Work Text:
“Mr Magnussen.”
A man’s voice. Not one of his men.
Which was… close to impossible. There were more than a dozen different alarm systems between the outer perimeter and this place. Even if the intruder had somehow managed to avoid the more obvious alarms, he would have set off the silent ones, the invisible ones that did nothing but send a discrete signal to his phone.
And yet here the intruder was.
Magnussen turned slowly around, searching the shadows. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” the voice came from the dark, somewhere on his left. “Bad manners to show up unannounced, isn’t it?”
Magnussen squinted into the darkness, trying to find something of interest in the vague, half-hidden shape. Not that there was much. The intruder had used the architecture of the main room to his full advantage; the shadows cast by the faint lighting hid all discernible features.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” the intruder continued, quite calm. “I’m here on behalf of Mr Moriarty.”
Several datafiles flew through Magnussen’s mind – Moriarty consulting criminal network The Spider – but he dismissed them. Nothing but creative rumours, and so far he hadn’t found the time yet to find solid fact.
“I see. And what does Mr Moriarty want with me?” he asked, equally calm.
“For the moment? Nothing much. Consider this a courtesy call.”
“Welcoming me to the neighbourhood? How polite of him. Did you bring cookies?”
The man chuckled and stepped closer, still hidden and half-invisible. “They’re called biscuits here, Mr Magnussen. Do your research.”
“Forgive a poor foreigner’s confusion. No card?”
“Funny you should mention that.” The man reached into his jacket, then paused, hand disappearing out of sight. “Not worried I’m going to pull out something else?”
Magnussen smiled. “Haven’t you heard? I’m invulnerable.”
“In my experience, no one is.” The man pulled out a card and put it on a nearby side table. The movement made the light fall on his face. Nothing Magnussen recognised, but he stored it in his memory all the same. “There you go.”
Magnussen stepped closer, amused, and picked up the card. “Consulting criminal?” he said, keeping his voice soft and mocking.
“Just one of his many titles,” the lackey said. “Don’t get in touch unless you’re sure about it.”
Nothing but a phone number and that curious little title. He looked up. “And why should I get in touch, exactly?”
“Because this is his turf. You’re on hostile ground, Mr Magnussen. Nothing happens here without Moriarty’s say so.”
“Oh, really? I’ve heard that from other men as well.” He smiled. “Usually right before I squash their little faces.”
The man laughed. “Charming. I wouldn’t advise that in Moriarty’s case, though. You’d be biting off more than you can chew there.”
“I can… chew, rather a lot things.” He stopped in front of the lackey. The man was one or two inches shorter than Magnussen, but he didn’t seem to mind the difference the way some men did. “And who are you?” Magnussen asked.
“Me?” The man smiled. “I’m just the messenger.”
“Really? Unimportant, then.” He lifted hand and hovered it over the man’s cheek. “I like unimportant people. They don’t put up much of a fight. They know they’re worthless.” He extended a finger.
“Touch me and I’ll break your neck.”
Immediate, ice cold, quietly controlled.
Magnussen smiled. There did exist a kind of people whose sense of self-preservation wasn’t strong enough to control their pride, or thirst for violence. This might be one of those. Possibly, but was it worth the risk?
Either way, interesting to know.
He pulled his hand back. The intruder relaxed, almost imperceptibly.
“Your boss wouldn’t be very pleased if you killed me,” Magnussen said.
“You don’t know the first thing about my boss,” the man replied, with a minimalist smile. “And you’re overestimating your own importance.”
“Oh, there are quite a few people who would be very, let’s say cross, if I died.”
“Really.”
“Oh, yes. And who knows, maybe your Moriarty will be one of them, quite soon.”
“I would certainly enjoy seeing you try,” the man said, smiling. He turned away, then looked over his shoulder, almost as an afterthought. “Remember, Mr Magnussen: follow Moriarty’s orders or suffer the consequences.”
“Ah, threats. I like threats. They always sound so funny after.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “After what?”
“After I… but that would be telling.”
The corner of the man’s mouth curled up in a mocking smile. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we? God nat, Mr Magnussen,” he added, in a near-perfect accent, and then he disappeared into the shadows again.
Magnussen stared after him for a few moments. Then he went to his vault and called forth anything he knew about Moriarty.
***
Sebastian waited until he was out of the three-mile radius around Appledore before he put in the call.
Jim answered almost immediately. “And?” he said, curtly.
“Went without a hitch. Had a bit of bother at the fourth alarm system, was wired a bit differently than you said it would. But the rest went fine.”
Jim breathed out. “Good. And Magnussen?”
“What you’d expect.” Sebastian looked over his shoulder and spotted the glint of light against metal. “I’m being followed,” he added casually.
“You can shake them off once we’re done here,” Jim said, impatiently. “What did you make of him?”
“Er… Slimy git. A bully. Arrogant, confident, a bit too much. The gloating type, likely to – ”
“No, Seb. What did you make of him?”
Sebastian considered it for a few moments. “Didn’t like him,” he said after a while. “Really didn’t.”
“Hmm. And he took the message?”
“Yeah. Although I doubt he took it very seriously.”
“Even though you broke into his house?”
“Like I said, he’s used to having the upper hand, being the clever one. In a couple of days he’ll have convinced himself it was just luck, me getting in.”
“Well, then we’ll have to convince him otherwise. I expect to hear all the details once you’re back here.”
“I know, I’ve got them all stored away.”
“Make sure you don’t lose them on the way here,” Jim said, the smile audible in his voice. “And don’t do anything stupid like crashing the car, will you?”
“Won’t.” He looked in the rear-view mirror. Only one car, as far as he could see. “D’you need anything else?”
“No. But I mean it, Seb. Be careful.”
“I will. See ya.”
Dial tone – Jim never lost time on trivial things like goodbyes.
Sebastian drove on until he found a relatively straight bit of road. Then he slammed on the break and executed a perfect u-turn before speeding the other way.
He gave his pursuers a cheerful little wave as he zipped past.
***
Magnussen stepped out of the car and dismissed his driver with a snap of his fingers, then turned to his house, mind still working.
Moriarty. The man was a riddle, a ghost. There were no records of him to be found anywhere. Today’s little visit had proven to be just as useless as all the other previous ones; there just seemed to be no solid information concerning him.
The alarm system gave a subtle little chirp as he came close the door - still in working order, then. He put his hand under the scanner and waited for the bleep of acceptance, idly tracking the surroundings. No one there, naturally; after that last break-in he’d made sure every single last one of his alarm systems was in perfect shape.
The scanner bleeped and the heavy metal door opened with a hiss. Magnussen went in and let his thoughts go back to his latest little conundrum.
There might not be much factual evidence concerning Moriarty, but the man attracted rumours like flies to honey, each one more extravagant than the last. A secret lair in the tunnels below London, a manor house filled with deadly weapons and experiments, a whorehouse full of a beautiful young women only he was allowed to touch, a right-hand man who could shoot a fly at thirty paces and also served as a courtesan… Fanciful things, and he doubted they contained even a kernel of truth.
He would remember them, though. They were amusing.
He closed his eyes briefly, called up what he knew so far.
Jim Moriarty
criminal lynchpin
interests in weapons trade, intelligence, drugs, industrial espionage, fraud, political corruption, and others
location: London
finances: unknown, debts unlikely
pressure points: searching…
If he believed his sources, Moriarty did not have any pressure points at all. Which, of course, was nonsense, and not something he would let stop him. Others had claimed that as well.
There was always a way in.
And right now, he just needed to gather everything he knew, connect it, and he would see whatever it was he could use. The facts were all dancing around in his mind, too busy to make sense of them. He needed peace.
He punched in the code and the vault opened.
He slowly dropped his hand.
There was a man sitting in his chair, which was impossible.
“Hi,” the man said, smiling. “You weren’t in, so I made myself at home. I hope you don’t mind?”
With a wrench of effort, Magnussen shook off his shock and surprise and hid it all beneath his usual cold mask of amusement. “You should have called ahead, I would have prepared a welcome party.”
“I like being unpredictable. Keeps people on their toes.” His smile widened. “Jim Moriarty, by the way.”
Jim Moriarty Consulting Criminal no known pressure points as yet
thirties Dublin accent hand-tailored suit
Moriarty frowned. “You have heard of me, haven’t you? Don’t tell me you’re that far behind – and I had such high hopes for you.”
“I’m more than aware of your reputation.” He took of his glasses and started cleaning them. “And you did send your man around to say hello.”
“Oh, right, nearly forgot about that. Was he nice?” Moriarty pulled a mock-concerned face. “I did tell him to be nice, but you know how it goes with subordinates…”
“I don’t, as a matter of fact. My people always do exactly what I tell them to.” He put his glasses back on and gave Moriarty a small smile. “Perhaps you need to be a bit more strict?”
Moriarty laughed. “I’ll tell him that. Or, even better, you can tell him yourself!” He lazily waved a hand, and out of the corner of his eye Magnussen saw a shadow move.
Twice in two weeks. He would need to find someone new to take care of his security, and deal with the old one.
“Very Star Trek, this,” Moriarty said. He spun in his chair. “Whoosh. Fancy. But boring – couldn’t you install Angry Birds at the least?” He stood up and looked around the room, scrunching his nose in disdain.
“I have other rooms for when I want to amuse myself,” Magnussen said. “If you’d like, I could show you some of them.”
“Oh, don’t bother, I already had a look.” Moriarty pushed past Magnussen and strolled to the main room. “Your bedding needs a wash, by the way.”
“I generally let my cleaners take care of that sort of thing, but if you feel tempted…”
“Personally, I’d set fire to those things, but that’s just me.” He craned his neck and looked up at the ceiling, then around. “Pretty place. A bit too sparse for my tastes, but I suppose that’s the Scandinavian touch?”
“Your underground secret lair is more lavishly furnished, then?”
“Hm? Oh.” Moriarty grinned, wide. “People have been talking, have they? I should look into that.”
“You’re having trouble with your subordinates, are you? Maybe I came just in time.”
“Want to help out, do you? Take care of the dirty work for me?” Moriarty tilted his head. “You’re a dirty sort of chap, I’m sure you’d feel right at home.”
“I’m afraid I already have other engagements.”
“Do you, now.” Moriarty’s smile faded a little. Out of the corner of his eye, Magnussen could see the shadow move.
Enough talk, then. Magnussen reached for his gun, tucked away safely in the drawer of the cabinet behind him.
“I wouldn’t,” Moriarty said, sounding bored. “He’s a much better and faster shot than you.”
“Really?” He slowly lowered his hand to the drawer. “You know the thing about death threats, Jim?”
“Please, enlighten me,” Moriarty said, voice heavy with sarcasm.
“They only work when you believe them.” He pulled the drawer open. The lackey took a step closer, gun raised. “And I don’t.”
“O-oh.” Moriarty laughed. “Really? You think he wouldn’t blow your head straight off if I gave the sign?”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But you won’t give the sign.”
He shrugged. “Fine, you got me, I won’t. You won’t, either, though.”
“No, I won’t. People are much more fun when they’re alive. You can’t make a corpse dance, can you?”
“Ah.” Moriarty put his hands in his pockets and started strolling again, casual and unconcerned. “Is that your purpose here? Think you can make me dance to your tune?”
“I know I can.”
Moriarty gave him a fleeting look, a faint smile. “You’re amusing, I’ll give you that. Stupid, but amusing.”
“I know your secret.”
Moriarty sighed, as if this was a chore. “You think you know that, do you?”
“I know everyone’s secret, Jim. And I keep them all safely tucked away. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone else see it.”
“Oh, I feel so reassured.” Moriarty stopped moving, and briefly swung forward on his heels. “No, but seriously, I’m done playing now. It’s been fun but you’re not as interesting as you think you are, and I’m getting bored. So what’s it going to be?”
“Why don’t you tell me, Jim? Do you want to risk it? See it all in the open? All that you’ve worked so hard for to keep secret?”
Moriarty shrugged, unconcerned. “You’re bluffing. You don’t know shit.”
“I could whisper it in your ear, if you like?”
He smiled lazily. “I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole, Charles. I have standards, you see, and you don’t even come close.”
“Then you’ll just have to risk it.”
“Oh, well, if you put it like that…” Moriarty fidgeted, nervously, bit his lip. Finally he was coming around to –
But then Moriarty laughed, hard. “God, sorry, I can’t, I just can’t. Does that thing genuinely work on people?” He dropped his voice low. “I know your darkest secret, and whoops, they’re suddenly your best friend. Don’t you get bored of that? It sounds so easy.”
“It’s effective, as I’m sure you’ll find out.” Magnussen smiled. “Even if I don’t have anything on you, Jim, I have other people who will be more than eager to help me with a sticky situation.”
Moriarty smiled, in a strangely approving manner. “Ah, now that’s something different. Play nice or I’ll send my friends after you, is that it?”
“I have a lot of friends.”
“I think you need to look up the definition of friend.”
“I hoped we would become friends, actually. But as you’re not interested, I think you’d better go, now.” Magnussen smiled, already considering the best option to take this little shit out. The police? He had a commissioner in his books, painfully eager to do anything to prove how loyal he was. Or someone else, something more shady… Either way, it should be painful, a clear message.
“Ooh, that’s a bit rude, isn’t it? But fine.” Moriarty turned to leave, and in the shadows the bodyguard moved. “I’m not one to overstay my welcome. Come along, Seb, we’re done here.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t find what you came for,” Magnussen said, directed at Moriarty’s retreating back. He shouldn’t let the man forget it was still Magnussen who had the upper hand, after all.
“Hm?” Moriarty turned and raised his eyebrows in question, then widened his eyes and snapped his fingers. “Oh, the vault. I almost forgot.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Better men than you have tried and failed.”
“Have they?” Moriarty said softly. His eyes were fixed on Magnussen, and there was something about them, something that made him just a little uneasy…
“Funny thing, a vault,” Moriarty said, drawing out the last word. “Conjures up images, doesn’t it? Thick walls, codes, locks… Sturdy things.” The corner of his mouth turned up in something that didn’t remotely look like a smile. “Unlike yours.”
“Sorry?” Magnussen said, throat suddenly dry.
“Your vault. No sturdy walls or complicated locks for you, are there? Easy to destroy, really. In fact, I’m sure one well-placed bullet would do the trick.” He raised his hand and mimed a gunshot. “Pew.”
Bluffing. He couldn’t know. Nobody knew.
“You think…”
“I don’t think, I know. You honestly thought I wouldn’t find out?”
He couldn’t.
Moriarty chuckled. “Look at you, all bewildered. Didn’t see that one coming, didya? All that that time spent on finding other people’s secrets and yet never once considering the possibility that someone else might discover yours.” He clucked his tongue, disapproving. “Sloppy, Charles. Really, I expected better of you.”
“You…” Magnussen swallowed. He couldn’t think. There was no way, no possibility, no - no solution…
“Oh, go on.” Moriarty leaned forward, as if he was encouraging Magnussen. “Try something. Maybe you could shoot me after all – would you like to try now? I’ll make him shoot your wrist, so you won’t even have to die for it, wouldn’t that be interesting?”
“I…” He needed to rally. He could still find an advantage, a way in…
Moriarty walked across the room and ran his finger over a table checking for dust. “To be honest, Charles…” He glanced at Magnussen. “I don’t mind you stirring up some trouble. The English get so adorably flustered when a foreigner pulls a fast one on them. I think it hurts their sense of national pride. So no, you go ahead, with your little plans." He smiled, affably. “But only with the people I give you permission for, of course.”
Magnussen blinked once, and then - with a enormous wrench of effort - he managed to control himself enough to say, “And if I don’t?”
Moriarty sighed, put-upon, and came closer again. “Really? You want to try?”
Magnussen drew himself up to full length. He’d been in trickier situations and come out on top; all he needed to do was regain dominance. “You think you are in control now? People will still listen to me. I still have my fingers in every one of their pathetic little lives, and they will do exactly as I tell them to.”
“Well, I suppose that’s true,” Moriarty pursed his lips, as if he was genuinely considering it. “And I could kill you where you stand, of course, that’s true as well, but…” He stopped right in front of Magnussen.
Magnussen looked down at him, taking full advantage of the height difference. “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?” he said. “Little man.”
“With reason.” Moriarty smiled. “Jeg spøger ikke. Ønsker du virkelig at gå denne vej?”
Magnussen hesitated. For once, his instincts were sending out warning signals.
“Go on. Try it. See what happens.” Moriarty went up on tiptoe, leaning in just that slightest bit closer.
Magnussen had to fight not to take a step back. The ground was slipping from underneath him - but he couldn’t just give in, not like that. “And now it’s you who’s bluffing,” he said, voice still sounding pleasingly cold. “Threat without substance.”
“You think so? You’re good at reading people, aren’t you?” Moriarty spread his arms wide. “Well then. Read me.”
He did.
***
“So what was that all about?”
“Hm?” Jim asked, feet on the dashboard, hands behind his head. He was radiating smugness.
“His bluff,” Sebastian said patiently. “I didn’t quite…”
“Oh, the vault. It’s inside his head.”
Sebastian gave Jim a quick look. “Sorry?”
“Photographic memory. All the info is stored inside his head. Oh, no doubt he has a few hard copies store away somewhere, but the majority is all – immaterial. Memories.”
“You’re saying he just knows?”
“It’s a trick. A bluff.” Jim smiled, eyes closed. “He drops a few hints about a secret safe, containing all his blackmail material, and – you see it?”
“They’re all off on a wild goose chase, looking for a vault that doesn’t exist, and they don’t even think about killing him because…”
“Because if they do, what about the things he has on them? What if someone else finds that vault? Not knowing of course, that killing him would be the only surefire way to destroy everything he has.” He pulled a face. “It’s good, isn’t? I’m almost jealous I didn’t think of it myself.”
“Yeah, maybe, but it’s fragile. The second someone realises…”
“Yes, well, obviously. That’s why I said almost.”
“Yeah.” Sebastian chuckled. “Did you see his face? He practically shat himself.”
Jim smiled. “Enjoyed watching that, did you?”
“Fuck yes. Complacent bastard. Impressive, though, in his way.” Sebastian glanced at Jim. “You know, if I didn’t know you, I would’ve thought for a second here…”
“Really?” Jim said, sounding faintly amused. “You think he had me?”
Sebastian shrugged. “Well, like he said: everyone’s got skeletons.”
“Maybe, but I set mine on fire.” Jim smiled again, thoroughly self-satisfied. “There’s nothing left to find.”
“For you, maybe.”
Jim opened one eye. “Worried about your own safety, are you?”
“A bit. I’ve got a few things that could seriously get me into trouble, even apart from, you know…” He gestured between him and Jim. “The obvious.”
“There’s no need to worry.” He sank deeper into his seat. “Charles Magnussen might be an overconfident revolting powermad bully, he isn’t actually stupid, and he’s got enough sense to see when something’s more bother than it’s worth. There’s nothing to be feared.”
“That’s what he thought as well,” Sebastian said.
Jim turned his head and gave him a look. “You don’t seriously think he’s a threat, do you?”
“I think you’ve humiliated him, and that makes him dangerous.”
“Maybe. But the question is, darling…” Jim grinned, and for all that Magnussen was a genuinely intimidating bastard, he had absolutely fucking nothing on Jim and his eyes and that fucking devil’s grin.
Sebastian swallowed. “What?”
Jim took Sebatian’s neck, leaned in close, and said softly, ”Do you think he’s more dangerous than I am?”
Sebastian breathed out, slowly. “No.” He smiled, shook his head. “He doesn’t even come anywhere close.”
“Clever boy.” Jim kicked his feet back up onto the dashboard and sank back in his seat. “Now get us home, and quickly. I urgently need a shower.”
“Yessir,” Sebastian said, still grinning. He shifted a gear higher and, as they crossed the invisible border surrounding Appledore, he threw a look in the rearview mirror, just to be sure.
This time, there were no cars following them.