Ingrams & Assoc 6: Downfall Ch. 02

Chapter 2

The next day, April was up early. One of the downsides of using a convention to flush out a target was that someone actually had to run a convention, and given she was posing as someone with responsibilities, she had to be seen actually fulfilling those responsibilities. Particularly when the mark expected to see her doing so. So, in effect, April had painted herself into a corner where she actually had to do the duties of a conference runner. Which meant early meetings with the volunteers, coordinating events, talking to the hotel management about event management, all the while keeping an eye out for Chris Morgan.

But first, because this was a mission, there was a phone call to make. She made it to the situation room at Ingrams Headquarters, in Washington, even though it was still late at night there. She knew Jessica would be there, waiting for news.

"We found him!" April said, the moment Jessica Ingrams got on the line. "It worked!"

"Well done, April. I never doubted it would. You come through again. Congratulations," Jessica was always subdued and never got excited. "Now, what's the situation? Give me the specifics."

"He came to the badge pickup. He's using an alias, 'Ryan Dawson'. He looks pretty much as we expected. Looks well. I made direct contact, we shared a beer and a cigar. He'll be looking for me today, because he thinks I can introduce him to one of the stars of the show."

"Can you?" asked Jessica, mildly interested.

"Sure," responded April.

"Okay, so we know he's going to be there for the duration of the weekend?"

"I think that's likely. I'm going to try and give him a reason to stick around, and try and get myself into his life a bit, at least to see what makes him tick."

"April, that's not the mission. We had to find him. We did. You are pretty much done."

"Right, but still, Jessica," counted April. "We spent all this money. We found the guy. Let's at least get an idea of why he's doing what he's doing, right? I mean, there's got to be a reason. We could at least try and help him? It's what we do, right? The bill is being paid, regardless."

April could almost hear Jessica weighing up the pros and cons. She knew April had to stick close with Chris Morgan for at least a few days, so in that case...

"Okay, well, I'll tentatively give it my blessing, until two days after the conference ends. At that point, the client is responsible. We've done our part. But until then, go ahead, see what you can figure out is his motivation. Being able to hand that to the client at the same time would be even more a feather in our cap."

"Gotcha, Boss," replied April, pleased she was going to get the chance to actually do what she was paid to do.

"April?" said Jessica.

"Yes?"

"Be careful. I worry about you."

"I got this. Don't worry yourself. I'm being careful, you know it."

And with that, the call was done, and it was time to get the conference running.

* * * * *

Running a conference is hard work. You have to be 'on' the whole time. Cheerful, upbeat, a problem solver, know everything about where everything has to be at all times, and make decisions on the fly you really have no business making, but there's no one else to do it.

It was nonstop, and April was on her feet the whole time, walkie talkie blaring every five minutes with something new for her to be dealing with. She barely got breakfast, and spent a lot of the time looking around, waiting for Chris Morgan to appear, while also dealing with the business of the conference. Talia was in her element too, enjoying the hell out of the whole experience, meeting actors, writers, producers, uber fans of the show. Since the mission had already been accomplished, she was relaxed and on form.

April was also astonished by both the good will generated by all the fans, and their commitment to a fifty-year-old British TV show. The costumes, - cosplay, she had learned, was the word, - was amazing. Some fans had obviously spent months and a fair bit of money recreating some of the aliens from the show, lots were dressed as one of the various people who had played the title role, and some of the women, she was both amused and gratified to see, had their own female versions of the same costumes. So many were dressed, at least forty percent of the convention goers.

It was a full morning, and right on time at midday, she saw Chris Morgan, weaving his way towards her, while she stood outside the main convention hall, talking with one of the volunteers, who wanted to know how many speakers were expected for the speaker dinner that night.

She looked up and caught his eye, and right at the moment she did, she felt her heartbeat quicken. It was enough for her to know that, as she suspected from her reaction the night before, her interest in this man was beyond just beyond a target. She had reviewed her own reaction, and understood it for what it was, - this was her kind of man. Serious, smart, clever, confident, funny, and a man for whom action was a second nature. This man did things, made things happen. He was right up her street.

But. She was also a full field agent for Ingrams and Associates. She was something herself. This was her job and she was good at it, and by god, she was not going to allow an involuntary emotional response to stop her doing it. Rationality over emotion was the purview of an evolved being, and she was evolved. She could feel, for sure, and you never ignore your feelings; she knew that better than anyone. But that didn't mean that feelings should dictate actions either.

Of course that was all well and good and intelligent and rational but here he was and, oh my god, he really smelt good!

"Hi..." he said, hesitantly. She could see he was still thinking over the events of the night before. An intelligence captain, intent on some mayhem involving a corporate client, a man who had literally killed people with his bare hands, and here he was, all tongue twisted over a kiss with her the night before. It would have been so cute if she wasn't in exactly the same state of mind.

"Hi. Can you give me a second? Just want to finish this," she replied, gesturing at the volunteer and hoping to god he didn't pick up on her heart rate on the beat in her neck. She was doing her level best to lower that beating heart, - it was very unprofessional and she was doing everything she knew to be calm.

"Sure," he answered, looking round and taking in all the people moving around, in costumes and not, genuinely interested.

She finished her conversation, sent the volunteer on her way, and turned to him.

"Right. Hi. Again. Okay. Lunch. Did you get to any sessions this morning...?"

She turned to walk towards the area where all the sandwiches and drinks were laid out, and being snapped up by hungry conference goers. She watched a cyberman pick up a wrapped sandwich, look at it, and put it in a bag. Given the full head mask, it wasn't going to be eaten any time soon, that was for sure.

"I caught a couple. That one with the director of..."

They walked to the lunch area, conversing like longtime friends, and even April had to admit it was eerie how comfortable she felt with this man. He was making it very easy for her, and she had to wonder if that was intentional. For sure, she was giving all the 'I'm available and interested' signals, but he was responding too... earnestly, she felt. He was either playing a game with her, or, worse still, genuinely felt those feelings, which was great for her in the short term, but potentially problematic in the longer term. If she was going to help this man, she couldn't do it if he thought he was in love with her. That would devalue all that she could offer, since it would be perceived in the wrong manner.

They got a sandwich, and then April, as promised, took Morgan to a private dining area, where he was introduced to both Peter Davison, Doctor number Five, Sylvester McCoy, Doctor number Seven as well as two writers, three directors, and the old show runner, Steven Moffat. Morgan was quite overwhelmed and kept saying how great it was, meeting them, and in general what an honor this was.

At one point, he made a speech to Steven Moffat, that April listened to and lots clicked into her place for her.

"So, yeah, I just wanted to say thanks for doing it all, you know? For making it, for caring, for making thought provoking stuff."

Moffat nodded, while sipping his soft drink. He didn't talk much to people he didn't know, but he was listening.

"The thing is, Doctor Who means a lot to me. I grew up with my elder brother, who was a LOT older than me, and my parents, well... they just weren't that interested in me. It's not like they ignored me, just, they didn't do that much parenting you know? They were both faded hippies and I don't think they really knew how to parent. Like my brother before me, I was kinda left to my own devices. I was never really given rules for living, hell, we didn't even have a curfew. So I watched a lot of TV. I grew up watching TV shows and learning from them, you know? Starsky and Hutch, The Hulk, The A Team, and then I discovered Doctor Who on PBS. Man..."

Morgan stopped to have a drink himself, looking into the past. Moffat noded again, smiling. He knew that look. He'd had it himself more than once.

"It was like morality play, father wisdom, excitement and outer space, all wrapped up in twenty-five minute episodes. I learned so much from that show. How to be a better human. What responsibility means. What it means to care. How to treat those who are different. How to look for the best in people. Just... everything I didn't get from my parents at all. I mean, yeah, the walls and doors wobbled and the special effects were laughable, but the stories, the stories... the people, the imagination. It just... really affected me."

There was another pause. More than just Moffat were listening now and Morgan continued.

"I joined the army because of it, you know? I thought that was the best way to get out there and see the world. Of course it wasn't, but for a guy who had no other options... I learned how to lead there. How to take care of others. How to treat others. But it was all fed by what I learned off that TV show. That and Star Trek. That was good too. But still, this show really affected me as a kid. Not normally what an ex-military man would tell you, but there is it. That's why when my friend April here said she could introduce me to you guys, - you guys who did it. Who made this a reality... I had to do it. Just to tell you what you did. When I heard it was coming back, after fifteen years of not being made, I was scared, let me tell you. But then it came back and it was exactly the same in terms of who the character is, what he stands for. I just..."

Morgan actually blinked a second, then carried on, slightly quieter.

"I just wanted you guys to know what you did matters to people. It may only be a TV show about a guy who travels in a blue box, but for some kids, it's everything they aspire to be. It sure was for me. And it still it. I still try and live my life the way the Doctor does. When you see something you can change, and should change, then you must. As Rose says, 'it's a better way to live'."

That last statement suddenly made a few things click in April's mind. For Morgan, his crusade against their client was absolutely that, - a crusade. He believed. She didn't know what he believed yet, but this was a holy matter for him. An evil to be fought, and he was doing it the way he'd been trained to do it.

That made it a lot harder to deal with. Persuading a zealot they are wrong was the hardest thing to do with anyone.

Morgan stopped speaking and suddenly looked around, conscious that everyone in the room besides him and April were both part of the show he was talking about, and also giving him their full attention.

Peter Davison stood and walked over and put his hand on Morgan's shoulder, looked him in the eye and said, softly, "Thank you. I don't think I've ever heard it put like that before, but that really matters. To everyone in this room, right?"

He looked around and everyone nodded, with murmurs of "absolutely" and "definitely" being heard.

Moffat also nodded and looking at Morgan said, "Thank you. To hear it makes a difference to us. I'm so glad to hear you got something out of it, because I was just like you. I got the same things out of it as a kid."

Moffat had a slight Scottish lilt to his voice, and it was quite melodious.

There was a silence for a moment, and then the moment broke when a self-important volunteer came bustling into the room and said, loudly, "Mr. Moffat? You are needed in the main stage. Interview time!"

* * * * *

The rest of the afternoon passed both quickly and slowly. Slowly, because April had a mission to achieve. A highly, highly desirable mission to achieve. She was looking forward to dinner and whatever else may come. And she was sure it was. She was sure it would if she had anything to do with it. She actually tingled in her loins when she thought about it, and blushed at people constantly all afternoon. She was smart enough to realize she was somewhat infatuated, but she was also professional enough to put away the little girl crush she was experiencing every time she realized it was happening.

But the time ticked quickly in other ways, - there was a LOT to do, people to hustle to appointments, rooms to prepare, banter to be had with various fans, and it required a constant eye on the clock and intimate knowledge of the schedule for everything. There many small fires to put out and questions to deal with, and the time went fast because of it. More than once, she idly wished she really did have a Tardis time machine, so she could double back and have several of herself running around at once.

But the evening came, and with it, the first time she could sit down, take of her heels and massage her sore feet. She'd been warned to get some gel inserts in her shoes and not heeded the message and here she was, with sore feet, as foretold.

And suddenly, there he was, beside her. She didn't even have to go find him, he was there for her. She was sitting in the main lobby of the hotel, wondering where Chris was, and he just appeared, clutching a beer and a glass of red wine, for her. She just looked up at him, grateful and rueful at the same time, accepting the proffered glass, no words spoken.

He sat down and then nodded at the wine, "Thought you might want something like that? I took a wild guess, figured you were a red wine kinda girl?"

April laughed, took a sip and looked admiringly at him. "A merlot too? Well done, sir. My friend Megan and I keep trying to make plans to go to wine country in Napa, back home, but it just never seems to happen. Thank you."

She gestured with the glass to him and he raised his own beer in response.

They just sat, in silence for a moment, April rubbing her feet and taking sips of wine, and Chris Morgan, watching her through lidded eyes.

"Wanna let me...?" he said, gesturing at her feet.

"You sure?" she asked. "They've gotta be pretty ripe by now..."

"Let me deal," he replied, putting down is beer and smiling, as he slipped out of his chair and knelt before her.

He put out his hands, asking for a foot, and she daintily pushed it forward, saying in a joking tone, "Okay, Buster, but don't say you weren't warned."

And for the next ten minutes, April entered heaven. A good foot massage is a thing of beauty and joy, and when you've been on heels all day and are sore and tired, it was even more a thing of love. Chris expertly massaged her left foot, strong hands grasping her foot, massage the balls, each individual toe, compressing and stretching the ligaments in the top of her foot, and pushing on pressure points in the sole of the foot.

April just sat back, closed her eyes and groaned a lot. The thing about a good foot rub is that it can also act as foreplay and in April's mind, there was no doubt that's what it was. She was getting wet and she was sure he could smell her arousal.

When it came time to swap feet, she opened her eyes, and just gazed at Chris, who was intent on starting on the other foot. He was intent on what he was doing, tongue very slightly out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on moving his hands over her foot.

April had taken a course in massage for one of her early missions, and she was very aware of the fact that what he was doing took training, - the general public are not aware of the way that the muscles work in a foot, nor the pressure points on the sole of the foot, but he was, and it was both tantalizing and also just plain delightful.

When he was done, he sat back, looked up at April and started to say, "How was th..." when April just dumped the wine glass on the side table and threw herself at him, grabbing his face and mashing her lips against his. There was no subtlety involved, it was an out and out passion kiss.

It went on, and he responded back, with equal passion, both oblivious to the fact that they were sitting in the lobby of a major Spanish hotel, surrounded by people and fans.

When they broke the kiss, April had one arm around his neck, and she kept it there, trapping him.

They both just looked at each other, in that way that new lovers do, where the rest of the world is totally excluded.

"Dinner?" Chris managed to croak out.

"I will need to eat," husked April back at him, "... later..."

Chris smiled a broad smile at her and just stood up, April forced to come with him. With no more words spoken, April gathered up her jacket and shoes and, taking him by the hand, led Chris to the elevators.

* * * * *

By the time they got to her room, April was positively panting. She was in heat and she knew it. She'd never felt quite like this before, - she'd had amazing sexual experiences before, but they'd all been pure passion. This was too, but in a different way. This wasn't just a mark, where she needed to do the best she could, this was a man where she wanted to make it the best she could. For him. For her. Because it was what she wanted, more than anything. And judging by the hardness in his slacks, so did Chris Morgan.

While she tried to get the keycard to her room out her pocket, Morgan's hands were roaming all over her body, when he tweaked a nipple through her lacy bra, she moaned and arched, and almost fumbled the card out of her hands.

Eventually they tumbled into the room, and April wasn't even really aware of the door closing, because it suddenly became the most important thing in the universe that she kissed this man, and kissed this man right now, as hard as possible, as long as possible.

Chris Morgan was equally excited. He was normally a sober man, aware of his surroundings and the people in them. Right then and there, there could have been a brass band in the room and he wouldn't have noticed. He only had attention for this woman, and he couldn't remember the last time that had happened. He'd never even been as hot for... no, he wasn't going to think about that now. Be in the here and now, because holy shit was she actually going to...?

After slamming Chris against the now closed door and hungrily devouring his lips and tongue, April had decided she needed this man's cock in her mouth RIGHT THEN AND THERE, and NOTHING was going to get in the way of that. This NEEDED to happen, and by god, IT WAS GOING TO. She was entirely carried away with her need, and the sober, calculating part of her mind observed with a wry smile, turning away and letting the lust have its head. So to speak.

She walked herself down his body, kissing each part as she went, till she was kneeling before him, her practiced hands unhooking his belt and unzipping his fly. She shoved his pants down, sufficient that his cock sprang out and flopped in her face almost, partially erect. He was of a decent size, she observed absently, circumcised, and with his hair trimmed back, for which she was grateful.