Part 1
Frau Hunter Ash
MI-5/Spooks Fan Fiction
Disclaimers:
MI-5/Spooks characters and situations are the property of someone else.
The story is based on an
episode called Traitor’s Gate staring Anthony Stewart Head, of BTVS fame, as
Peter Salter. No infringement is
intended, the story is for entertainment purposes only.
Language/Violence: Some violence is depicted graphically but overall is
mild compared to what is shown on the news, at times.
Feedback: Always
welcome and I do respond!
Rating: US
– R; Australian – MA; English – 15.
***
Tom and Zoe handed over their identification to the next guard in the process of reaching the lower levels and inner sanctum of MI-6, British Foreign Intelligence.
Tom especially hated whenever he had to visit MI-6. It seemed that anytime he had to deal with MI-6 it ended up at least as a major headache. Most of the time it ended up worse, especially on the occasions when territories and cases overlapped. Joint projects meant with-holding information, bruised egos, grandstanding, and back-stabbing.
Now he was back in the building and hoping he didn’t have any contact with Jules Siviter, one of the controllers of MI-6. The last time he had seen the higher up agent had been when Tom’s mentor, Peter Salter, had been involved with international anarchists and killed himself for them. Tom blamed Siviter quite a bit for Salter’s downfall. Tom, Peter’s handler at MI-5, had recommended a 3-month leave for Peter. The legendary agent was exhausted, suffering from job burnout and needed a break.
Instead, MI-6 had requested a temporary reassignment of their former agent to infiltrate the anarchists. Peter had done the job and had fallen, both in love and out of grace.
“Who are we picking up? Harry didn’t tell me this morning, just to accompany you,” Zoe asked as they clipped their identification badges onto their collars, passing the security desk.
“One of the anarchist from last year,” Tom said simply. “One of Istvan’s group.”
“I hate this damned inter-agency rivalry,” Zoe complained. “Why the hell can’t both groups learn to share information and such. We wouldn’t have lost Peter if you had been watching him.”
“No, we wouldn’t have,” Tom agreed. The first day he had been brought into the case, he had realized Peter was in over his head and wanted to pull Peter out when no one else saw it.
The two MI-5 agents moved down to the Interrogation Cells, facing yet again another security desk and three guards.
“We’ve been expecting you,” the Clerk nodded, noting their names and double checking their pictures. “I’m afraid there’ll be a bit of a delay, an unexpected witness is being brought in on the guy you’re to pick up.”
“Terrific,” Tom muttered. “How long you think?”
“See the guy in the chair at room 7, end of the hall?” the clerk pointed.
Zoe and Tom looked past the guards and saw two guards standing on either side of a man in a wheelchair. The MI-5 agents weren’t surprised by the black hood hiding the man’s face, it wasn’t uncommon for MI-6 to bring witnesses in under cloak. What was surprising was the handcuff on the man’s left wrist chaining him to the wheelchair.
“Could take an hour to four,” the clerk responded.
Tom frowned, he wondered if it was one of the anarchist group betraying his mates or if he had seen or studied the witness/prisoner. There was something familiar about the figure. Tom shrugged it off and sat down next to Zoe in waiting chairs.
Zoe picked up a magazine and frowned as she realized it was over two years old while Tom watched the witness without appearing too interested.
The female agent looked up at movement down the hall, seeing an agent coming out of Interrogation Room 7 and bend over to say something to the hooded man. The man nodded and one of the guards bent low to unlock the brakes on the wheelchair.
One of the guards reached out and pulled the hood off and the witness shook his head, blinking in the light.
Zoe quickly looked over to see Tom’s reaction. The experienced agent blinked and turned back to his magazine.
The witness tried to raise his left hand and frowned at the handcuff as the guard turned him towards the interrogation room.
Tom looked up and stretched. “Zoe, what say we come back in a few hours? I’ve got some things I need to handle at the office if we’re going to be waiting.”
“I’m agreeable,” she said casually, wondering if she had seen what she thought she had.
Tom stood up and walked over to the security desk. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Give us a ring if he’s done before then?”
“Sure,” the clerk nodded. “Don’t blame you. Later, Tom.”
Zoe waited for Tom to say anything, to acknowledge if he had seen anything out of the ordinary at MI-6 but he was quiet on the ride back to MI-5 but she had been around him long enough to know he was upset.
“Tom?” Zoe asked softly as they entered the building and made their way towards their work area.
“I’ll be back,” he snapped, heading straight for Harry Carlson’s office, his superior.
Zoe watched as Tom entered without announcement and hit the switch to close the door behind him, his body reflecting his tenseness.
# # #
After shouts, fists pounding on desks and then apparently some sort of compromise in Harry’s office, Danny Hunter and Zoe Reynolds exchanged puzzled looks and shrugs as Tom sat down in front of his superior’s desk.
Two hours later Tom Quinn exited Harry Pearce’s office with a folder of papers and several computer disks. “Danny, Zoe, you’re with me,” he said sharply, heading for one of the working offices.
Danny and Zoe followed quietly. Tom was sitting behind the main desk and glanced up. “Shut the door and grab a seat at a computer.”
Tom clicked in a disk, calling up files on all four
computers.
”What are we looking at?” Danny asked, trying not to sound anxious.
“Zoe, tell him what you saw at MI-6,” Tom said, frowning as he looked over the file titles.
“I, uh, I’m not sure what I saw, Tom,” Zoe said slowly.
”I saw your eyes, tell him,” Tom insisted.
“I saw Peter Salter outside an interrogation room at MI-6,” Zoe said firmly. “He looked like hell, was handcuffed, hooded and in a wheelchair.”
“Peter Salter?” Danny repeated. “That’s impossible, Tom watched him die. We had a wake for him!”
“I saw him as well,” Tom said softly. “I finally got Harry to admit what he knows. Told me to look over these files before we decide anything.”
“How the hell can Salter be alive then?” Danny demanded. “Who has him and why? He is MI-5! Traitor or not, he’s ours.”
“I agree,” Tom nodded, opening one of the files. “Let’s see how the hell they explain this one.”
# # #
Zoe, reading faster than the other two agents, sat back with a frown, waiting for the other two to catch up.
Tom sighed as he finished and left the office, returning with three cups of coffee.
Danny looked at the other two in amazement.
“The Home Office approved Jules taking Peter away secretly?” he demanded, taking the coffee.
“So it appears,” Tom nodded. “He was given absolute control over Peter and no one was to know anything about it.”
“What has he been doing with Peter?” Zoe asked, obviously puzzled. “I don’t understand. Peter tried to kill himself to protect the anarchists and the girl. What would stop him from finishing that, especially if Siviter got ahold of him?”
“I’m not sure,” Tom sighed, moving back to the computer. “Let’s explore the rest of this, shall we?”
# # #
An hour later Tom got to his feet and began pacing. “I don’t believe it,” he muttered as Zoe and Danny leaned back. One look on their faces and Tom knew they were just as stunned as he was.
“Tom, how can they do this? It’s not only unethical, immoral but also illegal!” Zoe protested.
“I don’t know,” Tom shook his head. “I guess since they consider him a traitor they feel they can do anything they want with him. They declared him dead so he has no rights.”
“Bollocks that!” Danny growled. “That could happen to any of us then!”
“All right, let’s tackle this like any other case,” Zoe suggested. “One, what are our goals? Who and what is the target? How do we achieve the goal?”
“What are the operating norms of the targets,” Danny added.
“Right,” Tom said, sitting back down at the desk and pulling out a notepad. “Peter tries to kill himself. He’s revived after I pass out and we’re discovered. Jules from MI-6 claimed rights over Peter while he was still struggling to live with a tracheotomy. Home Office granted his custody over him and Salter disappeared into the bowels of MI-6.” Tom said, taking notes.
“Next entry is that Salter is being held at an undisclosed prison in extreme isolation,” Danny said, looking over the computer file. “Jules is considered his Question Master, handler and anything else he wishes. He reports that Salter is indeed a traitor and still committed to the anarchists.”
Tom frowned. “I know Peter Salter better than he knows himself. I still don’t believe he was totally through Traitor’s Gate.”
“Well, I don’t understand,” Zoe complained. “If he’s a traitor, why are there reports that he’s going out on missions and coming back?”
“And going back to an isolation cell until he’s sent out again,” Danny added.
Tom sat staring at the screen for several moments.
“Let’s look at the missions,” he said finally. “What is he being sent out to do? Might be a clue as to why he’d agree to work for MI-6 if he really is a traitor.”
# # #
Zoe looked up from her notes and found both agents glancing up with matching frowns. “Have you noticed a common theme among the missions?” she asked, looking back at her notes.
“Well, it isn’t the targets,” Danny said thoughtfully. “Neo
Nazis,
“Suicidal,” Tom said slowly. “All of them were suicidal. No agent was expected to survive.”
Zoe nodded. “Yes, last ditch effort after several failures to infiltrate each group.”
“Bloody bastards,” Tom growled, throwing a pencil across the room.
”He wasn’t expected to survive,” Danny pondered. “But if he does, then the
mission is a success and Siviter is a hero. If Salter
doesn’t survive then they don’t consider it much of a loss because he’s already
on borrowed time.”
“Tom, how the hell is Siviter getting away with this?” Zoe demanded. “Peter deserves a fair trial and to either be cleared and reassigned, burned properly, or brought back to the fold. Not this attack-dog stuff Jules has him doing. Some of those assignments were thin covers for assassinations!”
“I know,” Tom said softly, moving around the desk to sit on the edge, facing his two agents. “That was the reason Peter got out of MI-6 and encouraged me to MI-5 instead when he brought me in. He had trouble accepting wet-work assignments without knowing the reasoning behind it.”
“Then why the hell doesn’t he run?” Danny complained. “He
was in
“Can’t be the label of traitor,” Zoe said thoughtfully. “He’d already taken that on. I doubt he’s doing it out of fondness for Siviter.”
Tom laughed bitterly. “If anything else, this recent year
will have soured him even further on government operations and tactics. He has
no family, his mother died in childbirth and his father in the
Zoe looked back at the computer screen. “They wouldn’t would they?”
“What?” Danny asked.
“Hold family hostage to force an agent into something,” Zoe said slowly. “We’re not the KGB!”
“Yesterday I would have agreed with you,” Tom sighed. “Now I’m not sure about anything.” He suddenly looked up, his eyes widening slightly. “Siviter has the girl!”
Zoe nodded. “It would make sense.
That’s the only thing Peter really cared about at the end.”
“How could they keep him dangling for a year?” Danny asked. “Even the most love-sick idiot would demand resolution before a year.”
“You’d think,” Tom nodded. “Perhaps they let him see her periodically, keep him on the line.”
“Well, there’s more files here, let’s see if we can find the answers,” Zoe suggested. “At least find out why he was in a wheelchair.”
# # #
Tom ran a hand over his face and leaned back.
“I’m getting computer hypnosis,” Danny muttered, banging his head lightly on the desk to emphasize his comment.
“Let’s take a break for dinner.” Zoe suggested. “Who went to pick up the anarchist, by the way?”
“Tessa Phillips,” Tom shrugged. “Let’s lock this up and grab something to eat. There’s still a bit to go through.”
# # #
Danny bit into his fish n chips with relish as Tom took a long pull on his Guinness. “Alright, we know he’s been attacked twice during assignments the last one being the worst, right?”
“Right,” Danny nodded. “Someone didn’t scout ahead on his
last assignment to
“He walked right into a
Tom sighed, he could almost picture the scene in his head. “And the bastards pinned him to a fence and gutted him from groin to breastplate.”
“Passing Brit patrol saved his ass,” Danny muttered. “Good thing that medic had combat experience from the desert.”
“Question now is what do we do?” Zoe asked softly.
“There’s these I want to go through before making a decision,” Tom said slowly, pulling out a file folder from his satchel. “Letters Peter wrote to me. I want to know if he is a traitor or if he can be redeemed.”
“Do you really think he can?” Danny asked with a frown, glancing around to ensure they weren’t being overheard. “I mean, if he was a true anarch last year, this year will make him a raving lunatic anarchist.”
“No one knows Peter like I do,” Tom said confidently. “Take a letter and take some notes, shall we?”
<Dear Tom; I don’t expect you’ll receive these until after I’m dead for certain this time. Hell, probably not even then. No one knows better than I at this point what our righteous government will do to protect itself. I’ve been its instrument enough times.
<You’ve read the account of what
led to me receiving the George Cross. What you didn’t read was the truth that
wasn’t written. I received the GC not only for my bravery in stopping the
assassination attempt on the Prime Minister but because of my service to the
Crown. I kept the public from learning the truth of what we were doing in
<Why am I writing this then? I guess I need someone to talk to even if it’s after I’m dead. I’ve no family left other than you. I am sorry for punching you in the throat and sincerely hope that you don’t find out that I lived. I truly tried to cross. Woke up in hospital with a tracheotomy tube in my throat and cuffed to the bed.
<Damn, lights out. Night.
The Master>
Zoe looked at Tom, concerned for her friend. She knew how close he had been to Peter and how the agents treason and death had affected him.
“Only hints of disillusionment,” Danny commented. “Nothing out of the ordinary for someone in Service as long as he was.”
Tom nodded, putting the letter away. “Let’s get back to the
office to read the rest of these. Could be sensitive things
in them.”
”Why did Harry give them to you and how did he get them?” Zoe asked, gathering her coat.
“I’m not sure how he got them, I think he has something on JS,” Tom said softly. “Might be something we can use in this.”
A short time later the agents sat back down to look over Peter Salter’s inner thoughts.
<Tom; I’ve thought a lot about that last few months you knew me. I’ve gone over it again and again in my head. You asked what led me to side with the anarchists and I told you I was bored, that nothing we did really made any difference and the girl.
<God, it hurts to think about her. Posh young thing, so dedicated and such a spark of life.
<It wasn’t because I was bored. I was disillusioned, I’ll admit. I know we’ve seen it in long-term agents before. It’s quite common really and you were right to pull me out of the field and Jules was wrong to throw me back in with no rest. I tried to follow my own rule: Look out, not in. Couldn’t help it at times though. My father died for this country and died believing in it totally. I was raised believing in God, Country and Queen. Then I see men like Siviter making life and death decisions for agents and targets. A man whose never been in the field making those decisions and playing politics with our lives. I began to resent the authority structure.
<I was tired, overworked,
stressed and open to discontent. You know as a field agent, I’ve had to adopt
various roles. I can recite Hail Mary’s until a priest is convinced I’m a
life-long Catholic. I can cite Seamus Mallon until
the Loyalists are sure I’m
<I guess there’s a bit of class resentment on all the scales in our country. Royals, posh types and the working class seldom seem to mix well. I know, I pulled myself up by my bootstraps with this insane mind of mine. Boy genius, Oxfordman, taught proper manners but never quite losing the working-class accent when relaxed, revealing my origins.
<Yeah, I know the argument. I went and fell for Andrea, a posh girl rebelling against her class status, parents, and the government in general. Never would have thought it, would you? I guess I was so jaded and tired that her love of life and dedication to the cause drew me to her.
<Since I know you’ll never see these and Jules will I’ll tell you the final reason I was willing to die rather than complete the mission. By the way, Siviter, piss off, mate! You knew my orders were to get close to Istvan and find ways to bring him down, right? Well, that was only half the mission.
<My orders were to get close to Istvan anyway possible, even if it required sleeping with someone from the group, male or female. Get enough information to destroy the group, legally or not and then kill Istvan and whoever brought me into the group.
<Damn, more later. Another search of my small cell. Peter>
Tom leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Damn, I knew there was more to his reasoning than just believing the anarchists.”
“You believe him, then?” Danny asked. “Couldn’t he be justifying his actions, trying to get Siviter to loosen up on him?”
“Could be but his total dedication to the anarchists never made total sense, even falling for the girl,” Tom pondered. “He developed a problem with assassination, especially when it was to protect the dirty secrets, not necessarily for the good of the Country.”
“Well, we know he would have been sent back out to the group to betray them,” Zoe said thoughtfully. “They would have required him to kill Istvan and the girl.”
“And we know he couldn’t do that,” Danny nodded. “He fell hard for her. Did she fall as hard? Is that why he’s where he is now?”
“More than likely,” Tom frowned, looking at his watch. “If they do have the girl, I think Peter would jump through hoops if they threatened her life.”
“Peter knows that the Service wouldn’t do that,” Zoe protested.
“He just might be the one agent that knows they would,” Tom muttered, reaching for another letter.
tbc…