[fic] Clandestine Affairs (3/?)
Have had this sitting on my hard drive for a week; time to stop fiddling around and post. Special thanks this time to super proofreader anamuan, who had more work to do than usual.
In this part: Xavi and plot, basically.
Clandestine Affairs (3/?)
Word Count (part): 14,000
Characters/Pairings (part): Cesc Fàbregas, David Silva, David Villa, Xavi Hernández, Luís Figo, Raúl González, Raúl Albiol, José Antonio Reyes, Luis García, Ivan Helguera, others (David Silva/David Villa)
Rating: R
Summary/Notes: Overall header
Part 1
Part 2
It took at least three hours to get from Barcelona to Madrid. Cesc knew that, and he still couldn't shake the nauseating mixture of anticipation and fear that left him alternately dry-mouthed and in a cold sweat. He couldn't help trying to imagine what Xavi Hernández would say, how he would say it, relentless mental circles that always ended at the same self-imposed interruption. He didn't know if it was because of what he thought he would hear, or what he thought he wouldn't
When he couldn't take the stillness any longer he jumped up and wandered restlessly around the apartment, hoping that physical movement might distract him. It didn't.
Villa and Silva were both at work on their laptops, facing each other across the table. Villa's fingers were flying and he was scowling in concentration at the screen; Silva, on the other hand, was engrossed in long periods of reading punctuated by the occasional click.
After Cesc's dozenth restless pass behind his chair, Silva looked up with a slight frown. "Cesc, do you want - "
"Yes," Cesc said, too eagerly. Silva blinked, taken aback, and Cesc's cheeks warmed. "I mean, if there's something I could do..."
Silva looked around, running his fingers through his hair. "Um - I don't know if there's much you could do from here, but I can explain what I'm looking for, if you want?"
"Sure," Cesc said, more careful to modulate his response, and aware his voice was thick with relief all the same.
"Come on over here - oh, sorry, we still haven't got another chair - " He scooted his own chair over and Cesc crouched next to him to look at the screen.
It showed a sleek, streamlined database interface; in the upper left-hand corner was the same seal that was emblazoned on the glass doors of Figo and Raúl's office. "This is the agency's private network," Silva said. "Specifically, this is the case records database." He typed a command and the list on display disappeared as a new one cascaded into being. "I've called up all London files from the past ten years and I'm searching them for..." He trailed off, frowning at the screen, and hit a different key. The list rearranged itself and scrolled downwards as Silva hit another key several times.
Cesc waited, and then when Silva didn't pick up the sentence, prompted dutifully, "You're looking for?"
Silva glanced over at Cesc and gave a small start. "Oh, right, sorry. Um, we've been digging up any records that have to do with A - someone who might be connected to your case. Right now I'm checking for any kind of history he might have with us - witness, subject of investigation, person of interest, anything."
"Have you found anything?"
Silva's eyes skimmed the screen as he answered. "It looks like we've had him on an interest list for a couple shady government contracts, but that's it so far. There's a lot of false hits for his business interests - his subcompanies have got subcompanies, and this is just from London. I'm not even close to done."
Villa made an irritated noise and both Silva and Cesc glanced over. He typed something else, forcefully, and then must have felt their eyes on him because he looked up.
"The holding company in London has decent IT sec," he said, grudgingly. "We might have to get someone from Security to crack it."
A little tendril of interest uncurled. "Are you trying to hack them? Right now?"
"I'm just looking around," Villa said. Then, "Don't look so surprised."
"I'm not," Cesc said, unconvincingly. "I just thought..." that Silva was the brains.
Villa eyed him like he knew exactly what Cesc was thinking. "You know anything about computers?"
"A little," Cesc said, which wasn't strictly the truth, but telling a secret law enforcement agent about his abortive teenage forays into script cracking probably wasn't a great idea.
"Come here," Villa said. Silva was already deep into his files again. Cesc moved over to Villa's side of the table.
"Look," Villa said. "Here's the script for the second security challenge. See anything wrong with it?"
Cesc at the lines of text for a long minute. "There's a loophole," he said suddenly. "If you feed it part of its own code it'll be stuck in a recursive loop."
"Right," Villa said. "And once you're past that, you can get at these files here, which looks like last year's financial records. But - "
"They're totally bait," Cesc interrupted. "It's way too neatly constructed, look, if you put in - "
He cut himself off and slid a sideways glance at Villa.
Villa gave him a slow once-over, both eyebrows raised. "'A little', huh?"
Cesc squirmed. "Well - "
"David," Silva said suddenly. His brows were drawn. "Come look at this."
Villa was up without a further word. Cesc seized the opportunity to take his chair. Across the table, Villa leaned over Silva's shoulder and read aloud, "'Investigation into Aeneas Holdings Limited, London: findings inconclusive.' Inconclusive? What the hell does that mean?"
"That there's not enough to keep the case open but someone's too stubborn to write it off," Silva said. "See, it was van Nistelrooy's before he transferred. But look, that's not the only one." He hit another key. "Abramovich Mineral in Prague, Abramovich Petrochemical in Berlin. All three investigations within the last two years. The others were both closed permanently for lack of evidence."
Villa pursed his lips. "You don't get to be a massive industrial tycoon by playing by the rules," he said.
"Van Nistelrooy would know that," Silva said. "He wouldn't try and keep a case open for normal corporate misconduct. Three times? In two years?"
Villa ran a hand over the crest of his hair. "You want to request the full files from London?"
"I - "
Cesc didn't realize how completely and successfully he'd been distracted until Silva was cut off by a sharp rapping.
It took him a moment to associate the sound with the front door, and then only an instant for the gut-twisting anticipation to flood back. His palms were suddenly sweaty. Silva took one look at him and closed his laptop. "David - " he began.
But Villa was already on his feet. Cesc heard the door open, then a low voice he couldn't make out, and then he was looking at Xavi Hernández.
He was short - shorter than Villa - and dark and impassive; his face gave away nothing. His heavy-lidded eyes were on Cesc.
"Xavi," Silva said, with something like relief. Hernández's gaze moved over to him; Cesc felt its absence like the lifting of a physical weight. "Thanks for coming down. You didn't have any problems getting away, did you?"
"I left Andrés in charge," Hernández said. His voice was deep and surprisingly soft. "He can handle anything I can."
His dark eyes returned to Cesc. Cesc swallowed through a throat suddenly dry.
"Could we have the room?" Hernández asked.
"Sure," Silva said. Villa, whom Cesc thought might protest, just collected his laptop and they both retreated down the hall. Silva, just before vanishing, looked over his shoulder and gave Cesc an encouraging little smile.
Without speaking, Hernández crossed the kitchen and took the empty seat. Only a foot away, he returned his unwavering gaze to Cesc.
It didn't feel like intimidation. It was more like Hernández was sure that if he was patient enough he would be able to see into Cesc's mind, something that Cesc was suddenly not entirely sure he couldn't do.
"Francesc Fàbregas," Hernández said eventually, not a question or a confirmation but simply a statement of identity - the first, Cesc realized, that he'd had of his real name in days.
Cesc nodded.
"You know why I'm here?"
Cesc licked his lips. "You're - watching my family?"
"I'm directing the covert security detail on your mother and sister," Hernández said. "I can answer any questions you have. I will." His gaze suddenly became more pressing. "But it won't help unless you trust what I say. Do you?"
Cesc shrugged a little uncomfortably. "If they - if Villa and Silva do - "
"No," Hernández said. "Do you trust me? There's no reason you should yet. But anything I tell you will be useless unless you do."
Cesc examined Hernández carefully. He met Cesc's scrutiny with calm equanimity, neither challenging nor flinching away. Nothing he did dispelled the impression that he wasn't someone to meet alone in a dark street, but something about his presence was - strangely calming.
Slowly, Cesc nodded.
Hernández gave a short nod and said, "Call me Xavi."
Cesc nodded again, then said, "You can call me Cesc. Everyone does."
Herna - Xavi didn't speak any further for several moments. A swell of words, snarled and disjointed, was fighting up Cesc's throat; he tried to make himself stay quiet, because he didn't know where they began, or what exactly they even were. Just they were about to burst from Cesc whether he wanted them to or not, Xavi said, "I grew up in Terrassa. I've lived in Barcelona my whole life - I've been with the office since I was old enough to make them let me join."
"Oh," Cesc said; he didn't know what else he was supposed to say.
"I'm telling you this," Xavi said, "because I want you to understand that I know the town and I know my job when I tell you there hasn't been any - I mean any - sign of suspicious activity around your family. No tails, no watchers, absolutely no threats." Xavi held Cesc's gaze. "Do you believe me?"
Cesc hadn't been conscious of the suffocating iron bands around his throat and chest until they suddenly loosened. "Oh," he said, and then again, not even caring that his voice was wavering dangerously, "Oh. Okay. That's - good - "
He had to stop. With effort he mastered the tide of feeling and, after a minute, was able to say in a steady voice, "Yeah. Yes. I do."
Something in Xavi's expression relaxed. "Good," he said. "What else do you want to know?"
It was almost too much choice. Cesc shied away from the obvious question. "What - what have they been doing? I mean, what..."
"Your mother's family has come to stay with them for now," Xavi said. "Your house is very full."
Cesc tried to smile; he didn't know how well it came out. "All of them?"
"Except the youngest sister," Xavi said. "Lucia. I believe she's in Kenya."
"You know them all?" Cesc started to say, and then cut himself off. "Never mind, sorry. Of course you would."
"We had to vet them all." He added, after a minute, "You have quite a few relatives."
This time Cesc's attempt at a smile was more of a contraction. "They're nice most of the time," he said. "I like them."
"They seem that way," Xavi agreed.
Silence, for another moment. He couldn't avoid it any longer; he had to ask. "And... My mom and my sister, how are they..." Cesc's voice failed him. He swallowed and tried again. "You know. Taking it?"
Cesc thought Xavi looked almost sorry, before he said, "Badly."
"Oh," Cesc said, or tried to; it came out barely more than a ragged breath. He tried to clear his throat. "Do they - do you think they believe - "
"They haven't had time to decide what they really believe," Xavi said when it became clear Cesc wasn't going to be able to finish the sentence.
"Oh," said Cesc. "Okay."
Silence, again. He had to say something else. "Is - how's Carlota handling school?"
"She's excused from classes as long as she likes," Xavi said.
That made Cesc sit bolt upright. "What? She has to go, it's exams."
Xavi said, "I believe the circumstances are considered justifiable."
"No," Cesc said, "she can't, she's been killing herself this semester, she can't just - "
"No one's going to ask her to sit exams when she thinks her brother's just died," Xavi said quietly.
He was having trouble breathing. There was a hot, insistent scratching behind his eyes. Something jagged and painful was rising in his throat. He wasn't going to - not in front of - he just was not -
Xavi didn't say anything; he didn't ask Cesc if he was all right or pretend to ignore him or try to be reassuring. He just sat there, quiet and undemanding, which made it worse. Cesc desperately kept his eyes fixed on his hands, until he realized they were trembling. He gripped the edge of the table, so hard his knuckles went white. His shoulders heaved, once, then again, then again -
He couldn't ignore it, and he couldn't fix it. There was nothing he could do about it, so he had to live with it.
There were tears running down his cheeks after all.
He didn't know how long it was until the worst was over and, little by little, he was able to regain control of himself. When he did, and could bring himself to look up, Xavi was still there. He looked as impassive as ever, for which Cesc was grateful.
"Sorry," he said. His voice emerged scratched and hoarse.
Xavi said, "Don't be."
Cesc took a deep, steadying breath - two of them - and cast around for another question, anything to deflect the conversation. "Do you think they know you're there?"
Xavi considered his question for a minute before answering. "The surveillance itself has mostly been of one location, since they haven't left the house very often yet. Neither of them have acted in any way out of the ordinary, given the circumstances. So no, I don't think so." His mouth twisted faintly upward. "But your sister's bright. We'll have to look out for that."
"I know," Cesc said proudly, before his smile faded. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard, which didn't make it better but was at least a distraction.
"If you'd like," Xavi said, "I could tell you more about what we're doing, as a team."
The eagerness of his own response took Cesc by surprise. "Yes," he said, "that would be - yes - " He nodded, just to be sure, and Xavi almost smiled.
With each word of Xavi's explanation, about their schedule, their methods, the team members, Cesc felt the iron bands loosen more and more, until he couldn't help asking more questions himself. By the time Xavi was describing his team - Iniesta, Valdés, and Rodriguez - Cesc felt almost normal again.
"Are they from Barcelona, too?" he asked.
"More or less," Xavi said. "Iniesta and Rodriguez moved when they were in school, I think. But we tend to stay local, yes."
"Huh," Cesc said. He realized, suddenly, that he didn't know anything about where Villa and Silva were from. Neither of them had Madrid accents. "You've got enough recruits locally? Wait, how big is the office, anyway?"
"It's not the numbers," Xavi said. "It's that we know how to do our job."
Something in the air told Cesc he'd just stepped on a land mine.
"Our office might not be as central as Madrid," Xavi went on, in a voice that was outwardly unchanged but somehow made Cesc want to furiously backpedal all the same, "we might not have the numbers, or, the Virgin knows, the budget, but no one can say we don't know how to do our job. You could even say we do it better, in spite of all those things - "
Cesc risked it. "Hey, I get it, I'm from Barcelona, too. You guys, um, keep up the good work."
Xavi broke off with a dangerously blank expression.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
"Um," Cesc said.
It lightened Xavi's whole face, to the extent that Cesc tried not to stare. When he looked at Cesc again, it was with sincere amusement. "You should come up to our office," he said. "They'd like you."
"I wish I could," Cesc said, and didn't realize how much he meant it until he heard his own voice.
"Afterwards you will," Xavi said with certainty. He glanced in the direction of the hall and his mouth turned up.
"I believe we have company again," he said. "Is there anything else you wanted to know in private?" - a faint stress on the final word.
Cesc shook his head. He felt incalculably steadier, steadier than he would have thought possible a few hours ago.
"Thanks," he said, not quite able to meet Xavi's eyes.
Xavi shook his head. "I'm glad I could talk with you," he said, and sounded like he meant it. Then he raised his voice. "You can come out now."
Villa strolled into the kitchen without the slightest appearance of shame. Silva followed, having the grace to look marginally abashed.
"Edifying for you?" Xavi asked dryly.
Villa shrugged. "If we'd really wanted to listen for your classified Barcelona secrets or whatever we could've wired the kitchen. Or Fàbregas."
"I assumed you had," Xavi said, so deadpan Cesc couldn't tell if he was serious or not until Silva laughed.
Xavi finally broke into a smile. "How are you getting along in this godforsaken city?"
Silva laughed again. "It grows on you," he said.
"I'm sure," Xavi said, in the same way one might say Like a tumor.
Silva perched on the counter. "How's the office?" he asked.
Xavi's shoulders rose and fell. "We're getting by." He gave them a sly smile and said , "I'm sure you'd both be welcome if you wanted a change of pace."
"Yeah," Villa said, "I bet Raúl would love to see that transfer request."
"Or Figo," Silva said, a mischievous grin flashing across his face. "It would only be fair." He glanced at Xavi. "Though, um, I didn't realize you had the budget for - never mind," he said hurriedly, as Xavi's expression went flat again."Anyway, how's Andrés?"
They tossed several other names back and forth, presumably fellow agents in Barcelona and Madrid. "We saw Pepe in London," Villa said several minutes later. "He says he misses you guys, for some reason."
Xavi snorted. "He always tells us how much he loves England. The last time he was back here - "
He was interrupted by the piercing sound that Cesc had come to associate with Silva and Villa's communicators. They both reached for their pockets, but Xavi was the one who pulled his out and, frowning, flipped it open.
He went very still.
"Xavi?" Silva said sharply as Villa tensed; a second later Cesc realized why and the fear so recently checked came back in a cold rush.
But Xavi didn't say anything, or move so much as a muscle. He merely sat perfectly - unnaturally - still, eyes locked on the tiny screen. He looked, Cesc realized, as though he were trying very hard to make it burst into flames.
As the silence stretched and no one did anything, Cesc's fear slowly receded, to be replaced by puzzlement. He snuck a glance at Silva and Villa.
Villa wasn't tense any more. In fact, there were the clear beginnings of a smirk on his face. Cesc thought for a minute he saw the hint of a grin in Silva's expression before it was gone.
Silva said, "That must be, ah. Tamudo. Again."
Slowly - very slowly - Xavi's head came up. The look he fixed on Silva was about as friendly as a cobra. Silva didn't so much as flinch. After a minute Xavi said, very evenly, "I have to return to Barcelona now."
"Of course," Silva said, nodding. "We completely understand."
Villa's smirk was even more pronounced. As Xavi got up from the chair, Cesc caught Silva's eye and mouthed, Who?
Instead of indicating he'd answer later, as Cesc half expected, Silva said in a normal voice, "Tamudo?" Cesc's eyes flicked to Xavi, whose back stiffened, but Silva seemed unconcerned. "Oh, he's probably the toughest crime lord in Barcelona. He's got more lives than a dozen cats - no matter what kind of hits he takes, he's always back for more."
Xavi's back was still to them, ramrod-straight.
"We think he's just trying to get Xavi's attention," Silva continued, one eye on Xavi. The corner of his mouth was curled up mischievously. "Since the flowers didn't work - "
Xavi turned and said something that would have made Cesc's mother wash his mouth out with soap.
That was too much for Villa, who made a noise somewhere between a snort and a guffaw. Silva was openly grinning now. Xavi's poisonous glare could have dropped them both dead where they stood. He turned to Cesc and said, too calmly, "We raided his personal headquarters three years ago. Every single one of his major operations was shut down. Half of his underlings were arrested. Do you know how long it took him to completely rebuild?"
"Um… a couple years?" Cesc hazarded.
"Eleven months," Xavi said. There was a sort of manic look in his eyes now. "Eleven months. He may have stayed out of our hands so far but someday - someday - he'll slip and I'll be - " He broke off and shot a searing look at Villa, who made another of those noises.
Visibly restraining himself from speaking, Xavi checked his watch. "I need to catch the next train," he said.
"Good luck," Silva said, sounding contrite - though there was still a suspicious glitter in his eyes. "Honestly. Tell everyone hello."
Xavi appeared willing to accept the overture at face value. "Of course. I'll hear from you again soon." He nodded at Villa, a little shortly, and then turned to Cesc. "Cesc," he said. "They know how to contact me. Get in touch any time you want. I mean it."
"Thanks," Cesc said again, inadequately, and Xavi gave him a last faint smile.
As the door closed behind him, Silva caught Villa's eye. His mouth twitched.
Cesc jumped as Villa started laughing so hard he had to lean back against the wall. Silva, watching him, had a smile that looked like it was trying for innocent but instead lit his whole face with pure mischief. After a minute, he saw Cesc staring and said, "Sorry, it's just - "
"He's obsessed," Villa supplied, and was overcome with a fresh burst of snickers.
Silva tried, with limited success, to school his expression into a modicum of composure. "It's not really fair to him," he said. "Tamudo's endurance is enough to drive anyone crazy and Xavi takes it personally."
"Flowers," Villa said under his breath, and Silva's straight face dissolved.
Cesc looked from one to the other. "Did he really...?"
"Well," Silva said, eyes dancing, "that was the name on the card. Whether or not Tamudo ordered them, I can't say." He glanced at Villa and grinned. "David has a friend who might know, though."
"He's the one in London now," Villa said. "Safe from the long arm of revenge."
That seemed to remind Silva of something, because he gave a regretful sigh. "Speaking of London," he said. "We should probably go by headquarters and see if we can pick up a new assignment. If Figo's back he'll want to see Cesc."
Villa was still smirking as Silva disappeared back down the hall for his jacket. Before he could follow, Cesc said, "Hey."
Villa raised his eyebrows.
Cesc fidgeted. "I just wanted to say, um, about bringing Xavi here - " He broke off. Villa waited. He tried again. "I just - Thanks. For thinking of it."
Villa looked somewhere past him and shrugged. "No big deal," he said.
"No, it really - I mean - " He didn't know how to explain it, but Villa finally met his eyes.
"Yeah," he said, with something that couldn't quite be called a smile. "I know."
Then he reached out, cuffed the back of Cesc's head lightly, and before Cesc could react turned on his heel and strode away.
As soon as Silva knocked on the door, a deep, familiar voice said, "Come in." Silva looked at Villa, who shrugged, and pushed open the door.
Figo's office was nearly identical to Raúl's, if perhaps larger, only it seemed less starkly intimidating and more coolly restrained. Raúl himself was there, standing by the window; Figo was seated behind a massive desk. Seeing him again, Cesc was reminded vividly of the first night after the explosion, and felt an irrational spike of irritation.
"Villa," Figo said, nodding at them. "Silva."
Villa made a noise of acknowledgement. "How was the trip?" Silva asked.
Raúl turned away from from the window and his eyes met Figo's.
"Productive," Figo said, after a minute. He looked back, this time at Cesc. "Fàbregas," he said. "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."
"The last time I was sedated," Cesc said, a little mutinously.
Figo's lips twitched. "Recovering from sedation, I believe. Unless there's something I didn't hear." For some reason, he looked at Silva.
"Whatever," Cesc said, and then, taking in Silva's oddly guilty expression, "Wait, what?"
"Cesc's been doing great so far," Silva said hurriedly. "He's been out on the job with us already, even."
"So I hear," Figo said. "I understand you got your hands on Žigić at last."
"Not that it lasted," Silva said, and then when Figo raised an eyebrow, flushed and ducked his head. "Um. Raúl must have told you about everything."
"As a matter of fact," Figo said, looking predatorily amused, "a friend of yours got in touch about Žigić. He mentioned Cesc."
Silva's eyebrows dipped. He glanced at Villa; Villa shrugged. "Got in touch? You don't have an actual press office or anything, do you?" Cesc asked, diverted.
"Well," said Figo. "Not officially. Usually we use mouthpieces here and there. But oddly enough, some people refuse to be satisfied with that." He was looking at Raúl.
Raúl was looking out the window again. His shoulders were so sharply tense they could have cut his suit jacket.
"Oh," Silva said in tones of understanding, looking from Figo to Raúl, and then flushed again.
Villa rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Morientes probably knows something's up with Fàbregas, but he's more interested in why we're bothering with someone like Žigić," he said. "Who knows what he thinks Žigić was really up to."
"Sometimes the truth is so mundane," Figo murmured.
"Maybe he's on the right track," Raúl said, turning to face them. He didn't sound amused. "Arbeloa and Albiol still haven't identified who was responsible for Zigic's escape. Morientes has - good instincts."
"Maybe," Villa said, deliberately unconvinced.
Silva asked quickly, "What did you tell Morientes?"
"That it was confidential," Raúl said. "Which he should know. Does know." He moved over to Figo's desk and began to straighten a pile of papers sitting near the edge. "You must need a new assignment."
"Subtle," Villa muttered. Silva elbowed him in the side.
"Thank you, Raúl," Figo said, with only the slightest hint of dry amusement. He surveyed Villa, Silva, and Cesc. "Something that has nothing to do with major criminal syndicates this time, hm?"
"Which only eliminates eighty percent of our cases," Villa said, rolling his eyes again.
"Sixty-three," Figo said without missing a beat. "As a matter of fact, Raúl and I have been discussing where to put you next. We've come up with a few options. Raúl?"
Raúl picked up the bundle of papers he'd been fiddling with and Cesc saw it was actually several folders. "There are several low risk cases currently unassigned," he said, leafing through them. Cesc didn't miss Villa's expression at 'low risk'. "The tip about the bribes in Foreign Affairs looks like it's good after all... Calderón's reporting invisible followers again.... Customs suspects shipping irregularities for a Danish company working through the port of Valencia... The names that came out of the Brugal case need to be put under long-term surveillance - "
With each description Villa's expression had been getting progressively more appalled; at that he was no longer able to contain himself. "Surveillance?"
Raúl continued unaffected. " - in case there's anything to Ortiz's story. Or Villa, you like computers, there's a string of security breaches - "
"Oh no," Figo interrupted, pleasantly. "I think Villa just volunteered for surveillance duty."
Dismay flashed across Silva's face as Villa gave Figo a look of unmitigated horror.
Figo smiled at him, shark-like. "The surveillance level is one-A. Your backup will be de la Red. The site has been prepped already, so you can finish the setup tonight."
The look Silva shot at Villa didn't promise anything good. Villa's mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before he regained speech enough to splutter, "You - you can't make us do that, we're the highest rated field agents in this whole fucking bureau - "
"All the more qualified," Figo said.
" - with a trainee," Villa steamrolled on, " - who needs field experience - "
"Who needs to stay out of danger and out of the spotlight," Figo said warningly.
Silva made one last effort. "We're still getting nowhere on Cesc's case, I think we should really - "
" - spend all the down time you'll have now working on it?" Figo finished for him. "I agree. And that's final." Silva's shoulders slumped. "Unless you'd rather I find something for you to do in the office," Figo suggested, which shut Villa's mouth as Silva blanched.
Raúl, who had observed the entire exchange in silence, cleared his throat and said, "Is this, ah, the best use of - "
"Yes," Figo said, and Raúl shut up, too.
Figo continued. "Should you uncover a potential lead during the course of your surveillance, you'll report it immediately and coordinate information with whatever agent is assigned to it. You're not to pursue any action yourselves without specific clearance from this office, understand?"
Silva nodded. Villa looked mutinous.
"Villa?" Figo said meaningfully.
"Whatever," Villa growled.
Raúl came forward to hand Silva the folder. "Here are the basics," he said. "I'll have Granero send along the rest." Silva nodded again. "You won't have any trouble coordinating with de la Red, I expect?"
Silva shook his head. "We've worked together before."
"Excellent," Figo said. "Then I'm sure you'll want to get to work right away."
Silva couldn't really say anything to that except, "Right. We'll just - " He reached behind him for the door handle as Cesc edged toward him.
"Good luck," Figo added. "Fàbregas, keep it up."
"Thank you," Silva said, and, "Thanks," echoed Cesc after Silva made a meaningful face at him. Villa only gave the room a dark and indiscriminate glare, as Silva opened the door and shepherded them all out.
None of them spoke until they were free of the outer office, where Silva flopped back against the wall and let out a long sigh.
"Surveillance," Villa repeated like it was an oath. "We've got one of the best apprehension rates in Madrid and he wants us to sit in some cell and listen to a bunch of fucking idiots talk about shit and maybe hope they give something away. Mother of - " The diatribe descended into a steady stream of invective.
Silva sounded like he was trying to look on the bright side. "Figo's right, it'll give us lots of time to work on Ce - the London case - "
"Are you kidding me?" Villa said, voice spiraling upward, and Silva's spine went up. The look he shot Villa made Cesc take a step back. Villa's voice immediately ground to a halt.
"Sorry," Cesc said into the loaded silence, because he felt like he should offer.
"Oh no," Silva said. "This isn't your fault. Is it, David?"
Villa didn't answer. Silva turned back to Cesc with an expression that was dangerously serene. "You'll have to come along when we set up the site, but David can take the first overnight. Since he volunteered us."
Villa's head came up and he opened his mouth, presumably to protest. Silva gave him a smile with more than a hint of steel.
Villa apparently knew when he was beat. He muttered something furious and unintelligible, turned on his heel and stalked down the hall, shoulders hunched and hair bristling. Silva watched him go for a second before following, at a slightly slower pace.
"Sorry," Cesc repeated, more quietly, as he trailed along.
"No," Silva said, scary calm shifting into to something more rueful. "It's fine. It's not like we haven't done surveillance before. There's just usually been a point to it. Plus, at the end we actually get to bring someone in." He sighed. "But this is better than desk work."
He slowed a bit, allowing Villa to gain on them, before lowering his voice and saying, "Besides, it might not last long. It depends on when Figo decides David's gotten the point."
Cesc imitated his pitch. "What is the point?"
Silva gave him a little smile. "That David might be the best in the field but Figo's still the one in charge." He glanced ahead, at Villa's stiff back, and sighed. "Come on," he said to Cesc in a normal voice, picking up the pace. "We've got a lot of work to do."
By the time they pulled up, several hours later, in front of a run-down apartment building in a nondescript neighborhood far from the city center, Villa was if not exactly cheerful then at least no longer glaring at anything that moved, and Silva hadn't mentioned anything about shifts again.
It was dark as they got out of the car, and a light drizzle was falling. A drop of moisture trickled down the back of Cesc's neck as he eyed the drab building. "This is your high-tech surveillance center?"
"It will be," Silva said, retrieving two thin silver cases, each a little larger than a laptop case, from the car. He and Villa had both gotten a pair at Security; Silva said they'd show Cesc what was inside when they set up.
"See the place across the street?" Silva murmured. "The little office building, shorter than the rest?"
Cesc looked, feeling self-consciously surreptitious as he did so. "Yeah."
"That's where the target site is," Silva said. "One of the offices."
Cesc still didn't know exactly what was supposed to be going on there, or what they were supposed to be looking for - or even how they were supposed to be looking for it, other than the fact that apparently it didn't involve sitting in the parking lot and drinking bad coffee all night.
The interior of the building was as drab as the exterior; the walls were marked with faded brown water stains and the hall tiled with peeling linoleum. Cesc couldn't help wrinkling his nose. There was no elevator, of course. After four flights of stairs Cesc was breathing hard, and he was glad when Silva came to a stop a short way down the gloomy hall and unlocked the door marked 4B.
It was a single room, bare to the floorboards except for a moth-eaten couch under the lone window and an incongruously new folding table in the middle of the room, with two matching chairs.
"This is it?" Cesc said.
"Apparently," Silva said. When Cesc glanced over, he looked as about as happy as Cesc felt. "I guess they didn't have much choice."
Villa, coming in behind them, kicked the door shut and moved past to drop his two silver cases on the table with a thud. "I knew it," he said with something akin to grim satisfaction. "I knew it once I saw the address."
Silva set his pair more carefully on the floor and gave Cesc an explanation. "You heard Figo say the surveillance level's one-A? That means - well, it means a lot of things, but one of them is that we can't kick anyone out of their space. And protocol says we have to be within 200 meters of the target site. Otherwise we might as well do it all from headquarters."
"Over my dead body," Villa muttered. He flipped the catches on one of the cases and lifted the lid. Cesc caught sight of an impressive array of coiled wires before Villa extracted a laptop, larger and bulkier than his own, and closed it again.
"I thought you didn't have to watch anyone, like, physically," Cesc said. He looked at the narrow little window. Unless Silva or Villa was going to stand on the couch all day, it wouldn't get them far.
"'We'," Silva corrected, "and no, it's just if something goes wrong or - it's just the rules." He sighed. "Even if we're specifically forbidden from taking any action without office approval."
"Even if there's nothing to take action about," Villa said from where he was doing - something - with the big laptop.
Silva let that go. "Can you give me a hand?" he said to Cesc. "Once we get everything set up I'll explain the rest of the case."
Cesc went forward willingly as Silva pulled Villa's other case over and unlocked it. Cesc's eyes widened as the lid fell back to reveal a freestanding frame supporting a flat blank LCD screen; the bottom half of the case held some kind of heavy keyboard, embedded with several extra controls Cesc didn't recognize.
"This is the audio monitor," Silva said. "It tracks all audio transmissions from the site and records a copy to disk. There's one in Security doing the same thing." He reached around and pressed something on the side of the screen; it flickered to life, displaying a black graphical axis against a white background with a single vertical meter in the center.
Silva knelt to open one of his own cases and stood again holding another laptop. "See that, they haven't been activated yet. We can do that remotely - watch the screen."
Cesc kept his eyes dutifully on the screen as Silva opened the other laptop and tapped several commands. "So the office or whatever is already bugged?"
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Silva nod. "Martínez, probably, he's good at - there we go."
Suddenly the screen split into four columned meters, each wobbling near the lowest setting.
Silva peered around Cesc. "Did that - oh, good."
"They're on now, but there's no noise?" Cesc guessed. "No one's there?"
Silva nodded. "Are the cameras up?" he asked Villa.
"Almost." Villa didn't take eyes from the screen as his fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard. "There's just one that - got it," he said with satisfaction. He swiveled the big laptop around.
They were looking at a grainy four-way video feed. The upper left-hand corner showed a high angle of what looked like a darkened office; of the other three, one was of a similarly dim hallway, one of the exterior of the building Silva had pointed out, and one of what Cesc guessed was the back entrance.
"Martínez or whoever planted the interiors," Villa said. "The others are the city's closed-circuit cameras."
"So... there's no one there now," Cesc said, looking from Silva to Villa. "What are you - we - looking for? Or listening for?"
Villa's face darkened again as Silva said, "Both. And we don't exactly know. "
"You explain," Villa said. "I'll finish the set up."
Silva sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You might as well have a seat, too," he said to Cesc.
Cesc took the couch. A puff of dust rose in the air as he fell on it heavily and he coughed. Silva, taking the free chair, wrinkled his nose.
"About a month ago, there was an investigation that had to do with smuggling of counterfeit goods," Silva began. "One of the people it dredged up was someone from the Ministry of Commerce, on bribery charges. He was pretty desperate to talk - anything he thought would help him. Among other things, he gave us three names and this address. Supposedly they'd been working their way around to approaching him in - an unofficial capacity, but he hadn't heard what they wanted yet." Silva put a hand to his hair again and gave it an absent tug. "The hints he dropped pointed at handling pirated goods. It might be true."
"Or maybe he was making shit up to save his ass," Villa put in from where he was doing something with Silva's laptop.
"Or that," Silva said, with a little sigh.
"Did he give you other names?" Cesc asked.
"Yeah," Villa said, "names we already had. Bet he knew it, too." He poked at the keys with added viciousness. "The only reason we're even doing this is because they missed out on the real target. Like anyone would care about some pathetic pencil-pusher otherwise."
"We'd have to follow up on it anyway," Silva said. "But..."
"But I'm right," Villa said, glancing up with a knowing twist of his mouth.
"Maybe," said Silva. He gave Villa a wry half-smile in return.
"So," Cesc said after a minute, "we're just supposed to be on the lookout for... anything?" Silva nodded. Cesc looked around the room. "And we're supposed to spend all our time here? Just listening? Do we have to sleep here?"
"See?" said Villa darkly.
"Not quite," Silva said, giving Villa a look. "I said before it's level one-A surveillance - that means least urgent, lowest risk - "
" - lowest probability of actually being useful - "
Silva ignored this contribution from Villa. "So there's only one team on the case - that's us - and a backup - that's Rubén de la Red, you'll meet him later. He's on call in case there's an emergency, or we need relief for some reason. But the important thing is that only one agent has to be present for any surveillance activity, so we don't all have to be here at once, and after the first 72 hours it doesn't have to be round-the-clock, anyway, unless the initial period throws up evidence of some kind of real activity. Which would get the whole thing upgraded at least to two-A, anyway."
Cesc took a minute to digest this. "After the first 72 hours?" he said eventually.
Silva nodded. "That's the standard initial period. We use that to get a general idea of what goes on at the site, what kind of schedule the marks follow. And to make sure there really is no physical threat. Afterwards we'll probably check out the marks off the site - "
"Like, tail them?" Cesc interrupted.
"Sort of," Silva said. He added, at Cesc's expression, "It's usually not that exciting," but Cesc didn't really care.
"Anyway, after we've established their schedule, we can follow it ourselves and review the rest of the footage the next day. Plus, like I said, there's an identical feed at Security and if something funny shows up when we're not there, we get a call." Silva winced. "And Raúl chews us out."
"This happen before?" Cesc asked.
Silva glanced over at Villa, who looked up. Their eyes met and, miraculously, Villa's lips quirked up. "Long story," he said.
They lingered for maybe another hour. Silva fiddled with the audio monitor, testing the recording quality and making several minuscule adjustments to various settings. Villa, long since finished with the cameras, retrieved his own laptop and set it up so that he could keep an eye on the video feed at the same time. Every so often, Silva glanced over at him and then back at his own screen.
Cesc was just wondering if he should ask Silva when he'd be finished when Villa looked up, crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Okay, get out of here already."
Silva started. "What?"
"I said, get out of here," Villa said. "It's stupid for everyone to hang around all night." He gave Silva a wry smile, with a real gleam of amusement. "I asked for it. I can admit it."
Silva smiled back, more genuinely than he had all afternoon. "Okay," he said. "If you say so. We'll be back tomorrow."
Villa leaned back and waved them away. "Yeah, okay, whatever. I'll be here."
Silva looked over his shoulder one last time as they went, at Villa's face lit by the glow of his laptop.
* * *
That night, Cesc didn't dream.
more
In this part: Xavi and plot, basically.
Clandestine Affairs (3/?)
Word Count (part): 14,000
Characters/Pairings (part): Cesc Fàbregas, David Silva, David Villa, Xavi Hernández, Luís Figo, Raúl González, Raúl Albiol, José Antonio Reyes, Luis García, Ivan Helguera, others (David Silva/David Villa)
Rating: R
Summary/Notes: Overall header
Part 1
Part 2
It took at least three hours to get from Barcelona to Madrid. Cesc knew that, and he still couldn't shake the nauseating mixture of anticipation and fear that left him alternately dry-mouthed and in a cold sweat. He couldn't help trying to imagine what Xavi Hernández would say, how he would say it, relentless mental circles that always ended at the same self-imposed interruption. He didn't know if it was because of what he thought he would hear, or what he thought he wouldn't
When he couldn't take the stillness any longer he jumped up and wandered restlessly around the apartment, hoping that physical movement might distract him. It didn't.
Villa and Silva were both at work on their laptops, facing each other across the table. Villa's fingers were flying and he was scowling in concentration at the screen; Silva, on the other hand, was engrossed in long periods of reading punctuated by the occasional click.
After Cesc's dozenth restless pass behind his chair, Silva looked up with a slight frown. "Cesc, do you want - "
"Yes," Cesc said, too eagerly. Silva blinked, taken aback, and Cesc's cheeks warmed. "I mean, if there's something I could do..."
Silva looked around, running his fingers through his hair. "Um - I don't know if there's much you could do from here, but I can explain what I'm looking for, if you want?"
"Sure," Cesc said, more careful to modulate his response, and aware his voice was thick with relief all the same.
"Come on over here - oh, sorry, we still haven't got another chair - " He scooted his own chair over and Cesc crouched next to him to look at the screen.
It showed a sleek, streamlined database interface; in the upper left-hand corner was the same seal that was emblazoned on the glass doors of Figo and Raúl's office. "This is the agency's private network," Silva said. "Specifically, this is the case records database." He typed a command and the list on display disappeared as a new one cascaded into being. "I've called up all London files from the past ten years and I'm searching them for..." He trailed off, frowning at the screen, and hit a different key. The list rearranged itself and scrolled downwards as Silva hit another key several times.
Cesc waited, and then when Silva didn't pick up the sentence, prompted dutifully, "You're looking for?"
Silva glanced over at Cesc and gave a small start. "Oh, right, sorry. Um, we've been digging up any records that have to do with A - someone who might be connected to your case. Right now I'm checking for any kind of history he might have with us - witness, subject of investigation, person of interest, anything."
"Have you found anything?"
Silva's eyes skimmed the screen as he answered. "It looks like we've had him on an interest list for a couple shady government contracts, but that's it so far. There's a lot of false hits for his business interests - his subcompanies have got subcompanies, and this is just from London. I'm not even close to done."
Villa made an irritated noise and both Silva and Cesc glanced over. He typed something else, forcefully, and then must have felt their eyes on him because he looked up.
"The holding company in London has decent IT sec," he said, grudgingly. "We might have to get someone from Security to crack it."
A little tendril of interest uncurled. "Are you trying to hack them? Right now?"
"I'm just looking around," Villa said. Then, "Don't look so surprised."
"I'm not," Cesc said, unconvincingly. "I just thought..." that Silva was the brains.
Villa eyed him like he knew exactly what Cesc was thinking. "You know anything about computers?"
"A little," Cesc said, which wasn't strictly the truth, but telling a secret law enforcement agent about his abortive teenage forays into script cracking probably wasn't a great idea.
"Come here," Villa said. Silva was already deep into his files again. Cesc moved over to Villa's side of the table.
"Look," Villa said. "Here's the script for the second security challenge. See anything wrong with it?"
Cesc at the lines of text for a long minute. "There's a loophole," he said suddenly. "If you feed it part of its own code it'll be stuck in a recursive loop."
"Right," Villa said. "And once you're past that, you can get at these files here, which looks like last year's financial records. But - "
"They're totally bait," Cesc interrupted. "It's way too neatly constructed, look, if you put in - "
He cut himself off and slid a sideways glance at Villa.
Villa gave him a slow once-over, both eyebrows raised. "'A little', huh?"
Cesc squirmed. "Well - "
"David," Silva said suddenly. His brows were drawn. "Come look at this."
Villa was up without a further word. Cesc seized the opportunity to take his chair. Across the table, Villa leaned over Silva's shoulder and read aloud, "'Investigation into Aeneas Holdings Limited, London: findings inconclusive.' Inconclusive? What the hell does that mean?"
"That there's not enough to keep the case open but someone's too stubborn to write it off," Silva said. "See, it was van Nistelrooy's before he transferred. But look, that's not the only one." He hit another key. "Abramovich Mineral in Prague, Abramovich Petrochemical in Berlin. All three investigations within the last two years. The others were both closed permanently for lack of evidence."
Villa pursed his lips. "You don't get to be a massive industrial tycoon by playing by the rules," he said.
"Van Nistelrooy would know that," Silva said. "He wouldn't try and keep a case open for normal corporate misconduct. Three times? In two years?"
Villa ran a hand over the crest of his hair. "You want to request the full files from London?"
"I - "
Cesc didn't realize how completely and successfully he'd been distracted until Silva was cut off by a sharp rapping.
It took him a moment to associate the sound with the front door, and then only an instant for the gut-twisting anticipation to flood back. His palms were suddenly sweaty. Silva took one look at him and closed his laptop. "David - " he began.
But Villa was already on his feet. Cesc heard the door open, then a low voice he couldn't make out, and then he was looking at Xavi Hernández.
He was short - shorter than Villa - and dark and impassive; his face gave away nothing. His heavy-lidded eyes were on Cesc.
"Xavi," Silva said, with something like relief. Hernández's gaze moved over to him; Cesc felt its absence like the lifting of a physical weight. "Thanks for coming down. You didn't have any problems getting away, did you?"
"I left Andrés in charge," Hernández said. His voice was deep and surprisingly soft. "He can handle anything I can."
His dark eyes returned to Cesc. Cesc swallowed through a throat suddenly dry.
"Could we have the room?" Hernández asked.
"Sure," Silva said. Villa, whom Cesc thought might protest, just collected his laptop and they both retreated down the hall. Silva, just before vanishing, looked over his shoulder and gave Cesc an encouraging little smile.
Without speaking, Hernández crossed the kitchen and took the empty seat. Only a foot away, he returned his unwavering gaze to Cesc.
It didn't feel like intimidation. It was more like Hernández was sure that if he was patient enough he would be able to see into Cesc's mind, something that Cesc was suddenly not entirely sure he couldn't do.
"Francesc Fàbregas," Hernández said eventually, not a question or a confirmation but simply a statement of identity - the first, Cesc realized, that he'd had of his real name in days.
Cesc nodded.
"You know why I'm here?"
Cesc licked his lips. "You're - watching my family?"
"I'm directing the covert security detail on your mother and sister," Hernández said. "I can answer any questions you have. I will." His gaze suddenly became more pressing. "But it won't help unless you trust what I say. Do you?"
Cesc shrugged a little uncomfortably. "If they - if Villa and Silva do - "
"No," Hernández said. "Do you trust me? There's no reason you should yet. But anything I tell you will be useless unless you do."
Cesc examined Hernández carefully. He met Cesc's scrutiny with calm equanimity, neither challenging nor flinching away. Nothing he did dispelled the impression that he wasn't someone to meet alone in a dark street, but something about his presence was - strangely calming.
Slowly, Cesc nodded.
Hernández gave a short nod and said, "Call me Xavi."
Cesc nodded again, then said, "You can call me Cesc. Everyone does."
Herna - Xavi didn't speak any further for several moments. A swell of words, snarled and disjointed, was fighting up Cesc's throat; he tried to make himself stay quiet, because he didn't know where they began, or what exactly they even were. Just they were about to burst from Cesc whether he wanted them to or not, Xavi said, "I grew up in Terrassa. I've lived in Barcelona my whole life - I've been with the office since I was old enough to make them let me join."
"Oh," Cesc said; he didn't know what else he was supposed to say.
"I'm telling you this," Xavi said, "because I want you to understand that I know the town and I know my job when I tell you there hasn't been any - I mean any - sign of suspicious activity around your family. No tails, no watchers, absolutely no threats." Xavi held Cesc's gaze. "Do you believe me?"
Cesc hadn't been conscious of the suffocating iron bands around his throat and chest until they suddenly loosened. "Oh," he said, and then again, not even caring that his voice was wavering dangerously, "Oh. Okay. That's - good - "
He had to stop. With effort he mastered the tide of feeling and, after a minute, was able to say in a steady voice, "Yeah. Yes. I do."
Something in Xavi's expression relaxed. "Good," he said. "What else do you want to know?"
It was almost too much choice. Cesc shied away from the obvious question. "What - what have they been doing? I mean, what..."
"Your mother's family has come to stay with them for now," Xavi said. "Your house is very full."
Cesc tried to smile; he didn't know how well it came out. "All of them?"
"Except the youngest sister," Xavi said. "Lucia. I believe she's in Kenya."
"You know them all?" Cesc started to say, and then cut himself off. "Never mind, sorry. Of course you would."
"We had to vet them all." He added, after a minute, "You have quite a few relatives."
This time Cesc's attempt at a smile was more of a contraction. "They're nice most of the time," he said. "I like them."
"They seem that way," Xavi agreed.
Silence, for another moment. He couldn't avoid it any longer; he had to ask. "And... My mom and my sister, how are they..." Cesc's voice failed him. He swallowed and tried again. "You know. Taking it?"
Cesc thought Xavi looked almost sorry, before he said, "Badly."
"Oh," Cesc said, or tried to; it came out barely more than a ragged breath. He tried to clear his throat. "Do they - do you think they believe - "
"They haven't had time to decide what they really believe," Xavi said when it became clear Cesc wasn't going to be able to finish the sentence.
"Oh," said Cesc. "Okay."
Silence, again. He had to say something else. "Is - how's Carlota handling school?"
"She's excused from classes as long as she likes," Xavi said.
That made Cesc sit bolt upright. "What? She has to go, it's exams."
Xavi said, "I believe the circumstances are considered justifiable."
"No," Cesc said, "she can't, she's been killing herself this semester, she can't just - "
"No one's going to ask her to sit exams when she thinks her brother's just died," Xavi said quietly.
He was having trouble breathing. There was a hot, insistent scratching behind his eyes. Something jagged and painful was rising in his throat. He wasn't going to - not in front of - he just was not -
Xavi didn't say anything; he didn't ask Cesc if he was all right or pretend to ignore him or try to be reassuring. He just sat there, quiet and undemanding, which made it worse. Cesc desperately kept his eyes fixed on his hands, until he realized they were trembling. He gripped the edge of the table, so hard his knuckles went white. His shoulders heaved, once, then again, then again -
He couldn't ignore it, and he couldn't fix it. There was nothing he could do about it, so he had to live with it.
There were tears running down his cheeks after all.
He didn't know how long it was until the worst was over and, little by little, he was able to regain control of himself. When he did, and could bring himself to look up, Xavi was still there. He looked as impassive as ever, for which Cesc was grateful.
"Sorry," he said. His voice emerged scratched and hoarse.
Xavi said, "Don't be."
Cesc took a deep, steadying breath - two of them - and cast around for another question, anything to deflect the conversation. "Do you think they know you're there?"
Xavi considered his question for a minute before answering. "The surveillance itself has mostly been of one location, since they haven't left the house very often yet. Neither of them have acted in any way out of the ordinary, given the circumstances. So no, I don't think so." His mouth twisted faintly upward. "But your sister's bright. We'll have to look out for that."
"I know," Cesc said proudly, before his smile faded. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard, which didn't make it better but was at least a distraction.
"If you'd like," Xavi said, "I could tell you more about what we're doing, as a team."
The eagerness of his own response took Cesc by surprise. "Yes," he said, "that would be - yes - " He nodded, just to be sure, and Xavi almost smiled.
With each word of Xavi's explanation, about their schedule, their methods, the team members, Cesc felt the iron bands loosen more and more, until he couldn't help asking more questions himself. By the time Xavi was describing his team - Iniesta, Valdés, and Rodriguez - Cesc felt almost normal again.
"Are they from Barcelona, too?" he asked.
"More or less," Xavi said. "Iniesta and Rodriguez moved when they were in school, I think. But we tend to stay local, yes."
"Huh," Cesc said. He realized, suddenly, that he didn't know anything about where Villa and Silva were from. Neither of them had Madrid accents. "You've got enough recruits locally? Wait, how big is the office, anyway?"
"It's not the numbers," Xavi said. "It's that we know how to do our job."
Something in the air told Cesc he'd just stepped on a land mine.
"Our office might not be as central as Madrid," Xavi went on, in a voice that was outwardly unchanged but somehow made Cesc want to furiously backpedal all the same, "we might not have the numbers, or, the Virgin knows, the budget, but no one can say we don't know how to do our job. You could even say we do it better, in spite of all those things - "
Cesc risked it. "Hey, I get it, I'm from Barcelona, too. You guys, um, keep up the good work."
Xavi broke off with a dangerously blank expression.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
"Um," Cesc said.
It lightened Xavi's whole face, to the extent that Cesc tried not to stare. When he looked at Cesc again, it was with sincere amusement. "You should come up to our office," he said. "They'd like you."
"I wish I could," Cesc said, and didn't realize how much he meant it until he heard his own voice.
"Afterwards you will," Xavi said with certainty. He glanced in the direction of the hall and his mouth turned up.
"I believe we have company again," he said. "Is there anything else you wanted to know in private?" - a faint stress on the final word.
Cesc shook his head. He felt incalculably steadier, steadier than he would have thought possible a few hours ago.
"Thanks," he said, not quite able to meet Xavi's eyes.
Xavi shook his head. "I'm glad I could talk with you," he said, and sounded like he meant it. Then he raised his voice. "You can come out now."
Villa strolled into the kitchen without the slightest appearance of shame. Silva followed, having the grace to look marginally abashed.
"Edifying for you?" Xavi asked dryly.
Villa shrugged. "If we'd really wanted to listen for your classified Barcelona secrets or whatever we could've wired the kitchen. Or Fàbregas."
"I assumed you had," Xavi said, so deadpan Cesc couldn't tell if he was serious or not until Silva laughed.
Xavi finally broke into a smile. "How are you getting along in this godforsaken city?"
Silva laughed again. "It grows on you," he said.
"I'm sure," Xavi said, in the same way one might say Like a tumor.
Silva perched on the counter. "How's the office?" he asked.
Xavi's shoulders rose and fell. "We're getting by." He gave them a sly smile and said , "I'm sure you'd both be welcome if you wanted a change of pace."
"Yeah," Villa said, "I bet Raúl would love to see that transfer request."
"Or Figo," Silva said, a mischievous grin flashing across his face. "It would only be fair." He glanced at Xavi. "Though, um, I didn't realize you had the budget for - never mind," he said hurriedly, as Xavi's expression went flat again."Anyway, how's Andrés?"
They tossed several other names back and forth, presumably fellow agents in Barcelona and Madrid. "We saw Pepe in London," Villa said several minutes later. "He says he misses you guys, for some reason."
Xavi snorted. "He always tells us how much he loves England. The last time he was back here - "
He was interrupted by the piercing sound that Cesc had come to associate with Silva and Villa's communicators. They both reached for their pockets, but Xavi was the one who pulled his out and, frowning, flipped it open.
He went very still.
"Xavi?" Silva said sharply as Villa tensed; a second later Cesc realized why and the fear so recently checked came back in a cold rush.
But Xavi didn't say anything, or move so much as a muscle. He merely sat perfectly - unnaturally - still, eyes locked on the tiny screen. He looked, Cesc realized, as though he were trying very hard to make it burst into flames.
As the silence stretched and no one did anything, Cesc's fear slowly receded, to be replaced by puzzlement. He snuck a glance at Silva and Villa.
Villa wasn't tense any more. In fact, there were the clear beginnings of a smirk on his face. Cesc thought for a minute he saw the hint of a grin in Silva's expression before it was gone.
Silva said, "That must be, ah. Tamudo. Again."
Slowly - very slowly - Xavi's head came up. The look he fixed on Silva was about as friendly as a cobra. Silva didn't so much as flinch. After a minute Xavi said, very evenly, "I have to return to Barcelona now."
"Of course," Silva said, nodding. "We completely understand."
Villa's smirk was even more pronounced. As Xavi got up from the chair, Cesc caught Silva's eye and mouthed, Who?
Instead of indicating he'd answer later, as Cesc half expected, Silva said in a normal voice, "Tamudo?" Cesc's eyes flicked to Xavi, whose back stiffened, but Silva seemed unconcerned. "Oh, he's probably the toughest crime lord in Barcelona. He's got more lives than a dozen cats - no matter what kind of hits he takes, he's always back for more."
Xavi's back was still to them, ramrod-straight.
"We think he's just trying to get Xavi's attention," Silva continued, one eye on Xavi. The corner of his mouth was curled up mischievously. "Since the flowers didn't work - "
Xavi turned and said something that would have made Cesc's mother wash his mouth out with soap.
That was too much for Villa, who made a noise somewhere between a snort and a guffaw. Silva was openly grinning now. Xavi's poisonous glare could have dropped them both dead where they stood. He turned to Cesc and said, too calmly, "We raided his personal headquarters three years ago. Every single one of his major operations was shut down. Half of his underlings were arrested. Do you know how long it took him to completely rebuild?"
"Um… a couple years?" Cesc hazarded.
"Eleven months," Xavi said. There was a sort of manic look in his eyes now. "Eleven months. He may have stayed out of our hands so far but someday - someday - he'll slip and I'll be - " He broke off and shot a searing look at Villa, who made another of those noises.
Visibly restraining himself from speaking, Xavi checked his watch. "I need to catch the next train," he said.
"Good luck," Silva said, sounding contrite - though there was still a suspicious glitter in his eyes. "Honestly. Tell everyone hello."
Xavi appeared willing to accept the overture at face value. "Of course. I'll hear from you again soon." He nodded at Villa, a little shortly, and then turned to Cesc. "Cesc," he said. "They know how to contact me. Get in touch any time you want. I mean it."
"Thanks," Cesc said again, inadequately, and Xavi gave him a last faint smile.
As the door closed behind him, Silva caught Villa's eye. His mouth twitched.
Cesc jumped as Villa started laughing so hard he had to lean back against the wall. Silva, watching him, had a smile that looked like it was trying for innocent but instead lit his whole face with pure mischief. After a minute, he saw Cesc staring and said, "Sorry, it's just - "
"He's obsessed," Villa supplied, and was overcome with a fresh burst of snickers.
Silva tried, with limited success, to school his expression into a modicum of composure. "It's not really fair to him," he said. "Tamudo's endurance is enough to drive anyone crazy and Xavi takes it personally."
"Flowers," Villa said under his breath, and Silva's straight face dissolved.
Cesc looked from one to the other. "Did he really...?"
"Well," Silva said, eyes dancing, "that was the name on the card. Whether or not Tamudo ordered them, I can't say." He glanced at Villa and grinned. "David has a friend who might know, though."
"He's the one in London now," Villa said. "Safe from the long arm of revenge."
That seemed to remind Silva of something, because he gave a regretful sigh. "Speaking of London," he said. "We should probably go by headquarters and see if we can pick up a new assignment. If Figo's back he'll want to see Cesc."
Villa was still smirking as Silva disappeared back down the hall for his jacket. Before he could follow, Cesc said, "Hey."
Villa raised his eyebrows.
Cesc fidgeted. "I just wanted to say, um, about bringing Xavi here - " He broke off. Villa waited. He tried again. "I just - Thanks. For thinking of it."
Villa looked somewhere past him and shrugged. "No big deal," he said.
"No, it really - I mean - " He didn't know how to explain it, but Villa finally met his eyes.
"Yeah," he said, with something that couldn't quite be called a smile. "I know."
Then he reached out, cuffed the back of Cesc's head lightly, and before Cesc could react turned on his heel and strode away.
As soon as Silva knocked on the door, a deep, familiar voice said, "Come in." Silva looked at Villa, who shrugged, and pushed open the door.
Figo's office was nearly identical to Raúl's, if perhaps larger, only it seemed less starkly intimidating and more coolly restrained. Raúl himself was there, standing by the window; Figo was seated behind a massive desk. Seeing him again, Cesc was reminded vividly of the first night after the explosion, and felt an irrational spike of irritation.
"Villa," Figo said, nodding at them. "Silva."
Villa made a noise of acknowledgement. "How was the trip?" Silva asked.
Raúl turned away from from the window and his eyes met Figo's.
"Productive," Figo said, after a minute. He looked back, this time at Cesc. "Fàbregas," he said. "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."
"The last time I was sedated," Cesc said, a little mutinously.
Figo's lips twitched. "Recovering from sedation, I believe. Unless there's something I didn't hear." For some reason, he looked at Silva.
"Whatever," Cesc said, and then, taking in Silva's oddly guilty expression, "Wait, what?"
"Cesc's been doing great so far," Silva said hurriedly. "He's been out on the job with us already, even."
"So I hear," Figo said. "I understand you got your hands on Žigić at last."
"Not that it lasted," Silva said, and then when Figo raised an eyebrow, flushed and ducked his head. "Um. Raúl must have told you about everything."
"As a matter of fact," Figo said, looking predatorily amused, "a friend of yours got in touch about Žigić. He mentioned Cesc."
Silva's eyebrows dipped. He glanced at Villa; Villa shrugged. "Got in touch? You don't have an actual press office or anything, do you?" Cesc asked, diverted.
"Well," said Figo. "Not officially. Usually we use mouthpieces here and there. But oddly enough, some people refuse to be satisfied with that." He was looking at Raúl.
Raúl was looking out the window again. His shoulders were so sharply tense they could have cut his suit jacket.
"Oh," Silva said in tones of understanding, looking from Figo to Raúl, and then flushed again.
Villa rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Morientes probably knows something's up with Fàbregas, but he's more interested in why we're bothering with someone like Žigić," he said. "Who knows what he thinks Žigić was really up to."
"Sometimes the truth is so mundane," Figo murmured.
"Maybe he's on the right track," Raúl said, turning to face them. He didn't sound amused. "Arbeloa and Albiol still haven't identified who was responsible for Zigic's escape. Morientes has - good instincts."
"Maybe," Villa said, deliberately unconvinced.
Silva asked quickly, "What did you tell Morientes?"
"That it was confidential," Raúl said. "Which he should know. Does know." He moved over to Figo's desk and began to straighten a pile of papers sitting near the edge. "You must need a new assignment."
"Subtle," Villa muttered. Silva elbowed him in the side.
"Thank you, Raúl," Figo said, with only the slightest hint of dry amusement. He surveyed Villa, Silva, and Cesc. "Something that has nothing to do with major criminal syndicates this time, hm?"
"Which only eliminates eighty percent of our cases," Villa said, rolling his eyes again.
"Sixty-three," Figo said without missing a beat. "As a matter of fact, Raúl and I have been discussing where to put you next. We've come up with a few options. Raúl?"
Raúl picked up the bundle of papers he'd been fiddling with and Cesc saw it was actually several folders. "There are several low risk cases currently unassigned," he said, leafing through them. Cesc didn't miss Villa's expression at 'low risk'. "The tip about the bribes in Foreign Affairs looks like it's good after all... Calderón's reporting invisible followers again.... Customs suspects shipping irregularities for a Danish company working through the port of Valencia... The names that came out of the Brugal case need to be put under long-term surveillance - "
With each description Villa's expression had been getting progressively more appalled; at that he was no longer able to contain himself. "Surveillance?"
Raúl continued unaffected. " - in case there's anything to Ortiz's story. Or Villa, you like computers, there's a string of security breaches - "
"Oh no," Figo interrupted, pleasantly. "I think Villa just volunteered for surveillance duty."
Dismay flashed across Silva's face as Villa gave Figo a look of unmitigated horror.
Figo smiled at him, shark-like. "The surveillance level is one-A. Your backup will be de la Red. The site has been prepped already, so you can finish the setup tonight."
The look Silva shot at Villa didn't promise anything good. Villa's mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before he regained speech enough to splutter, "You - you can't make us do that, we're the highest rated field agents in this whole fucking bureau - "
"All the more qualified," Figo said.
" - with a trainee," Villa steamrolled on, " - who needs field experience - "
"Who needs to stay out of danger and out of the spotlight," Figo said warningly.
Silva made one last effort. "We're still getting nowhere on Cesc's case, I think we should really - "
" - spend all the down time you'll have now working on it?" Figo finished for him. "I agree. And that's final." Silva's shoulders slumped. "Unless you'd rather I find something for you to do in the office," Figo suggested, which shut Villa's mouth as Silva blanched.
Raúl, who had observed the entire exchange in silence, cleared his throat and said, "Is this, ah, the best use of - "
"Yes," Figo said, and Raúl shut up, too.
Figo continued. "Should you uncover a potential lead during the course of your surveillance, you'll report it immediately and coordinate information with whatever agent is assigned to it. You're not to pursue any action yourselves without specific clearance from this office, understand?"
Silva nodded. Villa looked mutinous.
"Villa?" Figo said meaningfully.
"Whatever," Villa growled.
Raúl came forward to hand Silva the folder. "Here are the basics," he said. "I'll have Granero send along the rest." Silva nodded again. "You won't have any trouble coordinating with de la Red, I expect?"
Silva shook his head. "We've worked together before."
"Excellent," Figo said. "Then I'm sure you'll want to get to work right away."
Silva couldn't really say anything to that except, "Right. We'll just - " He reached behind him for the door handle as Cesc edged toward him.
"Good luck," Figo added. "Fàbregas, keep it up."
"Thank you," Silva said, and, "Thanks," echoed Cesc after Silva made a meaningful face at him. Villa only gave the room a dark and indiscriminate glare, as Silva opened the door and shepherded them all out.
None of them spoke until they were free of the outer office, where Silva flopped back against the wall and let out a long sigh.
"Surveillance," Villa repeated like it was an oath. "We've got one of the best apprehension rates in Madrid and he wants us to sit in some cell and listen to a bunch of fucking idiots talk about shit and maybe hope they give something away. Mother of - " The diatribe descended into a steady stream of invective.
Silva sounded like he was trying to look on the bright side. "Figo's right, it'll give us lots of time to work on Ce - the London case - "
"Are you kidding me?" Villa said, voice spiraling upward, and Silva's spine went up. The look he shot Villa made Cesc take a step back. Villa's voice immediately ground to a halt.
"Sorry," Cesc said into the loaded silence, because he felt like he should offer.
"Oh no," Silva said. "This isn't your fault. Is it, David?"
Villa didn't answer. Silva turned back to Cesc with an expression that was dangerously serene. "You'll have to come along when we set up the site, but David can take the first overnight. Since he volunteered us."
Villa's head came up and he opened his mouth, presumably to protest. Silva gave him a smile with more than a hint of steel.
Villa apparently knew when he was beat. He muttered something furious and unintelligible, turned on his heel and stalked down the hall, shoulders hunched and hair bristling. Silva watched him go for a second before following, at a slightly slower pace.
"Sorry," Cesc repeated, more quietly, as he trailed along.
"No," Silva said, scary calm shifting into to something more rueful. "It's fine. It's not like we haven't done surveillance before. There's just usually been a point to it. Plus, at the end we actually get to bring someone in." He sighed. "But this is better than desk work."
He slowed a bit, allowing Villa to gain on them, before lowering his voice and saying, "Besides, it might not last long. It depends on when Figo decides David's gotten the point."
Cesc imitated his pitch. "What is the point?"
Silva gave him a little smile. "That David might be the best in the field but Figo's still the one in charge." He glanced ahead, at Villa's stiff back, and sighed. "Come on," he said to Cesc in a normal voice, picking up the pace. "We've got a lot of work to do."
By the time they pulled up, several hours later, in front of a run-down apartment building in a nondescript neighborhood far from the city center, Villa was if not exactly cheerful then at least no longer glaring at anything that moved, and Silva hadn't mentioned anything about shifts again.
It was dark as they got out of the car, and a light drizzle was falling. A drop of moisture trickled down the back of Cesc's neck as he eyed the drab building. "This is your high-tech surveillance center?"
"It will be," Silva said, retrieving two thin silver cases, each a little larger than a laptop case, from the car. He and Villa had both gotten a pair at Security; Silva said they'd show Cesc what was inside when they set up.
"See the place across the street?" Silva murmured. "The little office building, shorter than the rest?"
Cesc looked, feeling self-consciously surreptitious as he did so. "Yeah."
"That's where the target site is," Silva said. "One of the offices."
Cesc still didn't know exactly what was supposed to be going on there, or what they were supposed to be looking for - or even how they were supposed to be looking for it, other than the fact that apparently it didn't involve sitting in the parking lot and drinking bad coffee all night.
The interior of the building was as drab as the exterior; the walls were marked with faded brown water stains and the hall tiled with peeling linoleum. Cesc couldn't help wrinkling his nose. There was no elevator, of course. After four flights of stairs Cesc was breathing hard, and he was glad when Silva came to a stop a short way down the gloomy hall and unlocked the door marked 4B.
It was a single room, bare to the floorboards except for a moth-eaten couch under the lone window and an incongruously new folding table in the middle of the room, with two matching chairs.
"This is it?" Cesc said.
"Apparently," Silva said. When Cesc glanced over, he looked as about as happy as Cesc felt. "I guess they didn't have much choice."
Villa, coming in behind them, kicked the door shut and moved past to drop his two silver cases on the table with a thud. "I knew it," he said with something akin to grim satisfaction. "I knew it once I saw the address."
Silva set his pair more carefully on the floor and gave Cesc an explanation. "You heard Figo say the surveillance level's one-A? That means - well, it means a lot of things, but one of them is that we can't kick anyone out of their space. And protocol says we have to be within 200 meters of the target site. Otherwise we might as well do it all from headquarters."
"Over my dead body," Villa muttered. He flipped the catches on one of the cases and lifted the lid. Cesc caught sight of an impressive array of coiled wires before Villa extracted a laptop, larger and bulkier than his own, and closed it again.
"I thought you didn't have to watch anyone, like, physically," Cesc said. He looked at the narrow little window. Unless Silva or Villa was going to stand on the couch all day, it wouldn't get them far.
"'We'," Silva corrected, "and no, it's just if something goes wrong or - it's just the rules." He sighed. "Even if we're specifically forbidden from taking any action without office approval."
"Even if there's nothing to take action about," Villa said from where he was doing - something - with the big laptop.
Silva let that go. "Can you give me a hand?" he said to Cesc. "Once we get everything set up I'll explain the rest of the case."
Cesc went forward willingly as Silva pulled Villa's other case over and unlocked it. Cesc's eyes widened as the lid fell back to reveal a freestanding frame supporting a flat blank LCD screen; the bottom half of the case held some kind of heavy keyboard, embedded with several extra controls Cesc didn't recognize.
"This is the audio monitor," Silva said. "It tracks all audio transmissions from the site and records a copy to disk. There's one in Security doing the same thing." He reached around and pressed something on the side of the screen; it flickered to life, displaying a black graphical axis against a white background with a single vertical meter in the center.
Silva knelt to open one of his own cases and stood again holding another laptop. "See that, they haven't been activated yet. We can do that remotely - watch the screen."
Cesc kept his eyes dutifully on the screen as Silva opened the other laptop and tapped several commands. "So the office or whatever is already bugged?"
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Silva nod. "Martínez, probably, he's good at - there we go."
Suddenly the screen split into four columned meters, each wobbling near the lowest setting.
Silva peered around Cesc. "Did that - oh, good."
"They're on now, but there's no noise?" Cesc guessed. "No one's there?"
Silva nodded. "Are the cameras up?" he asked Villa.
"Almost." Villa didn't take eyes from the screen as his fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard. "There's just one that - got it," he said with satisfaction. He swiveled the big laptop around.
They were looking at a grainy four-way video feed. The upper left-hand corner showed a high angle of what looked like a darkened office; of the other three, one was of a similarly dim hallway, one of the exterior of the building Silva had pointed out, and one of what Cesc guessed was the back entrance.
"Martínez or whoever planted the interiors," Villa said. "The others are the city's closed-circuit cameras."
"So... there's no one there now," Cesc said, looking from Silva to Villa. "What are you - we - looking for? Or listening for?"
Villa's face darkened again as Silva said, "Both. And we don't exactly know. "
"You explain," Villa said. "I'll finish the set up."
Silva sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You might as well have a seat, too," he said to Cesc.
Cesc took the couch. A puff of dust rose in the air as he fell on it heavily and he coughed. Silva, taking the free chair, wrinkled his nose.
"About a month ago, there was an investigation that had to do with smuggling of counterfeit goods," Silva began. "One of the people it dredged up was someone from the Ministry of Commerce, on bribery charges. He was pretty desperate to talk - anything he thought would help him. Among other things, he gave us three names and this address. Supposedly they'd been working their way around to approaching him in - an unofficial capacity, but he hadn't heard what they wanted yet." Silva put a hand to his hair again and gave it an absent tug. "The hints he dropped pointed at handling pirated goods. It might be true."
"Or maybe he was making shit up to save his ass," Villa put in from where he was doing something with Silva's laptop.
"Or that," Silva said, with a little sigh.
"Did he give you other names?" Cesc asked.
"Yeah," Villa said, "names we already had. Bet he knew it, too." He poked at the keys with added viciousness. "The only reason we're even doing this is because they missed out on the real target. Like anyone would care about some pathetic pencil-pusher otherwise."
"We'd have to follow up on it anyway," Silva said. "But..."
"But I'm right," Villa said, glancing up with a knowing twist of his mouth.
"Maybe," said Silva. He gave Villa a wry half-smile in return.
"So," Cesc said after a minute, "we're just supposed to be on the lookout for... anything?" Silva nodded. Cesc looked around the room. "And we're supposed to spend all our time here? Just listening? Do we have to sleep here?"
"See?" said Villa darkly.
"Not quite," Silva said, giving Villa a look. "I said before it's level one-A surveillance - that means least urgent, lowest risk - "
" - lowest probability of actually being useful - "
Silva ignored this contribution from Villa. "So there's only one team on the case - that's us - and a backup - that's Rubén de la Red, you'll meet him later. He's on call in case there's an emergency, or we need relief for some reason. But the important thing is that only one agent has to be present for any surveillance activity, so we don't all have to be here at once, and after the first 72 hours it doesn't have to be round-the-clock, anyway, unless the initial period throws up evidence of some kind of real activity. Which would get the whole thing upgraded at least to two-A, anyway."
Cesc took a minute to digest this. "After the first 72 hours?" he said eventually.
Silva nodded. "That's the standard initial period. We use that to get a general idea of what goes on at the site, what kind of schedule the marks follow. And to make sure there really is no physical threat. Afterwards we'll probably check out the marks off the site - "
"Like, tail them?" Cesc interrupted.
"Sort of," Silva said. He added, at Cesc's expression, "It's usually not that exciting," but Cesc didn't really care.
"Anyway, after we've established their schedule, we can follow it ourselves and review the rest of the footage the next day. Plus, like I said, there's an identical feed at Security and if something funny shows up when we're not there, we get a call." Silva winced. "And Raúl chews us out."
"This happen before?" Cesc asked.
Silva glanced over at Villa, who looked up. Their eyes met and, miraculously, Villa's lips quirked up. "Long story," he said.
They lingered for maybe another hour. Silva fiddled with the audio monitor, testing the recording quality and making several minuscule adjustments to various settings. Villa, long since finished with the cameras, retrieved his own laptop and set it up so that he could keep an eye on the video feed at the same time. Every so often, Silva glanced over at him and then back at his own screen.
Cesc was just wondering if he should ask Silva when he'd be finished when Villa looked up, crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Okay, get out of here already."
Silva started. "What?"
"I said, get out of here," Villa said. "It's stupid for everyone to hang around all night." He gave Silva a wry smile, with a real gleam of amusement. "I asked for it. I can admit it."
Silva smiled back, more genuinely than he had all afternoon. "Okay," he said. "If you say so. We'll be back tomorrow."
Villa leaned back and waved them away. "Yeah, okay, whatever. I'll be here."
Silva looked over his shoulder one last time as they went, at Villa's face lit by the glow of his laptop.
* * *
That night, Cesc didn't dream.
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