Ingrams & Assoc 6: Downfall Ch. 01

"Can I find your badge?" asked April, brightly, giving him a wide smile as she did so.

"Sure. Um. Ryan Dawson," he said, looking expectantly at her.

April looked down and sorted through badges, hunting for it. She found the badge and then asked, hesitantly, "Do you have some identification?"

"What? Oh, yes. Sure," he said, distractedly as he looked around. He rummaged through a pocket and produced an American driver's license from Colorado State, in the name of Ryan Dawson. She looked it over, ostensibly just glancing but in reality, admiring the ability of the forger. It sure looked real to her.

She handed it back with the badge and said, "Ahhh, Colorado. Boulder was always a favorite of mine."

He looked back at her and said blandly, "Really? Sure. I can see that. What brings you here? An American at a British TV show convention?"

This was a question they were prepared for. It was an obvious one and they needed a good answer.

"Would you believe a Tardis?" April replied, nodding at the blue police box set up behind them.

Morgan smiled at her, and April took the opportunity to nod to Steve in the door, who bustled out saying, loudly, "Man, needed to take that weight off my mind!"

April winced at his overacting, but went with it, looking at Morgan with a comically disgusted expression on her face.

"Hey, I have to go in anyway, got some stuff to check. Walk with me? I can give you the lowdown," she said to Chris, with more riding on this than was obvious.

Chris considered, and did the classic thing a lot of men do when given and unexpected opportunity, - he looked her up and down and did a mental judgement. Lots of men do this, - an instant 'Would I or not?' internal decision. April had learned to look for this, and check the visual reaction, because that reaction would change how she proceeded forward. In his case, it was an obvious but very quick smile.

"Sure. I never turn down the chance to chat with a beautiful woman. And you're American too, so I don't have to explain what 'The Waltons' is."

That was promising, - April gave him a quick chuckle in response. Her analysis of Chris Morgan had indicated that he was old school, and so she was going to try some older etiquette moves on him. She walked out from the table and Morgan struggled through the long lines to join her.

She stood impatiently as he joined her, just waiting as he stood in front of her.

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"Look Mr. Dawson. I'm an old-fashioned girl. If I'm being escorted, I'm going to be escorted properly," she said, in a send up of a pompous voice.

"Oh," he replied, suddenly getting what she was waiting for. He offered her his arm, and she took it, and then they walked into the Novotel lobby together.

"So, yeah. I'm here mainly for the organizational aspect," she confided in him. "My company was asked to put this conference on. We are a worldwide group, - the people here are from all over the world, although my little gang is mostly from the east coast. So, when we were contacted to help, it was a crash course in Timelords, Regeneration, Tardises and Daleks, and boom, here we are."

"So, not a deep fan then?" He also sounded disappointed.

"Well, I think there's a lot to recommend this show, for sure. Strong moral message, doesn't hurt that sometimes the lead is a young hottie. Lots of interesting takes on current events. Yeah, it's quite fun, no question. Certainly better for you than any soap you care to name, and it's been on longer than almost all of them."

It was another previously considered answer. She didn't want to come off a fan girl because she didn't have the kind of knowledge he did, and wouldn't be able to pull it off. But she needed to sound engaged, so he'd want to educate her. That was the plan, anyway.

Morgan gave that mouth down nod people do when they are indicating a point well made.

"So, where are you off to?" he asked, now they were inside.

"Oh, our small makeshift office. Need to check to make sure some of the special guests have arrived at the hotel."

"Special guests?" he replied, interest piqued.

"Yeah, we have some unannounced guests. We've managed to get an extra Doctor here," she replied, proudly. Again, all part of the plan, - the intention was to offer him access, access no one else had.

"Reeeeaaaalllly?" he asked, innocently, but with a broad smile on his face.

April looked at him, like she was making a snap decision, - the faint narrowing of the eyes, the pushing of the mouth to one side. She looked around, to see if anyone was watching, and then stepped in close and said, quietly, "Want to meet him? You are a fellow American, after all. Got to look out for our people..."

"Well, yeah, of course!" replied Morgan, enthusiastically. "Um, which one is he?" he queried.

"Oh, right yes. Five. Mr. Davidson."

"Davison," corrected Morgan.

"What?"

"It's Peter Davison. Not Davidson. Small but crucial difference."

"Oh right. Yes. Of course," she replied, smiling at him indulgently. "Anyway, yes... Look, I can't do it right now, but, you wanna meet tomorrow? Say, ten-thirty? Find me at the late comers badge booth there?"

Morgan looked at April somewhat strangely for a moment, internally debating, and then said, "Sure."

April was learning he was a man of few words.

She ran her hand up through her hair and then said, impulsively, "You know what? Before I go check in, I need a beer. You need one? I'll even buy."

"Aren't they free?"

"Well, yeah. That's why I'm buying."

"Hmm. In that case, I'll probably need two."

She stopped and looked at him appraisingly, searching for the right comeback. It took a second or two to come to her.

"Ah, I see. Two hands. How do you hold a third?"

It was just the right amount of come on, allowing for the perfect rude answer, to open the door to flirting.

He just looked at her, shook his head and said, "Two at one time should be more than enough for any guy. Otherwise you just spill them."

So much for that. Or was it?

"We are still talking about beers, aren't we?" she asked, exaggeratedly innocently.

He looked at her, eyes, looking around as though questioning her sanity, and then it dawned on him what she was referring to.

He was about to retort when she decided to let him off the hook.

"Hey, I gotta run for a moment. Get the beers in at the bar, I'll come find you in a second. They are playing my tune over at the office," she said, looking over his shoulder as though seeing someone motioning to her.

"Sure," he said, looking round to see what she was looking at.

"Keep them cold. I'll be right back."

With that, she walked away. Just the right amount of implied naughtiness, flirtation, but self-control that she judged that he required to keep him interested.

She walked to the club security office, where Talia was ensconced, pouring over the security cameras.

She opened the door, and walked in, standing behind Talia, who was sitting in the main chair in front of a bank of monitors. Talia glanced back at her, smiling.

"You know, this is the first field operation I've been on," she confessed, smiling broadly. "It's quite exciting. All very James Bond. He's cute too," she said, nodding at the screen that displayed Chris Morgan getting a beer from the bar. "Is it always like this?"

April smiled and replied, "No. Almost never. You only got the best jobs, Talia."

They both stood and watched Chris Morgan stand with the two beers, looking around interestedly, but obviously out of his normal element.

"How long are you going to keep him hanging?" asked Talia, after a minute of silence.

"Just long enough for him to see that his evening is better with me than without. I have to time this long enough that he gets to realize this isn't his normal scene, but not too long that he just walks about. I need him interested in spending the time with me, not anyone else," April answered, intent on watching Chris Morgan as he pulled out his phone.

"Look, he has a phone. Can we force pair it?" she asked Talia. Talia instantly sat up straighter, and puller her laptop towards her.

"I can try. Hard to make it out from the others in the club though." Talia's hands were suddenly a blur over the laptop keyboard.

"Give it a try. Time for me to go back," stated April. "Do we have the cigars?"

Talia just nodded towards a table by the door, without taking her eyes off the laptop.

"Great," said April, suddenly aware that Talia was no longer really registering her presence at all.

She scooped up the box by the door, along with the two items adjacent to it, and pausing only to deposit them in the very small clutch purse she carried, she let herself out of the room.

She made her way back to the bar, where she saw Chris Morgan look at his watch, somewhat impatiently. She judged it was the perfect amount of time away.

Thankfully the DJ cranked up a new heavy-on-the-beat piece of house music, and as she walked up to Chris, she saw him spy her and his face brighten, - that simple act portended an easier task than she might have otherwise had. Now to reel him in.

She arrived at the bar, accepted the beer he gave her, took a long deep drink, then she tried to say something to him. He couldn't hear, so she leaned in and yelled loudly, "It's too loud in here! Let's go upstairs!" and she gestured to the circular stair case behind the bar.

He nodded, grabbed his beer and followed her as she walked to the stair case. She was stopped by club security who was stationed at the bottom of the stairs, but she showed him her red paper bracelet, - marking her out as an organizer, and therefore with all areas access, - and he stepped aside, allowing her and Chris Morgan to ascend.

The staircase led them to a higher, smaller, more intimate bar, where there were three people sitting, two of whom were Ingrams employees and one volunteer. April just walked past them, nodding at them, and guided Chris past the small bar, to a door proper open to the outside. The bar had a small balcony, that overlooked the road outside, and April walked out, and placed her beer on the balcony railing.

She looked at Chris, as though considering something, then said, "If I tell you something, will promise you won't tell anyone?"

It was done with a slightly mischievous air, as though the sharing of a deep personal secret, but as with almost everything April had done since meeting Chris Morgan, it was done in accordance with a preset plan.

Being vulnerable to someone so close to meeting them is a trick employed by many professional manipulators. The trick was to be vulnerable in a way that somewhat matters, but doesn't really, when you get down to it. Knowing something about someone, that they'd rather you didn't spread around is a powerful thing. Not only does it give the listener some degree of authority, but it also confirms in them that they are worthy of holding that secret, and it automatically disarms the person confiding in them of any degree of Machiavelli intent. They are being naughty and drawing you into their web of naughtiness, and you get to be the adult.

The trick is in doing it early enough, before too many initial impressions are already formed, and making it something that is a trivial secret shared, rather than a weight on a shoulder that the recipient would rather not have.

In April's case, it was a sword with two edges.

"I'm desperate for a cigar, and I can't have one down there. They think I'm all goody too shoes and they'd tell my mom when I got home. You don't mind, do you?"

The fact is, she knew damn well he wouldn't mind. He'd join her. His dossier mentioned he like a good cigar and she had original Cuban Cohiba's, too good for any connoisseur to pass up.

She got out a cigar from the box she carried in her purse, pulled out a cigar clipper and clipped the end off it, glancing at him.

Chris Morgan was acting amused, but his eyes gave away his interest.

"Do... do you want one?" she offered, as though suddenly realizing he might.

"Sure," he said, "But I don't want to take one from you. These are expensive."

"But oh so good!" she replied, getting another siglo II cigar out of the box.

She lit hers with the small gas jet lighter she carried, and then handed it to Chris, after he'd clipped the end of his cigar.

She took a deep drag on the cigar, savoring the smoke.

"Reminds me of my Dad," she said, smiling as she did so.

It was true. April's Uncle, -- who was actually her Dad, unbeknown to either of them, - had enjoyed a cigar often and April had fond memories of the smell of a recently lit cheroot or Cuban cigar. It took her back to her Father sitting and going through old picture albums with her, him pointing out pictures of her mother and who she thought was her father, and their various adventures.

April wasn't a huge smoker, but she did like a cigar once in a great while, taking in the heady smoke and letting herself sink into memories of her childhood, - the only constant being Uncle Ambrose, who saw her as often as he was allowed.

In this situation though, it was a device to hold Chris Morgan's attention, and keep him with her at least as long as the cigar took to smoke.

"Well," Morgan said, after drawing a couple of long drags from his own cigar, "You are an unusual woman. You know, I don't even know your name?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm April. April Carlisle." April and the rest of Ingrams had decided that it was okay for April to travel under her own identity for this mission. There was no pressing reason for her to be anyone else.

"Ryan Dawson. But you already know that," he replied, sticking out his cigarless hand.

They shook. April could quite feel how warm his hand was, and looking into his eyes she was struck by a sudden electric spark inside, something she'd never felt before. A connection. She mentally shook herself. He was a mark. A job. Nothing more.

"You're an interesting woman, April," Chris said, leaning on the railing and rolling the cigar in his hands.

"Oh? How so?" she asked, leaning next to him and taking in the cooler air and the view of the city, spread out in front of them.

"Cigars? Interest in Doctor Who? Far from home?"

April chuckled mirthlessly. "Well, it beats sitting at home and watching the heat burn the grass," she said, taking a long drag on the cigar.

"Where's home?"

"Arizona." It was a place she knew well, so why not? "What about you?"

"Oh, San Diego, mostly. Sometimes in Houston. But all over, really."

That was mostly true. She'd read his dossier, - his parents had been located in San Diego.

"What brings you out to sunny Spain?" she enquired. It would be interesting to hear his answer, and it was a question that would have been asked anyway.

Chris took another deep drag on the cigar, leaning on the railing and staring out over the city.

"Business," he said simply, after attempting, - and failing, - to blow a smoke ring.

"And what do you do?" ask April, leaning next to him. It was the appropriate question.

"I'm a problem solver," Chris said, leaning back and looking at April. "I... deal with corporate fires, you might say."

Which was absolutely true, and it tickled April's funny bone that he'd be so honest in a completely misdirected way. But she kept her face straight. No blowing it now.

"Really? Interesting work?" she enquired.

Chris turned so his back was against the railing, and finally managed a smoke ring.

"Yeah, sort of. Takes me all over. Lots of fires to deal with. What about you?"

"Oh, failed love affair. Between jobs, took this gig as a stop gap, to be honest. I thought traveling might help, blow the cobwebs out, you know? See somewhere different. Be someone different."

Chris nodded, and drank from his beer. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Went through something like that myself a while back."

"Oh?" asked April.

"Used to be married. Not anymore. Wasn't a pretty breakup."

"They never are," she replied, nodding, and having a drink herself.

Then, hesitantly, she said, "So, single then?" She did her best to inject a note of interest, although it wasn't that hard. He was easy on the eyes, and a nice tight ass in his jeans, and he held himself in a way that was hard to quantify. Not arrogant, but confident. But quietly confident, not aggressive or brash. More the observer who is not part of things, than someone trying to make the world into his own image. And it was pretty attractive. April did have to wonder why he was still single. He had that elusive quantity that made him attractive, even without movie star looks. Unassuming and unworried, which was all the more interesting knowing what she did of his life and proclivities.

Chris winced and then grinned at April and said, "Bit forward, aren't you?" It was said in a not threatening and jokey way, but April replied earnestly.

"Told you. Be someone else for a bit." She shrugged as she said it. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Who dares, wins and all that."

He looked strangely at her for a moment. 'Who Dares, Wins' is the motto from the British SAS, and it wasn't something that your average American would know.

"Spent time in the UK?" he enquired.

"I have a friend from there. Rachael uses that all the time, whenever she's about to do something she thinks is stupid."

"Ah. Yes. Got it. Well, Ms. Carlisle, yes, single. Not looking though, my life is a bit all over the place for that."

"I hear that," she replied, tipping her bottle his way. He lifted his and touched bottles with a tinking noise.

"You know why we do that?" he asked, suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Toast like that. Bang bottle or glasses together?"

"Um, no?" April answered, genuinely curious.

"It comes from the middle ages. The preferred way to do away with relatives and rivals was to poison their drink. When you crash the cups together, part of your drink slops into theirs and vice versa. It's done to prove you aren't trying to kill your drinking buddy or dinner partner, and he's not trying to kill you."

"Interesting. But surely glasses won't hold up to that kind of slapping?" April wanted to know.

Chris had leaned back and was inhaling his cigar and blowing the smoke up into the air.

"Well, no, but they weren't using glass in the middle ages. All wooden or brass flagons. They could take the pounding."

"Oh. Interesting," said April, wondering what the next conversational gambit would be.

She didn't have to wait long. The Apple watch on Chris' wrist beeped, and he glanced at it, then put down his drink, and looked around for an ash tray to put out the cigar.

"I'm sorry April, I have to run. Duty calls."

"I get it. Same as me. I shouldn't be up here anyway," she said. "I understand. See you tomorrow? Lunch? Meet that other Doctor?"

"Sure. Looking forward to it!" replied Chris, with a twinkle in his eye. "Thanks for the cigar, that was a really nice interlude."

"Interlude??" laughed April. "I'm an interlude now? I don't think I've ever been one of those before."

"Well, play your cards right and you might even graduate to interval. Maybe even a full episode. You never know."

April grinned at him. A man who knew word, although he'd been an aspiring amateur writer, so it wasn't that surprising. Still, Chris Morgan was altogether a more interesting man than the background implied.

"Right, gotta run. Cya, April."

And with that, he was gone.

April turned back to the view over the city, - in most movies, this is the moment the agent pulls out their phone to call someone and say, "Contact with the target". However, this was not a movie, and no agent worth their salt would ever do such a thing, - a good agent knows that the mark may well return, just to see what you are doing, and so you wait till you are alone to make phone calls.