8.4
“You were involved in an experimental drug trial based in the defunct Department lab complex that has since become a part of the Underground, correct?” Cillian is rattling off his first question before anyone else can respond to Agent 013 - or, Dallas. Calling him by a number feels a little dehumanizing, even if he is a criminal.
Austin glances at Rainer out of the corner of his eye, and finds them silent, anxiously drumming their fingers on their leg. He notices for the first time, that the thumb and forefinger of their right hand are prosthetic, a sleek, black mechanical fitting that moves surprisingly smoothly.
Why aren’t they saying anything? Austin furrows his eyebrows, puzzled. I guess Cillian probably outranks them, but isn’t Rainer this guy’s handler? Why would Cillian call them down here if they weren’t going to be the one asking the questions?
“I was,” Dallas says. He touches the front legs of his chair back to the ground, stands, and begins to cross his cell. His gait is easy and relaxed, his body language that of a man who knows he has all the time in the world. “But I guess you know that already, if you’ve been digging into my files.” He stops inches from the Plexiglass wall, suddenly fixating on Austin. “Hi, there. We haven’t met. You an intern?”
Austin grins, in spite of himself. “I’m Austin. Jones.”
“Greetings and salutations, Austin Jones.” Dallas returns the grin. “You’ll have to forgive me for not shaking your hand, on account of the glass wall between us.”
“Don’t talk to him,” Cillian growls. It’s impossible to tell if the sentiment is directed towards Austin or Dallas, though Austin thinks that both would be a safe guess.
“Any relation to Department President Jones?” Dallas asks, as if no one else had spoken.
Austin barely stifles a laugh. “My older brother.”
“So that makes you basically royalty around here, huh?” Dallas’s grin stretches wider across his face, and he takes a step even closer to the Plexiglass. There’s nothing in his body language to suggest it as a predatory gesture - genuine, earnest interest is coming off of him in waves.
What did he do, that they still have to keep him in here when he’s not working? Austin almost asks, but bites his tongue. It’s better if he seems like he knows what he’s doing.
“Don’t,” Cillian says, much louder than before, “talk to him. We are here to interrogate you, Agent 013, and if you don’t cooperate, you’re going to find yourself in a much smaller cell, with far less privileges than you’re currently being afforded.”
Dallas backs off a couple of steps, chuckling and lifting his hands, palm-out, in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, fine. I got excited about seeing a new face, so sue me. What else do you need to know, Director?”
“Is it true that Abbott Kilgannon was your supervisor?” Cillian asks, wasting no time getting back to the interrogation.
Rainer snaps their head sharply to the side, to look at Cillian. “What? I wasn’t told about that.”
“It’s new information,” Cillian says, “from a reliable source. We have reason to believe that Abbott still has contacts in the Underground, and may have fled there.”
“Really.” Dallas looks positively delighted by this, his eyes glittering. “What’d he do this time?”
“You knew him?” Austin asks, seizing the opportunity to get the interrogation back on track. Dallas may seem pleasant enough, but it’s clear that he wants to be in control of the conversational flow, rather than letting the agents lead.
“Yeah, I knew him,” Dallas says, and shrugs. “Director Hume was right, he was my boss. More like my boss’s boss, actually.
“And why didn’t you think that was important enough to mention?” Austin raises an eyebrow, stepping towards the glass wall. Cillian makes a sharp, displeased noise, but doesn’t move to stop him.
“Well, I was an intern, which meant little to no contact with anyone outside of my department. And I worked under the mortician, so my department was just her, and some dead bodies.” He pauses thoughtfully. “She’s still in the Underground, I’m pretty sure. And some of the other interns from that whole gig.”
“People died during a drug trial?” Austin blinks, trying to process the information.
“People died during all of Abbott’s experiments,” Cillian says dryly.
“It was just terrible, really,” Dallas says. The smile is gone from his face - he looks pensive now, almost serious. “Kind of screwed up my whole career prospects, too. I couldn’t really go and get a proper medical job with a bunch of unqualified scientists who killed people as my reference.”
“You’re also an unqualified scientist,” Rainer says, propping a hand on their hip. “You told me you dropped out of medical school.”
“Because I already knew everything I needed to know, and I had a full-time job that I thought was going to make me rich!” Dallas protests. “And then the trial ended early because part of the labs caved in, and we couldn’t get to them anymore.”
“What?” Cillian asks, his eyes wide and startled. “Did anyone -”
“Oh, no,” Dallas says. “Most of the subjects had already disappeared by that point. But after the cave-in, I didn’t really have anywhere else to go, you know, so I stuck around. And started working as a doctor again when the Underground started up. Most of the people there can’t really afford to check in at a hospital when they’re hurt, if you catch my drift.”
That makes sense, at least. Austin folds his arms over his chest, trying to look Dallas over without being too obvious about it. So he’s not a terrorist or a killer-for-hire. Just a con artist who can apparently treat other criminals well enough that he hasn’t been left in Lake Erie to drown yet. Or he’s so friendly that people don’t care when he does a bad job.
“So how did you get caught?” Austin asks. He figures he can show his hand a little as far as what he knows and what he doesn’t know, now that he’s heard Dallas’s whole sordid history.
“I didn’t,” Dallas says, “I turned myself in.”
Austin squints at him disbelievingly. “Why?”
“I heard you all were short-handed on medical staff.” Dallas shrugs again, just as easily as before. “I’m not as educated as some of the people who were already here, but I figured I could lend a hand, even if the pay’s a little worse.”
“How philanthropic of you,” Cillian mutters.
“I still don’t understand why I’m here,” Rainer says, “if Dallas - uh, Agent 013 - isn’t going anywhere.”
Cillian sighs. “Unfortunately, he is. We need someone who can guide you and Austin to the Underground, and Agent 013 is the only current entrant in the rehabilitation program who used to live there.”
“I don’t think I’m suited for the field,” Dallas says, though he looks excited at the mention of getting to leave. Austin supposes anyone would be, after being cooped up in this place for God knows how long. “Especially if you’re doing some kind of manhunt. You never did say what Abbott did.”
“He stabbed Director President Jones,” Cillian says bluntly, “and we have to bring him in as soon as possible, before he leaves town and causes us a whole mess of jurisdiction problems. Will you help Agent Jones and Agent Warcrest investigate the Underground, or not?”
“I guess I’d like the chance to stretch my legs.” Dallas looks thoughtful again, then smiles. “Hell, why not. I’ll take you. I can’t promise they’ll be too happy with me down there, though.”
“They don’t have to be,” Cillian says. “You get in, find Abbott, apprehend him, and get out. Understood?”
He looks not just at Dallas, but at Rainer and Austin, and seems satisfied to find all three nodding.
“I have to manage things here,” he continues, “but until Jacob is back to work, consider me your superior officer on this mission. Contact me if you run into any problems at all, or if you aren’t sure how to proceed. Understood?”
Everyone nods again.
“This errand has already taken far too long,” Cillian says, looking pointedly at Dallas, “so I have to head back upstairs. Agent Warcrest can take care of the release procedure, and then it’s up to Agent 013 to guide you to the Underground from there.” He moves towards the door, and pauses, looking over his shoulder at Austin. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Austin manages, before the door swings shut, and Cillian is gone.
“So!” Dallas says, practically bubbling over with cheer, clapping his hands together in front of him. “Who’s ready to infiltrate a crime ring?”