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Dr. Spencer Reid sat outside of a café in Quantico. The cool breeze of mid April swept through the air, ruffling the pages of the files that were spread across the grated table. The page flapped under the paper weights, until one finally broke free, flying away. Sighing, Reid stood, his chair scraping the concrete. He chased after the runaway page until it slowly drifted to the ground again a couple tables adjacent to his own. The occupant of the table bent and picked up the missing file page. "Is this yours?" he asked in an accent.
He was wearing a button down shirt accompanied with a tie and a charcoal-colored cardigan. His hair was long, but had a curl and looked as though he brushed his hair with his fingers. His black rimmed glasses sat on his nose and a cup of Earl Grey tea sat steaming on the table in front of him.
"Yes, thank you," Reid held out his hand for the page, instead, the stranger glanced at the binary code the stretch across a majority if the page.
"You know, if you need any help with the binary coding, I know quite a bit pertaining to technology," the stranger offered.
"Well," Spencer thought, "I suppose I could use a fresh set of eyes. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid."
"I'm Ben," Q held out his hand, using his alias. Every cell of his being practically screams government, I only hope MI6 double-0 agents don't look this obvious.
Reid looked at Q in interest, "Where are you from?"
"I'm from London and I'm here for a," Q hesitated for a beat, not wanting to lie to a Federal agent from a country he's not even from, "conference. We're launching new technology designed to detect anyone through solid concrete." It wasn’t a complete lie. He accompanied 007 and of course Miss Moneypenny on a mission tracking down a lost file.
Reid looked at Q in awe, "Wow, are they your prototypes?"
"I designed the technology, yes," Q looked at the pages sprawled out in on the table, "based on these plans, I would say you are looking for a well-educated engineer. Also, the size and pattern of the binary, it's a kill code, a code used to remotely detonate a small electromagnetic bomb. One that can be put on a delay, but small enough to store, in say a pen-" Q stopped. The plans were his. They were the plans for the pen bombs he designed three months ago. The ones that went missing from the vault. They were small, but capable to ruin all of London.
"Are you alright, Ben?"
"Yes, I-I have to leave, I'm going to be late for my conference," Q picked up his Earl Grey, "it was nice to meet you, Mr. Reid, good luck on your case."
"Thanks," Reid offered a half-smile.
Q walked out of the café. There was something definitely off about Q, but Reid couldn't exactly put his finger on it...
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It has been three days since Q met Dr. Spencer Reid and only two and a half since he's notified M about the found weaponry plans. She has authorized the recovery of the plans before they fall into the wrong hands. Q, with the help of James, managed to track the real plans, along with the pens to a small hardware shop that sold illegal weapons from the back. Wonderful way to spend a vacation in America with James. And of course Miss Moneypenny.
Thankfully, they managed to get the plans back without running into the FBI.
Or so they think. Just to be sure, Q hacked into the FBI CCTV.
This particular team in the FBI team smelt something from the get-go. They apprehended the original thieves and questioned them extensively. Thankfully, the thieves didn’t know a lot about the plans; they sold them instead.
Q tracked down the buyers, and James was reluctant to let the young Quartermaster assist him on the extraction. Which confused Q, even if he spends his him in his pajamas hacking into various agencies, doesn’t mean he can’t shoot a gun.
When they finally got the plans from the newer buyers, there weren’t any survivors. One of the casualties of the position, he supposed. Just as they were leaving, sirens screamed not too far from their current position. Q looked at James questioningly, they would have heard them coming on the radios. James shook his head slightly. If they were smart enough to check the links to see if there were any piggybacks in the system, surely he would have noticed. Unless the analyst back tracked and tricked the system into thinking it’s locked, that would have taken skill.
They found the back door where the car was carefully hidden in the lot next to the warehouse. From the other side of the door, they heard the federal agents shout to the injured parties. Poor blokes. Q chuckled to himself, letting a smirk brighten his features ever so slightly.
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Once back in the hotel room, Q got to work. He open his laptop and hacked directly into their system. Not expecting a lot from the analysts in the agency, he was, un-admittedly, sloppy with his work. He was in a matter of minutes.
After minutes of searching (a record long) he finally came across what he was looking for; the digital blueprints for the exploding pen. He deleted to data and continued to remove any evidence he and 007 were even there. He stumbled onto a list of four.
1. David Cameron, Prime Minister
2. Barack Obama, President
3. 5 Downing Street
4. 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that if they wanted the bombs, easy, but effective, and practically untraceable, with a list of the most powerful people in the UK and the US, possibly the world, that they were planning to target them. This job was much too large for only six people, there are more, plus a leader. He had to tell the agents. His laptop beeped, notifying that someone was watching him. He accessed the information. It came from the very agency he has just hacked.
He pulled up the user information and got a name; Penelope Garcia, FBI technical analyst. He pulled out of the firewall and packed up the room. “We’ve been compromised, And I found more information that you need to see,” Q said into the headset with a direct connection to Moneypenny and Bond.
“Uh, Q, the hotel is surrounded, do you know what to do?” Moneypenny’s voice filled his ears.
“Not in the slightest,” he admitted. His mobile bleeped and he pause to pull it out of his pockets: Warning: Secondary connection aboard server. “Shite. That’s not all, we’re being hacked, stay clear, I repeat, stay clear.”
Just then, the door burst in and agents flooded the room with their weapons drawn. Q made no effort to draw his own weapon in his laptop case.
“Freeze! FBI!” they all shouted at different time, causing for too much commotion. The youngest Quartermaster in the history of MI-6 tore his his ear, dropped it to the floor, and crushed it under his foot before raising his hands in defeat.
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After about forty-five minutes, the door opened and Reid walked in accompanied by a woman, obviously federal as well. “Hello, Dr. Reid, fancy meeting you again.”
“You know why you’re here? Do you know your charges?” the woman spoke.
“I’m going to take a wild guess, but you’re probably thinking murder and terrorism?”
It was Reid’s turn to speak, “Depends; did you kill those people?”
Q thought for a second. He couldn’t just blame James for the shootings, technically, he shot one or two of the men. He looked at the woman, avoiding eye contact with Reid.
“Okay, let’s try this again, why were there plans for a pen bomb with you. The ones that people died for?”
“I made them.”
“And we’re supposed to believe that?”
“Well, yes, I am telling the truth,” Q looked at Reid.
“JJ, the kid’s lawyer is here.” JJ looked at Reid, sending a silent message to be quiet. They stood and walked out of the room. About fifteen minutes later, they came back in,
“Ten minutes,” the younger agents reminded. He stayed in the corner of the small room.
“Do we tell them?” Q asked quietly.
“We’re going to have to sooner or later,”
“Have you called M yet?”
“Yes, her orders were not to compromise the mission.”
“Does she realize this would either mean incarceration or freedom, right? I saw something on the hard drive and we may as well jump into the lion’s mouth now.”
“Okay, we’re ready to make a confession!” James spoke to the agent. He knocked on the glass mirror. Just then, the older man with dark hair walked into the room. He sat down in the other chair on the opposite side of the two Englishmen.
“For the record, I’m SSA Rossi, the time is 19:34, anything you say will be recorded for the record. Let’s start with your name.”
James looked at Q, “Bond. James Bond.”
Q panicked, “Alec Taylor.” Yet another fake name.
“Try again, we all know that’s not your name,” the agent said condescending.
“That’s classified,” he could feel Bond’s eyes boring into his skull.
“Alright,” the agent stared in disbelief, then shrugged, “your confessions.”
“I work for MI6, the British Secret Service.”
Agent Rossi looked skeptically at Q, “and you?”
“I’m his...er...Quartermaster.”
“A little young, don’t you think?”
Q huffed a sigh, “Age is no guarantee of efficiency.”
James chuckled next to me, “And youth is no guarantee of innovation.”
“And you’re not helping,” Q looked at Bond with fake irritation, “do shut up, now’s not the time.” Bond smirked dirtily, and grabbing his hand under the table in comfort.
“That’s beside the point, why were there missing files of a weapon that is capable of destroying a whole city?”
“As I told you before, I invented the prototype, but they were stolen, along with the file from the vaults of MI-6,” Q stared down into his lap, “the exploding pens were initially meant to be used for a mission that involved t–”
“Q,” James warned sternly, “orders are orders.”
“Keep going,” SSA Rossi raised his eyebrows, ”if you don’t, I will charge you with obstruction of justice.”
“You can take that up with our–” shouting from down the hall cut Q off and jumped when the metal door of the interrogation room slammed open. The doorway was blocked by none other than Eve Moneypenny, smirking.
“This is an extraction by the orders of the British Monarch, Queen Elizabeth II. The Quartermaster of MI-6 is coming with us,” Eve spoke without breaking her smile.
“And what about me?” Bond asked, trying not to look hurt.
Miss Moneypenny rolled her eyes, “You haven’t been arrested, Bond, you could’ve left whenever you pleased.” She turned on her heel and clacked back down the hallway.
“Wait, what about the plans and the list?” Q stood, his chair scraping across the linoleum.
“What list?” SSA Rossi asked, his eyebrows knit together and arms folded across his chest.
“There was a list of two people and two addresses encrypted in the computer systems belonging to the FBI Headquarters.” Q stopped and looked down at SSA Rossi, “the system that I hacked when your agents apprehended me.”
James was standing now and motioning towards the door, “If everyone is dead, then it wouldn’t be a problem, would it? and anyways, we have the prints.”
Q though for a moment, “I suppose you’re right,” he walked past Bond at the door and turned to face the room, “it was a pleasure meeting you, Agent Rossi,” then a little louder, “until next time, Spencer Reid.” And with that, the boy-ish British Quartermaster was out of their life just as fast as he entered them.
From behind the one-way mirror, Jennifer Jareau turned to Spencer Reid and wondered where exactly Reid had met the mysterious ‘Q’.
fin.