Assignment - Part 11:
Personal
“Would you stop moving?” Justin repeated more sternly this time as he looked up from his sketchbook.
“You try lying still for ten fucking hours,” Brian replied, shifting on the couch once again.
Justin snorted. “It’s only been an hour, drama queen. And you definitely have not stayed still for more than two minutes.”
Brian groaned as he tried to stretch his legs out.
“Brian,” he heard immediately.
“This is not what I agreed to when I said you can draw me,” he pointed out to the young artist.
Justin, as predicted, rolled his eyes at Brian’s whining. “What did you think modeling for a sketch meant?”
“I was pretty sure there’d be plenty of sucking and fucking going on,” came Brian’s response, the brunet grinning mischievously. “Instead my ass is falling asleep and my dick is about to fall off.” Tired of lying in the same position, Brian pushed himself up, shifting into a sitting position.
He heard a loud, exasperated sigh come from Justin as the blond tossed the pencil on the coffee table and closed his sketchbook.
“Let me see,” Brian said, reaching for it.
His fingers met nothing but air though, because Justin, who was sitting on the floor a few feet away from the bed, snatched it away just before Brian could get a hold of it.
“It’s not finished yet,” the artist told him. “I had a very uncooperative model.”
That didn’t deter Brian. He got down on the floor next to Justin and pinned the smaller man down with the weight of his body.
“Well, the model wants his just rewards,” he said, once again trying to get a hold of the sketchbook.
Justin though, while smaller, was faster in trying to wiggle his way out of Brian’s grasp, leaving the brunet only one choice. His fingers traveling down the sides of Justin’s torso, he began tickling the younger man.
As predicted, he heard a loud wail come from somewhere beneath him. Brian thought it was an adoring quality – for a grown man, a man who had faced the world’s most dangerous men and put them away, to be ticklish.
“That’s cheating,” Justin screamed as he tried to fight off Brian’s attack – both men’s laughter echoing through the quiet loft. “Brian, stop. Brian!”
“Brian.”
The brunet startled and looked up. Running his hand over his face, he focused his eyes on the blonde woman standing next to his desk.
“The recovery team’s returned,” Lindsay informed him.
Brian only nodded.
“There were no survivors,” she continued. “But Justin’s body, as well as Rowling’s, was missing.”
Brian closed his eyes briefly, opened them again. He knew what that meant. “They took him.”
Lindsay nodded.
He took a slow breath in and looked away.
“It’s good news,” she said, moving closer to him.
Brian let out a loud sigh as he pushed away from the desk and got up. “Yeah, great news. Instead of just killing him, they’ll torture him first.” He glared at his friend. He knew what she was trying to say. Justin was alive. There was hope. Except, they had no idea why or where he was taken. There were no leads to go on and Brian felt completely useless.
Turning away, Brian began to leave.
“Brian?”
He stopped and looked over at her.
“Maybe…” she hesitated.
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be involved in this. You’re too close to this. This is personal for you and…”
She didn’t get to finish. Brian moved forward, stopping mere inches away from her.
“I think it would be better for both of us if we pretend you didn’t just say that to me,” he ground out, towering over her.
Turning away once more, Brian quickly made his way to the opposite side of the floor where the Analysis and Data was located.
He made his way through a row of computer desks.
“I need you to get the video from the satellite coverage,” he said, stopping in front of Daphne’s desk.
The woman looked up at him, startled and surprised. “I…I’m not working on the Kissilyev case,” Daphne finally responded.
It was Brian’s turn to be surprised. “Why the fuck not?”
“Well, they said…they said that since Justin and I are close, that I would let my emotions get in the way of performing my job.”
Brian glanced over his shoulder in Lindsay’s direction. Shaking his head in disbelief, he turned back to Daphne. “Let me guess, it’s too personal for you?”
She simply nodded.
He leaned against the edge of the desk. “That’s exactly why I want you working on this. You’ll keep looking even in places nobody else would think to look.” He paused to study her face. He needed to make sure she wouldn’t break down on him in the process. “If you’re up for it, that is.”
“Oh, I’m up for it,” Daphne responded, her voice suddenly filled with the same determination Brian felt.
He offered her a tiny smile, before repeating his order. He wanted to study the video himself, see if they could find anything that could offer them clues as to Justin’s whereabouts.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Justin moved his shoulders back slightly, trying to work out the cramp in his neck and shoulders. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he had woken up or since he had been brought here in the first place. His arms were chained to a pipe that went across the entire ceiling. Thankfully, the ceiling wasn’t too high up, and he was able to stand as to not put too much pressure on his shoulders and arms.
He startled when he heard the door open, although on the outside, he showed no emotion. He, of course, immediately recognized the man walking through the door. Sergey Kissilyev.
“Agent Taylor, nice to have you with us,” the man said in a very thick Russian accent, offering Justin a fake smile.
The blond only clenched his jaw and squeezed his fists as he watched the terrorist slowly walk toward him.
“You have been a very hard man to get a hold of,” Kissilyev said, stopping a couple of feet away from Justin. “Thankfully for me, Jack is a real capitalist at heart. He cares only about money.”
He took a step toward Justin, leaning so that their faces were on the same level. “What do you care about?”
“Seeing you join your brother in hell,” Justin ground out.
“Well, that’s not very nice.” Kissilyev stood up straight. “What happened to the American – Russian relations that we have been hearing about for the last decade? Shouldn’t we all cooperate? Work together to build a bright future for both of our countries.”
His cold smile sent a chill down Justin’s spine.
“No?” Kissilyev shrugged. “Then how about you make it easier on yourself and just tell me everything I need to know?”
Justin glared at him. “How about you make it easier on yourself and just kill me? You won’t get anything from me.”
“Well, we’ll see about that.”
With that, Kissilyev opened the door and called to somebody in Russian. A few seconds later Jack walked in, accompanied by two guards.
“As they say in America, have fun,” Kissilyev said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.
~~~***~~~***~~~
“Fuck!” Brian exclaimed in frustration. Rising from his chair, he began pacing around the room once again. He and Daphne were in a small conference room, with documents and a couple of computers sprawled on the desk around them. “We’re going around in circles.”
Daphne’s demeanor differed greatly from his, though, and it was obvious that she was trying hard to keep control of her emotions. She stared at the computer screen in front of her, showing the footage from Justin’s mission.
“Do you think he’s still alive?” she asked Brian quietly.
Brian stopped his endless pacing and looked at her. He understood now why Justin wished he hadn’t brought Daphne into this, why he felt guilty. Taking a deep breath, Brian walked back over to the desk and sat down in his chair, moving closer to her.
“Yes,” he said. He decided against telling her that her best friend was probably being tortured at the moment. “I just don’t know what Kissilyev wants from him.”
She raised her gaze to his. “Revenge for his brother?”
Brian shook his head. “No. He would have just had him killed.” Brian definitely wasn’t the one to sugarcoat it. “But he took him alive. Which means, he needs the information that Justin has.”
He watched as the realization of something hit Daphne.
“The codes,” she said.
“What codes?”
“Bank account codes. It was part of the mission in Ukraine,” she explained. “Kissilyev’s brother had just sold the stolen nukes.”
Brian nodded, letting her know to go on, since he knew all that before. It was a part of the extensive research he did on Justin when the two first met.
“Part of the assignment was to get the codes of the bank accounts he stored the money in from the sale. The other part was to get the name of the buyer,” Daphne continued. “And since everybody including Alexy Kisslyev is dead, Justin is the only one who knows the bank account numbers.”
“Kissilyev never got the money,” Brian concluded. He turned to the woman. “What happened to the money?”
“Nothing,” Daphne answered. “It’s still in those accounts. Due to some bank laws in Switzerland, we couldn’t get it.”
Brian ran his hand through his hair. Well, now they had the reason behind Justin’s abduction. Which theoretically bought them some time, since Kissilyev needed to keep Justin alive in order to get the bank account numbers.
The problem now remaining was the fact that they still had no clue where Kissilyev was holding the young CIA agent, or if they were both still in the country.
There was a knock on the door and a young woman peeked in. “Agent Kinney, there is a phone call for you. It came through the outside, unsecured line. They say it’s regarding agent Taylor and the Kissilyev case.”
Brian briefly glanced at Daphne, who’s puzzled expression mirrored his own. Getting up, Brian walked around the desk and picked up the phone in the corner of the room.
“Kinney speaking,” he said. He couldn’t hide his surprise at who was on the other end of the line.
“I want to help you save my son,” a man said.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Justin took a deep breath in, wincing at the sharp pain that started around his ribs and shot through the rest of his body. The bad news was that he knew the small break was just that – a break. And soon enough the torture would resume. The good news was that most parts of his body were already numb from the wounds inflicted earlier.
“What’s wrong, Justin, are you too fucking good to scream?” Jack asked as one of the guards punched him in the face again.
Justin spit out the blood from the broken lips. He dropped his head back to stop the blood from his split eyebrow flowing into his eye.
“Go,” Jack said turning to the two guards. “This is between him and me,” he added, staring at Justin.
When the two other men closed the door behind them, Jack turned back to Justin. “I’m sure you scream for Brian. When he’s fucking you. Isn’t that right?”
Despite his best efforts, Justin’s surprise showed on his bruised and covered in blood face.
“Yes, I know about it,” Jack confirmed. “You’d have to be fucking blind not to. The two of you, joined at the fucking hip.”
Justin tried to keep his breathing steady as Jack walked around him, picking up the whip on the way. He knew he had to keep his mind sharp, look for any opportunity to free himself, especially now that Jack was alone in the room with him. But the truth was, he was exhausted. His legs couldn’t hold him anymore and he hung freely from the ceiling.
“He must be really good in bed for you to stay with him,” Jack continued. He walked up behind Justin, wrapping his arms around the blond’s waist, his hand sliding down to cup the front of Justin’s pants. “I mean, a guy has to do something big to get your attention, isn’t that right?”
Justin dropped his head, unable to hold it up any longer. He couldn’t fight it anymore.
“Now why don’t you scream for me?” Jack hissed.
Justin’s loud scream echoed through the long, dark hall outside the room.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Dressed in a long, black coat, Brian walked through Central Park in New York toward the assigned destination. He knew he was there when eight men surrounded him. He stopped, allowing one of the men to check him for weapons.
“It’s ok, Josh,” he heard behind him.
Turning around, Brian saw the man the CIA had been looking for over the last decade.
“Agent Kinney knows how to follow instructions, I’m sure,” Craig Taylor said, walking up to them.
“You know, for a world-known terrorist, you’re really quite reckless. I could be carrying a semi-automatic under this coat,” Brian told him as the two of them walked over to a bench a few feet away.
“You could have, but fortunately for me, we’re here for the same reason – to find Justin.”
Of course, that was the truth and Craig Taylor was absolutely right. Brian had no intention of breaking any of the conditions on which the father of his lover agreed to meet. If he could help him find Justin, Brian was prepared to cooperate fully with him.
“You said you knew where he was,” Brian reminded him.
“That’s right.”
“Why would you help me?”
“The man who’s been searching for me through his entire career with the CIA?” Craig shrugged. “You have a son. I’m sure you understand.”
Brian startled at the fact that Craig seemed to know more about him than Brian would have liked.
Craig read his mind. “I like to know my opponents. I also like to know what my son is up to.”
“Your son?” Brian shook his head. “Justin wants nothing to do with you.”
“Justin doesn’t know what’s good for him,” Craig shot back, his eyes burning into Brian. “Or who.”
Brian looked away.
“Yes, I know what you and Justin’ve been up to. And while I would love to sit here and tell you just how disgusting I think it all is, the fact remains that right now I don’t give a shit if you fuck women, men, or goats.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Brian pointed out. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because, even though I don’t approve of Justin’s career choice or his extracurricular activities, he’s still my son.”
~~~***~~~***~~~
Less than three hours later Brian was already briefing a team about the operation as the van carried them toward the outskirts of Boston where Kissilyev apparently owned a mansion.
The main objective was to find Justin. Secondary objective, and not so important to Brian at the moment, was to capture Kissilyev and Rowling. Brian, of course, wanted both men dead and buried, but he had to keep his focus on getting Justin out of this alive first. Then he’d deal with the terrorist.
The van stopped, which meant that they were near their target. The large house was located in a wooded area, which worked to the CIA’s advantage, the large trees providing the perfect hiding place as the agents, dressed in all black, moved closer to the house.
Brian had to keep himself from giving the order to storm the house. He had to play it smart. If the men holding Justin heard the gunfire, they could kill him right away. They had to wait for the right time and then move quickly.
As soon as Daphne gave him the ‘go ahead’, Brian, followed by twenty armed agents, ran toward the house. Storming the front door, he quickly moved toward the staircase that led down to the basement, knowing that more than likely Justin would be held there.
Two men followed him, the rest spread around the house, taking care of the guards and searching for the main two targets. Brian quickly ran down the stairs. His advance was halted, however, by a large steel door. The men tried force to open it, but it was to no avail.
Brian swore loudly as he stood to the side and let the other agents work on the lock. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer. The longer they were present in the house, the higher the chances were that Justin would be killed. He couldn’t allow that.
“Daphne, is there another entrance into the basement?” he asked, desperately looking for anything that would get him closer to Justin.
There was a pause on the other end.
“Yes,” he finally heard the response. “There’s a vent that pumps air into the tunnel underground that’s leading into what looks like a wine cellar,” she told him.
Brian was already running back up the stairs and out the building.
“It should be in the back,” Daphne advised him.
He spotted it right away – a large vent in the ground. The problem was stopping the fan from turning long enough for Brian to jump in.
He looked around, searching for anything big and strong enough to stop the fan from spinning. His eyes fell on a heavy, steel rod that was holding up a large satellite dish. Calling for two other men to help him, the three agents quickly disassembled the dish. Carrying the rod over to the vent, they pushed it inside, stopping the fan immediately.
Before anybody could object, Brian jumped through the opening. Landing on his feet, he straightened up and looked around. The hallway was dark and empty. Moving against the wall, Brian crawled carefully toward what, from where he was standing, looked like a door.
He was surprised that there were no guards at the door, but that only made his job easier. He took a deep breath and gripped his gun tightly as he used his right leg to force the door open.
Brian’s eyes immediately settled on Jack Rowling. The former agent quickly turned around, a gun in hand. Brian didn’t give him enough time to react, though, firing four times directly into the man’s chest.
With that taken care of, Brian started to move inside the room, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him.
Justin was hanging from the ceiling, his face and upper body covered in cuts, bruises, and blood – the only thing that told Brian that the man in front of him was, in fact his lover, was the blond hair.
Brian felt his breath catch in his throat as the blond struggled to raise his head to look at him. The relief that washed over the younger man’s face was enough push for Brian to resume what he was doing. He walked over to where Jack was lying in the pool of his own blood. Rolling the dead man on his back, Brian searched for a key to the chain that was holding up Justin.
Pulling it out of the Rowling’s pocket, Brian then walked over to Justin. Freeing Justin’s left hand first, Brian moved closer to provide support for the injured man. He then reached to free the other arm. Dropping the key quickly, Brian carefully eased Justin, who collapsed in his arms, down on floor.
He tried to give the younger man an assuring smile, but nearly choked on the tears that were threatening to burst out. Instead, he ran the fingers against the blond’s cheek. He could tell that Justin was fighting to stay conscious, but a part of him was relieved when he saw Justin’s eyes close.
“I found him,” he said quietly into the communication device as he held Justin closer.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Brian stood in the white, sterile hallway of the hospital, unable to make himself move from the same spot he’d occupied for the past half an hour – near the door of Justin’s room, watching the sleeping man through a small window in the middle of the door.
Even with his wounds and blood cleaned up, it was still very hard for Brian to see Justin like that – his right eye completely swollen, a nasty bruise circled the other one, cuts and lacerations covered both cheeks, his left hand bandaged. And those were only the wounds that could be seen. Brian couldn’t even begin to imagine what it had been like for his lover to go through this ordeal. The hardest part of it all was that after all that, Kissilyev was still free, having gotten away before the CIA got to the house.
“Brian,” he heard behind him.
Turning around, he was met by Lindsay accompanied by a man in a white coat.
“This is Dr. Kauffman,” Lindsay made the introduction.
Brian nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
“We got Agent Taylor’s tests back,” the doctor told them. “I’m happy to say that there is no internal bleeding, which was our main concern. No serious injuries to speak of. Just a couple of cracked ribs, a sprained wrist. The rest are just cuts and bruises.”
Brian bit back a nasty comment about the doctor’s casual mention of what to Justin meant two days of fucking torture and turned away to look at the man in question, who thankfully was sleeping off the pain meds he was administered as soon as they got him to the hospital.
“All things considered,” the doctor said, “I’d say, he is very lucky.”
“Yeah, lucky.”
Brian was vaguely aware of Lindsay telling him she’d be back later and the doctor walking away, but he could only continue to watch Justin sleep.
Go to Part 12