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“For heaven’s sake, stop pacing...we need to talk about this.” DCI Paul Higgins’ voice is almost a growl which suggests that he means business. He leans forward in his high-backed leather chair, indicating for Detective Zayn Malik to take a seat.
Zayn would love to kick one of the ugly metal filing cabinets along the wall, but thinking better of it, he slumps reluctantly into the chair opposite his boss. He could point out that technically, pacing isn’t possible in the cramped room that serves as the Detective Chief Inspector’s office. However, nothing can be gained from winding Higgins up, even if it would give Zayn some short-lived satisfaction.
“Talk about what?” he asks. “I have less than three months left in this godforsaken job, and you want me to do the one thing I said I would never do again?”
“It’s because of that...that incident, that I thought you would jump at the opportunity to get involved. And afterwards...well, maybe you might be motivated to change your mind, and agree to join Special Branch.”
Zayn swallows hard. “Using a dark episode in my life to get me to agree to this is a bit low, don’t you think?” And without giving Higgins the chance to respond, he adds, “You haven’t listened to a single word I’ve ever said to you, have you? So let me give you the latest update...I am currently a CID Detective, who handed you his resignation and will be leaving this establishment as of January. Up until then, you can demote me to Traffic or desk duty, or whatever the hell you want, but I will not go undercover again and spy on some bent copper.”
“Zayn, listen, of course, I know where you stand on this,” the DCI’s voice softens somewhat. “Nevertheless, I’m asking you to reconsider...a man’s life is at stake.”
Pressing the balls of his hands to his eyes, Zayn struggles to argue that point. “Why can’t the boys from Special Branch do it?” he asks.
“Special Branch want you because you’re good; you’ve more than proved that in the past and what’s more, they’re merely acting on a hunch that the agent might be an informant, so they don’t want to go in there with all guns blazing. The agent will be flying in from New York tomorrow, and all they want you to do is to monitor him; don’t intervene until the day of the conference unless it’s entirely unavoidable.”
Higgins tilts his head to one side, giving Zayn that look that says, you know what the right thing to do is here.
This is one of the occasions when Zayn wishes he were more callous, more uncaring, and on less friendly terms with his superior officer. He can’t refuse, and Higgins knows it.
“Ok then, I’ll do this last favour for you,” he concedes eventually. “Let me repeat what you’ve told me, just to be certain.”
Higgins nods vigorously, looking visibly relieved.
“Professor Wilks, an American scientist, who has developed a way of manufacturing some of the world’s most expensive medicines for a fraction of the current cost will be at some posh hotel to announce his findings to the world - correct so far?”
The DCI nods again.
Zayn runs his hands through his dark hair before he carries on, still in disbelief that he is actually going to do this.
“A big shot from a pharma company doesn’t like it and has plans to assassinate the prof during that presentation. That’s the intel we have, and the Americans have received that same information. They’re sending an agent to deal with it, but they’re worried that he might be an informant, because every time our combined agencies think they know how to nail the pharma boss, he is one step ahead because someone is leaking details.”
Higgins’ expression has switched to serious. “Yep, that’s it basically. The hotel is The Duchess, and all I want you to do is to keep an eye on him. We’ve booked him into a B&B just outside of Manchester, in a leafy village. Two guys from MI6 will temporarily replace the owners.”
Scraping his chair back, Zayn stands abruptly before rushing out the door.
“Keep me informed,” Higgins shouts after him, but Zayn doesn’t acknowledge it. He needs to clear his thoughts, and maybe work out why he finds saying ‘no’ such a difficult thing to do.
The early October sunshine greets him as he leaves the station. Usually, Zayn would enjoy the warm rays on his skin as he walks the few streets to his flat, but today he is too preoccupied with his upcoming task. How does one prepare to babysit a most likely dodgy FBI agent? Higgins told him to pretend he is there to help the dude navigate the local differences. Help him to navigate the UK, and use that as the excuse to follow him everywhere. Wonderful.
Waiting at a zebra crossing, he glances into a shop window. He looks good, but also a tad boring in his jeans and black t-shirt. What’s the betting the American won’t show up like this? A desire to do something about that overcomes him, and before he can think it through, he goes back the way he came.
*****
An hour and a half later, Zayn makes his way to the George and Dragon pub in the hope that Niall will be on duty this evening. Even though the young Irish lad has only been working at Zayn’s favourite watering hole for a few weeks, the two of them have become quite friendly. Niall is an excellent listener, which is technically in his job description, but still, Zayn likes to think that they have a personal connection and he could do with bending someone’s ear today.
It looks like Lady Luck is firmly on his side when he enters the pub, because not only is Niall busying himself behind the bar, his back to the room, there are also very few punters present which suits Zayn very well. He likes to go for a drink, and he likes to have a good chat, but crowds make him uncomfortable.
“Have a seat, I’ll be with you in a sec,” Niall says without turning around.
“No rush, Niall. I have the afternoon off.” Zayn drops on top of one of the wooden bar stools.
“Oh, it’s you, Detective,” Niall puts the glass he’d just dried onto the shelf and faces his new customer. “What can I get you to dri...whoa...that’s quite the statement. What’s brought that on?”
He slings the dishtowel over his shoulder and takes a closer look at Zayn, his elbows propped onto the counter. “I mean...it looks amazing, I just didn’t think this was your style.”
Zayn sighs. “Do you honestly think it’s ok? I’m not so sure now.” He ducks down a little to check his reflection in one of the big mirrors that cover the wall behind the bar. To get a buzz cut and have the remaining hair coloured silver seemed like a great idea at the time, but here, in the dim light of the pub, he’s no longer convinced.
“Don’t worry, Detective, you look fantastic whatever hairstyle you sport. And that’s my completely unbiased opinion.” Niall grins, putting a pint of beer in front of Zayn. “On the house...to celebrate the new you.”
“Thank you, and stop calling me Detective,” Zayn says, taking a sip from his drink.
“I like having a regular punter who’s a cop; it’s cool.” Niall beams. “So, is this all for the benefit of a new someone then?”
“No, it’s sort of for work.” Zayn considers for a moment how much information he can disclose, in the end, deciding on basic details. “I’m gonna be working with a bloke from New York for a few days, and I know it sounds silly, but I don’t want to look like a provincial bobby next to him.”
Niall scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I doubt you could ever be that. Exactly what are you imagining him to look like anyway?”
“I dunno...maybe six foot five, bullish, rude, arrogant, wearing a dark tailored suit.”
Niall throws his head back and bursts out laughing.
“What...you think I’m joking?” Zayn says, a sharp undertone to his voice. Maybe that’s what he deserves for bearing his soul to his bartender.”
“Sorry, not at all. I just think you’ve watched one too many US police dramas and your head’s not in the right place so close to your retirement.”
“Hm, that could be it. I really can’t wait to leave the police force; live my life in peace.” Zayn admits, throwing Niall an apologetic glance.
“Have you made a decision on where your new home will be, yet?” Niall asks.
“No, I can write my books literally anywhere. I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually. For now, I have to love you and leave you. My outfit doesn’t choose itself.” Zayn drains his glass while hopping off the stool.
“Good luck with that. Does your mate from across the pond arrive soon?” Niall asks, wiping the counter.
“Yeah, tomorrow...see you in a bit Niall and thanks again for the drink,“ Zayn says on his way out, wiggling his fingers at the Irishman.
*****
Zayn takes typically care not to misuse his position to park in convenient but illegal spaces, but the traffic at the airport is horrendous, so he leaves the silver BMW right outside the entrance, throws the police permit onto the dash and rushes inside to the arrivals terminal. According to the display board, the flight from New York had landed ten minutes earlier, so he should be ok. It had taken him longer than usual to settle on something to wear, but the grey and white pinstriped suit jacket combined with jeans and a button-down in Hawaiian print complete the look he was aiming for.
At the gate, he plucks a piece of paper with PAYNE written on it from his pocket and holds it up. He had a tiny chuckle to himself when he was told the agent’s name because a pain in Zayn’s ass is precisely what this mission is going to be.
Streams of passengers come through the door, eagerly awaited by friends and family or rushing away on their own, but nobody reacts to Zayn’s sign, and he is beginning to think that the Agent has changed his plans.
“Detective Malik?” a voice comes from behind.
Nodding slowly, Zayn turns around. A guy in his mid-twenties looks at him expectantly.
“Hi, I’m Liam Payne,” the man says, offering Zayn his hand.
Zayn nods again, this time with more conviction. Ignoring the friendly gesture, he throws the sign into the nearest bin and motions Agent Payne to follow him.
After storing the visitor’s luggage in the boot, they slide into their respective seats, and Zayn manoeuvres the car out of the busy area around the airport.
“Nice set of wheels,” Agent Payne says when they reach the quieter road leading out of the city. “You reckon your bosses let me have one of these to get around?”
“Not in a million years,” Zayn scoffs. “That’s what I’m here for; to assist you with all your transport needs. And in my capacity as your driver, may I suggest you fasten your seatbelt.”
His passenger obliges, clicking his belt shut. “We could get away with not buckling up; after all, we’re cops,” he remarks.
“Indeed, and I’d like to avoid being a dead cop.”
“Liam.”
“Say what?” Zayn asks.
“My name is Liam,” the American repeats.”If we see a lot of each other, we might as well be on first name terms.” When Zayn doesn’t react, he adds,” To tell you the truth, I prefer to work alone.”
‘Bet you do’, Zayn almost blurts out but restrains himself, muttering,” Me too, but here we are. I’m Zayn.” No need to mention that it hasn’t always been like that.
The ensuing silence is surprisingly less awkward than it should be. Zayn finds himself regularly glancing at his passenger, who seems to be content just to take in the passing landscape. The guy is undeniably attractive with his toned body and his relaxed expression on his beautiful face. If he has anything to hide, he conceals it well. In fact, he looks nothing like Zayn had imagined, wearing jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a black leather jacket; none of them designer items, as far as Zayn can tell. Seems like there was no reason to channel his inner 80s Miami Vice cop after all. The only flash item on Liam is his Cartier watch. That must have cost a fortune.
Zayn gives in to the urge to needle Liam a bit, although he doesn’t really think that he will be rattled this easily. “Is that a bonus for a job well done?” he asks, pointing to the expensive timepiece.
“No, sadly not. I saved up for this; watches are my weakness,” Liam says with a small smile, gliding his thumb almost lovingly over the shiny watch strap. The guy has that humble, nice guy persona down to a tee and Zayn is mildly irritated.
Thankfully, there is no further requirement for conversation because Zayn is turning off the main road and on to a smaller one, which leads into a picturesque village. Despite the cool autumn winds, the place looks like it’s trying to be the winning entry for Britain In Bloom. Virtually every house displays colourful front gardens and hanging baskets of various shapes and sizes. Zayn turns left into a gravel path leading to the white bungalow which houses the B&B. The sign above the door reads Home From Home in large curvy letters. Zayn wonders momentarily who came up with that inspired name.
They lift Liam’s bag from the car before entering the small house, which has an old fashioned theme going on on the inside, with floral wallpaper, net curtains and rustic dark wood furniture. The Home Office definitely pushed the boat out trying to create an oldy worldly ambience at the property, and the guy who materialises in the door on the far side completes the image.
“Welcome to our humble abode; my name is Harry, and you must be Mr Payne,” he chirps, shaking Liam’s hand vigorously in both of his. Although Harry must be in his mid-twenties, his knitted jumper reaches his thighs, and his corduroy trousers remind Zayn of one of his uni lecturers, and he must admit that Harry (if that’s even his real name) plays his part as devoted B&B proprietor very well.
There is a commotion from the back of the building and only seconds later, a shaggy brown dog comes charging into the reception area, followed by another young man in a more contemporary outfit of jeans and a Killers shirt.
“Larry, come back here...don’t bother our guests...I keep telling you,” the new guy shouts, trying desperately to get hold of the animal.
But Larry evades him again and again before he sits down in front of Liam, who crouches to pet the dog, awarding him an affectionate smile and Zayn is not ok with this. Liam is a dog lover, like Zayn, and the pooch has evidently taken an instant shine to the Agent. Not that the dog would know that Liam is not someone he should befriend, but still, dogs are meant to have a good instinct for trustworthy people. Ha, there goes that myth down the drain.
“He means no harm; just gets easily excited,” the second man says by way of an apology. “My name is Louis by the way. I see you have already met my husband.”
Liam nods. “Larry is an unusual name for a dog,” he says, giving the animal a scratch behind the ear.
“I named him after the two of us,” Harry beams, “He has my curls and Louis’ temperament; Larry; like a ship name. He‘s very much part of our family.”
Liam looks at him blankly. Obviously he doesn’t get the reference, which is just as well, because otherwise, he would most likely be experiencing the same level of second-hand embarrassment as Zayn. These two guys must be in a real relationship. Zayn makes a mental note to ask Higgins about it.
“Right, what are we like? Let me check you in, Mr Payne and then I will take you to your room.” Louis shushes the dog through to the back and signals for Liam to follow him.
“Thanks for the lift, Zayn...see you tomorrow,” Liam says as if he were genuinely looking forward to it.
“I’ll collect you from here about twelvish, you’ll be jet-lagged - get some rest.”
Zayn turns to leave, just catching Harry ask a million questions about Liam’s plans for his stay. If only it were this simple. He has to admit, though, that these two MI6 lads are very good at what they do.
*****
On his way home, he pops into the supermarket to buy a few groceries. He is relieved that he has no plans for the evening, enabling him to perhaps sort through some of the conflicting emotions that are swirling inside him; emotions he usually tries to keep buried.
He puts away the shopping, showers and heats up a microwavable curry. Sitting down on his faded Chesterfield sofa to eat, his mind begins to wander.
Normally, his small flat is his heaven, furnished with a menagerie of mismatched but comfortable pieces, his favourite art and most importantly, his beloved books. Reading has always been his single most enjoyable hobby which is the reason he started to write during his teenage years and why he is now ready to quit his current career and take up being an author as a full-time occupation. He had it all figured out; until Higgins called him this morning, that is. See out his remaining months in the police force without getting into trouble, chose where he would like to live and begin a whole new chapter of his life. Instead, he is involved in an assassination plot where he is supposed to keep an eye on a fellow officer who might be an informant.
Informant...traitor more like...scum of the earth as far as Zayn is concerned. Instinctively, his gaze falls onto the photo on his sideboard. It depicts him, leaning on the bonnet of the BMW. Next to him is a young woman with a dark pixie cut and a confident smile, her arm around his neck.
Katie - his professional partner for three years. Vibrant, compassionate Katie; she had her life cut short by an unscrupulous and corrupt copper who put her in danger to save his own skin. Zayn clearly remembers when the picture was taken. It was the day she received a commendation for bravery. She had been so proud. And then - nothing.
They never had that conversation about how they felt about each other. Maybe something more could have happened between them, or not. But fact is, that her passing has left a large hole in his life. And that is why he doesn’t want to do this, and why he cannot allow himself to regard Liam Payne with anything but contempt.
He leaves his curry after only eating a few spoonfuls of it and spends the rest of the night staring at the TV, not comprehending a single thing.
*****
After a restless night, a morning crammed with phone calls and mountains of paperwork, Zayn is glad when it’s time to get Liam. He sinks behind the wheel of the BMW, taking a moment to appreciate the silence that engulfs him as soon as he shuts the door. If one more person had asked him about his haircut, there might have been a massacre right there at the station. Fortunately, Higgins didn’t comment when he briefed Zayn on the latest intel. There had been considerable activity at The Duchess Hotel, and the circumstances surrounding Agent Payne remain murky, putting a swift end to Zayn’s glimmering hopes for an early release from his unwanted assignment.
Zayn wears a white Henley with his jeans today. Seems like his Miami Vice phase has vanished as swiftly as it came. Entering the B&B, he walks in on what appears to be a domestic. Harry and Louis stand at the reception counter, arguing. The dog sits by the front door, yelping, and ready to bolt, given a chance, but nobody takes any notice.
“I really hate you,” Louis wails, waving his hands for effect.
“No, you don’t,” Harry says, evidently unconcerned.
Louis looks exasperated. “No, but I should. You frustrate the living hell out of me.”
Zayn clears his throat. “Excuse me, maybe the dog needs to pee?”
“Nah, he’s just been; he’s being a little shit,” Louis says without taking his eyes off Harry.
Harry gives Zayn an apologetic smile, accompanied by a small wave. “Hey...Mr Payne is in his room; number three on the first floor.” Then he returns his attention to his partner. “Frustrate you? Why? Because I manage to be both handsome and charming?”
“No, Haz, because no matter how hard I try, I can’t stay mad at you...and you know it,” Louis says, leaning in for a peck on Harry’s lips.
These two are just too much. Zayn feels sorry for those who have to work with this sickly sweet duo at MI6. Deciding that their couple dynamics are none of his business, he heads through the back and up the stairs to Liam’s room. He knocks but there is no response, so he tries again and now Liam’s voice reaches him, albeit muffled.
“Come on in, Zayn. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
He steps into the room, taking in his surroundings. It's a large room, pretty basic with two single beds, a wardrobe and a couple of armchairs. Clashing floral prints are everywhere from the heavy curtains and the frilly bedding to the worn carpet.
Zayn flops into one of the armchairs, considering his options. Liam’s suitcase is open on the bed to his right, and his phone peeks from under the leather jacket. He can hear the water running in the adjacent bathroom, which means that Liam wouldn’t be disturbing him if he were to do some snooping. On the other hand, the running water could be a decoy. He resolves just to sit and not do anything stupid, a decision that proves to be a good one only seconds later when Liam sticks his head through the door.
“One sec,” he says, grinning.
So Liam had planted the case and the mobile to catch him out. In your dreams, mate.
There’s no time to contemplate the issue further because Liam comes out of the steamy bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. Several drops of water dribble idly from his hair and Zayn can only stare. To make matters worse, the air is now heavy with the scent of Liam’s cologne, which Zayn already couldn’t get enough of yesterday in the car. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.
Zayn coughs into his fist, straightens up, and focuses on a particularly ugly pattern on the carpet. This can’t be happening. The guy is so damn fit, but so what; he is also an unsavoury human being. Zayn seriously needs to get a grip.
However, just as he is done reproaching himself, things get a whole lot worse. Liam nonchalantly takes off the towel and flings it onto the bed before padding over stark naked to his suitcase. He proceeds to get dressed in an ensemble of all-black jeans and t-shirt, while Zayn desperately tries to erase the image of Liam’s body from his mind. He is less than successful, though because his dick has no mercy and reacts instantly. He ends up having to cover his semi with the nearest cushion, hoping that the FBI agent hadn’t noticed.
Once fully clothed, Liam turns to Zayn, “Something wrong?” he asks, smirking.
Zayn shakes his head. “No, I just always thought you Yanks were all prudes.”
“And I always thought you Brits were all polite and didn’t stare at other people’s dicks. Looks like we were both mistaken,” Liam counters. “Shall we go?”.
Well fuck.
The rest of the afternoon passes without incident. As if an unspoken agreement had been made, neither of them mentions the episode in Liam’s room again, but Zayn’s mind periodically conjures up all sorts of inappropriate images regarding his American colleague. They keep their interactions strictly professional and talk only when necessary. The hotel is busy, but nothing out of the ordinary occurs. Liam receives loads of texts which he answers, occasionally swearing under his breath. Zayn would love to know what these messages are about, but Liam gives nothing away, fobbing him off with apparent lies. When darkness falls, they agree to abandon the stakeout and head back to the B&B for some food.
*****
Half an hour later, the two detectives are in the dining room at Home from Home, tucking into a takeaway. It turned out that Harry and Louis only provide breakfast which makes sense, considering that they’re fake B&B hosts. In any case, Liam doesn’t give any indication that he suspects the pair are not what they appear to be.
To begin with, the conversation at the slightly wobbly table is strained and confined to small talk until Liam puts his cutlery down and comes out with, “So, Zayn, who do you go home to when your shift ends?” There is an intensity in his eyes that belies his casual tone.
The question catches Zayn by surprise. He is not sure how to answer. This is hardly a heart to heart with a friend; quite the opposite. He could make something up but for reasons unknown what he says is,” Nobody. I’m single, and I like it that way.”
Liam creases his forehead. “Really? That’s honestly not what I expected, but I totally get it.”
“You do?” Zayn finds himself to be more interested than he ought to be.
Liam picks up the bottle of Coke that came with their food and refills their glasses. “Yes...I think a long-lasting relationship is not practical in this profession. Long irregular hours, dangerous missions and the job always takes priority...you know the drill.”
Zayn makes a non-committal sound. He definitely knows the drill, which is the reason he is ready to leave this all behind. But right now, he wants to know more; more about Liam, on a solely professional level, of course. He pushes his empty tub to one side, making full eye contact with Liam.
“It can get lonely though, don’t you think?” he asks.
Liam pauses for a short while before answering. “I’m used to being on my own. I don’t remember my parents; they died in a car crash. My Gran raised me, but she also passed away when I was ten. After that, I stayed at a children’s home. It wasn’t good.”
Zayn is genuinely shocked, and that must be visible on his face because Liam is quick to add, “Oh no, no abuse or anything like that...just nobody cared. I figured out early on that I had to be better than others to make it, coming from that address and with that family background.
“That sucks,” Zayn says, and he means it. It doesn’t, however, excuse Liam’s criminal behaviour. And anyway, it could have all been lies; a sob story to gain Zayn’s trust. Deep down, though, he knows that Liam is telling the truth.
“Yeah...it’s amazing how fast your life can go to shit,” Liam mutters.
Zayn excuses himself to go to the toilet. It’s the only place he can think to go and regain his composure. Liam is getting to him, and he can’t let that happen.
When he returns to the dining room, Liam is chatting with Louis. Larry has his head in Liam’s lap, wagging his tail.
“Ah, there you are,” Louis says, smiling at Zayn. “I was just asking if you would like a coffee to round off the day?”
Zayn nods in response. “Thank you.” He takes his seat and finishes his Coke.
Louis returns with the coffee mugs, setting them down on the table before he attempts to coax a stubborn Larry away from Liam. It proves to be difficult, but he succeeds eventually, shoving the dog out of the room.
Zayn and Liam sit and chat for a while, talking about this and that. Zayn finds that he has an awful lot in common with Liam; movies, music and opinions on social issues. It's disturbing, really. Liam takes a dainty sip from his mug in between talking about his extensive DVD collection. Zayn isn’t really listening, though. Instead, he follows the movement of Liam’s mouth as he speaks. It looks so inviting...so...what’s the word? He can’t remember...he is so tired...
“Zayn...hey, Zayn.” Liam’s voice seems to come from somewhere in the distance. “Zayn, you ok man?” he asks, waving his hand in front of Zayn’s face.
Zayn blinks, struggling to focus. He can’t recall when it started, but now his eyelids are just so heavy, his brain foggy.
“M’fine,” he slurs.
Flopping forward in his chair, he rests his head on the tabletop. It occurs to him that this is wrong, that he can’t conceivably be this tired. He does his best to push himself up, failing miserably. Then he is lifted onto his feet.
“Come on, you’ve had it...you need to lie down.” Liam holds him up and leads him up the stairs.
“I’m ok...have to go ho - home,” Zayn mumbles, gripping Liam’s shirt as best he can as the floor underneath him sways from side to side. On some level, he knows that he should do something, but he can’t fight or talk or think. He is vaguely aware that Liam lowers him onto a bed in his room and tugs his boots off. After that, his consciousness ebbs away, and he surrenders to the waves of darkness washing over him.
*****
The first thing he notices when he wakes is the smell of cologne - Liam’s cologne. His eyes fly open, but he shuts them again immediately because everything is too bright, stabbing his brain. Throwing the duvet over his head, he tries again. He still feels like the proverbial bus had run him over, but it’s just about bearable without the direct light. It takes him ages to recollect how he came to be here, fully dressed in a bed in Liam Payne’s room. Whole chunks of the previous evening are missing from his memory, in all likelihood lost forever.
Nudging the blanket down a fraction, he cautiously sits up. There is a glass of water on the bedside table which he gulps down. His head hurts like a bitch, and his mouth is filled with a foul taste. It’s almost like a severe hangover, only he didn’t drink anything. Not alcohol anyway.
Then, out of nowhere, it hits him. He has been drugged. Liam must have put something in his Coke when he went to the toilet. The bastard wanted him out of the way so he could make contact with the assassins. In alarm, he taps his pockets, relieved that his car keys are where they should be.
He puts his feet into his boots and pushes himself off the bed, having to concentrate hard on staying upright. He holds on to the nightstand until the worst of the dizziness passes before he carefully descends the stairs to reception. He had noticed that the other bed looked rumpled and slept in. So the fucker had the nerve to knock him out, do whatever shady stuff he wanted to do, and then sleep peacefully across the room from him. But where is he now?
Down in the foyer, Louis is tapping away on his laptop. “Good morning, Detective, rough night, huh?” he says, barely taking his eyes off the screen.
“Sshh...you’re not supposed to know who I am.”
Louis looks up now and stops typing. “Payne’s not here. Looks like you took your eye off the ball. He’s left you a note,” he says, gesturing towards an open envelope on the counter and Zayn thinks he can detect a hint of disapproval in his voice.
He grabs the note and reads what’s on the piece of paper.
‘Hope you’re not feeling too bad. I wanted to leave early and snoop some more at the hotel (took the bus for the authentic British experience). Something is going down there tonight. Pick me up at six, and we might be able to shut down the threat before tomorrow’s speech. Liam :)
What an absolute wanker. Zayn stuffs the note in his pocket and hurries to his car. He should probably not be driving, but he doesn’t want to call for a lift. Questions would be asked, and he can do without that kind of embarrassment right now.
He drives slowly, sticking strictly to all speed restrictions. His head is clear now, but his mouth is dry, and he longs for a cold drink, so he makes the split-second decision to pop into the George and Dragon on his way home.
*****
The pub is fairly busy when Zayn enters, having driven around for what felt like forever in search of a parking space, and the empty seat at the far end of the bar elevates his mood only slightly. Niall signals that he will be with him shortly, which gives Zayn the opportunity to check his phone quickly. Higgins has left him a message asking him to get in touch, but he’ll have to wait until Zayn has had his drink.
“Hello mate, the usual?” Niall asks a few minutes later.
Zayn nods absent-mindedly, scrolling through the rest of his notifications but there is nothing that needs immediate action. He chugs his coke as soon as Niall puts it down, marvelling at the heavenly feeling of it running down his scratchy throat.
Niall serves a few more customers before he comes and joins him.
“So, did he notice?”
Zayn regards the bartender with a questioning look.
“The American...your new hair and outfit,” Niall supplies.
“Oh that...no, he didn’t.” Zayn chuckles.
“How disappointing,” Niall pouts, then leans in, lowering his voice. “But is he like you thought?”
Zayn gives a dismissive wave. “No, nothing whatsoever. Normal dude with normal clothes and normal behaviour.” As a matter of fact, stunning would have been the more fitting term, but Niall doesn’t have to know that.
“Are you saying he’s a decent guy? After all that fretting?”
Zayn could write an essay about why Liam is most likely anything but a decent guy, but for one thing, it’s not something he can discuss with Niall, and for another, he would have to closely examine the wayward thoughts that are crossing his mind more frequently than he’d like to admit. And he doesn’t want to do that because it’s stupid and pointless and counterproductive and …
The ringtone on his mobile cuts into his musings. It's Higgins - Zayn puts his phone to one ear, covering the other with his free hand to muffle some of the noise.
“Yes, Sir...I’ll pick him up at six...I know I know...no, no heroics...uh-huh...yep, I’ll be careful, and I’ll report back promptly...ok, talk to you later.” Zayn ends the call, returning the phone to his pocket.
Niall, who has been hovering nearby, strolls over and puts his crossed arms on the counter. “Late night in store?” he asks casually.
“What?”
“Sorry, I shouldn't have asked...just that your job is about ten million times more exciting than mine,” Niall says quickly; too quickly maybe.
“No worries mate,” Zayn reassures him. “It’s just a routine stake-out; probably a lot like watching paint dry.”
The barman refills Zayn’s glass, placing it in front of his customer. “You better have another one of these then; some caffeine to keep you awake.”
“Cheers.” Zayn drains his glass before heading out to what could be a very difficult evening.
*****
The atmosphere in the car is strained, to put it mildly. They are on their way to the hotel, having spoken only the bare necessities since they left the B&B. Zayn is glad that he is driving and can at least pretend to be concentrating on traffic.
When the modern high rise building comes into view, Liam turns towards him. “You ok? You’re terribly quiet.”
“I’m great.”
Liam puts his hand briefly on Zayn’s arm. “You were out of it last night.”
“You say that as if you’re surprised,” Zayn barks, looking Liam dead in the eye. The twat actually has the audacity to look and sound concerned.
“What do you mean by that?”
Zayn returns his attention to the road. “For the love of God, let’s drop it, alright? Let’s go to this stupid hotel and let’s see what the fuck’s going on. If your sources are to be believed, those scouts will make an appearance, and we can hopefully get to the assassins and take them down before things get critical.”
“Fine, but we need to position ourselves by the entrance to the underground garage. I’ve examined the area, and there are several locations where we can wait.” Liam says.
Zayn replies with a grunt, but when they arrive at The Duchess, he can see for himself that Liam is right and so he pulls in behind a massive dumpster which gives them a good view of the entrance. He is not exactly sure what he is anticipating from this outing. It’s not like Liam is just gonna expose his fellow informants to Zayn, then admit he’s involved in the assassination plot and all is hunky-dory; probably best to let him take the lead and wait.
The following hours pass agonizingly slow. Zayn is mainly lost in his own contemplation. His thoughts flit between his future plans, Kate, the events of the previous day and the impending encounter with danger. But also, and against his better judgment, his gaze drifts periodically to Liam, who is constantly on his phone, sending and receiving messages without sharing the content. Then it happens, Liam looks up just as Zayn studies his profile, and it feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Something bothering you?” Liam asks.
Zayn couldn’t begin to list all the things that are bothering him about the situation he’s finding himself in right now. And seeing that he can’t divulge any of these things, he shakes his head and scrolls through his own feed instead.
“Zayn, look over there,” Liam says moments later, pointing to a middle-aged man wearing the uniform of a security guard. The guy walks rapidly towards them, and Liam and Zayn simultaneously drop their phones into their laps.
“Any bright ideas?” Zayn asks, racking his brain for a way to explain their presence, but nothing useful wants to surface.
To his surprise, Liam smiles and winks at him. “Yes,” he says, and before Zayn can determine what that means, he wraps his hand around the back of Zayn’s neck, pulling him close.
Zayn is caught completely off guard, which is why he doesn’t object and just lets it happen, lets Liam slot their lips together. The kiss is deep and gentle. It might possibly be the best kiss Zayn’s ever had. Of course, he knows it’s merely a staged performance to preserve their cover, but fuck, it really doesn’t feel like it. Surely he shouldn’t enjoy this? Whatever happened to his self-respect, his sense of duty? It would be incredibly easy to let himself go and enjoy the intimacy between them if it weren’t for the significant issue of the suspicions surrounding Liam.
Forcing himself to get his shit together, he pulls back just to discover that Liam has his eyes closed.
What the fuck is that all about?
In his peripheral vision, Zayn can see that the guard is coming ever closer. Slightly panicked, he fists Liam’s hair, and the bastard is actually moaning.
Good God.
The show must be convincing though because the man stops a few metres from the car and peers into the vehicle, his hand shielding his eyes before he turns to leave, obviously judging the shenanigans behind the dumpster not to be of importance.
Their collective heavy breathing is the only sound in the BMW as Zayn disentangles himself from the embrace, wondering which one of them is going to speak first. But he needn't have wondered. Liam is straight back on his phone, apparently not willing to address what just happened.
Another silence filled hour later, and Liam suddenly switches off his device with a purposeful stab on the home button.
“Right...this is it…,” he announces, unbuckling his seat belt.
“What’s going on?” Zayn asks, trying to ignore the feeling that he’s about to become a lot more involved than planned.
“My sources say that any moment now, some of the suspects will be inside the parking area.“ Liam informs him, climbing out of the car.
What now? In his head, Zayn hears Higgins’s instructions not to interfere, but he can’t see how this can be avoided, so without another thought, he follows Liam’s lead and heads for the underground garage.
It takes a while for his eyes to adjust to the relative darkness. Someone must have disabled the electrical supply down here because not even the emergency lighting comes on as they edge cautiously forward. It stinks of petrol, making Zayn feel a bit nauseous, and it doesn’t get any better when he remembers that he didn’t bring a weapon of any sort.
“Wait...listen,” Liam whispers, putting his finger to his lips.
Zayn stops in his tracks. He has heard the faint shuffling of feet as well. They stand rooted to the spot for a few minutes and then Zayn thinks he can see two silhouettes on the other side of the garage. The hooded figures advance in their direction, and his nerves are jangling. Liam tries to keep in front of him, but Zayn steps past him to get a better view, and when he does, he realises that the two individuals are Harry and Louis.
What on earth are they doing here? Was there more intel which he missed? Have they been mobilised as a back up against Liam? He needs to call out to them, but before the first sound can leave his lips, Liam shoves him against the nearest concrete pillar, his hand clamped over Zayn’s mouth.
“Shhhh….,” he hisses. “They can’t know we’re here.”
Zayn struggles against him, tries unsuccessfully to wriggle out of his grip, but then, all of a sudden, the pressure on his body is gone, and he can breathe freely. He is disoriented for an instant, unable to locate Liam or the two MI6 officers. Why or why has he put himself into this predicament with such lack of preparation? He has handled this like a total rookie.
His breathing still laboured, he contemplates his next move. He could withdraw and get in touch with his station as Higgins had instructed, or he could try and help Harry and Louis put an end to the assassination threat.
But his deliberations don’t matter because his oxygen supply is once again restricted when, from behind, an arm is wrapped around his neck. Is Liam going to finish what he started?
“You should’ve kept your nose out of it. Shame really cause I like you.” The message is delivered close to his ear by a voice that doesn’t sound anything like Liam’s, but perhaps it’s just his state of confusion. It has to be him.
Still trying to organise his frantic thoughts, he feels a powerful blow to the back of his head, sending searing pain through his entire body, and the last thought before he blacks out is, what a horrific cock up he made of it all.
*****
When he comes to and finds Liam leaning over him, his first instinct is to defend himself. But then, as the fog around his brain clears, he notices things that don’t tie in with his initial perception of imminent danger. Unlike before the assailant knocked him out, the hotel garage is now brightly lit and filled with people. Zayn can make out uniformed police officers, MI6 personnel and several paramedics. DCI Higgins stands a few meters away from him, giving him the thumbs up.
Zayn is sitting on the floor, propped up against the same pillar he had been crushed against earlier. He feels queasy, accompanied by a monumental headache, but he needs to ask some questions.
“Fill me in?” he groans, tilting his face slowly towards Liam.
“You’ve been unconscious, you should be in a hospital,” Liam says firmly.
“I’m going nowhere until I have some answers,” Zayn insists, wincing with every word.
Liam sighs heavily. “Ok, in a nutshell, the two B&B owners, otherwise known as CIA Agents Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles, are the informants. One of them knocked you out with some blunt instrument. They were happy to spill the beans though after they were told that they might not have to go to prison if they cooperate. The assassin has been apprehended, and Professor Wilks’ presentation can go ahead as planned.”
“But...” Zayn can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“But you thought I was the informant, right?” Liam says, an amused smile playing on his lips. “And earlier on, when I tried to shut you up and not draw attention to us, you were scared of me.”
“Was not.”
Liam puts his hand against Zayn’s cheek. “I know panic when I see it. You were petrified, and yet -” he pauses. “You let me kiss you. You want to explain that one?”
“It was for show...for the security guard,” Zayn says feebly.
“Was it?” Liam looks even more amused now. “Well, I can tell you that I wanted to kiss you and I loved it. But we can talk about that later.”
“How about you explain why you drugged me,” Zayn says, not willing to be buttered up that easily.
“I didn’t...I think Tomlinson put the stuff into our coffees, but I hardly drank any which is why I wasn’t affected. I left you to sleep it off because I was sure that you would be safe enough. Then I left that message openly on the counter, hoping to force their hand.”
“You suspected them?”
“Yes, pretty much from the beginning.”
“How?”
“It was Larry,” Liam says to Zayn’s amazement.
“The dog?”
“Yeah, there was no way that they were the owners of that animal. Larry, or whatever his real name is, did not want to be there, had no bond with them. And if they invented a relationship with a dog, what else were they lying about? Turns out that Larry belongs to the actual B&B owners and the agents thought keeping him there would make them more believable.”
“But it tripped them up instead,” Zayn says more to himself. Then he has a thought, “For all you knew, I could have been the informant.”
Liam laughs at that. “Utterly impossible; you have no dishonest bone in your gorgeous body. During my time in care and on the job, I’ve acquired a good sense of who people are.”
A medic wheels a stretcher over to them and kneels beside Zayn, bringing the conversation to a halt. “Are you ready Detective Malik? You need to be checked over by a doctor.
Reluctantly, Zayn gets to his feet and climbs onto the trolley.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll come with you,” Liam says and climbs into the ambulance behind the paramedic.
Zayn doesn’t mind one little bit.
*****
Six weeks later:
“So, this is it, huh?” Zayn picks one of the freshly fallen leaves off the floor.
The air is crisp and the autumn colours beautiful. They have been sitting on the bench by the duck pond for a while, not saying much, just enjoying each other’s company. Now, Zayn has finally mustered the courage to approach the dreaded topic of Liam returning home.
“Yeah,” Liam confirms. “My flight is tomorrow afternoon.”
Liam had taken his entire annual holiday entitlement plus the two weeks extra for pretty much single-handedly saving the professor’s life, and spent it almost exclusively with Zayn. At first, he had taken a room in a hotel, but then it seemed silly since he was with Zayn whenever the detective didn’t have to work.
“I can’t imagine you not being here anymore, making me happier than I’ve ever been,” Zayn says quietly, twirling the leaf between his fingers.
“Maybe you don’t have to.” Liam reaches for Zayn’s hand. “There’s no reason why you couldn't write your books in New York. It doesn’t really matter if you rent an apartment here or in the States. And later...we could maybe...I mean...we obviously have to see how it goes, but we could maybe live together.”
Zayn’s stomach does a somersault. He had occasionally dreamed of staying permanently with Liam, but he hadn’t dared to hope that Liam felt the same.
“What happened to remaining unattached due to the job?” he asks, just to check.
“Massively overrated,” Liam says, grinning.
“In that case, I can think of no better plans for the future.”
Zayn leans in, touching their foreheads together before covering Liam’s mouth with his, and all of a sudden, the future looks crystal clear and positively wonderful.