Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Well, apparently this is going to have three parts after all. ^^;
Reviews: Thank you all very much for the feedback. I'm really happy I'm not the only one who found this new interpretation of Q and 007 rather fascinating (and endearing. andandand) ... and ended up writing fanfic about it.
That said, enjoy, and I'm open to input.
Sabotage
It didn't take long for M to arrive on the scene. MI6's latest head strode into the department, surveyed the damage and then headed straight for Q, Moneypenny following him on clicking heels.
"What happened?" M asked with a frown.
Q glanced up from his chair, weariness written across his face, while one of the medics was carefully patching up a cut on his forehead.
"A small explosive as far as I can tell," said Q, "We will have to look at the surveillance tape to find out more."
"Any idea how it got in?" asked M.
"Apparently it was an item handed in for analysis," replied Q.
M frowned, and Q felt like ducking away from his gaze. This made the second major incident in Q-branch within a few weeks, and while it was not his fault somebody somewhere had apparently missed an explosive device, he was still the person in charge.
"We will know more after we examined the surveillance tapes. Also, there ought to be an electronic trail of the item, and we can analyze the debris to conclude what type of explosive was used, sir," said Q, "While the latter may take a week, I believe we may be able to present preliminary results later today."
He was not certain whether 'later today' would actually be today still, and not tomorrow, but then he hadn't glanced at a clock for a while.
M still did not appear happy, but Q's words were enough to mollify him for the time being. "Very well. Any serious injuries?"
"Mr Ganesh and Miss Turkan suffered burns, to my knowledge," replied Q, "I believe medical would have more detailed knowledge on their conditions."
M nodded, cast a glance around and eventually spied the vice-head of MI6's medical department a few meters away, chatting with Bond of all people.
"Very well," said M, then allowed a rare display of concern to cross his face, "And how are you?"
Q glanced away, recalling M's earlier instruction to get some rest, and also the two colleagues that had been carried out with burns just minutes ago. "Adequate," was the best answer he could find.
M frowned a little at that, but then turned and made his way over to Bond and the vice-head of medical, while Moneypenny lingered behind.
"I thought you had gone home?" she inquired without any pretext.
Q shrugged, "I intended to. Then the place blew up."
"And thus, you are not going to go home soon either," concluded Moneypenny with a raised eyebrow.
"I doubt it," said Q, "You heard M. And I'm rather interested in figuring out what happened myself."
He managed to cut himself off before he added "before anything else happens", but Moneypenny still heard it. Her face assumed a worried expression.
"Any theories yet?" she asked, keeping her tone light.
Q glanced at the staff surrounding them. The frantic activity had calmed down, and there was no one in earshot – the medic had bandaged his head injury and left immediately.
"A number," he replied evenly.
"Well, I would recommend you to sleep a few hours before trying to puzzle it out, then," said Eve, "Most humans do think better then."
Q managed to give her a tired smile in response. "I won't protest that notion, but I'd rather have this solved sooner than later."
"If I may interrupt, it shouldn't be impossible to do both," said a third voice, and Webber joined their conversation, nodding at Moneypenny in greeting, "I may not be too familiar with computer languages, but there are a number of personnel here quite capable of analyzing videotapes. And the old Q showed me a trick or two when it comes to examining bomb remains."
Webber smiled. "How about it, boss? You catch up on your sleep, and we'll wake you up when we're finished with the preliminary work."
Q hesitated, but Moneypenny joined in. "I think that sounds reasonable. There's a nice couch in the meeting room next to M's office – and I'm the only one who has the key."
Meanwhile M had gotten a status update from the vice-head of medical. He was relieved to hear that burns, while severe, were the worst of the injuries sustained, and while those two employees would be on leave for a week at least, nobody had been killed.
Bond lingered after the man from medical had left, and M directed an inquisitive look at the double-oh agent.
"What is it, 007?" M asked, and if his tone was annoyed, he didn't care. There had been an incident in Doha earlier today he actually needed to look into, a situation brewing in Morocco that might need closer monitoring and another rumor concerning North Korea and missiles – he didn't have time for disruptions within the agency, much less for those caused by stupid mistakes.
"You believe this was an accident," said Bond, his expression unreadable.
M pressed his lips together. "If you suspect differently, speak up, 007."
Instead the agent assumed an air of nonchalance. "I couldn't help but think of the incident with my Walther in Guangzhou. Q suspects sabotage. What if this is related?"
He shrugged his shoulders, while M pursed his lips. MI6's boss failed to comment, and Bond left the office, intend to join Moneypenny and Webber in analyzing the surveillance data.
M kept staring at the place where Bond had stood, while outside first raindrops began to platter against the window.
If these incidents were connected their saboteur was far more dangerous than initially anticipated.
The video analysis did not reveal much. Along with all other items directed to the Q branch for closer examination, the explosive had arrived in a plain white envelope that had remained unopened until its detonation. Also, the mid-thirty employee in-house communications could only shrug helplessly and inform them he had retrieved said envelope together with everything else from the armory.
In short the trail of the explosive was lost there, since at some point the device had obviously passed through one part of the armory that had – for good reason – no video surveillance.
Webber turned to his audience – Bond and Moneypenny – and shrugged. "Everybody could have dropped it with the other stuff there. I doubt any computer analysis will yield different results."
"A mistake, then?" asked Moneypenny.
"Most likely," replied Webber, "People have become a bit lax in sticking to the rules ever since the latest Q was appointed. Maybe because he's not enough of an authority or so."
Moneypenny tilted her head, while Bond kept his expression straight.
Once Webber had left, Moneypenny turned to Bond. "Did you hear anything that people are doubting Q's authority?" she inquired.
"No," replied Bond, "While I suppose most of the field agents had some doubts in the beginning, I believe we're well past that by now."
Moneypenny nodded. "Same here. Recently 003 even remarked how much smoother things went lately, with Q able to open doors on the other side of the world."
"Believe me, I share the sentiment," replied Bond with a smirk, "Maybe somebody else? The other department heads?"
Moneypenny chuckled. "Are a bunch of grumpy, elderly men. Of course they're suspicious, but they've also been convinced. They're only still hesitant to drag Q along to any meeting with government representatives – which is just as well, since I believe Q is not inclined to meet any of them."
"Who is ever," said Bond.
M glanced at Moneypenny. Once he had seen her return to her desk, he had asked her to come into his office – not because he wanted her to be his "spy" on the proceedings, but he was genuinely concerned. As far as he could tell, Eve shared said concern – and he trusted her to, if she chose to keep information from him, be selective about it.
"So either a chain of mistakes, or an inside job, you say?" he asked.
His secretary smiled confidently at him, revealing just how much she was still a field agent at heart. "The latter seems more probable, I believe. Actual mistakes rarely happen in Q-branch, after all."
M leaned back in his leather chair. "If our security has been compromised, we need to take measures. You know how important the knowledge stored in that branch is."
Eve calmly nodded. "And whoever is behind this has already had ample opportunities to sell said knowledge to the highest bidder. Since however nothing of this sort has occurred, there may be other motives at hand."
M raised an eyebrow. "What then?"
She smiled. "I'm not certain, however 007 is looking into it, I believe."
Q woke on the couch – a monstrous leather construct that looked like it had survived both World Wars and the Cold War. It wasn't uncomfortable, but at some point Q had to acknowledge he wasn't going to get any restful sleep when all his brain did was to summon up nightmarish visions whenever he closed his eyes.
As such, he decided it was best to get the crisis over with, and then just collapse somewhere. Preferably his own bed, but this or any other couch would do as well.
The sky outside was darkening, and while the view of London in twilight was nice, Q was a little taken aback at his own reflection. A mirror, mounted to the inside of one large oaken closet, painted no better picture; he looked a wreck.
Medical had wrapped a provisory bandage around his head, making his hair look even worse than usual, the shadows under his eyes were about to become solid and his shirt collar was bloodied. This was not how one inspired confidence among employees; or impressed ones capability of problem solving on his boss.
Thus, he made a trek to the gym showers, picking up a change of clothes from his office – and after that managed to track down Bond and Webber in one of the smaller, windowless meeting rooms.
Both appeared vaguely surprised to see him there, but readily shared their results: the explosive had been in a plain white envelope that had been delivered jointly with all other internal communication. Tracking it this way brought no results.
There was a short email from the team doing the chemical analysis, as they had managed to identify the explosive's main compounds, but that in itself wasn't quite helpful either. Q felt like groaning – the rest of the analysis could take ages.
Webber took the defeat slump of his boss's shoulders as a sign to quietly leave the room, but Bond made no move to rise.
"Is there anything else?" Q asked, as Bond waited until the door had closed.
"Earlier you suggested the attacks may have been meant for me," said Bond, leaning forward, "However I don't think that is the case."
Q sighed. "Well, there was your signaling device, and then your gun. But the explosion… if it was connected we could discard that theory, but as long as we don't know, I would suggest remaining on guard."
Bond nodded. "Very well, but if these incidents are connected…"
"That would imply whoever is trying to sabotage MI6 is not really doing a very good job," replied Q, "All they're doing is endangering personnel and making me look incompetent."
"What if that is their aim?" asked Bond.
Q blinked, surprised. "Why would…" then he shook his head, "I suppose we should entertain that idea. However unless we find further proof, we should assume what is most likely."
After leaving Q's office, Bond contemplated returning to his flat.
However the atmosphere felt too tense, too fragile for him to leave – other men might instinctually left places where traces of danger still hung in the air, but never James Bond. By now he was fairly certain the explosion had not been an accident, even though he had to admit that the motif of their saboteur could not be recognized. Unless there had been a mistake – and their saboteur had intended to blow up the building instead of triggering just such a small-scale explosion.
Whatever happened next, he planned to stay on the site.
Instead of going home he went to M's office to review the events in Guangzhou. Apparently the Mafiosi Bond had taken out there had been financing a terror cell in Morocco – they had almost been ready to strike, and M cautioned Bond to remain ready in case he had to travel south on short notice.
It had been a spur of the moment idea. When Q had read the preliminary analysis of the explosive, he had noted a rare chemical being used, and then proceeded to check MI6's own stores. To his shock he found a miniature explosive device that could be remote controlled by a wristwatch had been removed only hours before the explosion.
And to him the computer also revealed whose authorization codes had been used to access the storage.
Q swallowed. Both, lingering fatigue and the pounding headache behind his temples disappeared, only to be replaced by a chilling discomfort.
Dreading the results, he pulled up the records from the surveillance cameras, only to find those pictures matching his expectations. Next, he accessed the data describing the chemical compounds of MI6's explosives, and found another match.
It wasn't entirely unthinkable that these designs were known to another party. They were old enough, and MI6 did run into trouble with double agents and traitors from time to time.
Which suggested the bomb had been planted by somebody on the inside, too – just as Bond's gun had been sabotaged by an insider. The log from armory showed Webber removing two exploding devices earlier on – now he only had to find out who they had been given to.
Or if they had been given away at all, but Q did not want to think about this possibility.
"007, wait a moment. As it appears, Q has had some news on the investigation," said M, as Bond was half-way out of the door already.
Bond raised an eyebrow. He hadn't heard anything, and he didn't think he, Moneypenny and Webber had missed anything when analyzing the surveillance data.
"Email," said M, nodding at his notebook.
Bond took this as an invitation to stay, and closed the door again. He could watch how M's expression changed as he read the email – how the man's face became dead serious.
"Apparently the explosive's signature matches explosives manufactured by Q branch a while ago. Very small, and they can be remote-detonated by a wristwatch," said M.
Even though M's eyes were glued to the screen, Bond made certain to keep his expression straight. Webber had just given him one of those earlier today – irony, or something else?
"And two of these have been removed from storage by Webber himself today," continued M.
Webber had given one to Bond. The other one had been put on Webber's desk, next to a pile of white envelopes.
M abruptly stood, reached for his suit jacket, and made no move to hide the gun in its interior pocket from view. "Q's already down there, speaking to Webber – I'll be joining this conversation. You're free to follow."
"Mr. Webber," said Q, approaching the taller man who was bent over a worktable, adjusting a small gun, "Thank you for your support earlier on."
Webber nodded.
Q swallowed. "Well, going through the records I found that the chemical pattern of the explosive used matches those we store here; and that there was a removal of such using your authorization codes."
Webber's face straightened out. Without the grin, the man looked far less likeable. "I did, didn't I? However I did give the device to 007."
When Q's expression didn't relax, he added: "I know it wasn't authorized, but I believe 007 is more than capable of handling explosives."
Q felt unease coiling in his stomach. Webber was confirming his worst fears. "Mr. Webber, the records show you removed two devices, not one. What happened to the other item?"
And Webber's expression became completely blank. His earlier good humor disappeared like a mask – and that was all it had ever been, if his eyes did tell the truth.
"Your fancy computer programs tell you that, don't they," said Webber, slowly, "And yet they don't tell you what happened to the other item?"
He straightened up, and Q had to remind himself not to step backwards. The man's physique was imposing, even more so in the quiet space of the armory.
"I suppose a detailed analysis of the chemical remains will indicate where the envelope came from," said Q, "And possibly also who touched it."
He frowned. "Mr. Webber, unless you speak up now, I have to suspend you from duty immediately due to the pressing suspicion of your responsibility for at least two acts of sabotage."
Instead of being impressed, a dark grin spread over Webber's face. "Oh, sure, use your authority over me. Let's see what good it does."
Q blinked. Sweat was forming on his forehead. "You aren't even denying it…" he muttered, horrified.
"And why should I? Your modern technical knickknack is going to figure it out eventually, so yes, I send that bomb. And you know what? I also sabotaged 007's gun, his sender, sent that virus to the mainframe and picked papers from your office. And I remote-controlled the bomb, too," Webber leaned against the table, his position relaxed, but there was rage in his eyes.
This time Q took the step back. "Why?" he asked, and only training kept his voice sounding authorative and firm.
"Come on, kid, you're young, but I know you aren't stupid," said Webber, "Do you honestly think I worked thirty years in this department only to be ignored for a green kid when they had to pick a new head?
Almost casually Webber let his hand drop to his side, close to the gun he had been working on earlier. And Q realized he had to get out, because somewhere the man had obviously snapped. Carefully, he began to inch toward the door.
"I believe there were health concerns," said Q, just to keep Webber talking.
Webber snorted. "Hacked my personal file, didn't you? Yes, I don't have all that long to live if the doctors are to be trusted, and while it's nice they wanted to give me some downtime – how am I supposed to spend it? I don't have a family; all I have is that job. And it would have been nice if they had acknowledged my work at some point."
The door wasn't far, and Q wondered if he should run. But Webber seemed unstable enough to just shoot him in the back – letting the man gloat was a better option.
"I doubt it will be acknowledged now," said Q, keeping his voice even, "What was your intention, anyway?"
Webber's fingers closed around the gun. "No, they will not. But I don't care about that – they wouldn't have acknowledged me anyway. And while I understand I won't ever get the position, I'm not going to let a kid walk all over me and everyone else who worked so hard here."
And then the gun's up, and Q realized he had to run. He barely managed two steps before the gun went off, and a searing pain flared up in his leg. With a hiss he collapsed, his shoulder slamming into a desk on the way down, and for a moment he only saw stars.
Then Webber was there, looming over him, gun calmly pointed down.
"I don't think so," was all Webber said, "You have no idea what you did, do you? How would you feel if you spent thirty years of your live making clever weapons and toys, and then a brat barely out of college waltzes in and decides all your department does from now on is computers and computers again. Oh, maybe a gun or two – just to keep those elderly folks busy."
The pain was debilitating. Q hardly heard any of Webber's rant over the pounding of his own heart. Hot, wet liquid spilled over his fingers, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from screaming.
"But I don't really care anymore, to be honest. It's strange how realizing you will never get what you worked for all your live changes your priorities," there was a manic edge to Webber's smile, and Q wanted to tell him what all was wrong with his words – but he couldn't.
There was a state-of-the-art smart phone in his pocket, among other paraphernalia, all supposed to alert MI6 to an emergency. Yet completely useless as he did not dare to move his hands out of Webber's direct view.
He could however close his hand around a cable lying on the ground just behind Webber, and pull.
Webber stumbled backwards, and would have regained his balance, had Q not made use of the split second and tackled Webber; grabbing his legs and causing him to fall backwards, ignoring the searing pain in his own leg. A shot went wide, hit the ceiling, and then Webber's head connected with the floor with a hard sound.
Q didn't wait to see if the man had passed out, he tried to grab the gun, but Webber was a split second faster, and instead of closing around the gun itself, Q's hands landed on Webbers wrist – the impact was hard, and the gun went flying, clattering to the floor half-way to the door, and Q caught sight of Webber's face distorted by rage, before a blow to the shoulder sent him back to the floor. His glasses slipped off –
He wanted to scramble for the gun – there was no chance he could match Webber's well-trained physique – but the Webber had other plans. Somehow he had gotten hold of the cable Q had used to trip him –
And Q only realized his unfortunate position when Webber pulled both ends of the cable, crossed them over Q's throat and pulled. His body jerked in response, something crashed to the ground behind them, he threw out an arm and left bloody scratches down Webber's face.
In the back of his mind a voice was screaming at him to go for Webber's eyes or throat, but he couldn't even see, and his vision was growing darker, the pounding of his heart louder, and panic had him claw ineffectively at Webber's sturdy wrists.
The pressure didn't abate. Instead, the pain from his leg began to dull, and then his hands weakened.
Seconds later, Q's eyes closed and his body went still.
tbc