Daisy | Simon Riley

|32|

Price was waiting outside the closed meeting room door when they finally arrived, his eyes boring into them with a suspicious look.

"Morning, Price," Drew greeted as they approached.

"We've been waiting on you both."

"She was sore this morning," Simon said without pause, "took her a bit longer to get dressed."

Price's eyes softened slightly as he turned to her. "You take your pain medication?"

She nodded.

"Alright, come on, we'll get started."

Once he turned, she shot her elbow into Simon's side in reprimand before stepping forward and following Price. She wiped the amused look off her face as they passed the doorway though, sitting down onto a free chair as Simon did the same on the other side.

"Just over an hour ago three lorries collided on a highway a few hours from Montréal, Canada, and it's likely they were all carrying heavy weapons."

"Casualties?" Soap asked.

"At least three, but no other vehicles were involved."

"Weapons transfer to a new location," Simon concluded.

"That's what we're thinking," Price nodded.

Drew leaned forward sightly, "Are the trucks part of a company that might have records for where they were dispatched from or it's route?"

"We've ran the plates but they've come up as fakes, so we won't be able to track them with records."

"Great."

"Drew's old buddies at the Canadian JTF2 will be starting the search, and a team led by Gaz will meet them. They're overseeing the accident and will be keeping it secure for us."

"When will the search start?" she asked, noting his absence now that she actually looked around the table.

"Sunrise, which is in about six hours."

"We should see what Frank and Tomomi know, push that we're onto them," Soap suggested.

Price nodded in permission. "See what you can do."

"You with me, L.T.?" Soap asked, eyes on Simon.

He nodded once, eyes hard.

"We'll move them into interrogation rooms after breakfast. Let them sit a few hours and then start," Soap stated.

⁂

She sat behind the two-way mirror, watching Frank at the table. As she'd noticed in the notes, he was... quiet. Resigned almost.

He'd been sitting in the room for the last handful of hours, and since she'd arrived twenty minutes prior, he'd not even shifted.

The radio in front of her crackled to life.

"This is Soap, how copy?"

She grabbed the transmitter and pulled it to her mouth, "Solid copy, Soap. Let's see you get some answers, eh?"

"Aye, lass. I will."

With that, the door opened and Soap and Simon walked in, faces giving nothing away as they stared the German down. Behind them came another soldier—the interpreter.

"Frank," Soap said, his voice carrying through the speakers. "Sorry for keeping you in here so long, it's been a busy day," he drawled.

The interpreter translated and Drew watched Frank for reaction, for a possibly snappy return. But all he did was nod.