Fake friendships | 11

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"The Wilchester is an institution based in France that got in trouble with the French police for creating explosives

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"The Wilchester is an institution based in France that got in trouble with the French police for creating explosives. The man who ran it got arrested in early 2009 and has since been released from prison 1 year ago." Will looks up at me, and as our eyes connect, I know we're thinking the same thing.

If the Moreau's are funding a company, maybe that's what the Wilchester is? Maybe they are giving the money so that the explosives can be made? I breathe in deeply. This isn't just a brief anymore, we could be dealing with real lives.

"How did you find this out?" My voice croaks, while I ignore the deep pit of worry settling in the bottom of my stomach.

He sits down onto his bed and runs his hands through his dishevelled hair, making it stick up in uneven places. "I found it online."

"So Mr. Moreau is funding a weaponry company?" I say loudly, and Will's hand is rapidly placed onto my mouth.

"Jesus! Would you keep your mouth shut? You're not supposed to be here. We could get suspended, you know."

I glare at him, before swiping my tongue against his hand, causing him to yell loudly. "Everyone knows that's what you're supposed to do when someone puts their hand over your mouth. Now who's the one yelling?"

He wipes his hand on the back of his trousers. "I did not yell."

"Uh, you did."

"I most certainly did not."

"Uhhh...you did."

"Uhhh...I did not."

"Fine!" I hiss, reeling back when I realise our close proximity. "Can we please just get back to what we were saying? We need to tell Rivers this information. Pronto."

5 minutes later, we're sitting at his desk, waiting for Rivers to pick up the Facetime call. But when the call connects, we're surprised to see Yates sitting on a chair, in a dim lit room. "Rivers is away, what's up?"

"I found a lead on The Wilchester." Will announces, looking surprisingly nervous as he recounts the information that he found earlier.

Yates looks unfazed when Will finishes. He's wearing a cream ti-shirt while his hair is messily swept upwards. It's strange to see him without a suit and combed back hair. Normally we're used to seeing the professional, immaculate appearance that rarely changes.

"We found that out, William." He says, almost patronisingly. "But thank you for letting us know."

Will visibly deflates, like a deluded fledgling flown into an empty nest. "Oh. Okay, no worries."

After filling Yates in on what we've been up to, we end the call and sit in silence, staring at the closed laptop. "You did everything you could, Will." I tell him softly, putting a hand on his arm.

He tenses. "Yeah."

"Think about it, you found the same information as the top MI5 agents. And you did it by yourself, without any gadgets or-"

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