The Red Telephone
"What's the current status of the PM?" the Deputy Prime Minister asked, turning to the Head of MI5.
"Still unknown" Clune replied, "As it stands, things don't look good. All found alphas have been dead, along with most betas, with the majority of survivors being omegas… not that there are many survivors to begin with".
"Any leads on the source of the attack?"
"Well, as you know, we had some concerns about the militant group known as al-Shabaab". Clune put on an over-exaggerated and incredibly generic Arabic accent, and Q immediately disliked the man. "Currently, we're working under the assumption that this was an attack generated by them on the British Prime Minister and United Nations. We had, of course, taken steps to prevent this, such as by asking the Secret Intelligence Service to send in a man undercover but… well. Evidently, their man just wasn't good enough".
Q felt his blood boil but before he could lunge across the table and throttle the man, he felt a hand press down on his leg underneath the table, and he turned to give M a disbelieving look because-
That fucking prick was blaming Jake!
M, on the other hand, continued to face the Head of MI5 with a bland smile.
"Far be it from me to belittle the efficiency of the Secret Service, Malcolm, but if you remember correctly, then it was the Prime Minister himself who requested one of my agents, not MI5… Now I wonder why he did that?"
Clune immediately turned bright red.
"The Prime Minister has more than enough faith in my men's capabilities, Mallory! I can only assume that it was a brief moment of insanity that led to him asking you for additional protection!"
"Well, we all know what assuming does" M replied blithely, "But the fact remains that he did request one of my agents. A double-0, to be precise. And 004 did absolutely everything in his power to prevent a terrorist attack from happening-"
"Well, clearly he didn't try hard enough!" Clune spat, "The PM is still missing, we've lost all contact with our men in Pemba, and the bloody Mozambican government still isn't letting anyone in or out of their bloody airspace! Your agent was supposed to go undercover and prevent this exact bloody thing from happening!"
"And he did!" M shot back, "This wasn't al-Shabaab, Malcolm, this was someone else!"
"Rubbish! Who the hell else could it have been?! Those- Those bloody Islamist bastards want to bring down the West and they've decided to start with us!"
On Q's other side, the Foreign Secretary spoke up.
"We've had no confirmed reports about who is responsible as of yet, so placing the blame right now is not only futile but also incredibly dangerous" Ms Davared said, her voice clear and even, "And I would thank you to keep a civilised tongue when speaking of cultures and religions that are not your own!"
Q's respect for the woman doubled.
Clune immediately opened his mouth, no doubt intending to lower the collective IQ of the room once more, but before he could, the Deputy PM turned to face Mallory.
"You said it wasn't al-whatever?"
"No sir" he replied calmly, a sharp contrast to the red-faced spitting buffoon sitting across from him, "Our current intel suggests that they had nothing to do with it".
"What makes you so sure?"
M glanced sideways at Q, who took this as his sign to speak up.
"You mean aside from the fact that the predicted death toll currently stands at one-hundred-thousand people and al-Shabaab's main goals go directly against something like that ever happening?"
"... Maybe they changed their minds-"
"We've been tracking a Russian terrorist by the name of Ourumov" M quickly interrupted, before Q could snark back, "We believe him to be responsible for today's attack".
"Ourumov?" Sir Andy Poutner, the Defence Secretary, frowned. "I've never heard of him".
"That doesn't surprise me. From what we've learned so far, he's done his damn best to remain hidden".
"And he's not on any terrorist watch list? NATO? Interpol?"
"Not that we're aware of" M replied, "He's… crafty, to say the least".
Devine leaned forward in his seat. "But you still think he's responsible for this? For attacking the Prime Minister?"
Along with two-hundred-thousand other people, Q thought sarcastically, but sure, you just think about your job.
"Yes sir. MI6's Quartermaster, along with the double-0s, have been tracking Ourumov for quite some time now. Everything that they've found out about the man to date supports our theory that he was responsible for today's attack".
The Chief of the Defence Staff, who out-aged everyone in the room by at least a decade, gave M a somewhat patronising look.
"Well if that's the case, old chap, then wouldn't it have been smart for you to bring your Quartermaster along? I mean, surely, he could give us a far more detailed report on this man Ourumov!"
Q, who had been in the process of connecting his laptop to the large flatscreen TVs that surrounded the room, froze.
Blinked.
Put his eidetic memory to good use and recalled that- yes, the Head of the British Armed Forces had, in fact, just completely and utterly dismissed him as Quartermaster.
And then-
He smiled.
"Admiral Knot, was it?" Q asked pleasantly, sitting back in his seat. Next to him, he felt M tense, no doubt recognising that his tone of voice meant trouble.
"... Yes" he replied slowly, glancing him up and down and clearly finding him wanting, "And just who, exactly, are you?"
Your worst nightmare.
"I'm the Quartermaster of MI6".
Same thing.
"You what?! Nonsense! You- You cannot possibly be- That's- That's preposterous! That's utterly absurd!"
"I fail to see what's absurd about it, Adrian" M replied calmly, "Q is easily the smartest man in England, he was recommended by more than one MI6 executive, and mission success rates are currently at an all-time high".
With no thanks to James bloody Bond, that was...
"But he's- he's- he's an omega! Surely you see how ridiculous this is, old chap! There's a reason omegas aren't given positions of power! They're- They're weak-willed! Docile! Far too emotional to be of any use!"
"The only one being emotional here, is you" Monica Davared said coldly, "I, for one, believe that the Quartermaster's reputation speaks for itself".
Q couldn't help but flash her a grin, and he mentally vowed to get her phone number or email address at the end of all of this and set up a coffee date sometime. He already knew that Eve would get along with the woman like a house on fire, and… perhaps, even Saif too…
"It's an absolute disgrace, is what it is!" the Admiral continued, his moustache twitching in a truly horrifying way, "He shouldn't have been hired in the first place, recommendations or not! Why, in my day, omegas were nothing more than-"
Q tuned him out, instead turning his full attention to the laptop screen in front of him.
He knew exactly what the "good ol' days" meant for someone like Adrian Knot - or, more accurately, what the "when I could say and do whatever the fuck I want and not be held accountable for it" days meant. Some would call him old school, a poor geriatric stuck in the past. Q just called him obstinate.
Along with a few other words that were far, far worse.
His gaze flickered up to the name tag on the man's uniform to make sure that he'd gotten the spelling correct, before he tapped a few keys, connected to the room's vast collection of monitors, and pulled up a recent WhatsApp message for the world - or, at least, the room - to see.
Adrian Knot: Hey, sweetheart. Just got off the phone with Devine, cancelling our lunch meeting. Can you believe he actually bought the dentist excuse? What a fucking idiot! I'm on my way to the hotel now
Louise Clancy: Haha, seriously? That's hilarious! Looking forward to our own "private meeting" instead. Text me when you're outside. I've got something to show you ;)
The room was deathly silent.
Q's smile only widened.
"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, Admiral… but that's not your wife's name, is it?"
"I- You- That's not- You can't- That's not- I- I didn't- You- That's illegal!"
"Yes, well, so is refusing to hire someone based solely on their dynamic instead of their qualifications" he shot back, "And yet out of the two of us, I think we can all agree who's doing the better job".
Next to him, M poorly hid his smirk, while on his other side, Ms Davared snorted into the glass of water she'd only decided to sip from in an effort to hide her laughter.
The Deputy Prime Minister, being the Devine in question, didn't find the situation half as amusing, and Q vaguely wondered if he had ever seen such a ferocious glare directed at someone before. The Admiral, to be fair, managed to avoid the man's gaze entirely and instead - rather predictably - turned his fury on Q.
"You little bitch! Why, I ought to-"
"-sit down, shut up, and know when you are beaten!" The Chair of the NPCC, Steven Hopkins, spoke for the first time. "Honestly, Adrian, you're just embarrassing yourself".
The man looked around at everyone else, no doubt searching for someone who agreed with him, but aside from a still red-faced Malcolm Clune and a somewhat uncomfortable-looking Home Secretary, everyone else had been won over by Q's admittedly not terribly legal bout of hacking.
Seeing that he'd actually listened for once, Hopkins turned back to the omega in question with a small smile.
"Please, Quartermaster, begin your report".
"Thank you, Chief Constable".
Q quickly switched screens from the Admiral's WhatsApp messages to the only photograph of Ourumov he'd managed to track down. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he spoke.
"General Arkady Grigorovich Ourumov; graduated from the Moscow Military Academy at eighteen and graduated from the School of Applied Military Science in Kiev two years later. He was then promoted to Captain and posted to an advanced Army Missile Test Range. Five years after that, he was promoted to Major and was assigned to what was then the Soviet Space Division. Sometime later he was promoted to Colonel and assigned to a chemical weapons facility in Arkhangelsk that mysteriously burned to the ground not long after. That was twenty years ago".
"Mysteriously burned to the ground?" Hopkins asked, eyebrows raised, "I dare say there's not much mystery about it. How did the Russians react?"
"They let him walk" Q answered with a shrug, "The facility was officially listed as nothing more than a research lab, but we've heard whispers that it was a little bit more than that. Ourumov let someone else take the fall, and the Russian government didn't want to anger him by calling him out on it".
"They believed that he found out what the facility was really making".
"Exactly. They couldn't risk him bringing that information to the press, so they placated him. And besides - on paper, he was the perfect little comrade. He received the Order of Lenin four times, the Order of the Red Star, the Order of Alexander Nevsky, the Order of Glory, and twice the Order of the Red Banner. He has also been awarded the Medal for Impeccable Service; first class, second class, and third class, and he's received numerous Jubilee Medals over the years in recognition of his service".
The Foreign Secretary smirked, but there was nothing humorous about it.
"They thought he was loyal. That he'd never betray the motherland".
"Most likely, yes. Either way, they promoted him to General and then let him do as he pleased. It was around this time that rumours started up about a new crime syndicate called Janus. Based in St Petersburg, it's since been linked to numerous unfavourable events, all of which have Ourumov's fingerprints on them".
"And you believe that this… Janus organisation is responsible for the attack in Mozambique?" Devine asked, and Q nodded. "Put simply? Yes sir. Ourumov has been biding his time for the past decade or so, likely waiting until he had enough resources - as well as enough control over the Russian government - to set up his own chemical factory. Which he did".
Q tapped his keyboard to bring up a satellite image of the Cuban factory before Alec burned it to the ground.
"One of our agents, 006, posed as a guard to investigate. He followed Ourumov to Severnaya, an underground Russian satellite hub in Siberia. Ourumov got the satellite activation keys and control disk from the commanding officer, and then killed everyone in sight. The satellite in question has a built-in electromagnetic pulse, or EMP, which, according to 006, Ourumov originally planned to use to wipe out every computer in London so he could steal the cash reserves of the Bank of England".
"So what changed?"
"His priorities. Ourumov's chemical factory hit a breakthrough, and as a result, he attracted a lot of investors. With that money, he moved the entire operation to Havana, Cuba - as you can see on the screen - both to save on production costs and also to get out from under the KGB's control. 006 followed him there and continued to pose as a security guard for the following few weeks, eventually finding out that the chemical in question was a hormone drug - specifically, a testosterone-enhancing drug that triggers all alphas who come into contact with it into a full-on rage. It takes approximately thirty minutes to work and can last anywhere from two to six hours before the alpha in question is killed by it… As you can imagine, this would have less-than-desirable results, should it be leaked to the general public".
He was met by a sea of grim faces and sombre nods.
"This was on February 25th. After updating the Prime Minister of the situation, we got the go-ahead to, uh… hinder work at the factory, as it were. Just before midday, CST, 006 returned to the factory and planted the necessary explosives, intending to capture Ourumov alive before detonating them. Unfortunately, there were some… complications on the way out, and although 006 did destroy the chemical factory, the General escaped".
"Complications?" Admiral Knot asked sharply, seemingly having recovered his composure, "What sort of complications?"
"006 was involved in an altercation as he was leaving the labs and became… compromised. However, he did manage to-"
"Hang on! When you say compromised-"
"Some of the vials containing the drug were destroyed" he replied, starting to get somewhat irritated, "006 was infected and had to be sedated on his return to London".
"But he survived? He's still alive?"
"Yes. Now, as I was saying-"
"Forgive me, Quartermaster" Ms Davared interrupted, "but if your agent was exposed to this drug as you said he was, then why isn't he dead? The current casualty rate in Pemba is astronomical! There have been hardly any reported survivors - and we still have no word about the Prime Minister! If there's some sort of cure that you know about-"
"There is no cure!"
The Foreign Secretary abruptly shut her mouth and Q mentally cursed himself for losing composure. Briefly closing his eyes, he took a long, slow breath and then let it out again.
"There is no known cure as of yet" he repeated, calmer this time, "Our R&D and medical departments have been collaborating over the past few weeks in an attempt to find an antidote, but unfortunately, they've had no success. How 006 survived is… complicated".
"I don't give a damn how complicated it is!" the Deputy Prime Minister snapped, "If this is something that we can bottle and use to protect ourselves, then-"
"It's not. It's… uh… that is to say, 006 was… and I…" Q felt himself flushing and desperately tried to fight back a wave of embarrassment in case they scented it on him. "What you need to understand, sir, is that the double-0s are, uh… they're… sort of…"
"Wired differently" M finished, coming to his rescue with a knowing smile, "To say the least. There is a reason why their… usefulness, shall we say, has come into question many times before, after all. In fact, there are many currently sitting at this table who voted in favour of dismantling the double-0 section only a few months ago… And we all know how well that turned out".
To Q's amusement, a good two-thirds of the meeting attendees blushed themselves, avoiding eye contact and staring down at the table in discomfort. To his absolute delight, however, Monica Davared was not one of those people.
"The point is, the double-0s are unlike anyone else on this planet. That's part of what makes them so effective, but as a result, they tend to react… differently to certain situations - far more differently than anyone here would react. I'm afraid how 006 survived is not something that we can bottle". He dipped his head at the Deputy PM, before turning back to the omega. "Now, you were saying, Quartermaster?"
Q could have kissed him.
"Yes sir. Uh, before 006 left the factory he managed to download all of the scientists' files onto a USB stick which he then gave to me. It contained information about locations, account details, Ourumov's general goals, as well as the chemical formula of the drug that was created. Based on this, we were able to ascertain the most likely places that Ourumov would run to. On March 9th we sent another agent, 003, to investigate one of the more probable places in Seville, Spain. Ourumov wasn't there, but 003 did manage to retrieve even more files related to his operations. It was from these files that we were able to confirm the connection between the General and one Colonel Xenia Janssen".
He tapped the space bar on his laptop and the slide changed to the most recent public photo they had of the dark-haired woman.
"Intel suggested she was staying in Nice, and where Janssen is, Ourumov likely isn't far behind. An agent was sent in to observe and report back on March 18th, but-"
"Hang on" the Admiral interrupted yet again, "France? March 18th? That was when that SAS helicopter was stolen, was it not?"
"Yes. It was" Q replied with a grimace, still kind of pissed off with James for going so horribly against orders, "And we have a very good reason to believe that it was General Ourumov and Colonel Janssen who stole it".
"How?"
"Our agent saw them" he said dryly, "Ourumov's reason for stealing that specific helicopter, however, was unknown to us at the time".
"But not anymore?"
His gaze drifted back to M, who gave him a grimace and nodded once before speaking up.
"All communication systems in Pemba went offline mere seconds before the attack started. The helicopter that Ourumov stole was a prototype - an anti-EMP prototype. The Quartermaster believes that he used the helicopter in order to enter the city under the radar, which would have allowed him to activate the EMP satellite he'd stolen the keys for, and spread the drug throughout the city without being affected himself. It would appear that it's just as effective airborne as it is in injection form, however, it doesn't remain… active, for lack of a better word, for very long after it's been dispersed".
"Which means it worked just long enough to infect the entire city, but not long enough to appear on any tests once help finally did arrive" Hopkins finished quietly, "Do we know if it's contagious?"
"It's not" Q answered confidently, "Our medical department has run multiple experiments using the chemical formula 006 received, and none of those who were in close contact with 006 himself were affected. The drug appears to have an incredibly short shelf life and it's only those who inhale it directly that are compromised".
"That same" he muttered, and the omega had to agree.
"Okay" the Deputy PM said, clapping his hands together, "So, we know that it was this Ourumov fellow who made the drug, and then used that stolen helicopter to fly into Pemda, disperse it, and wipe out all electronics and communications… What now?"
"Sir, if I may" Clune began, "It's clear that MI6 isn't capable of handling this crisis, given how many times they've led the bastard escape so far-"
"As opposed to MI5 who had no idea that Ourumov even existed until now?" M interrupted smoothly, "With all due respect, Malcolm, my organisation is the only hope we have of catching him! This is happening outside of British waters and consequently, is outside of your jurisdiction".
"Oh, so it's like that, is it? You want to talk about jurisdiction? What about last December when one of your agents went MIA with the bloody Head of MI6 and absconded her to Scotland only to get in a gunfight with another ex-agent who your people let escape? If you're so concerned about jurisdiction then why weren't we made aware of that situation?!"
"And let you fuck that up the way you fucked up the Joint Intelligence Service?" M shot back, "Max Denbigh didn't have to look very far to find you, did he?"
"As opposed to how close he got to you?!"
"Only close enough to throw him out of a window".
"Your so-called Intelligence Service is known far and wide for its cock-ups, Mallory! This entire disaster is only further proof of that! MI6 is not capable of handling Ourumov which is why I'm requesting all information you have on the man be turned over to me!" Clune snapped, "We don't need yet another public scandal, and who knows just how much the public will find out if we leave this investigation to you!"
"Far less than if you were to take over" M countered, gesturing at the three blank-faced advisors on either side of the man, "Considering that Tom, Dick, and Harry here already know far more than they should".
"They are-"
"Gentlemen, gentlemen! That's enough!" Devine interrupted, rather late in Q's opinion, "I didn't call this meeting so that the Heads of MI5 and MI6 could get into a- a- a bloody pissing contest!"
"Not that it'd be much of a contest" Ms Davared muttered next to him, and Q gave her a quick grin which she readily returned.
Pulling open a private window on his laptop, he quickly sent M a message. The phone vibrated almost silently in the man's trouser pocket, and he subtly pulled it out just enough to read the screen.
Can we hire her?
The corner of his mouth twitched, belaying the somewhat admonishing look he sent the Quartermaster in return before murmuring out of the corner of his mouth, "We'll see".
"Now then" Devine said, "I believe you were saying something, Malcolm before the conversation got… waylead?"
"Yes sir". The pompous idiot immediately straightened up in his seat like a child seeking attention. "As I was saying, I feel that it's in everyone's best interest if my own organisation got control of-"
Behind them, the door to the briefing room opened, and the same unnamed man who had led Q and M to the meeting stepped in. Clune shot him an irritated look for yet another interruption, but the man ignored him completely, instead squeezing his way past their chairs until he reached the Deputy PM, where he leaned down and whispered something in his ear.
After a moment, Devine nodded, and the man left the room once more. Turning back to them, Q saw that his face had paled quite drastically.
"We've just got the initial reports from the Mozambican government" he said, quietly, "It's confirmed… The Prime Minister is dead".
A hush fell across the table, only broken by the sounds of a keyboard as Q quickly sent a private message to R.
4?
He waited with bated breath as the typing symbol came up on his screen, seeming to take an agonisingly long time to come through before-
Alive
He let out a silent sigh of relief, and next to him, M's tense posture relaxed slightly, no doubt having realised who Q was talking to.
As terrified as the man was of the double-0s, and as concerned he was for Q's undoubtedly strange relationship with them, they still were his agents and the omega knew that he'd do anything to protect them - apex predators or not.
"We are officially entering a critical security state" Devine continued, "We might know the cause and reason behind the attack, but nobody outside of this room is yet aware. Let's keep it that way".
"Sir-"
"You've said your piece, Malcolm" he cut off, "But Gareth is right. MI5 had no idea that Ourumov even existed before today, whereas MI6 has been keeping tabs on him for months! Regardless of just how well, or otherwise, that they handled the situation, they were still the only ones who figured out that there was a situation to be handled".
Q's esteem for the man reluctantly rose.
"Now, we just need to figure out what the bloody hell we're going to do next" he finished, collapsing back in his seat, "... Any ideas?"