Work Text:
She knows she’s being watched.
And they’re rather unsubtle about it, but that’s nothing new. It’s not like she expected anything better if she’s being honest.
Kyra absently chews her thumbnail as she watches a white, nondescript utility van manoeuvre into a parallel park across the street. Her eyes flick down to her phone and she waits for a new but familiar network to pop into view in her WiFi settings window.
It’s the fifth time in two days since the whole Damian Cray and Air Force One incident.
She’s not sure if Alex would notice MI6’s latest antics were he in her place, but she’s certain he’d be outraged if he did — like he was on the first day of their surveillance.
Rather than their usual pathetic attempts at playing it low-key, MI6 had burst right through the front door insisting that they search the entire property, citing vulnerabilities left after Simon Marriot’s hack and a sweep for any equipment that may have belonged to Cray.
MI6 did have to tie up any loose ends before “leaving them alone” after all. They didn’t even bother with trying to act convincingly.
Jones had stated that there was no reason for them to be nervous as they weren’t suspect of anything other than the few days they had bunked off school and breaking and entering multiple properties.
She’d been lying.
The team had been quick and mostly careful, and if Kyra didn’t know where to look and what to look for, she would have believed them.
So she conducted a sweep of her own shortly after their departure and compiled a rather impressive inventory of bugs and other surveillance gadgets that had been planted during the forty-ish minutes of the team’s ‘sweep’. The bugs were better disguised this time, but not well enough to slip under her radar
She almost commended them aloud for their (marginal) improvements and efficiency with time.
Irritatingly enough, however, there was nothing she could do about them.
Any attempts at messing with the bugs would alert them and disabling them entirely would be cause for immediate concern. They are suspicious, and with good reason. So to keep the dogs’ noses off her trail she’ll have to comply.
For now.
Kyra lounges in the guest room, plotting furiously while the agents outside try to catch her in an act that only she is privy to. Smithers’ phone is stowed away safely — they’ll never find it. She’s sure her communications are being monitored, and something tells her the whiteboard trick won’t work a second time.
They could try a similar variation of it elsewhere but judging by how brazen the agents are when they trail her on her walks, she doubts her chances at success.
What to do, what to do .
Purchasing a new burner phone won’t work — they confiscated her old one — and purchases leave records. Suspicious records cause concern. Concern means greater scrutiny.
Kyra hates scrutiny.
Her breaths come out in shallow puffs and the flesh around her lungs slowly constricts. The ever lingering tightness that she has learned to live with seems almost inescapable now.
First the bugs that she can do nothing about, now the checkups that spark her nerves — this suffocation , MI6’s unwelcome imposition — it's all been slowly driving her up the wall.
She can’t think, and the urge to run prickles under her skin.
She grabs her coat and hurries out of the house.
*
It's the last straw when Smithers all but corners her at a café that very same day.
It’s one of those fancy ones where waiters take your order at a table and bring you a bill. A pleasant change of place, until she’s interrupted .
“Not interested,” she spits, her tone is caustic. Unfortunately, it's not enough to deter him.
“Kyra,” Smithers smiles pleasantly, making himself right at home in the seat opposite her. She stops what she's doing and shoots him a glare. In her opinion, he’d be much better suited for HR than intelligence work. "You know, the offer still stands. If you agree, we'll take care of everything.” He sounds friendly, and there’s nothing betraying his façade.
“And my answer still stands — no .” She bites out, hackles rising.
Her irritation spikes once more when he pays her attitude no mind and instead, scans the menu before him. “Just...take some time to think about it.” He nods at the waiter who approaches.
“I can tell you from now that nothing is going to change.”
Smithers's friendly smile evens out into a grim line. Finally, she’s getting to him. “Well in that case, I'm sure we'll find some way to convince you.”
Kyra doesn't want to stick around to see how.
It’s a threat, a blatant threat. How dare he. She needs to leave.
While Smithers is busy giving his order, she packs up her work and takes a large gulp of her tea. Without another word, and for the second time that day, she storms off nearly boiling over with a nervous rage.
“Three days,” she hears him say behind her.
“He's paying,” she grounds out at the employee standing who tries to stop her.
*
Kyra has a plan.
“Sasha,” she murmurs into Tom’s girlfriend’s phone. She is busy up on stage but Kyra keeps an eye on her just in case. “I need some papers.”
“When?” Comes the response.
“Tomorrow would be perfect, the day after is cutting it close.”
“Forward the info and I’ll see what I can do.” Sasha replies curtly. “Anything else?”
“Laura’s contact, text it to this number — thanks.” She gets in before Sasha hangs up.
Sasha’s text appears almost as soon as she opens the messaging app. After jotting the number onto a paper, she switches her SIM card back with Stephanie’s and erases all traces of recent activity.
Placing the phone back into the girl’s bag, Kyra slips out of the theatre before anyone can notice her. Her all black outfit and the convenient lack of lighting towards the back of the drama room makes it incredibly easy to do so.
It also helps that the drama teacher is extremely lax with security — she’d helped herself to the confiscated phones that were crammed into an unlocked drawer. They’d been practically begging to be rescued.
Things are slowly falling into place and a weight eases off her shoulders.
Kyra has a plan. And no one is going to like it.
She makes sure to flip off the black van waiting outside Alex’s school as she heads back to the house.