by Emrys Apollo
Desmond looked down at the parcel sat in the middle of the table. Someone had clearly snuck in and left it there, so whoever it was did not want MI6 to know it had been delivered. Desmond’s palms began to sweat as he picked it up off the coffee table. He had an inkling that the kidnappers had made this special delivery. This had to be linked to Antony’s disappearance. Desmond wasn’t worried that it could be anything to hurt him; the kidnappers wanted him for information. This early in the game it would be foolish to hurt Desmond. However, hurting Antony was clearly on the table. Desmond swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he opened the jiffy bag and tipped the contents onto the table.
A dated, old Motorola flip phone bounced onto the table, causing Desmond to flinch as the sound broke the silent evening. Desmond picked it up, turning it over in his hands as if something would be on it to make the delivery make sense. Tearing the envelope it had arrived in open, there was no note or no explanation as to why the old phone had been given to Desmond. He frowned at it, about it open it up when a text alert pinged through. Desmond didn’t hesitate to open up the phone, clicking read on the message that had come through from an unknown number.
Your phone has been tagged. This phone will be used for contact. Do not tell MI6. This phone does not exist. Or there will be consequences.
Desmond took a deep breath. Of course the kidnappers would know MI6 had tagged Desmond’s phone. In all honestly it wouldn’t take a genius to work that out, and they way they got Antony out it was clear they were not new to this game. Desmond weighed up his options. Would MI6 be happy and trust him to relay the messages that came to this phone? Or would they tag this one as well? If they tagged it, the kidnappers would know Desmond told MI6 and that could mean worse things for Antony. No. He couldn’t tell them. Anything that put Antony at any more risk than he was already in was not happening.
Desmond closed off the message, a deep frown setting on his face as the picture of Antony that he had been staring at all day appeared. The wallpaper for the Motorola was the same as the one he had set on his personal phone. That was impossible because he was the only one with access to that photo. How had the kidnappers gotten hold of a photo only Desmond had access to? That in itself freaked Desmond out most. He suddenly felt like nothing was secret that all his skeletons were dancing out of the cupboard for all to see.
If the kidnappers could get hold of that photo, what else had they managed to accumulate?
CHAPTER 4
Four days had passed. Nothing had happened. There had been no word from Antony, no word from the investigation, no nothing. Desmond was just told again and again to stay in the house, stay by the phone and report anything that happened. But nothing happened. Desmond was going stir-crazy, resenting the walls of a house that once meant so much to him. He couldn’t take the stillness. If it had been bad in the 24 hours following Antony’s abduction it was unbearable now. He felt like he was stuck in a bubble, a glass dome that wouldn’t let him move from this point. Only the rising and the setting of the sun gave Desmond any indication that time was still moving forwards.
Four days had passed and Antony was no closer to being home than he had been.
“What is everyone else doing?” Desmond asked, walking through his house behind Henson. It was just another fleeting visit to keep an eye on the investigation. Desmond was super confused as to why it was still going on now; there was nothing new to be found. There were no clues around this house as to where they had taken Antony; Desmond was confident that, by now, if there was something to be discovered then it would have been. Now it just seemed like the investigation was an excuse to have people wandering in and out of the house for no apparent reason. Maybe they were all still there just to keep an eye on Desmond.
“Everyone else is doing their job, Desmond.” Henson sighed, heading for the front door. “With no leads there really isn’t a lot more we can be doing at the moment.” He turned to the other man just before he crossed the threshold. “Have you heard anything?”
“You’re tagging my phone.” Desmond shrugged, folding his arms. The second phone he had been sent appeared to refuse to receive any kind of messages, however much Desmond stared at it.
“We’re doing the best we can-”
“Well it doesn’t feel like it.” Desmond snapped, his patience with not having any news running out. “He’s been missing four days.”
“You don’t think we know this?”
“You’re honestly telling me this investigation has been going on four days and you’ve got nothing?”
“You’ve been told, Desmond. Some things don’t add up with the break in. That’s why this investigation is still going on. We’re trying to work out how they got in here and out with Antony.”
“What’s Jody doing? Stuart? Kendrick? At least tell me they’re out looking?”
“Where do you want them to start?” Henson sent back just as hotly. Desmond’s hands curled into fists.
“Maybe their headquarters?”
“They’d be stupid to take him there and you know it.”
“Have we even checked?”
“What’s the point?”
“What is a scout around going to hurt? We’ve got all these files on them, all this information and none of it can give us any sort of lead?”
“I know this is hard for you, Desmond, but at the moment there really isn’t anything else to be done. There is no lead, no way of tracking them, and we have no warrant to go barging in there and search the place.”
“We’ve not needed a warrant before….”
“You are on strict orders to stay right here.” Henson reiterated, recognizing the look in Desmond’s eyes. “You or none of our agents are to set foot on their premises. We already had one slip up last time we went in there and that’s lead us to a missing person case.” Desmond glared at the floor, folding his arms tightly. “I know it isn’t what you want to hear right now but you have to be patient. They won’t hurt him; they know they need him to get to you.”
“I’d prefer they didn’t have him at all.” Desmond snarled. Henson shook his head.
“We will get him back.” Henson said sympathetically, opening the front door. “We just need one small lead and we’ll be all over it. Everyone is on standby, Desmond. This case is of the upmost importance.”
It certainly didn’t feel like it was that important. In fact, it felt like everyone was forgetting about it. Nathan hadn’t been back to the house in two days which lead Desmond to believe he had already been assigned to some other case. That was probably true. That also meant that they knew there was nothing left to be found in the crime scene.
Desmond wanted everyone out of the house. He wanted his space back, he wanted to be able to sit and think and try and work out where the hell the captors had taken Antony. There was scarcely a place in the house where Desmond could be on his own; there always seemed to be someone in the room with him. The only moments of relief Desmond got was when he took himself off for a jog. It did nothing to clear his mind but at least it got him out of the house for a while.
It was on these runs that Desmond could also check the phone he had been sent. With so many people around the house it wasn’t like he could check it whilst in their vicinity. If not telling MI6 about it got Antony back faster, then the phone would be his little secret. Desmond wasn’t above going rouge. The amount of missions he’d saved by ignoring orders and going with his instinct was enough to lead him to believe his instinct was reliable.
Desmond had taken himself out for a run just after Henson had left. He was too angry with the update he had been given and if another junior detective asked him if he wanted a cup of tea he was liable to take his anger out on them. It wasn’t worth being taken in to a victim secure hold. Desmond had seen the poor sods dragged in there when a victim’s case became too much for them to deal with on their own. Something Desmond was now starting to understand a little too well. It allowed MI6 to keep an eye on the victims and, like in De
smond’s case, keep them accessible if they were a crucial part of the case.
Taking the same route he always did, Desmond stopped at the small break in the trees and sat on the flat rock that had become his resting point. Checking his surroundings to make sure he hadn’t been followed, Desmond pulled the old Motorola out of his pocket and flipped it open. He stared at it for five minutes, his eyes unblinking as he looked at the dim light that the phone emitted. But there was nothing. No messages, no missed calls. It was like he’d been given the phone as a torment. Another strand of hope that was really just tied off to the wall.
Once again, Desmond found himself opening up the messages folder. Only one message sat in there. The one he had read over and over; the one that gave him the instructions to using this phone. Your phone has been tagged. This phone will be used for contact. Do not tell MI6. This phone does not exist. Or there will be consequences. Desmond snapped the phone shut in anger, but the anger didn’t last for long. The worry that hung over his head every day crept back over his shoulders. Pressing the phone between his palms, Desmond slumped forwards, resting his chin on his hands. How had this all happened? How had his life come to this?
He knew it was pointless and stupid but it was the only thing keeping him slightly sane. Running a hand through his hair, Desmond opened up the phone again and started typing in a number. In some respects, Desmond was glad to have the second phone. At least he could make this call as often as he wanted to and not be pulled up on it or told to stop. Exhaling slowly, Desmond pressed the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. He would always hope the rings would cut short, even though he knew they never would.
Hi, you have reached the phone of Antony Abascal. Unfortunately I cannot get to the phone at this moment, but please try and call back later or leave a message stating your name, number, and reason for calling and I will try and get back to you as soon as possible.
“Hi… Just me again…” Desmond felt pathetic, running a hand over his face. “Look it’s been…. I’m really missing you now, Tony… I just… I just want you back. I want to try everything, anything to get you back here but I’m not… It’s complicated…” Desmond looked around pointlessly, his emotions caught in his throat. “I…” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and dropping his head. “I love you, Antony. And I don’t want you to forget that. Just… Just promise me that whatever they do, whatever they say, I love you and I’m going to get you back safe and sound. I never meant for any of this to happen… I’m so sorry…” Desmond snapped the phone shut as his emotions overcame him, dropping his face into his hands. He couldn’t stop the images of Antony, beaten and bruised, filling his head every time he closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept in days; the nightmares too much and too real. He knew what they did to those they had taken in to try and get information. No thought was every spared for their loved ones who were panicking because they’d been taken in the night. Desmond felt sick. Was this some kind of cruel karma? Something he’d done to a dozen or more unknowns in the past was now happening to him?
He just wanted to have Antony back; to know he was safe and unharmed.
It took him longer than normal to start heading back to the house. By now the next session of people would be in the house, dusting down every surface for any misplaced piece of dust. Desmond was shocked they actually let him stay in the house with the continuing investigation going on. It just made Desmond more certain that they were there for him; to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t do anything stupid or go against orders.
His mind circled back to Antony as he started jogging home. What would they be doing if Antony hadn’t have been taken? Would Desmond have been off on a mission? He knew where Antony would be; today was a Thursday and there was a competition on the weekend; Thursdays were press days. Would Desmond be there with him? Standing at the back of his garage as he had done in the past, pretending to be a supportive friend because Antony’s relationship with him couldn’t be public? Or would his own work and his own secrets have pulled him away? Desmond shook his head; what he would give to be stood across the world by Antony’s side, even if he was presented as a friend.
Desmond’s feet suddenly shuffled to a stop as what he was thinking about hit him. He didn’t wait three seconds before pulling the phone out of his pocket, flipping it open, and punching in the desired number. It rang three times before it was answered.
“Hello?”
“Jody, the competition.” Desmond gasped, his free hand tangled in his hair. How could he have forgotten so easily?
“Desmond?”
“He’s supposed to be competing this weekend.”
“We are aware of that.” Jody said softly. Desmond gritted his teeth.
“You can’t put a decoy in, we spoke about this-”
“We’re not putting a decoy in.”
“You’re also not looking for him! What happened to finding him within a week?”
“Desmond, you need to calm down. We’re doing everything we can-”
“I’m not some freaked out rookie, Jody, I’ve done this before. I know you’re bullshitting me. You’re not even looking!”
“Where are you?”
“What does that matter? The real question is where is he? You should have found him by now!”
“You need to calm down.” Jody stressed. Desmond shook his head, anger pouring from his skin.
“What is the point in me sitting around all day doing nothing if you are not doing anything either!”
“Well, I don’t think you’re doing nothing.” Desmond’s eyes narrowed at Jody’s tone.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“What phone are you calling from?” Ice ran in Desmond’s blood as he realized that it wasn’t his iPhone in his hand, but the old Motorola. His throat closed up. “Fancy a different number?”
“Jody-”
“We may be able to find him quicker if you give us all the information, Desmond.”
“Jody, I don’t have this phone.” There was a moment of silence.
“What?”
“I don’t- Jody, you can’t tell anyone I have this.”
“They sent it to you, didn’t they?”
“Jody-”
“Didn’t they! God, Desmond! Do you know how dangerous it is to be using that! It could be anything!”
“Jody, calm down.” Desmond rolled his eyes. Sure, Jody had a point, but just as it had been made so damn clear to him, he was the asset. There was no point in hurting Desmond until they got out of it what they wanted.
“What exactly are the conditions of this phone??”
“I can hear you typing – don’t you dare trace this number!”
“I have to.”
“No you fucking don’t!” Desmond growled, his hand tightening around the small device. “You fucking trace this and they’ll know. They know my other phone is being traced. That’s why they sent me this! They don’t want MI6 tracking anything. You have to trust I’ll tell you anything they tell me. Please.”
“Just like you told us about the phone.” Jody shot sarcastically. Desmond closed his eyes.
“Jody, you don’t know what this is like. You don’t know what it’s like to have the person you love held as a ransom. You don’t know how I’m feeling. If they told me to fucking run off to China and not tell anyone to get him back I fucking would. Until you’re in this position you can’t call the shots. I don’t have this phone.”
“You’re not filling me with any confidence.”
“You’re just going to have to trust me.” Desmond repeated. “If it’s anything important I’ll tell you. But it’s been silent since I got the fucking thing.”
“I am not comfortable with this.” Jody stressed. But it was enough for Desmond to let out a relieved breath; it meant he was going to follow his request.
“Thank you.”
“And I don’t care if it’s important or not; I won’t tell the others but you have to tell me everything you get o
r hear on that phone. I don’t even care if it’s just them calling to tell you what time it is.”
“Alright.”
“I’m serious – the moment I find out something after it’s happened I’m telling MI6 about that phone.”
“You have my word.”
Desmond’s head was everywhere but his run as he headed back to the house. He was almost surprised that he’d managed to make it back home; his feet clearly on autopilot as his head spiraled every which way it could. He’d been so concerned about Antony missing his competition he hadn’t thought to make sure he had the right phone in his hand. He just wanted answers. It was coming clear scarily fast how the victims in these situations unraveled at the seams and ended up in worse situations than they needed to.
Desmond was just about to turn onto his road when his pocket vibrated. His breath stuck in his throat as he fought his pocket to release the Motorola it had been housing. Was this it? Was radio silence finally over? Was he about to get some sort of news as to how to find Antony? A message notification sat on the screen, but the heat was sapped from the day as he opened it and read the contents of the text.
Nice save, Sharp. Maybe next time don’t use this phone for social calls. You better hope your friend didn’t lie – the minute this phone gets tracked it will be the end of communications. If we no longer have a need for you there will no longer be a need for your friend.
Desmond gagged, throwing his hand over his mouth as he crouched forwards. His fear of anything happening to Antony… What had he done? He’d not only told someone he was double crossing MI6 but now he potentially put Antony’s life in more danger. The game was unending. There was no escaping this nightmare. It was too real to wake up from. Desmond’s hands shook as he crouched over, trying to stabilize his breathing. It wasn’t working, especially when the phone vibrated to signal a second text came through. There was barely a beat before Desmond was looking back at the screen, his free hand pressed to his diaphragm.
