Crime de la Crime
"006, this is your Quartermaster speaking".
"And what a very interesting Quartermaster you are" the man purred in response.
Q distantly wondered if R was out of medical yet, and if overhearing this particular phone call would just send her right back in.
"Oh?" he asked instead, taking another sip of tea, "And why is that then?"
"Well, to be perfectly honest-" Q held back a snort "-I wasn't quite sure what to think of you when I first called, but then I got redirected to a rather lovely boffin who said, and I quote, "Please hold on another few minutes, Agent Trevelyan, our Quartermaster is quite hungover"".
Q was going to skin Silvia alive.
"I liked the sound of you immediately".
Or maybe not.
"... Excuse me, 006, but am I correct in understanding that you find my current death-personified state interesting rather than unprofessional?"
"Well, that depends. Do you make it a habit to come to work drunk?"
"What? No! Never!"
"Then you're already doing miles better than me".
Q could practically hear the smirk in the man's voice, and suddenly had a flashback to when he'd first met Duncan and the alpha had pulled out an entire litre bottle of vodka from Trevelyan's locker.
"Does 006 always keep spirits in his locker?"
"006 keep spirits fucking everywhere".
And then again, Edie, last night at the bar-
"We've all got a pretty high alcohol tolerance".
"We learn how to metabolise alcohol very quickly".
Which-
Huh.
Taking another sip of tea, Q wondered if he should be concerned.
"I mean this in the kindest way possible, 006… but are you a functioning alcoholic?"
There was a huff of laughter at the other end of the line, low and rough and warm and something deep in the omega's very soul just ached to hear it again.
"Well you're a brazen little thing, aren't you?"
"I prefer the word thorough".
"And I prefer not to think about the implications of working for MI6" he replied, startlingly honest, "Hence the vodka".
"Any particular reason for that?"
"You've read my file, Quartermaster. You tell me".
Q paused, the mug of tea warm between hands but now forgotten. It was true that he'd read Trevelyans's file - he'd read all of the double-0s' files. But he'd made it a point not to delve too deep into their backgrounds and personal relationships because his knowledge of that wasn't for him to decide. As a result, there were a lot of things that he didn't know about his agents, such as how Duncan's sister had been killed, or how Charlie had a Russian mother. Saif's parentage was listed as something to note, since both his father and mother had worked in government themselves, but asides from that, he was more or less running blind. Q had made a deal with himself to only research the areas of his agents' pasts that M had listed as important. Unfortunately - or, perhaps, fortunately - for one Alec Trevelyan, that included his entire childhood.
"Your parents died when you were only a few months old" Q said quietly, "Your father shot your mother, and then shot himself… Because of England. Because England had betrayed them".
There was a lot more to it, of course, but what he'd said managed to sum it all up into one neat little bundle, and he didn't want to cause his agent to relive any more painful memories than necessary.
"And in one of life's great ironies, their only child ended up working for MI6" Trevelyan finished, his voice light and cheerful, although how much of that was forced and how much was genuine, Q wasn't sure.
"Well, from what I hear, 006, you really do enjoy being different".
"You know, Quartermaster, I can't help but feel like you said the word different in the exact same tone of voice that you'd say the word problematic".
"I understand that English might not be your first language, 006, but I distinctly remember reading that you got a scholarship based on your school grades... I would've thought that knowing a few synonyms would have been crucial to getting full marks in your A level English".
There was another bark of laughter, lighter this time, less rough and more pleasantly surprised.
"You really are an interesting little boffin, aren't you?"
"Less of the little, if you don't mind".
"Oh really?" His voice turned low, husky and flirtatious. "And I suppose that means that you're, uh… not little in any aspect, then?"
Q felt his cheeks flush and counted his lucky stars that the double-0 was currently on the other side of the world.
"I would say come see for yourself, but I have this horrible premonition that you'd actually take me seriously".
"You're my Quartermaster. Of course I take you seriously".
There was a grin in his voice and Q felt himself bristle. It was time for this particular conversation then.
"You also seem to take me for a fool" he replied sharply, "I assure you, 006, I am not just another naive omega for you to wine and dine and then toss away when you get bored. Harmless flirting, I'll accept, given how much your packmates enjoying doing it, but don't you dare think for one second that I will fall into bed with you at the slightest bit of interest. I have the power to ruin you with nothing more than a broken iPhone and a bad internet connection, so I will not tolerate any sort of condescending behaviour or careless attitude. Do I make myself clear?"
There was a beat of silence, two, three, and then-
"Perfectly".
Trevelyan's voice was certainly not as lighthearted as it had been before, but likewise, the man didn't sound angry or pissed off, and in Q's eyes, that was a point in the alpha's favour.
"Good". He gave a single nod despite the fact that the agent currently couldn't see him. "Now, I presume you had a reason for calling?"
"Maybe I just wanted to talk to my new Quartermaster" he replied easily, "It's not every day the double-0s get new management, after all... I wanted to hear what you were like".
"I'm almost certain that you've already heard everything you need to from your cohorts, 006".
"My cohorts?" he asked, voice perfectly innocent, "Why Q, I'm currently on a mission at the other side of the Atlantic in deep cover. How on earth would I hear anything from my fellow double-0s?"
"Because until proven otherwise, 006, I will simply assume that you all have a telepathic link" he replied dryly, "So don't insult either of our intelligence by playing dumb. I know full well that the nine of you are in constant contact".
Which-
Actually.
Now that he thought about it, the double-0s always were in constant contact, and regardless of how they managed it, that meant that they always knew where the others were, even when they went off-grid.
And what a better example of going off-grid, that playing dead?
"Did you know that 007 survived the fall from that train?"
"James is alive? I'm glad. I thought for sure that he was a goner after that rookie shot him".
Q carefully filed away the fact that the man called 007 James for examination another time.
"I thought I warned you about treating me like an idiot, 006".
"I would never! But like I said, Quartermaster, I'm currently undercover. There's no way that I could've known James had survived" came the innocent response, so sincere that for a moment, the omega actually questioned if he'd previously heard the agent correctly.
But he had. Of course he had. He was a fucking genius.
Still though.
Placing down his cooling mug of tea, Q pulled up the agent's records on the monitor in front of him. Just to be sure.
"Your mission started two weeks before Bond left for Turkey" he said, "So tell me this, 006. If there's no way that you could have known he'd survived, purely because you were undercover at the time, then how did you know that he'd gotten shot to begin with?"
There was a pause.
"Because you said-"
"I said that 007 fell off a train" Q interrupted smoothly, "I said nothing about him getting shot, much less by whom. But thank you, 006, for proving my constant contact theory".
He could almost hear the gears in the man's head turning, and couldn't fight back a pleased little smirk as he downed the rest of his tea.
"Well colour me impressed" 006 finally replied, "Interesting, brazen, and sharp. And, of course, a drinker… You know, Q, if you're even half as snarky as Edie says, then I think you and I are going to get along quite fantastically".
"In my admittedly limited experience, Agent Trevelyan, whenever one of you double-0s uses the word 'fantastic', it usually ends with an explosion".
"Hey, the day ain't over yet".
Q smiled despite himself and pushed away his empty mug before pulling his chair closer to his desk. His computers were long since warmed up, the introductions - and threats - had been made, which meant that now it was time to get down to business.
"Sitrep, 006. Go".
"Yes sir! I'm currently still in Havana, still undercover, and still none the wiser as to when this damn mission will be over".
Q frowned, pulling up the case file on the monitor in front of him and quickly skimming through the main bullet points to remind himself of the objective.
"You started in Russia, correct? A chemical weapons factory that the previous M wanted to keep an eye on. You were tasked with blowing it sky high".
"The best part of the mission" 006 agreed, "Until M changed her mind".
"Do you know why?"
"The head of the entire operation is a man named Ourumov. Used to be a colonel, back in the day, and has links to both the KGB and the Bratva. I followed him to Severnaya, an underground Russian satellite hub in Siberia".
"And I suppose the fact that 003 was also in Siberia at the time, is just pure coincidence?"
"Incredible luck, isn't it? Ourumov did a surprise inspection at the base, and I managed to wrangle my way in posing as a guard. He got the satellite activation keys and control disk from the commanding officer, and then… and then he shot them all".
Q felt his heart stutter.
"Dead?"
"Is there any other way?"
Taking a deep breath, Q tried to remember that this was in the past, it was weeks ago, his agent wasn't there anymore, he was-
Well.
006 wasn't exactly safe, but he certainly safer now than how he had been.
"Carry on".
"The satellite has a built-in EMP" Trevelyan continued, "Originally, Ourumov was going to use it to wipe out every computer in England, but that was before his chemical factory actually got a result. The last order I received from Boothroyd was to continue investigating, prevent Ourumov from stealing the cash reserves of the Bank of London, and find out just what hell he's managed to create in Russia".
"Given that the Bank of London is still standing, I assume that you have completed at least one of those objectives?" Q asked, typing rapidly to update the mission file with the new information.
At the other end of the line, 006 snorted. "Yeah, you could say that. Turns out building chemical weapons is expensive. Ourumov has held off the bank robbery for the moment and moved the entire production line to Cuba to save money, but that's only until he gets definite proof that the injection works".
"What is it meant to do?"
"I don't know. I'm still posing as a security guard, and I got Fortier to bring me a few fake IDs to keep my cover intact but… well, like I said. I'm just a security guard. Whatever the hell Ourumov has managed to create is on a very need-to-know basis" Trevelyan continued, "I've snuck around as much as I can without raising suspicion, and from the little info I gathered, it's some sort of hormone drug".
That made Q pause.
Hormone treatments of any kind were strictly regulated on a global scale, and for good reason too. Betas were the least affected, but given that they made up half of the world's entire population, it was still worth noting. The next most common dynamic were alphas, people who were already hyped up on testosterone and pheromones and very much did not need any more of them. And then there were omegas, the rarest dynamic but the most greatly affected by hormone changes. Heat suppressors were a nightmare to find, and even Q's scent blockers had been purchased off the black market because no sane doctor would have allowed such a continuous use of the chemicals.
So if Ourumov was after creating a hormone drug, a new drug, that he was keeping very hush hush…
"Do you think you can get any closer to the source?"
"Possibly" Trevelyan allowed, "But that depends on how quick you can get an extraction team ready".
"The colonel's the paranoid sort?"
"He'd have to be, to have survived in this game as long as he has".
Q sighed and ran both hands through his hair.
"You know, just once I'd like a nice, honest, transparent supervillain".
006 laughed. "I don't think supervillains can be honest, Quartermaster. The same way that superheroes can't lie".
"Oh yeah? And what does that say about the double-0s, then?"
"Probably nothing good" he admitted, "Orders?"
Q took a deep breath and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. If Ourumov was this paranoid, then 006 was already on borrowed time. But a new hormone drug was never a good find, and if the Russian colonel had derailed from his original plans so completely based purely on the potential that this drug had…
"Continue investigating" Q finally replied, "Find out as much as you can without getting caught. Once we know what this drug is, what it can do, then… we'll decide what the end game will be. I'll update M, but I want you to keep me in the loop. What are you doing now?"
"Smoke break" came the easy reply, "Not as effective as alcohol, admittedly, but it takes the edge off. Once I got that cute little transmitter of yours, I started taking more breaks. Today's the first day no one else wanted a cigarette too".
"Can you call at this time again tomorrow? And the day after?"
"I can try" Trevelyan replied, "It's just after 4am here, I got on the nightshift to sneak around easier. Will your transmitter hold up to constant calls?"
"I'm offended you even have to ask" Q replied dryly, "Same time tomorrow, 006. Try not to get yourself killed before then".
"Same to you, Quartermaster. From what I've heard, those double-0s can be a right prickly bunch. Wouldn't want to offend the wrong person".
Q couldn't help but smile, and he automatically reached up with a hand to cover it, despite the fact that the man couldn't currently see him.
"Well, out of the two of us, 006, I'd hazard a guess that I'm the least offensive".
"Oh, I don't know. You sure have your moments. What was it that you called us? Bloody maniacs?"
"Actually, I called your packmates bloody maniacs. As for you, 006, I'd rather reserve judgment until you return to England".
"And if I blow something up between then and now?"
Q fought back the urge to sigh.
"Then you'll have proved yourself just as idiotic as the rest of them. Do impose just a little bit of restraint, would you?"
"I can try" Trevelyan repeated cheerfully, very obviously not promising either way, "Until tomorrow then, Quartermaster".
"I look forward to it, 006".