Flashbang

Chapter 11

"Great choice, Tom. Radio silence from your asset and we're stuck with, what, nada. Zilch." Maria said. Her voice soft, yet held resignation to the path that was before her. They were in Eric's office once more, waiting on their boss to arrive back from his own meeting with those way above their pay grade. They had been left to their own devices, as they waited on their boss.

Tom spared a longing glance out of the office window, his eyes drifting over to the plant that sat proudly in the London sunlight before slowly turning to face Maria. "You had been the one who suggested civilians, Maria. I would say that at least Lansbury knows what he's up against. Imagine that you got your way."

"Right."

"You don't believe me."

"No. It's not that," Maria's face was set in annoyance, having been piled with any information that she could acquire through contacts she had with anyone involved in the Beirut operation. She did not like the silence between them and their asset, even if said asset was a trained soldier. A moment of silence passed, her features morphed into a more pensive expression. "I see your point. Tom, you had a little chat with Lansbury before you brought him here, right?"

It was at this point that the door opened, Eric walked in, his gait quick and purposeful as he then sat in his chair. Maria sat up straighter in his presence, her hands folded neatly over her lap as she sent one more glance at Tom, who had adjusted his own position to seem more attentive.

"So, what do we have?" Eric asked.

"Unfortunately, I have not managed to come up with much more than what was given to me by various contacts and those who have worked on said operation." Maria replied, her voice soft. "I know that the families would want an update but I would recommend leaving it until we have proper confirmation on their whereabouts and status, as they are still missing and Lansbury has maintained his silence."

Eric shifted in his seat, his eyes looking between his two agents - his jaw set. "This is not good, people. More we sit on our hands and wait, the longer this operation drags out." He let out a sigh, reclining in his seat with his fingers steeped in thought.

Tom shifted under the intense gaze his boss had given him only moments before, his body itching for a cigarette and wanted nothing more than to light one to sooth the nerves but smoking was prohibited indoors and not what Eric wanted at the moment. "Maria, I had a brief scan over the documents when I had first tracked down where Lansbury lived."

"What did you find?" Maria and Eric asked, simultaneously.

Tom gave a sheepish smile. "The house itself was purchased by a second party, put under Lansbury's false name. So..."

"So, if we manage to track down the person who had bought the house for him, then maybe we are onto something? Tom, why couldn't it just be a landlord who simply bought into the false documents?"

"Appearance-wise, Lansbury does not trust anyone. It does not make sense for him to simply go out on a limb and ask someone else to hook him up with a new home, now, does it?" Tom prompted.

Eric cleared his throat, his own eyes holding a curious gaze as he followed the meaning of the conversation before flickering over to the lower right hand corner of his computer, checking the time.

"Three days and radio silence. Can't admit defeat until we've tried," Eric began. "Look, you and Maria seem to be onto something. I will suggest that you follow up on Tom's idea. There's no point in us sitting on our hands, hoping that Lansbury will somehow appear on our radar again, so I'm going to go and do a little legwork."

*

Alastair grunted as he was shoved forwards. His legs numb and sore from remaining upright for the past twenty-four hours, the blood in his arms rushing back with an itching intensity as he was guided along the corridors; the world a mass of light and dark blurs. His body ached, the wounds reopened and his brain exhausted. This was a routine he had gone through as a young recruit in interrogation training - stress positions broken up with regular intervals of dunking in hopes that he would speak.

Of course, he spoke about lies that wouldn't be proven correct by any immediate party and truths that would otherwise be seen as lies.

Soon enough, he was sitting and the blindfold was roughly pulled off. He squinted into the light as he swallowed. His eyes cast downwards slightly, his body position relaxed as his hands were tied behind his back. The man in the balaclava was back, seating himself across the table in hopes that their method of softening him up had been a success.

"Do you want some water?"

It was the same voice, monotone and cold as the eyes remained focused on him. Alastair remained still for a moment, raising his head slightly. The question had been posed again, the man's head inclined to the side as he leaned across the table.

"I would like water."

The routine had been the same, bar a couple of times when the man across the table had decided that they had enough playing games. Water-boarding and any such interrogation technique was the quickest way in making someone talk, however, those being interrogated would eventually say anything to get them off their back for a couple of hours. Alastair had a good sense of self-preservation but his mission had been clear, he needed to see proof of life of the six soldiers.

"Looks like it's your lucky day. Someone special wants to meet you." The man replied.

Moments later, the man had risen from his seat and a familiar face came into view. "Hello, Alan."

Alastair finally looked up, his eyes meeting Tiffany's. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, as he suppressed a retort. Three days had been enough time to consider the situation that he was in, and to go over what he already knew but he still could not determine how Tiffany had fitted into the picture - how she knew where he would be at what given point.

"I need to see proof."

"Proof?"

"Proof of life of the six soldiers."

A heavy silence hung in the air; Tiffany's posture completely relaxed, a smile spreading across her features, a genuine one as she played with her hair. "Oh. I see. But, I seem to recall that I am the one calling the shots here."

"You're not the one calling the shots here. You're only a puppet." Alastair replied.

His head snapped to one side, fist connected solidly with his cheek as he slowly pulled himself upright, his lip having split back open again.

"I'm the one calling the shots here." Tiffany replied.

She reached for something within her jacket, pulling out a thin piece of paper and sliding it across the table. Alastair glanced down, his heart stopped in his chest as he took a longer look at the photo that had presented itself.

"...But, to put your mind at ease, here you go."

There was nothing but an empty cell, to which the first time he believed was his but the writing and scratches on the wall had told that it was not, nor had there been puddles of blood in his cell the last time he had checked.

"Usually, I would feel sorry for you but I have to say, watch you chase ghosts...was rather entertaining."