Sitting in the secure room of the flat, which was nothing more than a windowless cupboard filled with tech and absolutely undetectable by anything he could have invented, Q wondered what had happened at Q-branch. He knew at what time the mail regarding Bond's DNA would be send. They had agreed upon a certain kind of reaction, but nothing which should have triggered the lockdown mechanisms of Q's office. Especially for such a long time. Maybe James had been right all along, and Danny had simply snapped. Q knew he were putting a lot of stress on the man, but from all he had learned about him in the past weeks, he would have expected a breakdown long before. Danny had been suicidal, but he had a task, a mission, and no matter his motivation, Q was sure that Danny would be able to handle it. Civilian or not.
Q's finger itched to start the hijacking program, which would let him see and work with Danny's laptop. Well, strictly speaking, it would be his own laptop. But the lockdown could indicate that something had gone terribly wrong. And Q had no intention in showing his hand, not yet. Hijacking the computer would alert the program to his surveillance, he had no doubts about that.
Seconds turned into minutes.
Or maybe it just had been a stupid plan from the onset. When Q had realised that Scottie's death had been a murder, not suicide; when he had looked into Scottie's research and the last reports, Scottie had filed; realised the importance of Scottie's work; a photo of Danny and information on him and his connection with Turner. By then Q had made sure that any trace of his snooping around in the files and reports had been erased. Still, Q had only a faint idea of what he was up against. Scottie had called the program 'TRS' which stood for 'total return swap'. Hedge funds and banks used this kinds of swap to work with more or less hidden assets. Hot air, in Q's mind. And obviously, Scottie had been on to something bigger than bank A using bank B's assets to earn extra money without any risks. Somehow, TRS had taken over parts of the financial markets. Nothing obvious, the small glitches almost untraceable. But Scottie had been worried. His last report warned about a possible takeover of the stock market's trading programs by TRS. The report had been dismissed, and still, Scottie ended up dead a few days later.
Apparently Danny had been Scottie's closest friend. Just friend, as Q had reminded James. Nothing indicated otherwise. Contacting Danny secretly, through small notes slipped into pockets, untraceable mobiles, prepaid cards; hatching a plan, wondering if Danny would do it. Q had been careful. Had avoided anything, which could have shown the current connection between Danny and MI6. And Danny had played his part beautifully. Until four nights ago, they hadn't even met in person.
Four nights ago. When Bond became James. When Q had given in to James, had let James take him apart. Nothing has changed between them. Everything around them had changed. The world had become a new place for Q. A place, Q now wanted to investigate because of the possibilities it held for James with Q, Q with James.
He liked that. The idea of a unit which was so much more than the sum of its entities.
Danny was a part of them as well. Somehow, he had been able to accommodate, pliantly doing what was asked of him. Learning, understanding, even being able to suggest improvements to the plan. Observing Q, imitating him to a degree which Q found exhilarating.
The sound of the landline ringing, brought Q back to the present trouble. The landline was a special installation, which was not connected to any outside network. A direct, analogue line between Q's office and the flat. One of the few ways, Danny would be able to communicate directly with Q. He picked up the receiver.
"Yes?"
"Alex has sent an email. He is alive." Danny's voice was calm, matter of fact.
"How do you-"
"The code from the cylinder. He used it as a kind of signature. And the fake name, he is using. The message looks like one of those spam messages," Danny explained. His calm voice did not break, did not show any emotion. It hit Q with more force than any wailing would have done.
Q's mind was racing, Danny waiting patiently on the other end of the line. Q's spam filter should have taken care of such a thing, except - except, of course, if the sender knew how he could circumvent the program. Which would be a sign of Danny being right. That alone would have prevented the message from being deleted by Q, because he would have been intrigued by the fact that it had gotten through the filter. Clever guy, Q thought. And of course Turner would have known how to contact Q. The program, Q was fighting, had already registered too much activity from Q-branch. Which had been the reason for this charade in the first place.
Q took a piece of paper and a pen, almost shuddering about the old-fashioned way to store data.
"Read it slowly to me, including every single space or missing space, full stops, commas and the like, capital letters, the lot," he told Danny.
It took a while to get everything down on paper. Right away Q could decode some of the words and numbers. He suspected Danny could as well.
"Danny, I need you to stay away from this message. The program, we are trying to hunt down, is already aware of the activities going on at Q-branch. Turner being able to send this can either be a trap or," Q could hear Danny trying to protest. "Or it could be a sign that the program can be outsmarted."
At least by its creator, Q thought. Which hopefully was a good sign.
Danny was silent.
"I know you want to decode it. And you have probably already realised that part of it is naming a website, but, please, Danny. If you use one of the computers or your mobile, you will alert the program to this breach in its security."
Again just silence. Unnerving, especially since Q did not know how he himself would have reacted, had the situation been the other way round. Danny loved this man, Q had no doubt about that. And until a few moments ago, he had believed, that Turner had died. Killed in a gruesome manner. And what if this was a ruse? A way for the program to lure them out in the open. For now, Danny's reaction, albeit a bit out of character for Q, could be explained by the apparent death of Bond. But if any MI6 related IP-addresses would start to pry into certain websites, that would most certainly either trigger the trap or alert the program to them.
"Danny, please," Q pleaded. "Speak to me."
Or maybe he should get James in here? Let him explain the importance of Danny to remain passive in the upcoming days? Q was good with technology, but how should he go about demanding something like this from another person?
He heard a deep sigh in the other end of the line.
"How do you get the whole message? Should I just copy it on a USB stick and deliver it the same place like last time?" Danny sounded utterly defeated. Q's heart clenched and he would have loved to be able to reassure Danny. Instead, he had to make sure that their work wouldn't be compromised.
"Yes, copy it on a USB. But just slipped it to Moneypenny. She'll know what to do with it."
He wanted to tell Danny that everything would be fixed. That they would be able to find Turner and rescue him. But he couldn't. He did not want to give Danny false hopes. And not only was Q not sure whether Turner really was alive and if he was, whose side he would be on. If this TRS really was his creation, then he surely would go a long way to protect it, wouldn't he?
He heard the small click, which indicated the line had been disconnected.
For a few minutes, Q did not move. He read the message several times, focussing on the obvious signs hidden within. Then he opened one of the laptops, provided the needed passwords and started the different programs needed to hide whatever he was going to do.
He entered the website address from the message and pushed the return button. The tab opened a white page with a video feed in the middle of it. It showed a desolate room, a desk with an open laptop on it and a small top lying on the desk. Beside the desk was an office chair. Q turned up the audio, trying to listen to any signs of life from the video. Suddenly a man appeared. Just an almost blank face, eyes downcast, dressed in a white shirt. Turner!
The man turned towards the camera without looking directly at it. Instead he lifted his arm and the feed blacked out for a short moment, the man's arm and body obscuring the lens. When the picture returned, the man was looking directly at the camera, pretending to shuffle through the pages of the book in his hands. Nothing in the man's face gave away whether he was aware of the camera or not. Then he turned towards the desk, took the small top and let it spin. When it fell on its side, the merest hint of a smile played on the man's face. Then it returned to the emotionless expression from before.
Turner, Q was sure it was him, he could recognise this face from the photos in Danny's file, walked out of the picture for a short moment. On return, he had a pen and started to write notes in the book while standing up. The he started to hum. At first it was just a sad sound, a slow melody.
Q could make out a few phrases, sentences: my love, I know you're searching for me; there's an evil, I don't want you to see; I know you're strong, I know you're blithe, that makes your soul so dear to mine; you must try to turn back again; there's a darkness that I can't control.
Q could feel goosebumps down his arms. He had never heard the melody before and suspected Turner to have composed it here, in this bleak room, alone. His love for Danny evident in the text, his longing. Swallowing, Q tried to concentrate on the room, its sparse furnishings and layout.
Q had watched for several minutes before he realised that the man intentionally avoided to block the laptop. Turning his attention to the screen, Q saw lines of code being compiled. TRS was the header. With a few clicks, Q was able to enlarge the picture. A live stream. Showing the program, he was fighting. How did Turner make this happen?
Less than a few seconds of watching the lines flow over the screen and Q was stunned by the beauty of the code. Neat. Precise. No workarounds. Algorithms which felt like a work of art. Q was so engrossed in the code, he did not notice James coming into the room. Somehow, James managed to find a place for the mug of freshly brewed tea, which Q took, unaware of the man standing beside him. When Q came back to the here and now, he was wondering where the tea had come from. He had drunk it, while writing notes on the code he was watching on the screen. Turner had sat at the desk a few times, just for a few moments, starting a new sequence, making it possible for Q to get a view into some the core mechanics of the TRS. It was glorious. Q envied him. There was no quick and dirty haphazardly thrown together pieces of command lines. Q had thrown glances at the man standing beside the desk or sitting in the office chair, apparently reading the book he took, when Q first had logged on to the website. There was no gloating, no showing off. In fact, there were very little emotions playing on Turner's face at all, despite humming the sad melody and its lyrics over and over again. Since the top had fallen, Turner's face had been expressionless. Inscrutable. But the coding, the coding had emotions, feelings written all over it.
This was written by the same man, whose program Danny had had on the cylinder. The algorithms which in Q's mind were a love poem written for Danny. Q did not know Turner, he had only seen some of his work. But in this, it was obvious to Q how much love Turner must have felt for Danny. If Turner had been shut away in that room for the past many months, then programming the TRS probably had kept him alive.
Why had he reached out now? What had changed? Had he not wanted to be found before? Q was wondering if the TRS had kept him locked up. If it really would be possible for this program to turn on its creator. As James has said, Q had probably watched too many spy movies. Then again, the TRS was an artificial intelligence, programmed to learn and adapt. He had seen the beginnings of this program. The deeper layer of the code, which Danny had given him.
As fascinated as Q admittedly was, he had to get back to the mail Danny had dictated to him. Hopefully, Moneypenny would deliver the USB drive soon, until then Q wanted every little piece of information hidden in the text decoded.
He cast one last look at the video feed. His computer was recording everything. Turner was once more just standing beside the camera, looking into the void with those sad eyes, humming an even sadder melody. An expression so very similar to Danny's.
With a sigh, Q stood and went out of the room, letting the door close silently behind him.
James was looking up from a newspaper, he had been reading. Danny's suicide had not made the front page, except for a small note indicating half a page of 'reporting' inside the paper. Nothing new, just the same pictures and explanations about Danny's and Turner's love life and Turner's demise, now further framed by Danny's apparent suicide. 'No body found' which was no surprise given the place, he had entered the water. All in all, that part of Q's plan had worked out perfectly. Hopefully, Danny would by now be on his way to Q's flat, having the normal kerfuffle with Q's cats, taking Danny's mind off things for a short while.
"Hello there," James greeted with a crooked smile. The small table in the kitchen was set for one person. Q frowned. How many hours had he been in the secure room?
"Moneypenny delivered this," James continued unfazed by Q's missing reply. The USB drive was placed beside one of the plates on the table.
"Moneypenny was here?" Q's frown deepened.
"Of course not, love," James winked. "What do you take us for? I was out and collected it in one of the dead drops."
Satisfied, Q took the USB drive and turned to go back to the room.
"Not hungry?" James asked, undemanding.
Q felt a small stab of guilt. He could smell the dinner, he knew he should eat, but he wanted to keep the flow of data and information going. Wanted to be immersed in the decoding process while everything was fresh in his mind. And he wanted to watch through the video feed, looking for further clues to understand the TRS.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, indicating the USB drive and the door to the secure room. James just nodded and returned to his paper. Q sighed. He should probably have said something more, done something. James looked up again, questioningly, since Q hadn't moved. Seeing Q's uncertainty, a small smile lit up his face.
"It's okay, Q. I'll bring some food later," James said reassuringly.
Q returned the smile and finally went back to the room, opening the USB drive once all of the security was engaged, keeping the room shielded from the outside.
It was late in the night, when Q reemerged from the room. James had retreated to the living room with a book after having served Q the promised food, just a few sandwiches. Q looked ruffled but alert and excited despite having worked for close to twenty hours straight.
"I'll make some tea," James volunteered in lieu of a greeting.
Q followed him to the kitchen and sat down at the small table, spreading his notes out in front of him. They remained silent while the water was boiling and James preparing a cup of tea for Q, having a glass of Scotch for himself.
"This is incredible," Q started, voice a bit rough. "The TRS is fully autonomous at this point. It tracks stock markets, initiates small events which will trigger either a sell out panic or the opposite." He took a sip of tea.
Eyes alight, the thrill of the decoding, of understanding how the program worked all too visible in his movements and voice.
"Turner has programmed several safeguards into the TRS. First, of course, the need to protect itself from harm, which by the way includes keeping Spectre at arm's length and, if necessary, kill them off."
Q had James' full attention now. They locked eyes, both aware of the other thinking about possible scenarios of Spectre being wiped out by the TRS. James wickedly grinning and Q almost ready to discuss the setup of a mission or two. Then he shook his head, returning to the task at hand.
"The second safeguard, though, is much more interesting. The TRS is programmed to protect Danny at all costs. Turner had to run this as an amendment to the original programming, probably at a time, where the TRS already had become semi-autonomous, and Turner was under close surveillance because of his relationship with Danny. He still managed to get this part into the very core of the TRS."
James frowned. He obviously didn't realise the implications for their current predicament, Q thought.
"When Danny committed suicide, the program snapped," Q explained. Or at least he meant that this would explain everything. James only looked puzzled at him.
"Why would it 'snap' because of Danny - oh," James began, then realised what Q was implying.
Q nodded frantically.
"It was programmed to keep Danny safe. It failed. That must have left a short window for Turner to sent the message, to set up the video feed," James looked very bemused now, and Q realised that he hadn't disclosed anything about the mail yet.
"In the message. Turner had left the address for a website in the email. It's a live streaming from the place he is kept prisoner," Q explained hastily. "The program went into a loop. It had been able to stabilise itself at some point, but," Q paused to draw a deep breath. "But it has to keep the knowledge of Danny's apparent suicide from Turner. The TRS still needs Turner for some reason," as much as it grated Q, he had to admit there were parts of the program, he still hadn't figured out. "And Turner probably won't work, if Danny is gone. Which leaves us with the key to this whole mess," Q declared triumphantly. "Danny!"