Big Bang Fic: The Tangled Web Job, 2/10
Title: The Tangled Web Job
Authors: scout_lover and telaryn
Artist: alinaandalion
Disclaimer: Not mine, making no money. I write only from a sad, fannish devotion to the characters created by John Rogers, Chris Downey, Dean Devlin and the amazing writers of Leverage.
Characters/Pairings: Team, Damien Moreau, Director Conrad, Sterling, Nana, all canon pairings
Rating: PG-13 leaning over the fence and shaking hands with R
Genre: Gen, drama, angst, team!fic
Warnings/spoilers: Set after the events of The Last Dam Job, the story is directly drawn from events in The Experimental Job.
Word Count: 50,069
Summary: The threat issued by CIA Director Conrad at the end of The Experimental Job proves to be anything but idle. The team is blackmailed into working for the CIA to help gain control of the major nuclear pipeline into Iran. To accomplish this and keep their loved ones safe, they are forced to work with an old enemy towards a common goal.
What the CIA fails to realize is that catching the Leverage team and holding them are usually two different things.
What Nate fails to realize is that the price for squirming free of the government's grasp is likely to be higher than he expected.
Link to Art Post: Here
CHAPTER TWO
“Hey Nana,” Hardison said. He was unable to keep the note of hesitation out of his voice as he reached the relative privacy of the hallway. Too many distractions. “What’s going on - is everything all right?”
We called her "Nana," but she was our foster mom. She, uh... she -- she would cuss like a sailor. The old girl would tan your ass just as soon as look at you. But -- but she fed us, she bathed us, she put a roof over our head. And, oh, she would raise hell if you so much as looked at us crooked.
Memory of a conversation he’d had with Parker years earlier came back to Hardison as he listened to the old woman on the other end of the line. Caroline Bushnell was the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother, and Hardison gave her full marks for him growing up a relatively decent human being, even if he hadn’t been able to stay entirely on the right side of the law.
He slumped against the wall, listening intently as Nana’s story went on. He’d endured a lot of terrifying things in the nearly five years he’d worked with Nate; none of it, with the possible exception of being buried alive, scared him as badly as the raw desperation he could hear in her voice.
“You told me you do that hacking thing to help people now, right?” The question broke him out of his reverie; pushing himself off the wall, Hardison began to pace.
“You don’t worry about a thing, Nana,” he promised fiercely. “I’m going to look into this and do whatever it takes to make it go away. Do you have a lawyer?”
“Alec …”
He could hear the hesitation in her voice now, and leapt ahead to spare her the embarrassment of asking. “As soon as I hang up with you, I’m gonna find the best in the country at dealing with this kind of stuff. Whoever he is, you work with him until I can make this go away, you hear me?” He braced himself for one of her famous lectures on breaking the law, but there was only silence on the other end of the line.
The door to Nate’s apartment opened. Hardison tensed, but relaxed immediately when he saw Parker slip through the opening. He was about to say something to her as an aside when Nana spoke again in his ear.
“They’re good kids, Alec. Just like you and Tracy. All they need is a chance.”
Hardison swallowed. “I know, Nana. You keep doing what you do best. I’m gonna fix this - I swear.” They exchanged good byes.
When she was gone, Hardison felt himself begin to shake. White hot anger - the likes of which he rarely felt - flared through his mind. Patriot Act. They’re investigating her under the fucking Patriot Act. Nana’s focus was understandably on the notice from the State threatening to take custody of her current crop of foster children; it was the idea that she could be charged with aiding terrorists simply because she had taken in two orphaned Afghani children that terrified Hardison. Burden of proof isn’t what it used to be, he thought, tightening his grip on his phone until he felt actual pain in his hand.
“What’s happened?”
He met Parker’s gaze, and what he saw in her eyes steadied him a bit. “I … um …” He closed his eyes, willing himself back under control, and started again. “That was how the CIA’s gonna get me to play nice and go along with their plan.”
*~*~*
Sophie sat back in her chair and stared at the monitors, with all their evidence of Conrad’s surveillance on them, her mind still reeling. They had certainly used such measures against marks in the past, but never to this extent. If all this truly had been done in so short a time- Obviously the agency deserved its formidable reputation.
And now all that was aimed at them.
She shuddered and absently folded her arms tightly against her chest. “They’re … very thorough, aren’t they?” she breathed.
Eliot set a glass of wine down before her and stood close, lending his warmth and solidness to chase away her chill. Ever the protector, she mused.
“You have no idea,” he said quietly, his gaze, too, riveted to the screen. “This is just a taste, Conrad’s little way of makin’ a point. They’ve got teams that can completely sweep a house in about an hour, go through everything you own, clone your computer hard drive, read your mail, plant their little bugs and cameras and get out without leaving anything out of place. They’ll know everything about you, be able to track your every movement, and you’ll never even know they were there.”
She shivered again, suddenly tempted to go home and scour through her belongings. Eliot’s hand shifted to her back, rubbing small, slow circles, and she relaxed into his touch, not entirely reassured but grateful for his effort. “All this just to get our attention,” she murmured. “But why? This isn’t our game. We’ve stolen a lot of things over the years, but never nuclear materials!”
“Yes, well, Conrad seems determined to change our game,” Nate said, leaning against the desk and frowning thoughtfully. “I can understand Moreau; Conrad needs him as his inside man. This is - was - Moreau’s operation; he built it, he knows all the players, where all the bodies are buried-”
“’Course he does,” Eliot growled. “He’s the one who buried ’em. Or,” he winced slightly, “had someone do it for him.”
Sophie glanced up at him in concern. Their first run at Moreau had opened so many old wounds in him, forced him so deeply back into the past he’d thought he’d left behind, that she’d watched this most unshakable of men unravel completely before them in a sunlit park. He’d finally managed to knit himself back together - helped in large part by their triumph over Moreau - but now she could see the cracks opening again. And she couldn’t help wondering exactly what kind of man had this much power over Eliot Spencer.
“Everything fell apart when we took down Moreau,” Nate went on. “Apparently no one who wanted him gone thought through the repercussions-”
“Imagine that,” Eliot snarked.
Nate’s lips twitched in a wry grin as he continued. “Nature abhors a vacuum. With Moreau suddenly gone and his organization in ruins, chaos erupted. Or even more chaos than usually exists in the Middle East. It’s a free for all, with a lot of very dangerous people playing for potentially catastrophic stakes. Moreau’s dangerous too, but at least he has the benefit of not being crazy and of being motivated by greed rather than ideology. The CIA is counting on him to restore order.”
“Better the devil you know,” Sophie murmured.
“Exactly,” Nate said. “Moreau likes order, and he’s very good at establishing it. He profits from order.” He shrugged. “And the government is apparently willing to overlook his other … shortcomings … as long as he gives them some influence in that part of his operation. Moreau’s job will be to take back and control that pipeline. Conrad wants us to control Moreau.”
Eliot’s snort plainly expressed his opinion on that, and Sophie had to share it. “Control Moreau?” she repeated in sharp disbelief. “Bloody hell, what is it with these people? First the Italian, now Conrad- This is their job, this is what they do! Why the hell can’t they do it and just leave us out of it? This isn’t a game on some arrogant CEO or used car dealer! This is Damien Moreau! Who now has a rather deep and personal grudge against us!”
“I know, I know. Sophie,” Nate raised his hands to silence her rant, “I know.” He reached out and took her hands in his, holding tightly to them. “Believe me, I am not in any hurry to go up against Moreau again,” he assured her, gazing intently into her eyes. “We got lucky the last time; I am well aware of that. We got him because he underestimated us. He won’t make that mistake again-”
“He never does,” Eliot added quietly. “That’s one of his strengths. Damien never makes the same mistake twice. And he’s had two years to learn everything he can about us.”
“He’s been in prison,” Sophie protested. “How-”
“He’s had access to lawyers,” Nate reminded her. “President Vittori wanted to be certain he got the full benefits of the justice system he denied to so many others. And the rules of discovery can be … very broad.”
“Shoulda just taken the bastard out back and put a bullet in his brain,” Eliot muttered. “If Vittori didn’t want his people’s hands dirtied, he coulda just called me.”
“You’re not killing Moreau,” Nate said flatly, and Sophie wondered how many times he’d said it already, how many times he’d say it again before they were done. “And we’re not playing Conrad’s game. I will not expose this team, us, to this kind of danger. You’re right,” he said with a nod at Sophie, “this isn’t who we are, and it’s not what we do. I’ll talk to Conrad again, buy us some time. Meanwhile, Hardison will be working on a way for us to disappear-”
“No Hardison won’t,” came a low, tight voice from just inside the doorway.
*~*~*
They all turned at Hardison’s words, and alarms began shrieking in Eliot’s brain. Fear and rage glittered in the younger man’s eyes, and Eliot could almost feel the tension radiating from him. Somewhere in his mind he heard the sound of a door slamming shut.
Nate released Sophie’s hands and straightened. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly, calmly, though Eliot could see the same alarm in his eyes.
Hardison stalked forward, Parker flitting behind him like a shadow, and tossed his phone onto the desk. His whole body trembled from the force of his rage. “That was Nana on the phone,” he spat through clenched teeth. “They’re threatenin’ to take her kids away from her.”
Sophie gasped sharply and Eliot muttered a filthy curse. He’d heard Hardison talk about his Nana countless times over the years and knew exactly what she meant to the hacker. He also had to admire a woman who devoted her entire life to the care and raising of children nobody else in the world seemed to give a damn about for no more reason than that they needed her.
“Who?” Nate asked tersely.
Hardison stared at him through burning eyes, his jaws working and his hands clenching and unclenching convulsively at his sides as he fought a visible battle to contain his rage. “The state,” he finally ground out. “But she’s under investigation by the feds. Homeland Security. They’re usin’ the fuckin’ Patriot Act against her!” he snarled.
Nate exhaled heavily and bowed his head, closing his eyes and running a hand over them. Eliot swore again and turned away, then began to pace with a tightly coiled fury, clearly able to see Conrad’s hand in this.
I know where my weaknesses are. Nate’s voice echoed again in his mind. Do you even want to hazard a guess as to the others?
Conrad hadn’t needed to guess. He’d also just risen to number two on Eliot’s to-kill list.
“I don’t understand,” Sophie said at last, confusion evident in her voice. “She takes in foster children. What could they possibly investigate?”
“Two of her newest kids are from Afghanistan,” Hardison said in a tight, clipped voice. “Apparently, their village was trying to build a school - for boys and girls.” Eliot groaned and bowed his head, knowing only too well what was coming. “Taliban didn’t like that, attacked the village. The kids’ families were among those killed.”
“Dear God,” Sophie breathed.
Hardison shuddered and swallowed audibly; Parker crept closer still and slowly inserted her hand into his.
“How’d she get the children?” Nate asked, his head still bowed.
Hardison clung to Parker’s hand, obviously using her to steady himself. “Our soldiers found them and the other survivors after the battle, got ’em to some aid workers. Turned out they didn’t have any other relatives, so the aid workers got in touch with an organization that specializes in getting kids like them out of Afghanistan and into homes in other countries. Nana’s church is part of a network here that takes in refugees. They contacted her, she had an opening.” A faint smile broke through his anger and ghosted about his mouth. “Nana always has an opening if there’s a kid in need. I’ve seen her give up her own bed and make up the couch at midnight for an ‘emergency’ placement. And for war orphans? Nana woulda slept on the porch to give those kids a home.”
Nate lifted his head and fixed grim eyes on the hacker. “So how did Homeland Security get involved?”
Hardison licked his lips slowly, hesitating, and Eliot stepped in. “Lemme guess,” he said quietly. “The group in Afghanistan is on a government watch list, supposed to have some kind of ties to the Taliban. Probably financial.” When Hardison nodded, he sighed and turned to Nate. “It’s simple - you want to do anything in Afghanistan, you gotta go through the Taliban. If you’re getting refugees out, you’re gonna need safe routes. You need safe routes? Gotta grease a few palms. Doesn’t mean you’re supporting terrorists, it just means you know how things work.”
“So,” Nate said slowly, narrowing his eyes and cocking his head, “aid groups toss a few dollars to the Taliban, that gets them on our government’s radar. Those groups make contact with organizations here, or ask for funds to help finance their operation, which includes paying off the Taliban, and now Homeland Security can step in. They can investigate it as a conspiracy to finance terrorist groups. And once they invoke the Patriot Act, they can investigate whoever the hell they want to. Including Nana. All without a single shred of evidence against her.”
“But … that’s insane!” Sophie protested. “We’re talking about getting children out of a war zone, not blowing up the bloody Twin Towers! She’s not a terrorist, she’s helping orphans for God’s sake!”
“Tell that to Homeland Security,” Hardison said bitterly. “In their eyes, she’s now a conspirator against the United States of America. They could put her on a plane for Gitmo today.”
Sophie turned to Nate. “They can’t really do that, can they? I thought you Americans were all about liberty and freedom! Whatever happened to that?”
“We decided looking for terrorists under our national bed was more important,” he said scathingly. “And, yes, they can do that. Under the Patriot Act, the government can do pretty much whatever the hell it wants. Hell, the TSA is groping three-year-olds in airports! And more and more churches are coming under surveillance for harboring undocumented immigrants or, like Nana’s, helping war refugees resettle here.” He shook his head firmly and began to pace. “Conrad and his people are thorough. They went through Hardison’s background, found Nana, and did some digging. Hell, for all we know he was behind placing those kids with her. Manufacturing a weakness he could later exploit.”
“Yeah, well, it worked,” Hardison seethed. He stared at Nate through wide, glittering eyes, desperation bleeding from him. “I can make us disappear,” he said harshly. “But I can’t make Nana and those kids disappear. And if we go underground, that leaves her vulnerable. Conrad will take out his anger on her. Shit, he’ll turn her into an enemy of the state! I won’t do that. I can’t do that!”
“I know,” Nate sighed. “More importantly, Conrad knows that.” He stopped pacing and turned to Eliot. “Looks like he found those weaknesses we talked about earlier,” he said quietly.
“No,” Sophie breathed. “You can’t possibly-”
But Eliot knew better. And for a moment he thought he might be sick.
“We don’t have a choice,” Nate said quietly, his eyes never leaving Eliot. “Conrad has been very careful not to leave us one. He’s done his homework too well. And I have no doubt that Nana is not the only vulnerability he’s prepared to exploit.”
Eliot closed his eyes and bowed his head, a parade of faces flashing through his mind. Maggie, Tara, Archie, his sister and her family, hell, Aimee and Willie; they were all weaknesses, were all leverage. And any one of them or all of them would be classified as an “acceptable loss” to a man like Conrad.
“I’ll call and set up a meeting,” Nate sighed.
Eliot lifted his head and opened his eyes, fixing them on Nate. “I’m comin’ with you,” he said in a low, hard voice, bracing for a fight. To his relief, though, Nate nodded his agreement.
“I’m comin’, too,” Hardison declared. “Bastard needs to know he can’t just-”
“No,” Nate breathed, cocking his head slightly and narrowing his eyes. Hardison and Sophie both started to argue, but he shook his head. “Eliot and I will meet with Conrad.” He smiled faintly and turned, taking in Sophie, Hardison and Parker with his gaze. “I have another job for the three of you.”
*~*~*
Hardison sat at the desk and stared blankly at his computer, his mind for once unable to understand any of the data on the screen before him. Parker was sitting beside him, occasionally trying to make stilted conversation, but he heard little of it. He couldn’t get past the outright panic he’d heard in Nana’s voice. He’d never known her to panic over anything, had never imagined she was capable of it.
Something in the very foundation of his world had shifted.
“You all right?”
Eliot’s low, gruff voice broke into his thoughts and he looked up to see the hitter slipping into the chair at his other side, a beer in his hand. Yeah, just now alcohol sounded like a very good idea.
As if reading his mind - and hell, with him, who knew? - Eliot raised his other hand and held out the beer in it to him with a faint smile. “It ain’t orange soda,” the hitter cracked, “but I figured you could use somethin’ stronger under the circumstances.”
He took the beer gratefully and immediately took a long, deep swig.
Eliot leaned forward and caught Parker’s attention. “I got some more of that disgusting cereal you like at the store. Supper’s gonna be a while, so if you’re hungry-”
She was up and gone in a flash. Hardison couldn’t blame her. She still wasn’t good at dealing with other people’s emotions, and he was much too rattled to help her.
They’d gone after Nana.
He must have spoken that last aloud, because Eliot sighed and shook his head. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, man. But trust me,” he lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Hardison, “we’ll get him to back off her. One way or another.”
Hardison nodded, but couldn’t help feeling a slight chill at those last few words. He had a fairly good idea of what some of Eliot’s “ways” might entail, and, while it wouldn’t particularly bother him to see Conrad cut into tiny pieces and then run through a blender, he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted Eliot to get any more blood on his hands than he already had. He was sure Nana wouldn’t appreciate him sacrificing another piece of his soul for her.
“It ain’t right,” he said. “All she’s ever done is help people, take in kids nobody else in this world cares about and try to make somethin’ of ’em, help them make somethin’ of themselves, and now she could lose everything because of me-”
“It’s not because of you,” Eliot said firmly. “Don’t put this on yourself. This is all on that bastard Conrad. He knows she hasn’t done anything wrong, but he doesn’t care. She’s a pawn. That’s all we are. They fucked up in wanting Damien gone, now they need him back, and we’re just the means to that end. And Nana’s a means of getting to us. It’s tactics-”
“She’s my Nana!” he shouted, his fury erupting. He slammed his beer down onto the desk, dangerously close to his computer, and the apartment went silent, all eyes turning to him. “She raised me, saw somethin’ in me worth savin’! And just what the hell is it with the world’s obsession with Damien fucking Moreau? He’s so bad a dude we got blackmailed into takin’ him down, and now he’s so important we’re gettin’ blackmailed into turnin’ him loose! What is it about him that makes everybody lose their minds and bow down to him? Hell, even you lost your shit over him! Got so tangled up in havin’ been his boy that you couldn’t figure out which team you were playin’ for-”
He regretted the words the moment they were out, knew from the mingled shame and hurt that cascaded through Eliot’s eyes and over his face that they’d struck a still very raw nerve, and would have given anything to take them back. But they were out and the damage was done, and all he could do was steel himself for the brutal beat-down he was about to get. And probably deserved.
It never came. Instead, Eliot merely lifted his chin, blue eyes dark with pain, and pushed himself out of his chair. “I always knew,” he said softly, a world of anguish in his voice. “That’s what was tearin’ me apart.” He turned and walked away from Hardison, and out of the apartment.
Hardison heaved a deep sigh and dropped his head into shaking hands, bitterly ashamed of himself. He knew, he knew, what going after Moreau had cost Eliot, how it had twisted the man up so badly inside he’d damn near come apart at every seam. And while he’d been rightfully angry at what it had nearly cost him - sometimes he still dreamed of drowning - he had eventually forgiven Eliot and they’d made their peace.
Or so he’d thought. Until he’d stuck a knife in that wound and sliced it open again.
Nana would be so proud.
“He’ll come back,” said a soft voice beside him. “And you can apologize then.”
He lifted his head and looked into Sophie’s deep, dark eyes, exhaling unsteadily at the warmth and compassion in them. “I messed up,” he rasped.
She smiled sweetly and reached out, taking one of his hands in hers and squeezing gently. “Yes, you did. But he’ll understand why when he calms down, and he’ll give you a chance to make it right.”
“I just-” He swallowed hard and tightened his grip on her hand. “I’ve never heard her scared before,” he whispered, tears stinging his eyes and a hard, painful knot filling his throat. “She’s always been the strongest person I knew. She’s stared down the state, abusive parents, drug dealers, cops, gang bangers and a politician or two, and never once flinched. But when I heard her voice on my phone- That bastard scared her!” he spat. “Just to get to me!”
“Hardison- Alec, look at me,” Sophie commanded softly. He did, and found himself gazing into her compelling eyes. “We will not let any harm come to your Nana,” she said, not at all the grifter now, but a woman who had come to understand what family was and what it meant. “I promise you. We’ll do what we have to, but your Nana will be safe. You have my word on that.”
He stared at her for long moments, unable to speak. My word. The word of a grifter, a professional liar-
And it was enough.
*~*~*
Conrad had been waiting for their call. “Two hours,” had been the response to Nate’s request for a meeting. “I’ve been dying to see the inside of your bar.”
It didn’t give them much room to maneuver, and Nate knew he wasn’t the only one worried that every move they made from this point forward was somehow playing into the hands of their enemies. Can’t be helped, he kept reminding himself. This wasn’t a fight they were going to win by playing things safe and sane. “You have your jobs,” he told the others firmly. “Worrying about what Conrad has in store for us is playing his game, and that’s not who we are. That’s not how we’re going to get clear of this.”
He knew just by looking at them that it was only their trust in him and each other that was keeping them together and on task. “We’re going to know exactly what we’re up against soon enough,” had been his parting words once the time came for him and Eliot to go down for their meeting.
“You know Parker’s going to rabbit,” Eliot said as they got in the elevator together. Their coms were off, safely stowed in pockets in case of an emergency; Nate had argued that things were going to be difficult enough without him being distracted at the wrong moment by something one of the others was saying. “This is too big for her - she can’t handle it.”
“She’s not and she can,” Nate argued quietly. He had absolutely no logical basis for his belief, but he knew with unshakeable certainty that Parker would be the last to bolt their little family, short of Eliot himself. “Conrad knew what he was doing going after Hardison. Not only do we need him for anything they want us to pull off, but Parker’s not going to go anywhere while there’s a chance Hardison can be hurt.”
Eliot sighed. “Strategically it’s a good move,” he agreed.
“We’ve been too predictable,” Nate said as the elevator door opened, and the noise of the bar’s afternoon clientele filtered in. “Too complacent. That stops now.”
Conrad and two of his associates had taken a table in the back corner of McRory’s main dining area. Nate scanned the room and saw Cora on duty behind the bar. Signaling her with a glance, he indicated the poker room and was rewarded with a nod confirming it was free.
“Go,” he said to Eliot. Without watching to see how Eliot approached Conrad, Nate continued into the back area. He needed a few moments to catch his breath, to try and control the rage that was threatening to boil over onto everything around him. What the hell am I going to do? He would have sacrificed himself for the rest of them without a second thought. He was pretty sure he could have lived with letting Eliot come with him. For reasons Nate couldn’t begin to fathom, once upon a time Eliot had seen something in him worth following. He wouldn’t dishonor that by pushing the younger man away in a situation like this.
Not to mention, if anyone can find a way out of Conrad’s trap … Nate’s fingers tightened around the back of the chair facing the door, and he fought the urge to throw it across the room. “Breathe,” he reminded himself, inhaling and exhaling deeply. You’re just scared.
The thought bowed his head. It was easy to understand and embrace the rage - it was harder to admit that he hadn’t been this genuinely frightened in far too long. Not since that horrible moment in the doctor’s office when everybody had started talking about Sam not being able to pull through. I can’t lose them. Not to this. Not like this.
Before he could follow the fear to its logical conclusion, the door swung open. Eliot came in first, followed closely by the three CIA agents. Nate straightened up, forcing the anger and the fear back automatically and leaving no sign of anything but calm control in its wake. “Director,” he greeted Conrad with a sharp nod.
Conrad actually smiled. “I’m glad you’ve seen reason, Mr. Ford.”
Eliot had been moving into position at Nate’s shoulder when Conrad spoke, and Nate briefly felt his hitter tense. The moment passed quickly, allowing Nate to turn his attention fully on their new adversary. “You didn’t leave us much choice,” he admitted, indicating that Conrad should sit before taking his own chair. “How long have you been planning that move against Alec Hardison’s foster mother, by the way? That’s not something that’s going to play well in the press if it gets out.”
It was a calculated risk, but Nate knew he needed to get Conrad’s full measure before he could start working on any sort of a real plan. “I prefer to make my point quickly - particularly in a situation like this where we’re aiming for a window of extremely limited opportunity.”
“So you do have a plan already in place,” Eliot said. Conrad’s attention slid up to meet the younger man’s eyes, and Nate was pleased to see that he didn’t like having to interact with Eliot directly.
“We do,” Conrad said finally, shifting so that he was largely addressing Nate once more, but including Eliot somewhat in the discussion. “Two weeks from tonight, Majid Shahriari will be in Islamabad. Dr. Shahriari was Damien Moreau’s primary contact in the Iranian scientific community when it came to moving nuclear materials into the country.”
“And you want to make sure he doesn’t keep his dance card filled with any other players,” Nate interjected.
Conrad nodded. “We’ve done our best to prevent Shahriari from settling in with a new supplier. Word is already filtering through the local black market of Moreau’s escape from San Lorenzo.” Eliot made a small choking sound at Conrad’s choice of words; Nate smiled slightly, but didn’t draw any further attention to the unspoken commentary.
If Conrad noticed, he gave no outward sign. “The good doctor suspects that he will be meeting with Moreau, but he hasn’t been able to confirm. We will continue stringing him along until it’s time for the meet, but I have no problem considering any input your people might have on that score.”
Nate studied his fingers for a long moment, flipping through dozens of potential responses before settling on one he felt comfortable going forward with. “We can set up a backstory that will put Eliot at Moreau’s side again.” It was the last thing in the world Nate wanted to do, but if they were really going forward with this it was the only thing that made sense. “I’ll work directly with your people on tightening up whatever you’ve got in place.”
The three men across the table stiffened almost exactly at the same time. Nate shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “You’re the one who said we were underestimating ourselves, Director.”
Conrad chuckled - the sound was low and dangerous in the largely empty room. “So I did. I would appreciate it if you do me the courtesy of not underestimating me in return.”
Busted. Nate swore inwardly, but kept his expression outwardly smooth and calm. “You don’t need the others,” he argued. “Hardison maybe, although in your shoes I’d be worried about turning the world’s greatest hacker loose in my system. Sophie and Parker won’t add anything to what you’ve laid out here.”
“You can’t control Moreau at a distance.” Conrad raised a finger to illustrate his point. “Nobody in this room believes that Spencer can be trusted once he gets within fifty feet of his old master. Putting Ms. Devereaux in the mix gives us added security.” A second finger went up. “Hardison will behave himself unless he likes the idea of visiting his beloved Nana in federal prison.” Nate felt his chest tighten as a third finger went up. “Did you really think we wouldn’t have a part of this plan only the world’s greatest thief could pull off?”
Part 3
Authors: scout_lover and telaryn
Artist: alinaandalion
Disclaimer: Not mine, making no money. I write only from a sad, fannish devotion to the characters created by John Rogers, Chris Downey, Dean Devlin and the amazing writers of Leverage.
Characters/Pairings: Team, Damien Moreau, Director Conrad, Sterling, Nana, all canon pairings
Rating: PG-13 leaning over the fence and shaking hands with R
Genre: Gen, drama, angst, team!fic
Warnings/spoilers: Set after the events of The Last Dam Job, the story is directly drawn from events in The Experimental Job.
Word Count: 50,069
Summary: The threat issued by CIA Director Conrad at the end of The Experimental Job proves to be anything but idle. The team is blackmailed into working for the CIA to help gain control of the major nuclear pipeline into Iran. To accomplish this and keep their loved ones safe, they are forced to work with an old enemy towards a common goal.
What the CIA fails to realize is that catching the Leverage team and holding them are usually two different things.
What Nate fails to realize is that the price for squirming free of the government's grasp is likely to be higher than he expected.
Link to Art Post: Here
CHAPTER TWO
“Hey Nana,” Hardison said. He was unable to keep the note of hesitation out of his voice as he reached the relative privacy of the hallway. Too many distractions. “What’s going on - is everything all right?”
We called her "Nana," but she was our foster mom. She, uh... she -- she would cuss like a sailor. The old girl would tan your ass just as soon as look at you. But -- but she fed us, she bathed us, she put a roof over our head. And, oh, she would raise hell if you so much as looked at us crooked.
Memory of a conversation he’d had with Parker years earlier came back to Hardison as he listened to the old woman on the other end of the line. Caroline Bushnell was the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother, and Hardison gave her full marks for him growing up a relatively decent human being, even if he hadn’t been able to stay entirely on the right side of the law.
He slumped against the wall, listening intently as Nana’s story went on. He’d endured a lot of terrifying things in the nearly five years he’d worked with Nate; none of it, with the possible exception of being buried alive, scared him as badly as the raw desperation he could hear in her voice.
“You told me you do that hacking thing to help people now, right?” The question broke him out of his reverie; pushing himself off the wall, Hardison began to pace.
“You don’t worry about a thing, Nana,” he promised fiercely. “I’m going to look into this and do whatever it takes to make it go away. Do you have a lawyer?”
“Alec …”
He could hear the hesitation in her voice now, and leapt ahead to spare her the embarrassment of asking. “As soon as I hang up with you, I’m gonna find the best in the country at dealing with this kind of stuff. Whoever he is, you work with him until I can make this go away, you hear me?” He braced himself for one of her famous lectures on breaking the law, but there was only silence on the other end of the line.
The door to Nate’s apartment opened. Hardison tensed, but relaxed immediately when he saw Parker slip through the opening. He was about to say something to her as an aside when Nana spoke again in his ear.
“They’re good kids, Alec. Just like you and Tracy. All they need is a chance.”
Hardison swallowed. “I know, Nana. You keep doing what you do best. I’m gonna fix this - I swear.” They exchanged good byes.
When she was gone, Hardison felt himself begin to shake. White hot anger - the likes of which he rarely felt - flared through his mind. Patriot Act. They’re investigating her under the fucking Patriot Act. Nana’s focus was understandably on the notice from the State threatening to take custody of her current crop of foster children; it was the idea that she could be charged with aiding terrorists simply because she had taken in two orphaned Afghani children that terrified Hardison. Burden of proof isn’t what it used to be, he thought, tightening his grip on his phone until he felt actual pain in his hand.
“What’s happened?”
He met Parker’s gaze, and what he saw in her eyes steadied him a bit. “I … um …” He closed his eyes, willing himself back under control, and started again. “That was how the CIA’s gonna get me to play nice and go along with their plan.”
*~*~*
Sophie sat back in her chair and stared at the monitors, with all their evidence of Conrad’s surveillance on them, her mind still reeling. They had certainly used such measures against marks in the past, but never to this extent. If all this truly had been done in so short a time- Obviously the agency deserved its formidable reputation.
And now all that was aimed at them.
She shuddered and absently folded her arms tightly against her chest. “They’re … very thorough, aren’t they?” she breathed.
Eliot set a glass of wine down before her and stood close, lending his warmth and solidness to chase away her chill. Ever the protector, she mused.
“You have no idea,” he said quietly, his gaze, too, riveted to the screen. “This is just a taste, Conrad’s little way of makin’ a point. They’ve got teams that can completely sweep a house in about an hour, go through everything you own, clone your computer hard drive, read your mail, plant their little bugs and cameras and get out without leaving anything out of place. They’ll know everything about you, be able to track your every movement, and you’ll never even know they were there.”
She shivered again, suddenly tempted to go home and scour through her belongings. Eliot’s hand shifted to her back, rubbing small, slow circles, and she relaxed into his touch, not entirely reassured but grateful for his effort. “All this just to get our attention,” she murmured. “But why? This isn’t our game. We’ve stolen a lot of things over the years, but never nuclear materials!”
“Yes, well, Conrad seems determined to change our game,” Nate said, leaning against the desk and frowning thoughtfully. “I can understand Moreau; Conrad needs him as his inside man. This is - was - Moreau’s operation; he built it, he knows all the players, where all the bodies are buried-”
“’Course he does,” Eliot growled. “He’s the one who buried ’em. Or,” he winced slightly, “had someone do it for him.”
Sophie glanced up at him in concern. Their first run at Moreau had opened so many old wounds in him, forced him so deeply back into the past he’d thought he’d left behind, that she’d watched this most unshakable of men unravel completely before them in a sunlit park. He’d finally managed to knit himself back together - helped in large part by their triumph over Moreau - but now she could see the cracks opening again. And she couldn’t help wondering exactly what kind of man had this much power over Eliot Spencer.
“Everything fell apart when we took down Moreau,” Nate went on. “Apparently no one who wanted him gone thought through the repercussions-”
“Imagine that,” Eliot snarked.
Nate’s lips twitched in a wry grin as he continued. “Nature abhors a vacuum. With Moreau suddenly gone and his organization in ruins, chaos erupted. Or even more chaos than usually exists in the Middle East. It’s a free for all, with a lot of very dangerous people playing for potentially catastrophic stakes. Moreau’s dangerous too, but at least he has the benefit of not being crazy and of being motivated by greed rather than ideology. The CIA is counting on him to restore order.”
“Better the devil you know,” Sophie murmured.
“Exactly,” Nate said. “Moreau likes order, and he’s very good at establishing it. He profits from order.” He shrugged. “And the government is apparently willing to overlook his other … shortcomings … as long as he gives them some influence in that part of his operation. Moreau’s job will be to take back and control that pipeline. Conrad wants us to control Moreau.”
Eliot’s snort plainly expressed his opinion on that, and Sophie had to share it. “Control Moreau?” she repeated in sharp disbelief. “Bloody hell, what is it with these people? First the Italian, now Conrad- This is their job, this is what they do! Why the hell can’t they do it and just leave us out of it? This isn’t a game on some arrogant CEO or used car dealer! This is Damien Moreau! Who now has a rather deep and personal grudge against us!”
“I know, I know. Sophie,” Nate raised his hands to silence her rant, “I know.” He reached out and took her hands in his, holding tightly to them. “Believe me, I am not in any hurry to go up against Moreau again,” he assured her, gazing intently into her eyes. “We got lucky the last time; I am well aware of that. We got him because he underestimated us. He won’t make that mistake again-”
“He never does,” Eliot added quietly. “That’s one of his strengths. Damien never makes the same mistake twice. And he’s had two years to learn everything he can about us.”
“He’s been in prison,” Sophie protested. “How-”
“He’s had access to lawyers,” Nate reminded her. “President Vittori wanted to be certain he got the full benefits of the justice system he denied to so many others. And the rules of discovery can be … very broad.”
“Shoulda just taken the bastard out back and put a bullet in his brain,” Eliot muttered. “If Vittori didn’t want his people’s hands dirtied, he coulda just called me.”
“You’re not killing Moreau,” Nate said flatly, and Sophie wondered how many times he’d said it already, how many times he’d say it again before they were done. “And we’re not playing Conrad’s game. I will not expose this team, us, to this kind of danger. You’re right,” he said with a nod at Sophie, “this isn’t who we are, and it’s not what we do. I’ll talk to Conrad again, buy us some time. Meanwhile, Hardison will be working on a way for us to disappear-”
“No Hardison won’t,” came a low, tight voice from just inside the doorway.
*~*~*
They all turned at Hardison’s words, and alarms began shrieking in Eliot’s brain. Fear and rage glittered in the younger man’s eyes, and Eliot could almost feel the tension radiating from him. Somewhere in his mind he heard the sound of a door slamming shut.
Nate released Sophie’s hands and straightened. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly, calmly, though Eliot could see the same alarm in his eyes.
Hardison stalked forward, Parker flitting behind him like a shadow, and tossed his phone onto the desk. His whole body trembled from the force of his rage. “That was Nana on the phone,” he spat through clenched teeth. “They’re threatenin’ to take her kids away from her.”
Sophie gasped sharply and Eliot muttered a filthy curse. He’d heard Hardison talk about his Nana countless times over the years and knew exactly what she meant to the hacker. He also had to admire a woman who devoted her entire life to the care and raising of children nobody else in the world seemed to give a damn about for no more reason than that they needed her.
“Who?” Nate asked tersely.
Hardison stared at him through burning eyes, his jaws working and his hands clenching and unclenching convulsively at his sides as he fought a visible battle to contain his rage. “The state,” he finally ground out. “But she’s under investigation by the feds. Homeland Security. They’re usin’ the fuckin’ Patriot Act against her!” he snarled.
Nate exhaled heavily and bowed his head, closing his eyes and running a hand over them. Eliot swore again and turned away, then began to pace with a tightly coiled fury, clearly able to see Conrad’s hand in this.
I know where my weaknesses are. Nate’s voice echoed again in his mind. Do you even want to hazard a guess as to the others?
Conrad hadn’t needed to guess. He’d also just risen to number two on Eliot’s to-kill list.
“I don’t understand,” Sophie said at last, confusion evident in her voice. “She takes in foster children. What could they possibly investigate?”
“Two of her newest kids are from Afghanistan,” Hardison said in a tight, clipped voice. “Apparently, their village was trying to build a school - for boys and girls.” Eliot groaned and bowed his head, knowing only too well what was coming. “Taliban didn’t like that, attacked the village. The kids’ families were among those killed.”
“Dear God,” Sophie breathed.
Hardison shuddered and swallowed audibly; Parker crept closer still and slowly inserted her hand into his.
“How’d she get the children?” Nate asked, his head still bowed.
Hardison clung to Parker’s hand, obviously using her to steady himself. “Our soldiers found them and the other survivors after the battle, got ’em to some aid workers. Turned out they didn’t have any other relatives, so the aid workers got in touch with an organization that specializes in getting kids like them out of Afghanistan and into homes in other countries. Nana’s church is part of a network here that takes in refugees. They contacted her, she had an opening.” A faint smile broke through his anger and ghosted about his mouth. “Nana always has an opening if there’s a kid in need. I’ve seen her give up her own bed and make up the couch at midnight for an ‘emergency’ placement. And for war orphans? Nana woulda slept on the porch to give those kids a home.”
Nate lifted his head and fixed grim eyes on the hacker. “So how did Homeland Security get involved?”
Hardison licked his lips slowly, hesitating, and Eliot stepped in. “Lemme guess,” he said quietly. “The group in Afghanistan is on a government watch list, supposed to have some kind of ties to the Taliban. Probably financial.” When Hardison nodded, he sighed and turned to Nate. “It’s simple - you want to do anything in Afghanistan, you gotta go through the Taliban. If you’re getting refugees out, you’re gonna need safe routes. You need safe routes? Gotta grease a few palms. Doesn’t mean you’re supporting terrorists, it just means you know how things work.”
“So,” Nate said slowly, narrowing his eyes and cocking his head, “aid groups toss a few dollars to the Taliban, that gets them on our government’s radar. Those groups make contact with organizations here, or ask for funds to help finance their operation, which includes paying off the Taliban, and now Homeland Security can step in. They can investigate it as a conspiracy to finance terrorist groups. And once they invoke the Patriot Act, they can investigate whoever the hell they want to. Including Nana. All without a single shred of evidence against her.”
“But … that’s insane!” Sophie protested. “We’re talking about getting children out of a war zone, not blowing up the bloody Twin Towers! She’s not a terrorist, she’s helping orphans for God’s sake!”
“Tell that to Homeland Security,” Hardison said bitterly. “In their eyes, she’s now a conspirator against the United States of America. They could put her on a plane for Gitmo today.”
Sophie turned to Nate. “They can’t really do that, can they? I thought you Americans were all about liberty and freedom! Whatever happened to that?”
“We decided looking for terrorists under our national bed was more important,” he said scathingly. “And, yes, they can do that. Under the Patriot Act, the government can do pretty much whatever the hell it wants. Hell, the TSA is groping three-year-olds in airports! And more and more churches are coming under surveillance for harboring undocumented immigrants or, like Nana’s, helping war refugees resettle here.” He shook his head firmly and began to pace. “Conrad and his people are thorough. They went through Hardison’s background, found Nana, and did some digging. Hell, for all we know he was behind placing those kids with her. Manufacturing a weakness he could later exploit.”
“Yeah, well, it worked,” Hardison seethed. He stared at Nate through wide, glittering eyes, desperation bleeding from him. “I can make us disappear,” he said harshly. “But I can’t make Nana and those kids disappear. And if we go underground, that leaves her vulnerable. Conrad will take out his anger on her. Shit, he’ll turn her into an enemy of the state! I won’t do that. I can’t do that!”
“I know,” Nate sighed. “More importantly, Conrad knows that.” He stopped pacing and turned to Eliot. “Looks like he found those weaknesses we talked about earlier,” he said quietly.
“No,” Sophie breathed. “You can’t possibly-”
But Eliot knew better. And for a moment he thought he might be sick.
“We don’t have a choice,” Nate said quietly, his eyes never leaving Eliot. “Conrad has been very careful not to leave us one. He’s done his homework too well. And I have no doubt that Nana is not the only vulnerability he’s prepared to exploit.”
Eliot closed his eyes and bowed his head, a parade of faces flashing through his mind. Maggie, Tara, Archie, his sister and her family, hell, Aimee and Willie; they were all weaknesses, were all leverage. And any one of them or all of them would be classified as an “acceptable loss” to a man like Conrad.
“I’ll call and set up a meeting,” Nate sighed.
Eliot lifted his head and opened his eyes, fixing them on Nate. “I’m comin’ with you,” he said in a low, hard voice, bracing for a fight. To his relief, though, Nate nodded his agreement.
“I’m comin’, too,” Hardison declared. “Bastard needs to know he can’t just-”
“No,” Nate breathed, cocking his head slightly and narrowing his eyes. Hardison and Sophie both started to argue, but he shook his head. “Eliot and I will meet with Conrad.” He smiled faintly and turned, taking in Sophie, Hardison and Parker with his gaze. “I have another job for the three of you.”
*~*~*
Hardison sat at the desk and stared blankly at his computer, his mind for once unable to understand any of the data on the screen before him. Parker was sitting beside him, occasionally trying to make stilted conversation, but he heard little of it. He couldn’t get past the outright panic he’d heard in Nana’s voice. He’d never known her to panic over anything, had never imagined she was capable of it.
Something in the very foundation of his world had shifted.
“You all right?”
Eliot’s low, gruff voice broke into his thoughts and he looked up to see the hitter slipping into the chair at his other side, a beer in his hand. Yeah, just now alcohol sounded like a very good idea.
As if reading his mind - and hell, with him, who knew? - Eliot raised his other hand and held out the beer in it to him with a faint smile. “It ain’t orange soda,” the hitter cracked, “but I figured you could use somethin’ stronger under the circumstances.”
He took the beer gratefully and immediately took a long, deep swig.
Eliot leaned forward and caught Parker’s attention. “I got some more of that disgusting cereal you like at the store. Supper’s gonna be a while, so if you’re hungry-”
She was up and gone in a flash. Hardison couldn’t blame her. She still wasn’t good at dealing with other people’s emotions, and he was much too rattled to help her.
They’d gone after Nana.
He must have spoken that last aloud, because Eliot sighed and shook his head. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, man. But trust me,” he lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Hardison, “we’ll get him to back off her. One way or another.”
Hardison nodded, but couldn’t help feeling a slight chill at those last few words. He had a fairly good idea of what some of Eliot’s “ways” might entail, and, while it wouldn’t particularly bother him to see Conrad cut into tiny pieces and then run through a blender, he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted Eliot to get any more blood on his hands than he already had. He was sure Nana wouldn’t appreciate him sacrificing another piece of his soul for her.
“It ain’t right,” he said. “All she’s ever done is help people, take in kids nobody else in this world cares about and try to make somethin’ of ’em, help them make somethin’ of themselves, and now she could lose everything because of me-”
“It’s not because of you,” Eliot said firmly. “Don’t put this on yourself. This is all on that bastard Conrad. He knows she hasn’t done anything wrong, but he doesn’t care. She’s a pawn. That’s all we are. They fucked up in wanting Damien gone, now they need him back, and we’re just the means to that end. And Nana’s a means of getting to us. It’s tactics-”
“She’s my Nana!” he shouted, his fury erupting. He slammed his beer down onto the desk, dangerously close to his computer, and the apartment went silent, all eyes turning to him. “She raised me, saw somethin’ in me worth savin’! And just what the hell is it with the world’s obsession with Damien fucking Moreau? He’s so bad a dude we got blackmailed into takin’ him down, and now he’s so important we’re gettin’ blackmailed into turnin’ him loose! What is it about him that makes everybody lose their minds and bow down to him? Hell, even you lost your shit over him! Got so tangled up in havin’ been his boy that you couldn’t figure out which team you were playin’ for-”
He regretted the words the moment they were out, knew from the mingled shame and hurt that cascaded through Eliot’s eyes and over his face that they’d struck a still very raw nerve, and would have given anything to take them back. But they were out and the damage was done, and all he could do was steel himself for the brutal beat-down he was about to get. And probably deserved.
It never came. Instead, Eliot merely lifted his chin, blue eyes dark with pain, and pushed himself out of his chair. “I always knew,” he said softly, a world of anguish in his voice. “That’s what was tearin’ me apart.” He turned and walked away from Hardison, and out of the apartment.
Hardison heaved a deep sigh and dropped his head into shaking hands, bitterly ashamed of himself. He knew, he knew, what going after Moreau had cost Eliot, how it had twisted the man up so badly inside he’d damn near come apart at every seam. And while he’d been rightfully angry at what it had nearly cost him - sometimes he still dreamed of drowning - he had eventually forgiven Eliot and they’d made their peace.
Or so he’d thought. Until he’d stuck a knife in that wound and sliced it open again.
Nana would be so proud.
“He’ll come back,” said a soft voice beside him. “And you can apologize then.”
He lifted his head and looked into Sophie’s deep, dark eyes, exhaling unsteadily at the warmth and compassion in them. “I messed up,” he rasped.
She smiled sweetly and reached out, taking one of his hands in hers and squeezing gently. “Yes, you did. But he’ll understand why when he calms down, and he’ll give you a chance to make it right.”
“I just-” He swallowed hard and tightened his grip on her hand. “I’ve never heard her scared before,” he whispered, tears stinging his eyes and a hard, painful knot filling his throat. “She’s always been the strongest person I knew. She’s stared down the state, abusive parents, drug dealers, cops, gang bangers and a politician or two, and never once flinched. But when I heard her voice on my phone- That bastard scared her!” he spat. “Just to get to me!”
“Hardison- Alec, look at me,” Sophie commanded softly. He did, and found himself gazing into her compelling eyes. “We will not let any harm come to your Nana,” she said, not at all the grifter now, but a woman who had come to understand what family was and what it meant. “I promise you. We’ll do what we have to, but your Nana will be safe. You have my word on that.”
He stared at her for long moments, unable to speak. My word. The word of a grifter, a professional liar-
And it was enough.
*~*~*
Conrad had been waiting for their call. “Two hours,” had been the response to Nate’s request for a meeting. “I’ve been dying to see the inside of your bar.”
It didn’t give them much room to maneuver, and Nate knew he wasn’t the only one worried that every move they made from this point forward was somehow playing into the hands of their enemies. Can’t be helped, he kept reminding himself. This wasn’t a fight they were going to win by playing things safe and sane. “You have your jobs,” he told the others firmly. “Worrying about what Conrad has in store for us is playing his game, and that’s not who we are. That’s not how we’re going to get clear of this.”
He knew just by looking at them that it was only their trust in him and each other that was keeping them together and on task. “We’re going to know exactly what we’re up against soon enough,” had been his parting words once the time came for him and Eliot to go down for their meeting.
“You know Parker’s going to rabbit,” Eliot said as they got in the elevator together. Their coms were off, safely stowed in pockets in case of an emergency; Nate had argued that things were going to be difficult enough without him being distracted at the wrong moment by something one of the others was saying. “This is too big for her - she can’t handle it.”
“She’s not and she can,” Nate argued quietly. He had absolutely no logical basis for his belief, but he knew with unshakeable certainty that Parker would be the last to bolt their little family, short of Eliot himself. “Conrad knew what he was doing going after Hardison. Not only do we need him for anything they want us to pull off, but Parker’s not going to go anywhere while there’s a chance Hardison can be hurt.”
Eliot sighed. “Strategically it’s a good move,” he agreed.
“We’ve been too predictable,” Nate said as the elevator door opened, and the noise of the bar’s afternoon clientele filtered in. “Too complacent. That stops now.”
Conrad and two of his associates had taken a table in the back corner of McRory’s main dining area. Nate scanned the room and saw Cora on duty behind the bar. Signaling her with a glance, he indicated the poker room and was rewarded with a nod confirming it was free.
“Go,” he said to Eliot. Without watching to see how Eliot approached Conrad, Nate continued into the back area. He needed a few moments to catch his breath, to try and control the rage that was threatening to boil over onto everything around him. What the hell am I going to do? He would have sacrificed himself for the rest of them without a second thought. He was pretty sure he could have lived with letting Eliot come with him. For reasons Nate couldn’t begin to fathom, once upon a time Eliot had seen something in him worth following. He wouldn’t dishonor that by pushing the younger man away in a situation like this.
Not to mention, if anyone can find a way out of Conrad’s trap … Nate’s fingers tightened around the back of the chair facing the door, and he fought the urge to throw it across the room. “Breathe,” he reminded himself, inhaling and exhaling deeply. You’re just scared.
The thought bowed his head. It was easy to understand and embrace the rage - it was harder to admit that he hadn’t been this genuinely frightened in far too long. Not since that horrible moment in the doctor’s office when everybody had started talking about Sam not being able to pull through. I can’t lose them. Not to this. Not like this.
Before he could follow the fear to its logical conclusion, the door swung open. Eliot came in first, followed closely by the three CIA agents. Nate straightened up, forcing the anger and the fear back automatically and leaving no sign of anything but calm control in its wake. “Director,” he greeted Conrad with a sharp nod.
Conrad actually smiled. “I’m glad you’ve seen reason, Mr. Ford.”
Eliot had been moving into position at Nate’s shoulder when Conrad spoke, and Nate briefly felt his hitter tense. The moment passed quickly, allowing Nate to turn his attention fully on their new adversary. “You didn’t leave us much choice,” he admitted, indicating that Conrad should sit before taking his own chair. “How long have you been planning that move against Alec Hardison’s foster mother, by the way? That’s not something that’s going to play well in the press if it gets out.”
It was a calculated risk, but Nate knew he needed to get Conrad’s full measure before he could start working on any sort of a real plan. “I prefer to make my point quickly - particularly in a situation like this where we’re aiming for a window of extremely limited opportunity.”
“So you do have a plan already in place,” Eliot said. Conrad’s attention slid up to meet the younger man’s eyes, and Nate was pleased to see that he didn’t like having to interact with Eliot directly.
“We do,” Conrad said finally, shifting so that he was largely addressing Nate once more, but including Eliot somewhat in the discussion. “Two weeks from tonight, Majid Shahriari will be in Islamabad. Dr. Shahriari was Damien Moreau’s primary contact in the Iranian scientific community when it came to moving nuclear materials into the country.”
“And you want to make sure he doesn’t keep his dance card filled with any other players,” Nate interjected.
Conrad nodded. “We’ve done our best to prevent Shahriari from settling in with a new supplier. Word is already filtering through the local black market of Moreau’s escape from San Lorenzo.” Eliot made a small choking sound at Conrad’s choice of words; Nate smiled slightly, but didn’t draw any further attention to the unspoken commentary.
If Conrad noticed, he gave no outward sign. “The good doctor suspects that he will be meeting with Moreau, but he hasn’t been able to confirm. We will continue stringing him along until it’s time for the meet, but I have no problem considering any input your people might have on that score.”
Nate studied his fingers for a long moment, flipping through dozens of potential responses before settling on one he felt comfortable going forward with. “We can set up a backstory that will put Eliot at Moreau’s side again.” It was the last thing in the world Nate wanted to do, but if they were really going forward with this it was the only thing that made sense. “I’ll work directly with your people on tightening up whatever you’ve got in place.”
The three men across the table stiffened almost exactly at the same time. Nate shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “You’re the one who said we were underestimating ourselves, Director.”
Conrad chuckled - the sound was low and dangerous in the largely empty room. “So I did. I would appreciate it if you do me the courtesy of not underestimating me in return.”
Busted. Nate swore inwardly, but kept his expression outwardly smooth and calm. “You don’t need the others,” he argued. “Hardison maybe, although in your shoes I’d be worried about turning the world’s greatest hacker loose in my system. Sophie and Parker won’t add anything to what you’ve laid out here.”
“You can’t control Moreau at a distance.” Conrad raised a finger to illustrate his point. “Nobody in this room believes that Spencer can be trusted once he gets within fifty feet of his old master. Putting Ms. Devereaux in the mix gives us added security.” A second finger went up. “Hardison will behave himself unless he likes the idea of visiting his beloved Nana in federal prison.” Nate felt his chest tighten as a third finger went up. “Did you really think we wouldn’t have a part of this plan only the world’s greatest thief could pull off?”
Part 3