Author's Note: Ladies and Gentlemen, pleeeease enjoooy this fairly short chap, which is going to be followed by another in... a week? Two, maximum. I promise. This time I'm sure I can keep it xD (oh my glob, do I feel guilty for taking so long, I'm so sorry ._. )
Parameters
"It was Interpol.", Merlin informed them over the speakers of the laptop on the table. That his voice filled the hotel room was an illusion to ears adjusted to the nocturnal silence that prevailed round them. In reality, they'd turned the volume down to such a low level that Victoria had had difficulties to perceive it at first, though, that had probably been due to the blanket that had been wrapped around her now naked body, including her head, and the chattering of her own teeth then.
Now her system had calmed down, warmth spreading from her torso to her limbs, her muscles relaxed, slackened from fatigue, as she just sat there on the bed next to Galahad, listening to what Merlin had found out.
"They'd been tipped off about the whole matter yesterday and decided against investigating in secret as we did and to rather blow the deal right there and detain the buyers' spokesman for interrogation."
"Who tipped them off?", Victoria asked, already guessing the answer.
"One of their own men. The Austrian group that is."
"The one who started firing? Or had that one already been taken into protective custody?"
"Perhaps. I don't know. Our contact in Interpol hasn't been instructed about the specifics yet. Having the patriarch of one of Britain's richest families among the victims in this case apparently motivates them to keep things under lock and key pretty much. Only a small team of investigators is in the picture of details."
"Is Interpol on to Kingsman?"
Galahad's words had come so softly Victoria almost missed them, and yet they carried so much weight that a shiver ran down her spine. She frowned at her colleague, looked at his slouching figure with the elbows on his knees, folded hands tucked under his nose, hair still dripping with water; though, none of this thoughtful pose revealed anything of the nature of his reasoning, leaving her failing to see how he could jump to such conclusions. When he locked eyes with her, however, realization hit her.
The patriarch of one of Britain's richest families. Whitehall. Interpol knew it hadn't been an accident, knew that he was murdered… But what did they know about the circumstances? Were they following a lead that could ultimately disclose the secret intelligence?
Victoria only realised that she was holding her breath when Merlin's answer made her sigh in relief: "No, don't worry, our contact saw to it that the Austrians remain chief suspect in Gawain's murder."
"So Interpol believes the Austrians acted on behalf of those buyers?"
"Indeed and, apparently, they have identified them and are in hot pursuit of them too, though, here too, our contact couldn't name details."
Victoria thought for a second, then sighed: "Where does that leave us now? I mean following the same track as them wouldn't make much sense. It'd be as risky as it would be redundant. Besides, their conclusion might seem logical at first glance, but if the Austrians really acted by the order of those buyers, whoever they are, then who paid Abbiati? Why is there a need for a proper handover if they're all in the same team?"
"Abbiati's client – therefore the Austrians as well – could be an independent entity commissioned to get the substance and get paid during the handover.", Galahad pointed out, visibly pondering as well. "On the other hand, they could also be acting on their own initiative and simply flog the substance to the highest bidder."
"They'd have to be linked with Whitehall Inc. somehow to do so.", Victoria said, frowning and shifting uncomfortably. If that theory was correct, then whoever's involved in the late Gawain's murder must have known about someone working on this formula and that Gawain himself had prohibited it. Perhaps someone close to that particular scientist? Or to Gawain? Someone… who might still be part of the company, part of Alasdair's staff? His father's murderer, so horribly close to him…
Galahad must have sensed the sudden change in her mood, the paralysing fear the thought of Alasdair being in mortal danger had instilled into her, because it didn't even take a second for him to backpedal: "It's just a theory, though. That Interpol is actually following the right track is just as likely, if not more."
Victoria nodded, still not quite able to cast off the shadow of terror, but she couldn't let herself be distracted by emotions, had to stay focused, so she cleared her throat and spoke up again: "Merlin, any progress in tracing the origin of the account Abbiati was paid by?"
"Not much for our purposes, I fear. The account belongs to some bogus company and is maintained by at least half a dozen other accounts distributed all over Europe, each in the name of a different individual, however, I didn't have the time to check their backgrounds yet. Could be fake identities, could be fall men, or people actually linked with the case. I'll be able to tell you more in an hour."
"Good. And check especially for connections to Whitehall.", Victoria said and, upon feeling Galahad's gaze on her, added: "If we can't follow the same track as Interpol, we can at least spend our time eliminating all other possibilities."
"Agreed. The problem is just that Alasdair's been very thorough in his company reformation. I was about to hack into the digital Whitehall archives two days ago already, just to check for something we might have missed in that case, but, well, I couldn't. Looks like Alasdair's utilised some of Kingsman's techniques to design his own cybersecurity systems and they're spectacular, very impressive." Victoria smiled at how thick his voice was with pride. Alasdair's always been technology-affine, but Merlin's training had definitely enhanced his skills even further. "Can't access the data from here unless I have the proper codes. Of course, we could nick them one way or another, but… since we are in the advantageous position to know the big boss personally…"
Victoria nodded, guessing what he was driving at. "I'll get you the access codes as soon as we're back."
"Splendid. I'll have a taxi ready for you to get you to the jet in, let's say, ten minutes?"
"Make that twenty, please. I really need to get that salt out of my hair first.", she said, rubbing a strand of dark hair between her fingers with a look of disgust.
"Alright. See you in about three hours, agents."
As soon as the white noise that had accompanied Merlin's voice due to the extra low volume broke off, signaling that he'd gone offline, Victoria stood up, careful to not let the blanket slip and expose some part of her body to chilliness. The heaters in the room had been working at full stretch for almost an hour now, but until she'd luxuriated in the comfort of a hot shower, Victoria decided to treat the air around her like a potential threat.
"Chased like a dog…", she grumbled, pattering towards the bathroom. "Sometimes I would like to slap our founders for making Kingsman so unofficial…" Before Galahad, who'd slowly, very slowly gotten up to start packing, could utter a single word of objection, she silenced him with a still blanketed, held up hand. "Don't worry, I'm not forsaking our principles. I'm just a little miffed at being treated like a criminal and, again, having had a traumatic encounter with water… filthy, fishy water, with all kinds of… well… filth… and… fish in it…" She shook her head at her own inarticulateness and, through the now closed bathroom door, she heard Galahad chuckle.
"Believe me, every Kingsman knows how you feel.", he said, though it was difficult to focus on his low voice with that nightmare on her head. As cautious as possible, Victoria plucked out the few pieces of dirt caught in her hair – she rather didn't inspect them further, didn't want to know what they were exactly – anxious to not pull out any hair with it, which proved to be a hopeless endeavour. "It helps to concentrate on the benefits of serving a truly secret service: nation neutrality, unlimited area of operation, absolute anonymity–"
"I know, I know, we're the best of the best, the elite, the ultimate protection for the people, not governments, there when others fail, always on duty, always focused…", she droned out all the descriptions of Kingsman she'd internalised during her training. Not all of them had come from Merlin, had sprung from her own reflections and flashed through her mind whenever she'd been close to quitting due to both physical and mental exhaustion, similar to her current situation though to a far lesser extent. She wasn't shattered, rather annoyed, just needed to let off some steam and who would be easier to blame for her current hardship than the organisation that send her here in the first place?
"Speaking of being focused…" Galahad's voice was louder now. He must have moved closer to the door. "While we're still alone, I think we should discuss the… terms of our relationship, or parameters as you will."
Victoria froze, exchanged a shocked look with her own reflection in the mirror before her.
"As you're aware, any kind of emotional attachment is strictly forbidden for Kingsman agents, with the obvious exception of already existing bonds to family, though, even there we are encouraged to pare the affection down to a minimum. It's meant to aid us in staying impartial and not get distracted from our duties to mankind as a whole; also, in case our identity is somehow disclosed, our enemies are not provided with any other targets than oursel–"
Victoria tore the door open and glared right into Galahad's face. "Do you think I'm a child?", she hissed, visibly catching him off-guard.
"…No, I–"
"Then why do you presume I couldn't separate sex from attachment? Because I'm a woman? From my experience it's men who are not able to do that, so I should be the one to worry about your emotional maturity, not the other way around. Did I ever strike you as overly sentimental? No. I'm the one who's an ace at prioritising, you yourself said so, and my priorities lie with Kingsman not some romantic shit people seem to think women are made out of and I'm so damn sick of still having to spell that out!"
In the long silence that followed her rant, Galahad seemed to have switched to numb mode, just stared down at her, regret writ large in his face. Then, in the same gesture he would probably make to appease some wild beast from eating him alive, he held up his hands – a relatively difficult move, as, in her rage, Victoria had closed the space between them almost completely – and said, stressing every single word: "I am profoundly sorry, Gawain. It really wasn't my intention to question your integrity, nor your professionality. You're as much a Kingsman as I am, I know that, I always knew, otherwise I would have never made you my candidate. I don't doubt you and your abilities, and I never will."
Victoria slightly squinted at him, gauged the sincerity of his words. As soon as she was sure that his apology was indeed genuine, she took a deep breath. "Perhaps the exertions of the past hours had both our tempers flare.", she said in a much less sharp tone, offering him an excuse for his behaviour, which his well-mannered self accepted only partially.
"Perhaps. I'm still dreadfully sorry for upsetting you. You don't deserve to be treated like that, especially after what happened tonight."
Arching a brow, Victoria glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. "Well," She turned, strode towards the shower. "if you really wish to make it up to me…" With one move of her shoulders, the blanket that had covered her nakedness fell to the ground. "… come in and give me at least one good memory of water."
Author's Note: I just realised that this is the 50th chap of this ff O.O LET'S PARTEEEEY. GET SCHWIFTEEEY. DO SICK DANCE MOOOVES. *voice of insecurity in my head* "sick? Gurl, you mispronounced 'disgusting'" S.I.C.K DANCE MOOOOVES.
