Uncomfortable Questions

Claire was starting to feel better. Graham had finally begun contacting her more often, giving her some more direct tasks, rather than ‘just stick around and something will come up.’ She was a woman of action – even if it was just some paperwork she needed to fill out, she would have felt much more helpful, much more like she was actually doing something. There had actually been moments where she had wondered… Was he just trying to get rid of me?

But Graham had mended all bridges, finally. He had gone as far as to actually fly into Britain, meet her in a nice restaurant, and discuss how things were going. He had given her new assignments, sliding a folder full of people she was supposed to keep a better eye on, and they had caught up. It was weird, because back in America, she had been popular in the American Ministry. People liked her. Her only real friends now, beyond Elsie, were from work but they never hung out. They never actually did anything beyond sit together at lunch or nod at each other as they squeezed by each other in the hallways.

But she had looked up to Graham. He had her skillsets, but had excelled. He was efficient, cutthroat, discerning, clever, and respected. And then he was everything she wished she could be. Charming, a powerhouse, creative and dearly loved by his employees. She had always looked up to him, always thought him deserving of more power, and to know that he felt positively towards her was encouragement enough.

The folder full of people was full of familiar faces. Jack Dyllan-Morrison and Fred Weasley were probably the ones Claire felt strangest about. That and the retracted file, with a crossed out name and face. Something about that file made her feel uncomfortable.

Lee Shephard had mentioned he would be visiting again and would love a meeting, so she had arranged for him to meet in her office. She tapped her heeled foot and put the folder into her drawer, magically locking it. Lee should be there any moment. She pulled out a kettle and began pouring herself some tea.

Lee ran a meticulously tight ship.  He had gotten to where he was because he was, at heart, a warrior. An ex-Navy man, born and bred on loyalty and standing for the right thing. He could do espionage, and had done it, but he was a far stronger fighter, and thrived on adrenalin and the need for split second timing.  

It was at the root of his friendship with the British minister.  Ministers of magic and their counterparts needed to have at least a working association, so when the American government learned of Lupin's appointment to the post, the work alliance was a natural thing.  What Lee hadn't counted on was that he'd form a strong personal friendship with the man.  
It had been invaluable, though, because Lee pretty much now came and went in the Ministry as he liked without anyone seeming to think anything about it or taking notice. Sporadic as his appearances were, it was rather commonplace for him to show up to meet folks there.

He had gone there, using a visit to Robert as a mere ruse. He really wanted to see Claire Bishop. Claire was on assignment here.  Lee had honestly hoped it would be temporary, but Graham had been asking for extension after extension for her, prolonging her deployment.


But, Lee also had excellent hearing when it came to faint whispers.  It perked up his senses, and it made him look quietly.  And Graham's name had started to come up.  There was nothing specific, and, for Lee, that always made him uneasy.  Especially when the man he'd put in charge of the overseas intelligence was the one they were namedropping. Graham was good. He was pretty much the perfect American spymaster.

Whispers were saying, amongst other things, that Graham was getting away with more than he should because Lee's attentions were allegedly focused on higher matters.  


Lee didn't mind people believing that line of horsecrap.  He did need more information, though, and that brought him to Claire.  He was trying to sound out what she knew about Graham or what she could find out.


He went to her office, always enjoying the chance to see her again. He knocked, and peered around the door. He saw her and smiled.


"Am I interrupting?"

There was something about that drawer. It changed her desk. It changed the focal point of her clean, orderly office. Nothing had changed but she could feel the weight of the secrets, just above her right knee. One year ago... Two years ago... Oh, Merlin. Two years ago, those faces would have roused not an ounce of guilt out of her. This was her job, her duty to her government and her country. It wasn't personal.

But she had been in England for two years. And even if she had to remind herself that it was temporary, it was hard to not consider the place home. What kind of job was it that made you displace yourself for years and not even find happiness in making it more homey and comfortable. And how could it not be personal. She had almost married Jack's husband-roommate-friend thing. They had eaten dinner together. And Fred. She wasn't sure what he was. But her relationship with him stretched back to America. And even if their relationship was founded on mistrust of each other, their was trust in it. Weirdly enough.

Couldn't spell mistrust without trust.

A voice roused her and there was Lee Shepherd. Fitting time, really. She smiled warmly, pouring her tea. "Not at all. Come on in. Tea?"

"Sure. Why not?" he smiled. He went in, closed the door and took a seat. "I'd tell you England suits you, but I know you'd see it as an insult," he laughed. The tea smelled better than the bookstore's a few doors down from his London flat. What was it with Brits that he had such a hard time finding good tea? It was one of those things he and Robert laughed about. Crappy tea. Lee wasn't really a tea man. He was more of a coffee man, but when in London...


"Seriously, though. I know you were a tad busy when you first got here, but since Pierce left, I presume things have been somewhere around dismal, am I right? You know, much as I like social calls, this isn't it. This isn't my idea of being social." He was sure she was expecting that much.


"Claire," he paused, testing the waters slightly, "how attached are you to this desk?  Or your rank, for that matter? Are you the least bit interested in helping me with something very delicate?"

Claire offered a smile before it flickered away - it shouldn't hurt Lee's perception of her, as she had always been known as a serious, fairly unsocial person. She began pouring the two cups of coffee, holding up the packets of sugar to see if Lee wanted any sweetener to her tea.

His comment made her tick her head and laugh. "Can't say I'm offended, after... almost two years." She didn't sound bitter, but there was a pounding lump in her chest. It had become home, in ways, but she felt like that was somehow treasonous to the country she loved more than anything. "It means I'm assimilating, which isn't a bad thing."

It seemed he was here for that very reason. She nodded, saying, "It's been... quiet. The promotion helped," she said, smiling. "But that whole Ministry-crumbles-to-the-ground bit sort of made those two months or so pretty boring." She tried to keep it light, as her feelings on her job was always really pretty private. "I'm not too pressed for social visits. I prefer business." There, some truth.

His questions set her ill at ease. He was her Minister, but her loyalties had always been to Graham. She decided to answer his caution with caution. "It depends. I haven't felt like I've completed my work here."

"No thanks," he waved away the sugar. If black tea was decent, he didn't think it needed sugar.  "Black is best for tea and coffee both. Why ruin it?" he grinned.


"The fact that you're pretty settled is actually a relief to me, because your next assignment would put you right here anyway. You're right where I need you to be.  So far as I'm concerned, your work here is far from done.  Aside from the fact that I know things went to hell when Robert felt he needed to use that Armageddon thing. I understand why he did it, though, and I give him kudos for being able to follow through with it. Not everyone could have. I know that spell was under development for a long time, but like any other doomsday fail safe, you pray you never need to use it.

"And that brings me to my reason for coming. I'm sure you know that just as we have many layers of secrets, so does England. One layer is the Unspeakables. Exactly how read-in are you on who they are and what they do?"

She nodded and handed over his cup of tea. She liked the sugar, as she had a voracious appetite and a need for junk food and sugar. It was probably her second best kept secret to the fact that she was a spy. Or her complicated family life. Or her feelings towards Robin. Or her loyalty to Graham. Or her secret blog. Or... okay, so she had more than a few secrets. But that was a big one to her. Somehow.

She felt more at ease knowing this additional mission was not going to take her from the one she was yet to complete. She was still a bit wary, and she knew she would run it all through Graham as well, but she found that it, so far, seemed to align with the sort of work she was supposed to be doing. She felt her mind making adjustments, shuffling through the internal files within her head, trying to make sense of all of her different missions, trying to ensure her priorities were straight.

She nodded slowly, sipping her sweet tea before setting it down. "I do. In fact, I'm... acquainted with a couple of Unspeakables."

Okay, so they were the people she was closest with in this country. Same difference.

"Good. Then you've been able to infiltrate here to a very useful point.  For this assignment, I need to at least temporarily elevate your rank.  Whether you decide to keep it after that or not, well, that's not something to be decided now anyway.


"The Unspeakables have been around a long, long time, understandably.  We have a counterpart that we don't talk about much either.  Like the Unspeakables are only supervised by Robert, our agents only report to me, and it's all handled on an Eyes Only basis.  Nor do they reveal their department to anyone but me--theoretically, anyway. "


He took a sip of the rich black tea and settled back into his chair.  This wasn't sometimes the easiest of discussions, depending on how the operative received it, and he didn't expect the mission to be any easier for her.  He needed her to know she had his support.

"Its a project called Nightwind. Its highly classified. The only ones who know it exists would be the Muggle president, myself, and some of the leaders of our wizarding allies. For example, it is very necessary for Robert to know because his own Unspeakable squad is a little limited. We do sometimes pair with them. Would the Deputy Minister know? No. Not so far as I know.


"I have a...situation.  One that need a very delicate touch. And the agent needs to be someone who has a very large support base, because its very likely you will need it. The one restriction is that no one else can know what you're doing, aside from me, or, if you need emergency assistance and can't get to me, you can have access to Robert or the Unspeakables. No one else, and I do mean no one."


He knew he still hadn't revealed the assignment yet, but he still had to know if she was interested in a higher rank and to, perhaps, feel a bit more isolated in some ways that she might already be feeling.  He was about to take her from a deep cover situation to about as dark as it could go. It was definitely more money, but money wasn't everything.


"You've been dark before, but I'm asking you to decide if you can go as dark as it gets."

Claire very rarely felt fear. She remembered learning to control it when she went through training, putting it aside for the sake of whatever was happening. But they had also been taught that fear could never be eliminated, and that when it did bubble up inside, to use it. And she always had. If Claire felt competent at anything, knew she could do anything... she knew she could keep her composure. That was why At-Home-Claire was so very different from the Claire she walked around as in the public eye. She needed some release so she could maintain that image of restraint day after day.

And she exercised this power now. Her heart was thumping. Spies were taught there was two types of maneuvering. There was the typical, physical maneuvering that people always thought of - jumping off building, sliding around corners, outrunning bad guys. But there was the conversational maneuvering - typically either psychological or political. She had always been better at the former, because it was all technique, and required no charm or social skills.

It was time to try it, she supposed.

She didn't like committing to the idea without knowing it all. But she figured she had enough pull somewhere that, should the mission prove to go against Graham's orders, she could figure something out.

"I am interested," she said. She spoke carefully, slowly. She understood the weight of this conversation.

Well, she hadn't turned him flat. Good.  She was made of the right stuff, then, just as he had figured.  Now, he had to provide her the ability to survive the assignment he was about to give her.

"This one is worth being a bit nervous about," he said, glad she wasn't made of the sort of the confidence that caused other agents to tune out their observations of their own senses. He tried to remove them from the high level assignments when that happened because he was tired of attending funerals of operatives, tired of watching them die, tired of feeling like he had to listen to them confidently telling him they could master any hand he dealt them.


"Claire, I've got a problem," he said, sighing. "Information that shouldn't be getting out is.  Eyes only documents that are just gone.  Money is disappearing--thousands of dollars--and I'm talking in excess now of a 7 digit total loss over the last 3 years. A little loss is to be expected, but the money is disappearing faster now. Some of our people are disappearing under circumstances that don't make sense. We've lost five operatives since Christmas. I'm supposed to believe they were all just inept, were made, and were killed. 


"You remember Ben Quay? Worked our Northwest region? Ben was set to retire this October. We found him dead in Vancouver this morning. He wasn't working Vancouver. He was trying to set up a dead drop in Napa Valley.  Nowhere near Vancouver.  It doesn't make sense unless he was deliberately fed misinformation. He had to have been betrayed by someone he trusted.  He'd have never been that far off track otherwise.


"I know the signs when I see them.  We've got a mole--somebody we should not be trusting. I need you to find out who's stealing our intelligence and our resources and getting our people killed. I want them before more people die."


"I plan to be in England awhile," he said casually, not wanting to leave her entirely without backup.  "The Quidditch World Cup is here this summer.  Its tradition for me to go to show International cooperation by attending." He shrugged. "Well, its a good excuse for getting paid to go to some good games, anyway."


He sipped his tea again and paused before looking back up. "I won't leave you without resources, certainly. But do think carefully before you decide."