Work Text:
2nd of May
Drink: Still no.
Deaths at Slough House: 0
Disgusting comments from Jackson: 4. I think he’s bored.
Unusual Events: 1. A dog.
From:[email protected]
Subject: Mugs
There are currently exactly as many mugs as there are employees in the building. The two previously spare mugs have been condemned due to excessive mould colonies. Washing up your mug is your responsibility, regardless of what position you or your grandfather hold or held in the organisation.
“I know he’s weird,” Shirley said, “but he’s not eating-Pedigree-Chum weird.”
Standish looked up from washing the remains of tea - from the odour, laced with scotch - from Jackson Lamb’s mug. Shirley was talking to River, which was something Catherine wasn’t sure she approved of, not least because it meant that neither of them was cross-referencing the files she’d given them.
“I just don’t believe anyone would trust him with a dog,” River replied.
“I saw it,” Shirley said. “He was buying one of those boxes of 40 sachets. Wonder what sort of dog it is.”
“A rabid one,” River suggested.
Catherine sighed.
“What?” River said. To her relief, Catherine was spared having to answer by the arrival of JK Coe. He stalked into the room, trademark hood up, earbuds in.
Everyone stopped and looked at him.
Coe looked for a moment like he might say something. The tension in the air was palpable. Instead, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, and the office itself breathed out in relief. Or perhaps it was just the door opening.
“Was that someone coming in?” River said, moving to the doorway and putting his hand under his jacket lapel.
“Are you carrying?” Shirley asked.
“No,” River said. “But they don’t know that. Oh, it’s Flyte.”
Flyte walked into the room with an expression like she’d bitten into a cockroach. “Monkeys,” she said. “Is the organ grinder in?”
“You could go up and look,” River said.
Flyte grimaced. “It’s a health and safety violation just looking at that office. I’ll stay down here, one of you go and get him.”
“No need.” Lamb stood at the foot of the stairs. “Though I am looking at implementing a ‘No dogs in the office’ rule.”
“We’ve had some intelligence …” Flyte started.
“… unlikely, but do go on.”
“There is a credible threat to one of you.”
“To one of this lot? The only credible threat is the likelihood of them tripping over their own shoelaces.”
“That’s all I have.”
“Really? You came all the way over here to deliver a vague ‘there’s a threat’ message?”
Flyte sighed. “We think it’s going to be a kidnapping, and we think it’s an organised crime group known as the Sons of Warhan.”
“Algerians? What do they want?”
“To kidnap one of you.”
Lamb rolled his eyes. “That’s fucking useless. If that’s everything, you can fuck off back to the kennel.”
“It’s not everything. I’ve also got a warning from First Desk.”
“Oh, you have?” Everyone actively and visibly not listening into this conversation somehow managed to back away, hunker down, and/or pay attention to some item in their hands. Lamb’s tone was familiar to them.
Flyte didn’t back down. “There’s going to be an inspection of all offices under the auspices of the Park, to ensure they conform to standards of cleanliness, maintenance, etcetera. She’s sure that Slough House will pass the audit.”
With that, she turned and descended the stairs.
“If there is one thing I’m absolutely not responsible for,” Lamb said. “It’s the fucking building maintenance.” He started to head back up the stairs, before turning back. “Oh. Nobody get fucking kidnapped.”
There was a blessed moment of silence, when he had gone, which was immediately shattered when JK Coe’s hoodie barked.
3rd of May
Drink: Still no.
Deaths at Slough House: 0
Disgusting comments from Jackson: 10. I told him I was thinking of keeping a bullet journal and he (paraphrased) told me that it might be confusing to have something called a bullet journal in a building full of people who routinely carry guns.
From:[email protected]
Subject: Ammunition
From now, all expenditure of ammunition (including type AND number of rounds discharged) must be recorded in the Bullet Journal, within 24 hours of the incident (unless you are hospitalised or dead)
“Just stay there,” JK Coe said, sitting on his office chair, bent full forward to look beneath it. “You scared them yesterday, barking like that.”
“You’re early,” Catherine Standish said, entering from the stairway. “For you, I mean. It’s … not even nine o’clock yet.” Coe just looked at her, still leaning forward. “Is he under the desk?” she asked.
Coe blinked slowly.
“I’m sure there’s something about not bringing pets to the office.”
“He’s not a pet. He’s a service dog.”
“For your P…” Standish shut the word off at Coe’s murderous glare. “To help you with your …”
“… stability.” Coe finished for her. “Problem?”
“No.” Standish thought for a second. “Can I see him?”
Coe was motionless for a moment, then pushed his chair back from the desk with his feet.
“Hello, Karla,” Standish peered over the desk. There was a fierce growl, a snap of teeth, and a ball of brown fluff flung itself into Coe’s waiting arms. It glared at Standish, teeth bared. “Are you sure that’s a support dog?”
“Pomeranians make excellent support dogs,” Coe bristled. “I mean, just look at him.”
Standish blinked slowly. "Isn't he a bit ... ?" She wasn't sure whether she was going for "aggressive" or "cute", and anyway, this was more words than Coe had uttered in total over the previous week.
As if aware that he was over-quota, Coe didn’t reply to Catherine’s half-question, but sat in his chair, Karla the Pomeranian on his lap.
“That is still a ludicrous dog,” River said, arriving at the same time as Shirley. Coe glared at him.
“Why did you call him Karla, anyway?” Shirley asked. “Isn’t that a girl’s name?”
Everybody stared at Shirley. “It’s the name of the head of Moscow Centre? In the Smiley novels?”
Shirley looked blank.
“Work?” Standish interjected before the . “You’ve all got files to go through, looking for references to these ‘Sons of Warhan’”
“We’re taking this seriously?” River asked.
“No,” Shirley injected before Catherine could say anything. “We’re just short of pointless makework to do.”
“It’s not pointless makework,” Catherine said, stung. “It’s just … deep background, mostly. And making sure that records are complete.”
Shirley looked at River, who shrugged. “Sons of Warhan it is.”
“I think I’ve got something,” River said, about an hour later. “‘Warvan Transport’ in Harlesden.”
“Seems a longshot,” Shirley said.
“I don’t care. Checking it out is better than being stuck here waiting for Standish to locate an even more tedious task. Come on.”
Shortly after, Standish peered around the door. “Where are River and Shirley?”
“Lead.” Coe replied, looking up from where Karla was sat in his lap.
“Oh,” Standish said. “I need to go to the Park.”
“He’s had a walk today.”
“Not the … I have to take a file to the Park.”
Coe just looked at her.
“And you need to come too. We’re not supposed to go out alone.”
Coe looked at Karla.
“He can’t go to the Park. It’s not a dog-friendly office.”
Coe looked around the room.
“It’s not even a dog-barely-tolerated office. You’ll have to leave him here.”
Coe looked at her again, violence in his eyes.
“He’ll be fine. It’ll only be an hour.”
River, Shirley, Catherine and Coe all arrived back simultaneously. “Anything useful?” Catherine asked.
“No,” Shirley said. “Waste of time.”
“Just a bunch of Geordies who can fuck up your house move,” River said, disgust in his voice. They walked into the office proper.
“It’s kind of quiet,” Shirley observed.
Standish cocked her head on one side, listening, waving at River to close his mouth around whatever witticism he’d been about to offer. “It’s too quiet,” she said. She hastily walked up the stairs.
“Karla!” Coe called, looking at the area around and under his desk. “Karla!” He stared at River and Shirley. “Someone’s fucking kidnapped Karla.”
“Someone’s kidnapped Jackson!” Catherine nearly ran back down the stairs, though she was pleased at the low level of panic in her voice.
“I am going to fuck them up,” Coe threatened. “All of them. Whoever they are.”
There was a pause. River, held up a hand, looking thoughtful, then raised an eyebrow to Standish. “It’s Wednesday,” he said.
“So it is,” Catherine replied. “Let’s go look.”
“What’s so special about Wednesday?” Shirley asked.
Standish turned to her. “It’s all-you-can-eat buffet lunch at The Great Wall.”
“I told him,” the waiter said. “No dogs on the table. And he said … he said …”
“I said that it was Chinese food not fucking Korean,” Lamb said, looking up from where he was using chopsticks to feed Karla from a bowl of Kung-Pao Pork.
“Karla!” Coe nearly ran forward to pick up the Pomeranian. “Thought you’d been kidnapped.”
“We thought _you’d_ been kidnapped,” River said to Lamb.
“Fuck off,” Lamb said. “I’m old, fat, and slow. Not dead. I do have one question, though.”
“What?” Standish asked.
“Where’s Roddy?”
4th of May
Drink: Still no. But really tempting today.
Deaths at Slough House: Uncountable
Disgusting comments from Jackson: Also uncountable.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Bugs
The office is being swept for bugs. And also bugs. The white powder is poisonous, wash it off immediately. With water. The cyber-intelligence specialist team is just annoying, don’t attempt to wash them off with the squirty bottles spread around the office.
“How did nobody notice Roddy hadn’t been in the office for a week?” Shirley asked Standish.
“The system says that he’s on holiday.” Catherine was annoyed that she hadn’t spotted the request.
“Who around here goes on holiday?”
“Well, I thought he had. And that Jackson had approved it, which I realise now was a second mistake. I think I was enjoying the quiet too much to inspect the cause.”
There was a loud knocking from the office door.
“Nobody ever knocks on the door,” Shirley said. “Everybody either has a pass, is accompanied, or kicks the door down.”
They went down the stairs, where an envelope lay on the floor.
“It’s a ransom note,” Catherine said, opening it. “If you want to see Roderick “Roddy” Ho alive again, send 100 bitcoin to the following wallet. There’s a long set of letters and numbers.”
Shirley’s phone rang. “River,” she said, and answered it.
“Who just left the office?” River asked. “I was getting a coffee …”
Standish and Dander were standing in Jackson’s office-cum-cesspit.
“You’re telling me that the Sons of Warhan delivered a ransom note by hand, demanding payment in pretend currency?”
“It’s not pretend, it’s … crypto,” Catherine said.
“And at some point, when I really fucking well need to go to sleep, you can explain to me the difference, but for right now, do you not see the fucking inconsistency? And what about the fucker who delivered the note?”
“River is tailing him.”
“Well, that situation escalated fucking quickly.”
“What?” Shirley asked.
“Whenever Cartwright tails anyone, or has a bright idea, or even buys a fucking coffee, it ends up with a whole fucking conurbation being evacuated and a nationwide terrorist alert!”
“He doesn’t mean …” Shirley tried.
“I'd rather he did mean it. Let’s assume he’s going to fuck it up, and tell me what you know.”
“The Sons of Warhan want paying in crypto, but hand-deliver notes,” Catherine said slowly. “They kidnapped Roddy days ago, but we only got a ransom note today. Like they were waiting for something.”
“For us to notice?” Shirley asks.
“Which means they’re watching us,” Catherine said.
“Oh, come on,” Jackson said. “Tell me how.”
“They must have had someone on the ins…” Catherine’s voice trailed off. “Oh.” Shirley’s phone rang again.
“Yes? Oh. Good. Right. See you soon.”
“Did Roddy somehow manage to free himself?” Catherine asked.
“How did you know?”
Lamb and Standish stared at Shirley for a bit.
“What?” A pause. “Oh.” Another pause. “Fucking twat!”
“April fool!” Roddy said, triumphantly.
“Roddy, for one, it’s May…” River said
“Yeah, it took a while to organise. But I thought of it in April, so it counts.”
“The Sons of Warhan?” Shirley asked.
“Took a risk there, with you recognising the quote, but I operate on a higher plane.”
“Quote?” Catherine asked.
“Wait,” Roddy said. “You said ‘Warhan’. It’s ‘Sons of Warvan’! They’re not from Algeria!”
Catherine shook her head in confusion. “Jackson wants to see you, anyway, Roddy.”
“I bet he liked it,” Roddy said. He walked towards the door, then stopped. “What’s this?” he said, leaning down. “Oh! You’re Coe’s ... OW!” He jumped back. “Stupid dog!” He stormed out the door and up the stairs.
After he left, Catherine, Shirley and River just looked at each other.
"I could kiss that dog,” River said, eventually, breaking the blissful atmosphere.
Catherine pointed at a stack of manila folders. “I’ve got to arrange to have all of Roddy’s illicit monitoring removed. You two take half of that stack each. You should be done by lunch.”