly the possibility of finding Dan is a little more real.
The winding walk back upstairs is hardly as long as Phil expected it to be, his mind wandering as he flicks through the different apps, stumbling across what appears to be a vintage version of the game 'Snake'. He definitely needs to get back in contact with Nat if- once he returns.
Rather than heading back to the sumptuous office from earlier, Mairead leads him to a sparsely decorated room, with long tables lining the walls and a collection of suited men and women, milling around in pairs or small groups, discussing secrets in hushed tones.
They cross the room, Mairead nodding to several people as they pass, and find G at the far end of the room, talking into his mobile phone. He smiles at their arrival and quickly hangs up the phone.
"So, we're ready?" The rest of the room falls into silence as he speaks, and Phil nods. It seems like they are wasting no time with further formalities as G opens his phone again and barks some orders into the receiver. Phil pulls of his backpack, dumping on the nearby table and leaning against it with a sigh. It's been a very long night.
"Excellent," Hanging up the phone, G rubs his hands together, looking happier than a leech at a blood bank, "Well I think everything is ready now, we can get you on a plane and over to the East Coast before the night is through!" One broad hand gestures to the door where Mairead is waiting; "Our plane is primed and ready to fly as soon as you are aboard, everything you'll need including the information packs will be ready for you to look at on the trip over, but I recommend getting as much rest as you can, while you can." He chuckles, a sentiment Phil can't quite bring himself to replicate, but he takes advantage of the pause to ask a question.
"What about my friends? Can I say goodbye to them? And tell them what's happening.." Phil can just imagine the grilling Carrie will give him if he disappears without at least some form of explanation, and that alone is enough to inspire him to fight for a last meeting; he avoids thinking about the fact that it could well be their last meeting. Those kinds of thoughts won't help him now.
But G shakes his head, "Not enough time," he says, with frantic gestures and big words, but Phil doesn't relent, and is eventually handed a pad and a pen, with a warning of not to mention anything about Dan.
It takes a moment to work out what he wants to say; given that it's almost guaranteed that others will read the note before it reaches his friends. G sighs pointedly, lifting up his arm to check the watch for the third time in the past minute, and Phil scrawls out a messy message on the embossed, heavy paper.
Hi guys,
So I'm off to America! Sorry I'm not telling you this in person, apparently everything is in motion and there's no time, but I hope they're treating you well and maybe we can all leave and go back to life sometime soon, I hope we can.
Don't worry about me, I promise I'm not doing anything stupid (stop frowning Carrie, I mean it), and I'll be back before you even realize I was gone! I've got to dash but I'm thinking of you and look forward to seeing you soon.
Love,
Phil
He passes the note to G's outstretched hand, although he'd much prefer deliver it himself, and picks up the phone and backpack off the table. He's not ready at all, but there's no turning back now so he may as well pretend to be.
"Good luck," G says, in a fatherly attempt at comfort, "We are all right behind you, as planned. It's all in the information pack and remember, if you're in danger or hurt, just call for back up and we'll be right there." Phil nods, and accepts a firm handshake from the older man. "Nothing is more important here than your safety." Somehow, this part is less convincing, but Phil nods again all the same.
"Thank you for all your help, I guess I'll see you in a bit!" Phil smiles and turns to head to the door, locking eyes with Mairead and trying not to let his confident façade slip. He manages to make it all the way to the door and, pushing it open, out onto what looks to him to be a private airport tarmac, without anyone stopping him, and so he keeps going. Hearing that Mairead following after him, he follows the fluorescent markers on the concrete. If he doesn't look back, then there's no chance he'll start running back too.
He's only taken maybe ten steps before he looks down at his hand and realises that there's something essential missing. Phil tosses his backpack to the ground and searches through it quickly, but Lion is nowhere to be found. The memory of placing the stuffed toy on a polished wooden table floats and he gets to his feet, calling out to Mairead to wait up for him, and manages to get back to the door just in time to catch it before it fully closes.
He pushes it open, ready to explain his mistake, only to quickly silence himself at the sight that meets him. It's nothing dramatic, or even particularly cruel, just a party of suited officials, walking out of a meeting that has long concluded with Phil's departure. They haven't noticed his reappearance, but it's when he's almost about to say something that he watches G drop the note he gave him, folded in two, covered in his own scrawling handwriting, into the rubbish bin, before leaving the room.
There's no malice to his actions, no particular grudge, but it's only as he watches the paper fall into the wire basket and the man he tried to trust depart, not even looking back to see where the note fell. It's insignificant- an act maintained only as long as was required to secure what he wanted- and nothing more than that.
A heartbeat later and they notice Phil, standing frozen just inside the doorway, unsure how to process the confirmation of his utter isolation, and when the armed men start yelling at him, he does not protest or defend himself.
After retrieving Lion on his behalf, the soldiers push him out the door roughly this time, and it slams shut heavily, the loud click of a lock confirming that he won't be exiting by that route again. One hand lifts up to rest on the cool metal, as Phil takes a moment to breath. This changes nothing. Stick to the plan, which is to find Dan and bring him back. He can't afford to worry about his friends now; he doesn't have that option.
When he finally turns around, any trace of a smile is completely gone, but Mairead hardly seems surprised. She doesn't offer any comfort or even acknowledge the events of the last minute; instead she turns on her heel, marching towards a small plane waiting for them on the runway.
Perhaps it's not an unexpected turn of events for her, a job in the intelligence agency must prepare you for a variety of unexpectedly nasty scenes, and with an absence of blood or death, Phil supposes the disregard for his wishes is hardly devastatingly shocking. The wind whips through his hair, messing it in front of his eyes, reminding him of how long it feels like been since he was outside.
Following after her steady paces, picking up his backpack on the way, Phil finally catches up and walks besides her, climbing the stairs to find himself in a comfortable cabin, with several large leather chairs lining the windows, far enough apart that every passenger could lie down at ease. It could easily be a millionaire's private jet, if not for the lifeless colour scheme, the smell of disinfectant and the two officers with handguns seated motionless in the back seats, watching their new arrivals with little reaction.
Mairead stops him at the second chair to the left. Without touching him, she steps a fraction closer, so that Phil is certain she must be able to feel her breath on his cheek, but he doesn't budge.
"Always, always, consider the consequences, Mr Lester." Her words are a quiet murmur, but clear as crystal, and he nods once, meeting her eyes, hoping she can somehow tell him something else, something more concrete and helpful, but a moment later she is gone and sitting primly in the seat behind him, and so he follows suit.
On the desk in front of him are a compact laptop computer and a pile of notes, printed on the all-too- familiar government paper that Phil has developed a particular loathing for of late. His name is printed in watermark across each of the pages, a safety measure against leaks, and as he flips through he finds maps and markings, presumably where they suspect to find Dan, perhaps possible sightings, as well as information on how to approach a hostile suspect, the different signals to send to back up teams, dependent on the situation and the likelihood of success.
He moves those to the side- with a seven hour flight, he'll have plenty of time for reading later- and opts instead to stare out the window. He still doesn't want to think of what's to come, either way, it's a terrifying prospect. The only questioning he'll allow himself is wondering what on earth he's got himself into, and not for the first time.
The view out from behind the glass is marred by night, unpromising for any final friendly sights. It's still dark, the longest night of his life perhaps, but sunrise is hinting on the edge of the horizon.
Things are in action! Thank you for your patience and your comments, as always, they inspire me to keep writing after long days at work! Special thanks to Kate, NeverlandNat, RainbowPeaches, Malteser24, bluestockingkat, hfward1221, Sinncity, Pollzy Claire and Emma for reviewing- a few familiar faces and lovely to see some new reviewers! Welcome to the madness. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, what your theories are and any suggestions! One more chapter till promised exciting things so hang tight and I'll do my best to write more quickly! I can't believe it's been almost six months since the last chapter! I'm the worst TT_TT thank you for sticking around!
Until next time
xxx panfs
