Betrayal's End, C17 - "Missing Persons" FRT
Chapter summary: Things fall apart with a vengeance, and the bodies start to pile up.
Chapter no: 17
Story: Betrayal’s End.
Warnings: Some language, some gore in this chapter.
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of “Law and Order: Criminal Intent” and acknowledge the rights of those who do. I will make no profit from this story.
Damnit, I wish Eames was here.
It was half past two in the afternoon, and Bobby Goren was decidedly beginning to feel the effects of a weird combination of jetlag, missed sleep, anticipatory nerves, and the strange part-of-me-is-missing feeling he always got when he was trying to work without Alexandra Eames’ familiar presence.
Beside him, Sienna looked to be in much the same state of mind. They’d been stuck in the same small, crowded room with a bunch of MI5 officers, going over and over the same plans for tomorrow. He had no idea why. They’d worked out every last detail, and in his opinion it was going to look decidedly odd if he and Sienna were absent for the information-reviewing sessions for the prosecution for the stadium attack much longer, since those were supposedly their reason for being here.
However, Anne Langford seemed determined to work out every detail, dot every i, cross every t… He was not easily intimidated, but there was something frightening about the woman. She was relentless, a machine, and her eyes were cold. He had rarely seen a harder expression on anyone’s face, including several major criminals. Imagine working for that face every day, he thought idly. If he’d thought Davenport ruthless, he could see why now. Langford seemed willing to risk anything to resolve the situation with John Durham as speedily as possible, and he had no doubt that she ran her entire department in the same way.
He jumped a little as Sienna’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. “Excuse me,” she said firmly. Everyone at the table looked up.
“I really feel it’s time that we all take a break.” She smiled politely in Langford’s general direction, who regarded the younger woman with a mixture of amusement and condescension. “Does anyone else object?” She looked around the table at the assembled MI5 staff. None seemed inclined to disagree. Sienna smiled sweetly. “Well, then. Ten minutes?” She barely paused for an answer before rising to her feet.
They left the room together. Sienna appeared to know where she was going, and he followed her to a small space with chairs scattered around and a couple of vending machines. “You can get better reception here,” she explained, retrieving her cellphone and putting it on the table in front of her. “Of course, you never know who’s listening in around here. I’m going to get something to eat.”
“Good idea.” He watched her cellphone as Sienna walked across to buy a bar of chocolate from the machine. It rang just as she was fishing in her purse for some small change. “Bobby, could you get that?”
“Of course.” He picked up the phone and checked the display. It showed “Tanya”. He shrugged and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Si- oh, hi there. Is that, uh, Bobby?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Oh, maybe you can help me.” Tanya’s voice sounded a little puzzled.
“Uh… sure.”
“Do you know where Alex is?”
“Downstairs, I think - we’re all in meetings at the moment.”
“Huh? She was meant to be meeting me and Jack at our house half an hour ago.”
“Huh?” He frowned at the phone. “Sorry, what?”
“She phoned me a while ago, saying she wanted to meet me and Jack for a chat - I guess it’s about what we’ve got planned for tonight. I was at the hospital, she said she was going to meet us at our house, but we arranged that she’d be here half an hour ago, and I haven’t heard anything. Have you got her phone number?”
He frowned, feeling uneasy. “I’ll call her and get her to call you.” Beside him, he saw Sienna’s quizzical frown. He held up a hand and signalled Wait to her with his expression. She nodded and looked concerned as he called Eames’ cell.
No reply. He tried again, this time standing next to the window to maximise the reception. All that got him was a slightly clearer-sounding “the number you have called is not available” message. He looked across at Sienna. “Sienna, could you try calling Eames?”
She nodded and frowned. “Of course, is there something wrong? Isn’t she downstairs?”
“Could you just try?”
“Okay.” She took her cellphone from him and called Eames’ number. She listened for a minute and shook her head. “Nothing. Why?”
He explained about her being supposed to meet Tanya and Jack. Sienna frowned. “That’s odd, why didn’t they tell us?” She pressed a few buttons on her cell and made a quick call. “Listen, Tanni, it’s me, Sisi - no, we can’t get hold of her either. We’re going to go have a look for her, then I’ll call you straight back.”
They looked at each other and walked hurriedly towards the stairs. Sienna tugged his arm. “Bobby, let’s go this way - it’ll get us to where she’s supposed to be faster and we can avoid getting dragged back in with Langford’s team.” He nodded, and followed her through the maze of corridors. They were almost running by the time they arrived at the room where the meeting Eames was supposed to be having was being held, only to find it in a state of apparent confusion. There were only two men in the room, both of whom appeared to be making repeated calls along the lines of “Hello? Yes, is DI Maldon there, please? No? Can you look for him…”
He buttonholed one of the men as he put the phone down. “Excuse me.”
“Sorry, I can’t talk right now, we have a problem.”
He bent down a little and made eye contact, shoving himself into the man’s personal space and dropping his voice to its most authoritative tone. “So do I. My partner, Alex Eames, seems to be missing. She’s supposed to be in here. Where is she?”
The other man looked across. “Five said she was working with them this afternoon - isn’t she with you? Anyway, they’ll know where to find her. Now, I’m sorry, but…”
“What’s happening?” He fixed the man with a stern gaze.
“This is an internal matter.”
He pointed at the phone. “You just said that you were looking for DI Maldon; has he gone missing?” The man looked stubborn. His companion, evidently a more pragmatic type, replied: “Yes. He came back to chair the meeting this afternoon, then left after an hour to take a phone call. He didn’t return. Now, if you’ll excuse us…”
He returned to making phone calls. Looking through the glass, they could see police and MI5 officers scurrying around with concerned expressions. He now realised why this was.
“Sienna…”
She completed his sentence. “We need to talk to Five. Now.”
They hurried together through Thames House, Goren following Sienna as she led the way back to the meeting room they had been in previously, where Langford was waiting with an impatient expression.
“Where have the two of you been?” Her voice was frighteningly cold, but Goren ignored it.
“Looking for my partner, Alex Eames. She’s supposed to be running errands for you; where is she?”
Instead of looking concerned, Langford smiled. “Don’t worry, she’s fine.”
“What are you doing?” His tone was nothing like the one that should be used to address a senior security services officer, and he could see people around the room wincing, but paid it no heed; he would let nothing stand between him and finding Alex Eames.
Langford stood up and met his eye with a steely glare. Even for him, it was an unnerving experience.
“We sent Detective Eames to go to talk about what is supposed to be happening tomorrow with Tanya and Jack Simmons-McAllister. Given their tendency for unnecessary heroics, we wanted to ensure that they understood the importance of staying out of the way this time.”
Those “unnecessary heroics” saved the lives of several thousand people, he thought, but forced himself not to reply, but simply to hold Langford’s gaze.
“Since she was unable to make contact with them immediately, I understand she was asked by DI Tony Maldon to assist him with the ongoing information-gathering process for the prosecution for the trial of the individuals involved in attacking the City of London stadium.”
“Assist Maldon? How?” He could feel his unease growing, and didn’t care if it showed on his face.
Langford shrugged a shoulder. “They’re trying to build up a picture of what members of the Newcomers organisation were doing in the days before the attack. Maldon’s team needed a woman police officer to go and speak to some of their family members. We thought that, since your partner is such a respected detective, it would be an effective way to use her expertise.”
“You sent her off into London to ask questions of people who might be involved in terrorism without backup!” The volume of his voice caused several people around the table to wince and shrink away, but Langford was unfazed.
“Not at all. Don’t worry, Detective, I sent one of my best agents to keep an eye on her.”
“Good, because Maldon is now missing.” At this, Langford frowned a little, a faint crack showing in her expression. “So you had better call whoever you have with her, and get her back here immediately.”
Her voice was icy. “Do not tell me what to do, Mr Goren.” She smiled, showing her teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Her words were interrupted by loud shouts from downstairs. Ignoring Langford, Goren ran for the door, followed closely by Sienna and half the MI5 officers in the room. They followed the sound of the shouts through the building, to be brought up short by two armed police officers blocking a corridor.
“You can’t go down here.” He folded his arms, blocking the way.
One of the MI5 officers, a blond woman with long hair and a supercilious expression, shoved forwards and showed her badge. “I can go anywhere in here I please, now let me through.”
He shook his head. “I can’t.” He looked concerned for a minute, then explained, “It’s a crime scene. Someone’s dead.”
At his words, a commotion ran through the crowd. “Murder?”
“Who is it?” the woman demanded. Behind them, Goren could hear Langford’s heavy footsteps catching up.
“I can’t tell you-”
“Yes, you can.” Langford came to the front. She did not bother to show her ID badge; there was no need. The police officer took a deep breath.
“DI Maldon, ma’am.”
***
Interlude: What Happened at Glastonbury: “Time For Some Warmth”.
“I want serving! Oi! You! I’ve bin standing here for hours, now fucking serve me!”
“Sorry, are you talking to me?” I watched as Jack McAllister turned round from the table behind the bar where he’d been swiftly counting out change for the last bar order he’d taken, to come face to face with a young, shaven-headed man who had already been served several times in several bars, from the looks of things. Behind me, I was aware of Tanya and Drew looking up from the beer dispenser to take an interest, though they had both apparently decided to let Jack handle it unless things got violent.
“Yeah, I’ve bin stood here for hours!”
Jack fixed him with an unamused stare. “So has everyone else. The flood’s knocked out the beer pumps, so if you want beer you’ll have to wait for us to pour it from the cask.”
“I want serving!”
“So does everybody else, and they’re all managing to wait their turn politely. Look, there’s a huge queue because the bar’s electrics aren’t working, we’re all in the same boat. You’ll get served in your turn, but speak to me like that again and you’ll be leaving the bar.”
Jack turned away to serve the next person in the huge press of people who were swamping the bar we were serving at. I silently applauded and reflected, not for the first time, that to survive as a short, unassuming, straight male with Tanya as his wife and Drew (more macho than many straight guys I’d met) as his best friend, Jack must secretly have the self-confidence of a rock.
Yes, he’s lovely. But, he’s not yours and not ever going to be, I thought wryly, watching Tanya beaming with pride at her beloved husband. Fortunately, Jack appeared to have no recollection whatsoever of anything happening last night between he and I, although realistically that was because nothing really had happened, I’d just come too close to going over the line.
Beside me, Drew smirked as he swiftly collected a round of drinks from the table behind the bar. He had been smirking, just a little, since we’d started work here. I looked across and met his eye, and suddenly knew exactly what he was thinking. What a fucking absurd situation… If these people knew who’s serving their drinks, if they knew what I really do for a living…
I grinned back. It was funny, I had to admit, seeing one of MI5’s top agents running around behind a bar at a music festival, looking like nothing so much as a student on the run from his exams. As I swiftly tidied the bar and loaded some more whisky and vodka bottles into the optics (with no beer on tap, we were selling spirits like they were going out of fashion) I wondered a little at the fact that Drew had joined us. He could surely afford a much better vacation than this, in fact, he could simply have paid for a festival ticket without needing to work to get in.
Then again, the bond between Tanya, Drew and Jack ran very deep. Their jobs might keep them busy, but on occasions when any of us had any free time, it was rare to find one of us without the others. I was lucky, I supposed, that they’d let me join in, but with them, I could be me. The thought brought a smile to my face. I loved them all, I thought. The four of us together could do anything. The thought cheered me up, making me think that maybe, just maybe, I could find someone else, a partner for me, and then there would be five of us.
Somehow I couldn’t quite picture Drew, king of the one-night-stand, doing that, so a five we would surely become…
“Oi, y’ short little git!”
It was the same man again, yelling at Jack. I looked up sharply, and noticed that the bar’s security staff, already struggling to keep on top of things given the huge mass of people pressed into the tent, were down at the other end of the bar dealing with someone who had tried to run off without paying. Beside me, I could sense Drew readying himself, and muttered a short and sincere prayer that this wasn’t going to end badly.
As Tanya strode past both of us, it looked as though my prayer would not be answered.
“That’s it. You can get out the bar, we’re not serving you.” Jack had already stepped back from the bar. Tanya fixed the drunken man straight in the eye with her very best your name’s not down, so you’re not coming in look. She had at one point worked on the door at a club in London, and I suspected this guy was about to find out why it had had a reputation as being one of the toughest places in the East End.
“You’re not fucking servin’ me anyway! I want a fucking drink!”
“You’re not getting one. Get out the bar so we can serve someone else.”
“I wanna complain to the manager!”
“Well, he doesn’t want to listen to you. You’re being rude to me, you’re being rude to my husband, and you’re stopping everyone else getting served. Leave, now, or I’ll have security throw you out.” Tanya pointedly turned away to serve someone else, although with the benefit of nearly a year’s training with her, I could see that she was watching him very carefully with her peripheral vision. Suddenly, the man reached across the bar to grab her by the arm.
“Listen, you stuck-up fat…”
The rest of his words were lost in a squeal of pain as Tanya grabbed his hand, pried it off her arm and trapped it against her breastbone in one fluid motion, crushing the top of his thumb at the same time. I had had this done to me once in the dojo with about half the force she was currently employing, and it had hurt like hell. Controlling him with her grip on his hand, she leaned over and snarled: “Fuck. Off. Out. Of. My. Bar. Leave now, or I will throw you out of here.”
I ran swiftly down the bar to signal the security staff, who had heard the commotion and were making their way through the crowd as fast as possible. They arrived just in time to grab the guy by the arms and hustle him swiftly out, still whining in pain.
Tanya turned to the rest of the crowd, who’d gone quiet, beamed widely, and asked “Now, who’s next?” Beside me, Drew was quietly laughing his head off.
“What’s happening?” The slightly harassed voice of Simon, the bar manager, echoed from the back of the tent, where he’d been in deep conversation with his walkie-talkie for the past ten minutes.
“Oh, nothing, just someone being a bit awkward,” Tanya replied with an innocent smile. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Excellent. Listen, guys, I need to ask a favour. I need two people to go work on one of the other bars up near the Green Fields, they’re short-staffed. It’s the Jazz Café, nice quiet bar, but I know it’s a bit of a hike - any volunteers?”
I looked around at the chaos of the bar. As two of the biggest and strongest people behind the bar, Tanya and Amp were much in demand, taking it in turns to lug huge heavy trays of drinks around and help change the metal barrels of cider and beer. Drew, Jack and Mark were running back and forth serving, whilst I was on duty keeping the bar tidy and stocked up with drink.
As I contemplated my aching feet, I really hoped the battered women of south-west London appreciated all we were doing for them. Then again, they probably had other things to worry about.
“SiSi and I could go,” Drew’s voice surprised me. Tanya raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yeah. They need you and Amp here, and where you stay, Jack stays. Besides, it’ll be a nice chance for SiSi to see a bit more of the festival, now that she’s got her wellies.”
“Oh, har-de-fucking-har,” I muttered and glared at him.
He grinned back. “Come on, SiSi, you and me, it’ll be fun! Bit of an adventure. Let’s do it!”
I surrendered to the inevitable. It was possible to resist Drew. It was just that it usually took more energy than just doing whatever he wanted to do in the first place would. I smiled at Simon. “Okay, I’m in.”
“Excellent. Guys, you’re lifesavers! Here,” and he beckoned us into the bar. “Keep this a secret, but you can have these-” and he gave us each an extra voucher for a free drink. “I’m giving everyone an extra voucher at the end of their shifts, I know it’s not been easy today. Thanks.”
“No problem,” I replied, and began to collect my stuff, scowling unhappily as I pulled on my clammy waterproofs from the rest area at the back of the bar. The rain had slowed down, and there was talk of sunshine for tomorrow, but for now the Festival resembled nothing so much as a swamp with tents and a big stage. Amazingly, the music was still going on. I could hear the White Stripes in the background, “Seven Nation Army” blasting out across the field to wild cheers.
Say what you liked about the British, they really weren’t going to be stopped from partying by a bit of mud. So far, though, I had to say the Festival really wasn’t doing too much for me.
I want to go home.
I stomped firmly on the thought and followed Drew out into the cold. It had stopped raining, giving the mud time to dry to a sticky consistency that was like wading through thick glue. I had to yank my feet out of the mud with every step, whilst at the same time avoiding the crowds and keeping an eye on Drew in the semi-darkness. Suddenly, my foot slipped. There was a few moments flailing about before the inevitable happened and I fell backwards into the mud. I writhed around trying to stand up, but the vile stuff had the consistency of glue.
Suddenly, four hands appeared out of nowhere, and thrust themselves under my armpits, yanking me upwards with great enthusiasm and slightly too much force, though I wasn’t complaining. The hands turned out to be attached to two cheerful Australians.
“Thanks, guys.”
“No worries.” They ambled off through the mud. I tried to dust myself off, not easy in a muddy field. Where the hell was Drew? As if in response to my thought, he appeared in front of me.
“What happened?”
“I fell on my ass in the mud,” I replied, realising I’d jettisoned my dignity some time back.
He chuckled. I tried to chuckle too, since it was kind of funny. It didn’t fool Drew.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m tired, Drew. I’m tired and I’m hungry…”
“… and you wanna go home?”
“Yes. Yes, actually. I really, really want to go home.”
He reached out and gently clasped my shoulders, looking me straight in the eye. I reflected, not for the first time, that whilst Drew would not be called handsome, he really did have pretty grey eyes. Too pretty, according to him, too memorable for a spy who had to be able to fade into the background, although I hadn’t seen him complaining when those same eyes helped him turn the charm on like a tap. Drew had a really good fake look of sincerity. Right now, though, I felt I was getting actual sincerity.
“Look, SiSi, this is normal. Whenever you go to the Festival, you have your Glastonbury Moment, and your Glastonbury Anti-Moment. The Moment is when something happens, like when a band hits the perfect chord or you see the sun rise over the Stone Circle, and it’s the most perfect moment imaginable, and you know that everyone else around you is feeling the same way, and it could never happen anywhere else but here, and for the rest of your year, you get to take that moment with you.
And then you have your Glastonbury Anti-Moment, when you’re cold, you’re wet, you’re stuck in a muddy field miles away from home and you just want to have a shower and lie down in your own bed, and you realise you’re trapped for the next few days until the coach arrives to take you home. And what you do when that happens is, you find the nearest café and order the largest cup of tea and the largest chocolate bun they have for sale. Right now, you’re having an Anti-Moment, and you need the cure.”
“Drew, we’re meant to be working…”
“And soon we will be, but really, you think they’ll even notice that we stopped on the way? It’ll take at least half an hour to get there. Drink and bun, now.”
“How is this cure meant to work, anyway?”
“By the time you’ve finished drinking the tea and eating the bun, you’ve usually forgotten what it was you were upset about. And even if you haven’t, you’ve just enjoyed a nice drink and a bun, and the world is always a better place after that.”
Drew’s head moved from side to side, scoping out likely sources of tea and buns. I eagerly pointed out a stall where the owner had just hung out a sign proudly proclaiming “Newly Born Chocolate Brownie”, and we set off towards that. Drew ushered me to a seat on a wooden bench, playing the gentleman.
“Brownie for you? I’m paying.”
“Drew…”
“No.” He wagged a finger. “I got you into this, therefore, the tea and bun is on me. Large chocolate brownie for you? Come on, you’ve lost so much weight you could eat two of them and it wouldn’t show.”
“And coffee. Latte, actually. I do not drink tea.”
“Bloody Americans and your coffee,” Drew rolled his eyes theatrically.
“How come you don’t drink it, anyway?”
“SiSi, can you imagine me on coffee?”
I pretended to shudder. “I’d rather not.” He ordered the cakes and drinks and we settled ourselves at a table nearby. One large chocolate brownie and a latte later, and I was feeling a lot better.
“Better?”
“Yeah…” I stared at the mud.
“Come on.” He looked at his watch. “Just one hours left to go, then we’ve finished work and the night is ours.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, you know what? I hereby make you a promise that you, Sienna Tovitz, will be warm, clean, dry, and sleeping in a bed by the end of the night.”
“Really.”
“Really.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a professional liar.”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Hmm…” I pursed my lips.
He nudged me in the ribs. “Come on. We can do this.”
We set off again through the mud. “How are you going to manage this?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Oh yeah, you’re bullshitting me.”
“Okay, after that, I am not telling you. You’ll just have to wonder for the next two hours how I’m going to manage it…”
Chapter no: 17
Story: Betrayal’s End.
Warnings: Some language, some gore in this chapter.
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of “Law and Order: Criminal Intent” and acknowledge the rights of those who do. I will make no profit from this story.
Damnit, I wish Eames was here.
It was half past two in the afternoon, and Bobby Goren was decidedly beginning to feel the effects of a weird combination of jetlag, missed sleep, anticipatory nerves, and the strange part-of-me-is-missing feeling he always got when he was trying to work without Alexandra Eames’ familiar presence.
Beside him, Sienna looked to be in much the same state of mind. They’d been stuck in the same small, crowded room with a bunch of MI5 officers, going over and over the same plans for tomorrow. He had no idea why. They’d worked out every last detail, and in his opinion it was going to look decidedly odd if he and Sienna were absent for the information-reviewing sessions for the prosecution for the stadium attack much longer, since those were supposedly their reason for being here.
However, Anne Langford seemed determined to work out every detail, dot every i, cross every t… He was not easily intimidated, but there was something frightening about the woman. She was relentless, a machine, and her eyes were cold. He had rarely seen a harder expression on anyone’s face, including several major criminals. Imagine working for that face every day, he thought idly. If he’d thought Davenport ruthless, he could see why now. Langford seemed willing to risk anything to resolve the situation with John Durham as speedily as possible, and he had no doubt that she ran her entire department in the same way.
He jumped a little as Sienna’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. “Excuse me,” she said firmly. Everyone at the table looked up.
“I really feel it’s time that we all take a break.” She smiled politely in Langford’s general direction, who regarded the younger woman with a mixture of amusement and condescension. “Does anyone else object?” She looked around the table at the assembled MI5 staff. None seemed inclined to disagree. Sienna smiled sweetly. “Well, then. Ten minutes?” She barely paused for an answer before rising to her feet.
They left the room together. Sienna appeared to know where she was going, and he followed her to a small space with chairs scattered around and a couple of vending machines. “You can get better reception here,” she explained, retrieving her cellphone and putting it on the table in front of her. “Of course, you never know who’s listening in around here. I’m going to get something to eat.”
“Good idea.” He watched her cellphone as Sienna walked across to buy a bar of chocolate from the machine. It rang just as she was fishing in her purse for some small change. “Bobby, could you get that?”
“Of course.” He picked up the phone and checked the display. It showed “Tanya”. He shrugged and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Si- oh, hi there. Is that, uh, Bobby?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Oh, maybe you can help me.” Tanya’s voice sounded a little puzzled.
“Uh… sure.”
“Do you know where Alex is?”
“Downstairs, I think - we’re all in meetings at the moment.”
“Huh? She was meant to be meeting me and Jack at our house half an hour ago.”
“Huh?” He frowned at the phone. “Sorry, what?”
“She phoned me a while ago, saying she wanted to meet me and Jack for a chat - I guess it’s about what we’ve got planned for tonight. I was at the hospital, she said she was going to meet us at our house, but we arranged that she’d be here half an hour ago, and I haven’t heard anything. Have you got her phone number?”
He frowned, feeling uneasy. “I’ll call her and get her to call you.” Beside him, he saw Sienna’s quizzical frown. He held up a hand and signalled Wait to her with his expression. She nodded and looked concerned as he called Eames’ cell.
No reply. He tried again, this time standing next to the window to maximise the reception. All that got him was a slightly clearer-sounding “the number you have called is not available” message. He looked across at Sienna. “Sienna, could you try calling Eames?”
She nodded and frowned. “Of course, is there something wrong? Isn’t she downstairs?”
“Could you just try?”
“Okay.” She took her cellphone from him and called Eames’ number. She listened for a minute and shook her head. “Nothing. Why?”
He explained about her being supposed to meet Tanya and Jack. Sienna frowned. “That’s odd, why didn’t they tell us?” She pressed a few buttons on her cell and made a quick call. “Listen, Tanni, it’s me, Sisi - no, we can’t get hold of her either. We’re going to go have a look for her, then I’ll call you straight back.”
They looked at each other and walked hurriedly towards the stairs. Sienna tugged his arm. “Bobby, let’s go this way - it’ll get us to where she’s supposed to be faster and we can avoid getting dragged back in with Langford’s team.” He nodded, and followed her through the maze of corridors. They were almost running by the time they arrived at the room where the meeting Eames was supposed to be having was being held, only to find it in a state of apparent confusion. There were only two men in the room, both of whom appeared to be making repeated calls along the lines of “Hello? Yes, is DI Maldon there, please? No? Can you look for him…”
He buttonholed one of the men as he put the phone down. “Excuse me.”
“Sorry, I can’t talk right now, we have a problem.”
He bent down a little and made eye contact, shoving himself into the man’s personal space and dropping his voice to its most authoritative tone. “So do I. My partner, Alex Eames, seems to be missing. She’s supposed to be in here. Where is she?”
The other man looked across. “Five said she was working with them this afternoon - isn’t she with you? Anyway, they’ll know where to find her. Now, I’m sorry, but…”
“What’s happening?” He fixed the man with a stern gaze.
“This is an internal matter.”
He pointed at the phone. “You just said that you were looking for DI Maldon; has he gone missing?” The man looked stubborn. His companion, evidently a more pragmatic type, replied: “Yes. He came back to chair the meeting this afternoon, then left after an hour to take a phone call. He didn’t return. Now, if you’ll excuse us…”
He returned to making phone calls. Looking through the glass, they could see police and MI5 officers scurrying around with concerned expressions. He now realised why this was.
“Sienna…”
She completed his sentence. “We need to talk to Five. Now.”
They hurried together through Thames House, Goren following Sienna as she led the way back to the meeting room they had been in previously, where Langford was waiting with an impatient expression.
“Where have the two of you been?” Her voice was frighteningly cold, but Goren ignored it.
“Looking for my partner, Alex Eames. She’s supposed to be running errands for you; where is she?”
Instead of looking concerned, Langford smiled. “Don’t worry, she’s fine.”
“What are you doing?” His tone was nothing like the one that should be used to address a senior security services officer, and he could see people around the room wincing, but paid it no heed; he would let nothing stand between him and finding Alex Eames.
Langford stood up and met his eye with a steely glare. Even for him, it was an unnerving experience.
“We sent Detective Eames to go to talk about what is supposed to be happening tomorrow with Tanya and Jack Simmons-McAllister. Given their tendency for unnecessary heroics, we wanted to ensure that they understood the importance of staying out of the way this time.”
Those “unnecessary heroics” saved the lives of several thousand people, he thought, but forced himself not to reply, but simply to hold Langford’s gaze.
“Since she was unable to make contact with them immediately, I understand she was asked by DI Tony Maldon to assist him with the ongoing information-gathering process for the prosecution for the trial of the individuals involved in attacking the City of London stadium.”
“Assist Maldon? How?” He could feel his unease growing, and didn’t care if it showed on his face.
Langford shrugged a shoulder. “They’re trying to build up a picture of what members of the Newcomers organisation were doing in the days before the attack. Maldon’s team needed a woman police officer to go and speak to some of their family members. We thought that, since your partner is such a respected detective, it would be an effective way to use her expertise.”
“You sent her off into London to ask questions of people who might be involved in terrorism without backup!” The volume of his voice caused several people around the table to wince and shrink away, but Langford was unfazed.
“Not at all. Don’t worry, Detective, I sent one of my best agents to keep an eye on her.”
“Good, because Maldon is now missing.” At this, Langford frowned a little, a faint crack showing in her expression. “So you had better call whoever you have with her, and get her back here immediately.”
Her voice was icy. “Do not tell me what to do, Mr Goren.” She smiled, showing her teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Her words were interrupted by loud shouts from downstairs. Ignoring Langford, Goren ran for the door, followed closely by Sienna and half the MI5 officers in the room. They followed the sound of the shouts through the building, to be brought up short by two armed police officers blocking a corridor.
“You can’t go down here.” He folded his arms, blocking the way.
One of the MI5 officers, a blond woman with long hair and a supercilious expression, shoved forwards and showed her badge. “I can go anywhere in here I please, now let me through.”
He shook his head. “I can’t.” He looked concerned for a minute, then explained, “It’s a crime scene. Someone’s dead.”
At his words, a commotion ran through the crowd. “Murder?”
“Who is it?” the woman demanded. Behind them, Goren could hear Langford’s heavy footsteps catching up.
“I can’t tell you-”
“Yes, you can.” Langford came to the front. She did not bother to show her ID badge; there was no need. The police officer took a deep breath.
“DI Maldon, ma’am.”
***
Interlude: What Happened at Glastonbury: “Time For Some Warmth”.
“I want serving! Oi! You! I’ve bin standing here for hours, now fucking serve me!”
“Sorry, are you talking to me?” I watched as Jack McAllister turned round from the table behind the bar where he’d been swiftly counting out change for the last bar order he’d taken, to come face to face with a young, shaven-headed man who had already been served several times in several bars, from the looks of things. Behind me, I was aware of Tanya and Drew looking up from the beer dispenser to take an interest, though they had both apparently decided to let Jack handle it unless things got violent.
“Yeah, I’ve bin stood here for hours!”
Jack fixed him with an unamused stare. “So has everyone else. The flood’s knocked out the beer pumps, so if you want beer you’ll have to wait for us to pour it from the cask.”
“I want serving!”
“So does everybody else, and they’re all managing to wait their turn politely. Look, there’s a huge queue because the bar’s electrics aren’t working, we’re all in the same boat. You’ll get served in your turn, but speak to me like that again and you’ll be leaving the bar.”
Jack turned away to serve the next person in the huge press of people who were swamping the bar we were serving at. I silently applauded and reflected, not for the first time, that to survive as a short, unassuming, straight male with Tanya as his wife and Drew (more macho than many straight guys I’d met) as his best friend, Jack must secretly have the self-confidence of a rock.
Yes, he’s lovely. But, he’s not yours and not ever going to be, I thought wryly, watching Tanya beaming with pride at her beloved husband. Fortunately, Jack appeared to have no recollection whatsoever of anything happening last night between he and I, although realistically that was because nothing really had happened, I’d just come too close to going over the line.
Beside me, Drew smirked as he swiftly collected a round of drinks from the table behind the bar. He had been smirking, just a little, since we’d started work here. I looked across and met his eye, and suddenly knew exactly what he was thinking. What a fucking absurd situation… If these people knew who’s serving their drinks, if they knew what I really do for a living…
I grinned back. It was funny, I had to admit, seeing one of MI5’s top agents running around behind a bar at a music festival, looking like nothing so much as a student on the run from his exams. As I swiftly tidied the bar and loaded some more whisky and vodka bottles into the optics (with no beer on tap, we were selling spirits like they were going out of fashion) I wondered a little at the fact that Drew had joined us. He could surely afford a much better vacation than this, in fact, he could simply have paid for a festival ticket without needing to work to get in.
Then again, the bond between Tanya, Drew and Jack ran very deep. Their jobs might keep them busy, but on occasions when any of us had any free time, it was rare to find one of us without the others. I was lucky, I supposed, that they’d let me join in, but with them, I could be me. The thought brought a smile to my face. I loved them all, I thought. The four of us together could do anything. The thought cheered me up, making me think that maybe, just maybe, I could find someone else, a partner for me, and then there would be five of us.
Somehow I couldn’t quite picture Drew, king of the one-night-stand, doing that, so a five we would surely become…
“Oi, y’ short little git!”
It was the same man again, yelling at Jack. I looked up sharply, and noticed that the bar’s security staff, already struggling to keep on top of things given the huge mass of people pressed into the tent, were down at the other end of the bar dealing with someone who had tried to run off without paying. Beside me, I could sense Drew readying himself, and muttered a short and sincere prayer that this wasn’t going to end badly.
As Tanya strode past both of us, it looked as though my prayer would not be answered.
“That’s it. You can get out the bar, we’re not serving you.” Jack had already stepped back from the bar. Tanya fixed the drunken man straight in the eye with her very best your name’s not down, so you’re not coming in look. She had at one point worked on the door at a club in London, and I suspected this guy was about to find out why it had had a reputation as being one of the toughest places in the East End.
“You’re not fucking servin’ me anyway! I want a fucking drink!”
“You’re not getting one. Get out the bar so we can serve someone else.”
“I wanna complain to the manager!”
“Well, he doesn’t want to listen to you. You’re being rude to me, you’re being rude to my husband, and you’re stopping everyone else getting served. Leave, now, or I’ll have security throw you out.” Tanya pointedly turned away to serve someone else, although with the benefit of nearly a year’s training with her, I could see that she was watching him very carefully with her peripheral vision. Suddenly, the man reached across the bar to grab her by the arm.
“Listen, you stuck-up fat…”
The rest of his words were lost in a squeal of pain as Tanya grabbed his hand, pried it off her arm and trapped it against her breastbone in one fluid motion, crushing the top of his thumb at the same time. I had had this done to me once in the dojo with about half the force she was currently employing, and it had hurt like hell. Controlling him with her grip on his hand, she leaned over and snarled: “Fuck. Off. Out. Of. My. Bar. Leave now, or I will throw you out of here.”
I ran swiftly down the bar to signal the security staff, who had heard the commotion and were making their way through the crowd as fast as possible. They arrived just in time to grab the guy by the arms and hustle him swiftly out, still whining in pain.
Tanya turned to the rest of the crowd, who’d gone quiet, beamed widely, and asked “Now, who’s next?” Beside me, Drew was quietly laughing his head off.
“What’s happening?” The slightly harassed voice of Simon, the bar manager, echoed from the back of the tent, where he’d been in deep conversation with his walkie-talkie for the past ten minutes.
“Oh, nothing, just someone being a bit awkward,” Tanya replied with an innocent smile. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Excellent. Listen, guys, I need to ask a favour. I need two people to go work on one of the other bars up near the Green Fields, they’re short-staffed. It’s the Jazz Café, nice quiet bar, but I know it’s a bit of a hike - any volunteers?”
I looked around at the chaos of the bar. As two of the biggest and strongest people behind the bar, Tanya and Amp were much in demand, taking it in turns to lug huge heavy trays of drinks around and help change the metal barrels of cider and beer. Drew, Jack and Mark were running back and forth serving, whilst I was on duty keeping the bar tidy and stocked up with drink.
As I contemplated my aching feet, I really hoped the battered women of south-west London appreciated all we were doing for them. Then again, they probably had other things to worry about.
“SiSi and I could go,” Drew’s voice surprised me. Tanya raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yeah. They need you and Amp here, and where you stay, Jack stays. Besides, it’ll be a nice chance for SiSi to see a bit more of the festival, now that she’s got her wellies.”
“Oh, har-de-fucking-har,” I muttered and glared at him.
He grinned back. “Come on, SiSi, you and me, it’ll be fun! Bit of an adventure. Let’s do it!”
I surrendered to the inevitable. It was possible to resist Drew. It was just that it usually took more energy than just doing whatever he wanted to do in the first place would. I smiled at Simon. “Okay, I’m in.”
“Excellent. Guys, you’re lifesavers! Here,” and he beckoned us into the bar. “Keep this a secret, but you can have these-” and he gave us each an extra voucher for a free drink. “I’m giving everyone an extra voucher at the end of their shifts, I know it’s not been easy today. Thanks.”
“No problem,” I replied, and began to collect my stuff, scowling unhappily as I pulled on my clammy waterproofs from the rest area at the back of the bar. The rain had slowed down, and there was talk of sunshine for tomorrow, but for now the Festival resembled nothing so much as a swamp with tents and a big stage. Amazingly, the music was still going on. I could hear the White Stripes in the background, “Seven Nation Army” blasting out across the field to wild cheers.
Say what you liked about the British, they really weren’t going to be stopped from partying by a bit of mud. So far, though, I had to say the Festival really wasn’t doing too much for me.
I want to go home.
I stomped firmly on the thought and followed Drew out into the cold. It had stopped raining, giving the mud time to dry to a sticky consistency that was like wading through thick glue. I had to yank my feet out of the mud with every step, whilst at the same time avoiding the crowds and keeping an eye on Drew in the semi-darkness. Suddenly, my foot slipped. There was a few moments flailing about before the inevitable happened and I fell backwards into the mud. I writhed around trying to stand up, but the vile stuff had the consistency of glue.
Suddenly, four hands appeared out of nowhere, and thrust themselves under my armpits, yanking me upwards with great enthusiasm and slightly too much force, though I wasn’t complaining. The hands turned out to be attached to two cheerful Australians.
“Thanks, guys.”
“No worries.” They ambled off through the mud. I tried to dust myself off, not easy in a muddy field. Where the hell was Drew? As if in response to my thought, he appeared in front of me.
“What happened?”
“I fell on my ass in the mud,” I replied, realising I’d jettisoned my dignity some time back.
He chuckled. I tried to chuckle too, since it was kind of funny. It didn’t fool Drew.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m tired, Drew. I’m tired and I’m hungry…”
“… and you wanna go home?”
“Yes. Yes, actually. I really, really want to go home.”
He reached out and gently clasped my shoulders, looking me straight in the eye. I reflected, not for the first time, that whilst Drew would not be called handsome, he really did have pretty grey eyes. Too pretty, according to him, too memorable for a spy who had to be able to fade into the background, although I hadn’t seen him complaining when those same eyes helped him turn the charm on like a tap. Drew had a really good fake look of sincerity. Right now, though, I felt I was getting actual sincerity.
“Look, SiSi, this is normal. Whenever you go to the Festival, you have your Glastonbury Moment, and your Glastonbury Anti-Moment. The Moment is when something happens, like when a band hits the perfect chord or you see the sun rise over the Stone Circle, and it’s the most perfect moment imaginable, and you know that everyone else around you is feeling the same way, and it could never happen anywhere else but here, and for the rest of your year, you get to take that moment with you.
And then you have your Glastonbury Anti-Moment, when you’re cold, you’re wet, you’re stuck in a muddy field miles away from home and you just want to have a shower and lie down in your own bed, and you realise you’re trapped for the next few days until the coach arrives to take you home. And what you do when that happens is, you find the nearest café and order the largest cup of tea and the largest chocolate bun they have for sale. Right now, you’re having an Anti-Moment, and you need the cure.”
“Drew, we’re meant to be working…”
“And soon we will be, but really, you think they’ll even notice that we stopped on the way? It’ll take at least half an hour to get there. Drink and bun, now.”
“How is this cure meant to work, anyway?”
“By the time you’ve finished drinking the tea and eating the bun, you’ve usually forgotten what it was you were upset about. And even if you haven’t, you’ve just enjoyed a nice drink and a bun, and the world is always a better place after that.”
Drew’s head moved from side to side, scoping out likely sources of tea and buns. I eagerly pointed out a stall where the owner had just hung out a sign proudly proclaiming “Newly Born Chocolate Brownie”, and we set off towards that. Drew ushered me to a seat on a wooden bench, playing the gentleman.
“Brownie for you? I’m paying.”
“Drew…”
“No.” He wagged a finger. “I got you into this, therefore, the tea and bun is on me. Large chocolate brownie for you? Come on, you’ve lost so much weight you could eat two of them and it wouldn’t show.”
“And coffee. Latte, actually. I do not drink tea.”
“Bloody Americans and your coffee,” Drew rolled his eyes theatrically.
“How come you don’t drink it, anyway?”
“SiSi, can you imagine me on coffee?”
I pretended to shudder. “I’d rather not.” He ordered the cakes and drinks and we settled ourselves at a table nearby. One large chocolate brownie and a latte later, and I was feeling a lot better.
“Better?”
“Yeah…” I stared at the mud.
“Come on.” He looked at his watch. “Just one hours left to go, then we’ve finished work and the night is ours.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, you know what? I hereby make you a promise that you, Sienna Tovitz, will be warm, clean, dry, and sleeping in a bed by the end of the night.”
“Really.”
“Really.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a professional liar.”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Hmm…” I pursed my lips.
He nudged me in the ribs. “Come on. We can do this.”
We set off again through the mud. “How are you going to manage this?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Oh yeah, you’re bullshitting me.”
“Okay, after that, I am not telling you. You’ll just have to wonder for the next two hours how I’m going to manage it…”