Page 41 of Drift

“No fibre was found to say gloves were worn, yet the pads to the fingertips were distorted. I’ve seen similar before, mostly with officers in the field. The marking suggest acid has been used to burn away identity. No gloves needed.”

Now wasn’t that… interesting. They had a potential witness with fingerprints burned away. “Thank you. I’m on my way to pick up the samples and results.” They wouldn’t ever stay with MI5 no matter how long he’d worked with them.

He was also delaying talk with Jack over Jude, over Cutter, and using murder to do it, but…

“Fuck. Cutter.” He rubbed at his head after he cut the call.

Just what the hell were you thinking, Mart?

Chapter 13

WHERE THOUGHTS LEAD

As Gray stepped out of his Mercedes, a deep meow off the cat drew his look back to the fountain and how its lights lit up the darkness of home. From under the shelter of the concrete rim, the Maine came over and rubbed at his leg a moment later, and Gray lightly nudged her away with his knee. He wasn’t fooled. She tried to push his buttons, so he ignored her party tricks.

“He put you out, huh?” He caught Jack’s long-since cooled down Mercedes close by. Yeah, Gray knew he’d taken longer than needed to get back from retrieving the samples. “C’mon.” He locked up his own car after he took out his case. “Time to earn your keep, cat. Look after Jan and keep Jack pinned down long enough for us to talk Cutter to him, okay?” Head down, he glanced over to Light’s summerhouse, to the tent peg and how it marked the last place Martin had stood.

“When you do get in there,” he said gently, “make sure your bullying hold is long enough to give them all something to hold on to….”

Gray pushed on through to the kitchen, but only the soft hum of the fridge-freezer kept him company, and he glanced around for a moment before taking his case through to the Oval and locking it away. Back in the kitchen as the Maine stalked her food bowl, Gray headed over to the fridge and poured a glassof ice water. A slice of lemon encased in an ice cube slipped in next, he took a walk down the long hall to his reception area, ear turned for any sound beyond ice touching glass. Today had been such a long, long day.

How Jack’s work boots and leather jacket kept Jan’s long mac company by the door, Jack was definitely home as well, but the quiet surrounding the reception area and beyond was startling. Jan’s office sat two doors away from the Oval, and the light from under the rim called he was in there. After the trip to Thames House and ensuring all data was erased from their files, it touched seven thirty, and Gray had gotten no call off Jack that said Jan had heard about Jason or Chris’s accident. Shaun wouldn’t rush it with Monique, and he’d have Doctor Halliday reviewing the care plan, which was no doubt why Jack’s appointment with him had been cancelled this morning. Accident notifications also took time. But by now, Jack would usually be kitchen bound, even with ordering in and getting plates ready for dinner. Yet only the ticking of Ed’s old grandfather clock from down the hall spoke nothing was wrong with life’s routine.

Gray took a sip of his water, then slipped off his coat, easing it next to Jack’s and Jan’s on the coat stand. He snorted down at the old pair of Doc Marten’s and the trademark scuff at the left steel toecap. Only Jack could manage to scuff his way through steel. He really needed a new pair but getting him to change routine and comfort zones…? Yeah. That was a fight no one would win.

Flickering off the Flatscreen TV came from the lounge, and Gray tilted his head to how no sound came from the semi-darkness, just a hint of cigarettes smoke as he got a little closer.

Jan lived for disaster movies with full on surround sound. Jack wasn’t into movies, certainly never the silent variety, so seeing an old black and white ofDer Himmel über Berlinhad him tilting his head as he went in.The literal German translation was The Heaven Over Berlin, but the non-literal,Wings Of Desire,set the scene for the later modern adaption ofCity of Angels, and its iconic track “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls. Although Gray preferred Peter Gabriel’s “I Grieve” from the album.Der Himmel über Berlinwas unique in itself: mirroring the angel’s life in black and white, how removed he was from human existence: taste, touch, love, fear, sadness, risk-taking, and all the colour that came with it, right until he took the fall for his trapeze artist. Then on screen, life exploded into colour for him, bringing the multi-modal dynamic of script, sound, cinematography, acting skills, and move from black and white to colour into one potent package.

It remained a classic for a reason.

No sound drifted through the living room, only the German subtitles adding to the silent-movie quality as shadow images flickered around the walls, and Gray tilted his head.

Now this… this was… different.

“City of Angelsdidn’t do it justice,” Gray said softly, his look going to the settee, more what played out on there. “No subtle tease on the head and heart with the change in modes.”

“Huh?” Jack’s head came up off the arm of the settee, and he choked out a soft laugh, a “Fuck” before dropping his head back down and taking a long draw on his cigarette as he lay there. “Put some bloody sound behind those footsteps, Gray. You’re off the culler clock now. Christ.” A hand went to his chest. “Give me a fucking heart attack, why don’t you.”

Gray laughed softly before he took another sip of water and went over.

Garage coveralls gone, barefooted, black hair soft and shower-fresh, Jack lay with his head back, eyes closed up to the ceiling as the long draw on his cigarette lit up the flickering shadows sweeping his body. T-shirt distractedly pulled up, leaving his abs on display with a slight damp sheen to them, he’d long since opened the buttons to his jeans, exposing the fine down of pubic hair. Jeans sat low on his ass, exposing a half-moon of the tanned curves to the cushions and telling tales on how he’d been writhing and twisting, losing himself to… himself and the shadows dancing in the lounge.

Indecent, yet comfortable in his home setting. Ghosting the halls, yet claiming everything as his in the quiet of it.

And this… this was what Gray would pay the devil to have here each time he came home.

Jack went handsfree with the cigarette, taking it in his mouth and conducting his heavy breathing. As he drifted a hand from his heart down over his abs, heading for the gap in his jeans, Gray paused only for a moment to put his drink on the coffee table before he leaned in.

He stole Jack’s cigarette, taking a draw in on it, and Jack grinned up at him.

“Better on the head and tongue.”

“Hmm?” murmured Gray, looking down to where his hand stroked at the offer of tanned skin in the gap in his jeans.

“Der Himmel über Berlin. Es ist besser für Kopf und Zunge…. The silence is just… better for the head and getting my tonguearound pronunciation. No sound helps, forcing me to focus on sounding the translations out.”

Gray traced a touch over the light sheen of sweat coating Jack’s abs. A soft hiss came, a slight shift up off hips into the touch, and Jack instantly let his own hand run beneath the open buttons on his jeans, cupping his own cock.

---