To everyone reading: Thank you! It means a lot to me that you're taking time out of your life to read a piece I've written. Thank you, to those of you who have reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. I always reply back to reviewers, but to those with guest accounts (Anika and a few anonymous guests): Thank you, thank you!

A note about reviews: I feel like some people are really reluctant to give criticism because they don't want to offend anyone, so I'll just put this out there: I am open to criticism, no matter how harsh. I'm not easily offended. Compliments make me feel nice and fuzzy inside, but I understand that criticism helps a writer become more aware of their own flaws, which opens the path for improvement.

I still consider myself a novice writer and I'm still struggling to find my style of writing. What do you think about the writing? Is it too dry and detached (like I suspect)? What do you think about the plot and the characters? Are some spots of the story confusing or cliché-ish? Please let me know!

Chapter 3

In which Ian goes through an interrogation and a plan is mentioned.

Twelve hours after the operation at Old Cat Head, Ian was called to the MI6 Headquarters in London. He was led past the lobby, took the elevator down to the lower floor, went through the left corridor, around the corner, and into a room that Ian knew well.

The lower two floors were filled with rooms of the same type. The walls were always stark and white, the floor paved with dark blue tiles. There were no pieces of furniture in the rooms. Each room was just 1152 cubic feet of open space, enough to hold all the secrets and tell-tales lured from those unfortunate to be guests. Of course, Ian knew as an MI6 agent that the structure of the rooms also gave the illusion that they were smaller than they actually were, therefore evoking a claustrophobic feeling from those in them.

Suffice to say, no one liked the interrogation rooms; not the interrogator, and certainly not the one being interrogated.

In this case, Ian was the latter.

The cold air pressed upon Ian's forearms and he immediately regretted wearing a short-sleeve shirt. Each touch brought him goosebumps and his palms began to sweat.

As if sensing his growing discomfort, another person hurried into the room. Ian recognized him immediately as Head Officer Travis, a slim, dark-skinned man in his forties—and Ian's supervisor. Two steps into the room, Travis stopped and muttered something before turning and walking out.

A few minutes later, he returned with two fold-up chairs and set them up in the middle of the room. "Sorry about the room, Kabra, but it's procedure, you know."

"I know, sir," Ian said, taking one of the seats as Travis took the other.

"And all of us know how much Chief cares about procedure," Travis muttered. Chief was the head of MI6, one up from Travis' position and two steps up from Ian's. "No matter how ridiculous or uncomfortable it is for the rest of us—" He cut himself off. "Anyways, I assume neither of us wants to be here longer than we have to, so let's cut to the chase. Evell tells me that on the night of the Old Cat Head operation, about ten minutes before our people were scheduled to arrive, he saw a man pass his position at the front of the bar and head straight for your table."

Ian silently cursed the sharp eyes of his partner Charles Evell. Evell's watchfulness had saved them a few times in the past, but this time, it would bring Ian nothing but complications. "That's true, sir."

"From the account he gave, the man sat down at your table and, to quote Evell, 'chatted up a storm.' After we came, Evell says there was a moment where he glanced back at the table you had sat in, but the man was already gone." Travis stared sternly at Ian. "Now, you already know what I'm going to ask, so start talking."

"The man Evell spotted was Delun Hollingsworth, sir," Ian started. "He was…someone I knew from my childhood. He told me that he was sent by my father."

"Vikram Kabra," Travis named.

Ian nodded. "He told me that my father had a proposition for me. If I killed this man who was causing trouble for him, he would welcome me back into his arms and would initiate me into his new group."

"His new group," Travis repeated. "Be more specific."

Ian shrugged. "Delun didn't mention much about it, sir. But from the way he mentioned it and considering my father's reputation, I doubt it's a hippie group, sir."

Travis snorted. "Don't take offense, Kabra, but your family is really a whack job. Murder, embezzling, government conspiracies…from the flood of reports, they seem to be behind it all."

Ian flinched, but didn't object. He still felt a little defensive of his family; after all, he had been told for the first fourteen years of his life that the Kabras were among the greatest, wealthiest, and most prestigious families in the world. It was the 39 Clues hunt that first gave him another perspective of his parents. Travis was the first person he had heard to speak of his family with disgust instead of admiration and envy.

"Did you respond to your father's proposition?"

"I told Delun to tell my father to go to hell," Ian said sharply.

Travis didn't react. "Alright. Tell me more about this Delun Hollingsworth character. How and when did you first meet him?"

"When I was six, I think," Ian answered, "I met him at a party my parents held. He's two years older than me, so he was eight when we first met. We're related on my mother's side of the family; he's the nephew of my mother's great-aunt."

"So you're cousins."

This was a bit of a jolt. For some reason, Ian had never thought of Delun as his cousin, but he supposed being part of the Cahill family had taken meaning out of the word 'cousin.' "That's right, sir."

"Do you think he was with the two men we arrested? That he was to pose as a distraction for you while they made their escape?"

"I considered that too, sir," Ian replied. "If he was, he failed. But I don't think Delun was affiliated with them at all. I think he had known about the operation and then had tried to take advantage of the situation. He knew I was pressed for time and my attention would be split, so it would be easier for him to rattle me."

"Your reasoning is logical," Travis commented approvingly. "So let's move on. You know for sure that Delun Hollingsworth is working for your father. Do you think he is close to your father?"

"Maybe. I don't know, sir."

"Does he know where Vikram Kabra is currently hiding?"

"Er." Ian looked curiously at his superior. "I asked him the same question and he answered in the affirmative."

Travis studied him closely. Ian forced himself to look directly back. The room was becoming colder, and he rubbed his forearms to try to make himself warmer.

Finally, the senior officer spoke. "I'll tell you what, Kabra. I understand that your relationship with your father is complicated, and I haven't pried more than regulations required."

"Thank you, sir," Ian murmured.

Travis held up a hand. "But the fact is that Vikram Kabra is a name on both the Most Wanted list of the MI5 and the MI6. He has committed crimes in not only Britain, but throughout several other countries in the world. There is a wide agreement that we need to find him, not only to charge him for what he has done but to prevent him from becoming a future threat."

He paused. "You remember, during your interview for MI6, when I asked you if you knew where your parents were or what their future plans were?"

"Yes, sir. I said I had no idea, as I had severed contact with them a few years before I applied here."

"Do you also remember when I asked you whether you would be capable of arresting your parents if it came to that?"

Ian's face was ashen, but resolute. "Yes, sir. I told you that I would."

"You see, I myself was skeptical of a young man born to two people whom had both committed atrocities in this country and in others. But you've proven yourself, over and over, and have risen up as one of MI6's most promising young agents."

"Thank you, sir."

Travis leaned back and started drumming his fingers in his lap. "So, tell me this, Kabra. What information are you withholding right now and why are you hiding it from me?"

Ian straightened. "I promise you I'm telling the truth, sir."

"Oh, I have no doubt what you've said is the truth," Travis said. "It's what you haven't said that concerns me."

When Ian said nothing, the other man leaned forward. "You've been extremely vague about the proposition your father offered you and not only that, but you're meaning to tell me that after all this time—three years, hasn't it been—your father decides to send one of his lads with information that might very well compromise his location and jeopardize his safety? You imply that he risks all this for you, and call me a pessimist, but I don't buy it. There have been men at less risk than Vikram Kabra who have sacrificed their sons without a moment's thought to ensure their own safety. From what you've told me, your father knows fully well the relationship between the two of you is severed and what he tells you will be brought back to MI6. So why would he dare risk a meeting and more than that, a proposition?"

The silence rang throughout the claustrophobic room.

"So this is the real reason why you've called me here," Ian said. Inside, he struggled to keep the anger—and hurt that they had never trusted him, because he was Vikram Kabra's son—at check.

"You can understand how the circumstances evoke suspicion."

Ian kept an even tone. "You think I'm still working with my father."

"It isn't important what I think," Travis intercepted. "It's what was actually done."

"I assure you, I have had absolutely no contact with my father ever since he went into hiding."

"The unfortunate thing is that we have nothing but your word for it," Travis replied. "Now normally, as you recall, there would have to be a series of more severe interrogations and then a trial—"

"By all means, let's have it," Ian said confidently.

"—but in this case, I think there's a more suiting test of your loyalty to MI6," Travis finished. "You see, regardless of the intentions behind your actions, there has come an opportunity to find your father's whereabouts through your little friend's visit. Should you accept the terms of agreement, you shall take part in an operation designed to hunt down the elusive Vikram Kabra."

There was no need for Travis to say what would occur if Ian did not accept. "I accept."

"That was what I had hoped you'd answer," Travis said. "Now, listen closely. Your father's proposition shows two things. The first is that he is making a bold move, one that will pose to him benefits in either direction it is received. If you say no, which he expects, he will have gotten rid of your tracking attempts, which have drawn attention to his actual whereabouts.

"However, if you say yes—and this leads to my second point—if you say yes, he will have gotten solid proof of your loyalty to him through a murder, which is the strongest link I know of that can bind two people. The second thing your father's proposition shows is that your father finds you useful for a purpose or purposes, and perhaps may even need you.

Ian stared at Travis. "Surely, sir, you don't mean for me to kill?"

"Don't jump to conclusions, Kabra," Travis said dryly. "Contrary to what you may find in popular spy novels, the British Secret Intelligence does not execute missions with the purpose of murder—at least not of innocent people. This person your father has asked you to kill, he or she is an innocent?"

Ian hesitated. He didn't think any Cahills, especially not those who belonged to the Madrigal branch, could be labeled as innocent. "He hasn't broken any laws or committed any crimes to my knowledge."

"Good, let's proceed. I assume that this man has done something to provoke your father or is actively working against him?"

"I—I don't know, sir."

"You don't know?" It was one of the rare times when Travis was surprised. "Have you met this person before?"

"I haven't seen him for years," Ian admitted. "But I do know for a fact that he dislikes my father."

"So he would be willing to help us bring Vikram Kabra down?"

"I don't think he would be so willing as to sacrifice his life for my slaughtering," Ian said wryly. "Besides, I've already told my father no in the clearest possible terms, so I don't see how your plan can even get off the ground."

"You've already agreed to it," Travis reminded him. "And I told you not to jump to conclusions. Now listen closely to the rest of what I have to say, because we'll have a plan to not only prove your loyalty to us, but will also trap your old man in a corner—and you'll be the center star of it all. Talk about killing two birds with one stone, eh?"