| Subject: Hope (Untitled) - Chapter 7 |
Author:
Athena4
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Date Posted: 18:31:00 07/20/03 Sun
In reply to:
Athena4
's message, "Hope (Untitled)" on 18:20:25 07/20/03 Sun
This time around, the tables were turned. George was waiting for them when they arrived, seated in the far corner of the bar. A bottle of wine sat before him, two glasses flanking it. At a table to his left sat three operatives, trying to appear as though they belonged. On his right sat two more, these ones not bothering to conceal their interest in the newcomers.
The men tensed as Madeline’s companions entered behind her, forming a loose “V” back towards the door. Ignoring the stabbing pain in her ribs, she took a deep breath, nodding towards her team before approaching George. She felt, rather than saw, them take seats close-by – all but Egran, who grasped her arm.
“Madeline, this is insane. If he’s come here with this much power – Section, it looks like – he’s not here with glad tidings.”
“We’re alive, aren’t we?” She raised an eyebrow, and he nodded. Glancing quickly at George, she shook off Egran’s arm. If things do go wrong, get them out of here. Find a way.”
“Madeline...”
“Just – promise me.”
He nodded, then drifted away towards the table where Natasha sat. Madeline waited until he was seated, then turned back towards George, taking several tentative steps, trying to ignore the shooting pain in her ribs. The two operatives rose to bar her way as she got closer, and she glared at George through the space between them. “If its your intention to manhandle me, I suggest you do it quickly. I’ve never been one for foreplay.”
George smiled, waving the two men away with a hand. They sat obediently, eyes turning towards where Egran and the others sat. “I just I want it clear who’s in control here. Things aren’t quite so clear cut as you thought.” He paused, and nodded past her. “Tell your watchdog to sit, or things may go very badly.”
She turned her glare on Egran, only to find he had already returned to his seat, his fierce gaze a match for her own. “Are we here to talk,” she asked, her attention back on George. “Or to play games?”
“Please, sit.” Reaching for the bottle of wine, George filled each of the glasses; the wine glinting blood red within the crystal. As he pushed it towards her, Madeline lifted hers, bringing it to her lips. Closing her eyes, she inhaled its scent, letting the taste and fragrance overwhelm her. As she did, memories flashed through her mind; bright afternoons in Paris cafes, the quiet solitude of her apartment, candlelit dinners with Paul.
As quickly as they came, they were gone and she opened her eyes, cradling the glass in her palm. “Expensive,” she said, trying to keep the longing from her voice. She wanted to go home, more than she’d ever known, even on her loneliest nights at Five. And the man before her could make that come true.
“I thought you might miss civilisation,” he smiled, settling back in his chair. “So,” he began, taking a slow sip of his wine. “I believe we have a deal to discuss.”
Madeline sipped her wine, uncertainty forming a lump in her throat. To have come this far… Glancing back into the crowd, she caught site of Ben and Chris, a pitcher of beer untouched between them, watching her intently, eyes hopeful.
“We’re alive,” she said, turning back to George. “I presume we’re going to remain that way.”
“If your team is as talented as you claim. Yes. Of course, I can’t guarantee anything beyond their reassignment – you know that.”
It wasn’t a question, but Madeline nodded anyways. “And Adrian?”
George paused, taking a long sip of his wine and looking out into the crowded bar. “She was indeed involved in the attack on Five. But there were factors at play, and other groups, that you’re not aware of, and I’m not at liberty to share.” He stopped, fixing her with a grim stare. “It was not personal.”
“Understood.”
“Your team will be reassigned – but not together. On paper, Centre has made the decision not to resurrect Five. It’s remaining members are to be dispersed among the Sections or into long term assignments. In reality, you’re being isolated. You will be watched. If even a whisper is heard about the attack, you will be dispatched, swiftly and without mercy. Your people have their chance, Madeline. I expect the rest of our bargain to be fulfilled.”
“All evidence will point to the KGB, or some other Soviet undercover organisation. I’ll arrange it myself before we leave the compound.”
“Good. You’ll receive your new assignments in the next day or two. They have yet to be finalised. I suggest you say your goodbyes and give your final pep-talk. You’ll be expected to move quickly.”
Taking one final sip of her wine, she rose to leave, nodding towards George’s lackeys at the nearby table. She had taken several steps in the direction of her team when she heard George dismiss his men.
“Madeline.”
When she turned, he was there, his face inches from hers.
“One assignment has been finalised. You will be returning to One.”
“I thought…”
“The decision was taken out of my hands; and out of Adrian’s. Your cancellation order had been signed and the operatives dispatched, when Agency intervened. It seems you made quite the impression during your time here at Five. They don’t want to waste your…talents…despite your record. They feel you can be re-integrated, and retrained. That you will be valuable to them in the future. They have far more confidence than I do.”
Elation, mixed with fear, kept Madeline quiet. She knew there was more to come. The Agency had saved her life, but at what cost.
“Let there be no doubt, Madeline,” George continued, keeping his voice pitched low. “You remain in disgrace. Any…evidence…that comes to light regarding the incident with the Twins will be quickly cast as a desperate attempt on your part to increase your rank and status in the eyes of Centre. And such an attempt will fail. We’ve made certain of that.”
“By Agency order, you will be returned to active duty. But at what level, and position, is purely at Adrian’s discretion. I suggest you remember that, and that you remember who is truly in control.”
Signalling to his men, George turned away, leaving by door in the back. As soon as she was certain he was gone, Madeline sank back into the seat she’d vacated, tossing back the rest of her wine as though it were something stronger. Staring after George, she didn’t hear the others approach until Egran called her name.
“ You’re white as the snows outside,” he said, casting a worried glance to the others. All three looked nervous, Chris’ fist was clenched at his side. “What the hell happened?”
“Nothing.” She paused, gesturing for them to sit around her. “Nothing that effects you.” She smiled gently at then, and watched the relief cross their faces. “We’re being reassigned.”
“Where?” Ben asked, a small quaver in his voice.
“Not sure. Assignments will come through in a couple of days. We’ll be separated though, and watched. It’s important we keep quiet about what happened here.”
“Why? I thought we won.” Chris this time, his fist clenched on the table top.
“We did.” Natasha responded before Madeline even opened her mouth, putting a hand on Chris’ clenched one. “But only on condition. Silence means we live.” She turned towards Madeline, meeting her eye. “Right?”
“Yes.” Madeline turned towards the young man. “This isn’t a perfect scenario, Chris. But we have a chance – you have a chance. Keep your nose clean, and your mouth shut, and someday, maybe you’ll run the place.”
“Yeah,” he smiled, his hand flattening, and she smiled back. “All right.”
“Good. Let’s go then. We’ve got a lot to do.”
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