Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story, especially those who have left reviews. Thank you. Apologies again for the long delay between updates, but Christmas, New Year and then birthday all got in the way.
Even I can't remember what's supposed to be happening now.
Chapter Fourteen: A Conflict of Interest
Before getting back into the car, Ros looked over her shoulder at the hospital building and indulged in a small smile. Despite the bleak afternoon slowly giving way to an equally bleak evening, the sight of her unexpectedly alive Junior Case Officer going weak kneed over a kitten was just enough to throw some sunshine over the world. Even her world.
"What are you so happy about?" Lucas sounded terse, lifting his scowl from his phone and turning it to Ros.
She nodded to where Nathan was now hobbling out of the hospital door, towards Olly who had the new kitten wrapped up in a woolly jumper. "Just those two," she replied.
Lucas made an indecipherable noise somewhere at the back of his throat as he climbed into the passenger seat. The sound of the door slamming closed again heralded the end of this brief romantic interlude, snapping her back into the present. Expression once more grave, she started up the engine and pulled out onto the main road while Lucas contacted the Grid. The last she had heard, Jo was with their suspect having a friendly little chat about the goings on at Securitech. But now they had a positive ID on Joseph Weston, Ros could feel the proverbial shit turning horribly real. With Lucas on the phone to Ruth, she followed his relayed directions without hesitation. All the while, the radio played softly in the background, the chords and lyrics fading in and out through the static as though it were broadcast from another planet. She found herself humming along… "I wish I could swim, like dolphins can swim…" Every note resonated somewhere along the line.
"Oh, we could be heroes; just for one day," she murmured inaudibly, feeling oddly melancholic.
The song faded, replaced by some lesser noise of no importance. The drone of Lucas' directions continued, regaining their pre-eminence. Torn between her awareness of time dragging on and Jo stuck with a suspect and fishing for reasons to keep him discreetly detained, Ros put her foot down. The flash of a speed camera momentarily dazzled her as she swerved through the city centre, but she kept up her pace until Lucas directed her to an office building somewhere in the hive of town. An anonymous looking building, utterly indistinct from its neighbours. Only its proximity to Securitech's headquarters raised a red flag for her. She parked the car so that it was blocking the entrance; convenient for them but a pain in the backside for everyone else.
"Is Jo alone in there?" she asked, directed her gaze to Lucas.
He slipped his mobile into his breast pocket. "Yes, we need to get moving."
The light inside the building was near dazzling after being out in the darkening streets. But Ros kept her attention focused on the lone member of staff who seemed to be within reach. A portly, uniformed Security Guard. His SIA card hung round his neck on a cord, but she could not make out what his name was. He was sitting behind a long oak effect desk, eyes directed at a row of small screens concealed from outside behind a panel. Other than that, there was nothing but an elevator. Although he must have heard the automatic doors slide open and the sound of their footsteps echoing through the empty reception, the Security Guard ignored them until Ros pointedly cleared her throat. Up close, she could finally see what held the man in such captivation: a copy of "Nuts" magazine, propped against the CCTV monitor. He didn't even bother to try and hide it as he finally acknowledged the new arrivals.
Arranging her face into a professional smile, Ros rolled out her skills of improvisation.
"Oh, hi. We're here for a meeting with Joseph Weston. He is expecting us; I believe our colleague is already here? We were just running late."
The Security Guard swept the magazine aside and jabbed at a few keys on his keyboard. "Second floor, first door on your right."
With that he turned away again, leaving Ros and Lucas free to continue. They exchanged a glance while they waited for the elevator doors to open, each relieved that no awkward questions had been asked. But with that final hurdle cleared, an all too familiar sweep of apprehension crossed Ros. She felt her body tense and the hairs at the back of her neck prickle. Even when an Op was considered low risk, that risk still existed. There was no such thing as zero.
"Ah well, at least the lift doesn't smell of piss." Lucas raised a smile at his desperate attempt to lift the tension that had thickened between them. She responded with an eye-roll he probably didn't catch.
Seconds later, they were disgorged on the second floor.
"Seriously, Lucas, what is this place?" she asked, taking in her new surroundings.
Shell companies don't have physical offices. It was close to Securitech, but not part of the actual HQ. What few doors had windows in them were all dark and blank. No names appeared, nor logos above the door. None of the insignia or marks of a normal business at all. It looked abandoned. But with Jo still playing at the back of her mind, Ros pushed all extraneous concerns aside as she followed the Security Guard's directions. When they reached the relevant door, they paused and listened to the sound of muffled voices inside. Jo's was one of them, much to her relief.
Before she could lay a hand on the door knob, Lucas shouldered his way inside. The voices inside ceased abruptly; Jo's relief offset by Weston's disgruntled confusion. Lucas hovered menacingly in the door way, like a repo man on steroids in case their target cut up rough, while Ros let a surreal calmness take over. "Sorry to break up the party," she said, tonelessly. "But I think it's time we took this elsewhere."
After Lucas had hung up Ruth continued listening to the buzz of the dead line on the telephone, momentarily lost in her own thoughts. Only when Harry's office door slammed shut did she jolt out of her reverie and hang up the receiver. Something troubled her; something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She turned her gaze across the Grid, not taking in her surroundings, but directing herself towards Harry's office. The door still firmly shut and the blinds closing as soon as she tried the window, as though he'd second guessed her. Sighing, she made a move towards the first papers within her reach.
She found herself holding the chat log again, threading it through her fingers as she read and re-read the conversation. Her brow knitted as phrases and words snagged at her mind, last minute revelations that made her doubt everything that had gone before. Nathan had positively ID'ed the man who stabbed him, but not the man who murdered Suleiman. They were still assuming it was one and the same person. She dropped the print out and looked towards Harry's office again. The blinds were drawn back, he was open for business once more.
Noticing that Tariq was leaving, Ruth glanced at the clock and chided herself for once more losing track of time. It was early evening, it would be darkening outside and everyone would be keen to get this over and done with. What little time she had left, she opted to use to clear up some of her nagging misgivings.
"Harry." She knocked at the door to get his attention.
He greeted her with a smile. "Ruth, come on in."
After taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she sat down and reached for that thing which had really been bothering her.
"I'm worried about William Towers," she said, at length. "How can we be sure he wasn't deliberately turning a blind eye to what Securitech and John Carlton were up to?"
Having been expecting him to dismiss her out of hand, she was relieved to see him taking her seriously. Usually, it meant he'd been thinking along similar lines himself. Meanwhile, he sat back and regarded her carefully as he mulled things over.
"I don't think so," he replied, eventually. "It's probably just a classic case of a politician being too stubborn to admit he's wrong."
"But it's odd, don't you think? Towers was prepared to see more than one of our team pushed off a cliff, purely for the sake of this deal with Securitech. Going as far as to ignore warnings over their links to terrorist cells who're the very same people we're supposed to be fighting against."
It was like one big terrorist circle jerk. The only difference was, Securitech set themselves up to benefit from being on both sides of the fence. Supplying the government with one hand and ISIS with the other guaranteed well-oiled palms all round. With a note of dismay, Ruth realised she had already solved the mystery as to why Carlton was doing all this. Money. Just money. Lives don't matter when money is at stake.
"Do you think Weston also killed Suleiman and left his severed head on Nathan's car?" she asked, her voice and spirits low. "Suleiman wasn't just exposing ISIS, he was also blowing Securitech out into the open. Weston would have had a motive."
"It's possible," Harry reasoned. "But would he have known that Suleiman was even talking to us? Depends on how much Towers let slip to Carlton at that little gathering we attended."
Ruth shivered at the memory: Towers acting like the local drunk, wandering hands and all. It played out in her memory again. There was something "off" about that, too. She clearly remembered thinking it at the time. Was Towers drugged? It was possible, but they could never know for sure now. Not unless Weston talked.
"So, how do you want to do this?" she asked, meeting his gaze again. "Weston, I mean. Are you going to offer him a deal?"
In return, he gave her a surprisingly forlorn look. Like she had once again reminded him of humanity's disappointingly fickle core.
"With people like him, it's usually easy," he replied. "They're motivated by greed; their weak spot is glaringly obvious."
She tried to think of some way to restore his faith in humanity between that moment and Weston's arrival. Her options limited, the best she could offer was them taking a detour on the way home, via their favourite Italian place for a take away. They could stuff themselves with carbs and wine and make the world seem a slightly rosier place together. He reached across the table, taking her hands in his own and managed to raise a smile.
"I'd be so much thinner without you," he said.
"So what?" she asked, rhetorically. "Life's too bloody short for that."
She smiled as she rose to her feet again. Outside, she could just hear the pods whooshing open and the muffled footsteps of the new arrivals. Rightly guessing it was Ros, Lucas and Jo, she left to let Harry work his magic on their newest suspect.
Nathan's phone vibrated, rotating against the smooth polish of the bedside table. He sighed in his sleep, but did not awaken immediately. Only when the nurse arrived to change his dressings and grill him about his feelings did he open his eyes and acknowledge the conscious world. Picking up the phone just as sodden bandages were pulled from his tender flesh, he grimaced and played the small video clip Olly had sent him.
The new kitten, a pixelated ginger and cream fuzz of fur, pawed at a ball of wool and lost. Despite his discomfort, Nathan grinned widely.
"Fidel 'Cat-ro' or Catnip Everdeen?" read the text message.
Nathan laughed, torn between two equalling cringe-worthy choices. Chairman Meow was never really going to be beaten, but they could at least follow the tradition. After a moment left grinning to himself, he swept the pad of his thumb over the reply button.
'Fidel Catro, I think.' Message sent.
Harry shivered as the door to the interview room opened, unleashing a gust of frigid November air from within. The sight that met him was just as bleak. Unremarkable walls of uniform grey, a small space dominated by a lone table. A tape recorder, a relic from a bygone age, sat on top of it. A bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling, flickering against amidst loose wires. The only colour in the room came from its inhabitants: Ros, almost all in black; Lucas similarly attired, and a middle aged gentleman in a business suit. Joseph Weston, he assumed. Harry nodded to Lucas, signalling that his purpose had been served and he was free to go.
"Good luck, Harry," the Senior Case Officer murmured as he exited.
Harry nodded an acknowledgement of his words and sat in his vacated seat. Ros turned to him, greeting him with a look of supreme boredom. If their suspect was suspiciously quiet, Weston didn't keep them waiting long for a rushed outburst of the State Security Forces utter injustice.
"You can't do this; this is England, not bloody China. Who're you working for? Stalin, I bet. I suppose you think you can just fly innocent members of the public off to Guantanamo Bay and no one will notice, don't you. Well, I have my lawyers and I'll drag you to the fucking the cleaners and back…"
Next to him, Ros drew a deep and steady breath before exhaling loudly. If he had turned to his right, he was sure he would have seen her magnificent eye roll. Meanwhile, he sat and arranged some papers and waited for the initial wave of self-righteous fury to reach its conclusion. It always seemed to take forever. However, in his experience, it was best to let them get on with it. Like letting a toddler kick and scream before patiently reiterating that, no, selling bombs to terrorists is not socially acceptable. But, of all the things Harry had been accused of throughout his long and illustrious career, working for Stalin had never been among them. He had to admire the man's originality at least.
"Mister Weston, just as we are not allowed to water board random members of the public, you are not allowed to go around plunging knives into the bodies of our Agents," he explained, patiently. "Or anyone else, for that matter."
"Lies! What bullshit is this?"
Ros clicked her tongue. "No, really, you aren't allowed to stab people. We're not making it up."
Weston's eyes narrowed as his gaze darted from Harry to her. "You're a funny one, aren't you?"
Ros finally smiled, drawing encouragement from the other man's discomfiture. Seeing Ros happy made Harry happy.
"Whatever you think of us, Weston, you have been positively identified at the scene of a near fatal stabbing and we would like to talk to you about that," Harry pressed on. "Our Analysts have also obtained certain online files linking you and your boss to the selling of a dirty bomb to militants operating in Iraq. Meanwhile, your same outfit is about to broker a deal with our own government. Some might say there's a conflict of interest in there, somewhere."
Harry sat back again, regarding the other man carefully. Would he stick to his paymaster, or was Ruth right and he could be bought? If a deal was to be struck, it would be at the lowest possible price. Some people just weren't worth it. But, while he was lost in his own thoughts, Ros was laying out the evidence against the man, supplied to her by Ruth. They even had tape recordings of Weston speaking with John Carlton picked up by the bugs from Connie's farm. The more evidence they had against him, the tighter his corner became … the more Harry could shave from his final value.
"So, tell me," began Ros, once the evidence was presented. "Why do legitimate business man such as yourself and John Carlton go into business with the likes of ISIS?"
It looked as if Weston was going to answer, but the words seemed to choke him. Colour rose in his face as he finally choked out: "No comment."
Harry felt the anger rearing up in him again. "Can you tell us-"
"No comment!" Weston cut him off again.
It was getting late, it was dark outside and Harry could hear rain lashing against the room's sole window. There were a million other places both he and Ros could be right at that moment, other than where they were. In that moment, he decided neither of them got paid enough for this. He was unwilling to drag it out.
"Very well then," he stated, gathering up his papers. "My colleague and I both have homes to go to, so that's where we'll be. You, in the meantime, can sample the minimalist charms of our detention suite."
Without further ado, he got up and rapped his knuckles hard against the locked door to attract the attention of the guards.
"Wait!" Weston snapped, getting to his feet.
Ros responded by mimicking the move, wary in case he cut up rough. Eyeing her, Weston thought better of it and sat back down. In the meantime, the guards entered but Harry raised his hand, gesturing for them to momentarily stand down.
"You can't do this," Weston continued. "MI5 don't have powers of arrest, so-"
"But we can detain you," Harry clarified, calmly stepping into the grey area. "You're not under arrest, but that's not to say you're free to go either."
"So, if you want this over and done with, I suggest you start playing ball and answer our questions," Ros chipped in. "Otherwise, we'll have to do this all over again in the morning."
A standoff developed, with all three of the room's occupants turning to look at the others. Only Ros broke the chain, turning to glance into her lap as though done with the whole experience. Harry tensed, however, holding Weston's gaze in his own, willing him to make a move just so he could scupper it. More mind games, he thought to himself.
"Very well," Weston said, at length. "Let's get this done with."
But he was not the one calling the shots. Harry leaned over to Ros and laid a hand on her shoulder. "We resume this first thing in the morning," he said to her.
Weston looked stricken. "I just said I'll talk!"
"And I have just said we'll resume this meeting in the morning," Harry reiterated. "Good day to you."
Ros was already out the room, Harry close behind. Weston, in the meantime, would be left in there under lock and key until they were well out of the way. Outside, back on the Grid, Ros fell into step with him.
"That showed him who was boss," she commented, lips curled at the corners. "Do you think it'll break him?"
"He's already broken; he just hasn't realised it yet," he assured her.
They said no more as they gathered their coats and stepped out through the pods. Another day done; another op in momentary limbo. He stopped caring as soon as he remembered that Italian Ruth had promised him.
Thanks again for reading; reviews would be lovely if you have a minute. Again, I'm very sorry for the massive delay in getting this story updated.