Title: I, spy

Ianto didn't recognise the number calling his phone. That wasn't unusual of course. Jack had called him any number of times from random people's landlines, pilfered mobile phones and public call boxes - what few of them still remained. It was half a wonder he could even remember Ianto's number, since he mostly just hit the number one on his speed dial. He secretly loved how much it irked Gwen only being number two, having asked him how he came to be at the top of Jack's list. I was here first, he'd tell her, to which she'd reply, yeah, but Suzie and Tosh and Owen were here before you. Shouldn't that make him four? And now that they were gone, wasn't he the one programming them into every new phone Jack got? He'd just grin. Muscle memory, Gwen. Four still comes before five. Best not to upend Jack's world too much. It was already upended quite enough on a good day.

He pressed the answer button and held it to his ear, mentally preparing himself for anything. 'Hello?'

'Is this Mr Jones?'

'Yes...' he replied slowly.

'Mr Ianto Jones?'

Ianto sighed at the foreign female accent on the other end of the line. 'Yes, but before you go on can I just say that I already donate to charity, my electricity and gas are being charged to me at the most competitive rates possible, and as for whether I'm concerned about what lies ahead of me in the afterlife, I'm actually not concerned at all, which given the line of work I'm in is really saying something. So please, whatever it is you're trying to market to me, thank you, but I'm really not interested.'

'You really do not like telemarketers, do you, Mr Jones?'

Ianto grinned at the astute observation. 'Not particularly, and I'm the kind of guy who's generally nice to everyone.'

'That is not a very nice way to speak to someone who helped you not become some great splat on the ground in the middle of a very crappy city in western Turkey. Even if some of it could do with being knocked down.'

Ianto did a double take, finally placing the voice on the other end of the line. 'Zeynep? Is that you?'

'Yes, Mr Jones. How are you?'

'Uh, good,' he stuttered. 'I'm really good. How about you? It's really good to hear from you.'

'Are you sure about that?' he could almost hear her eyes squinting disbelievingly at him.

'Yes!'

'So, you'll make an exception for me because I have sold you something before?'

'No, I'll make an exception for you because you saved my life and that of about fifty other people but helping me not crash a spaceship.'

Zeynep gave a brief chuckle. 'My daughter was very glad to hear that you had not killed Star Seven. I think she would have cried for a week if they had been.'

'So would a lot of people, I imagine. Not me, of course. Not really into pop bands, myself. Except Abba, who are quite possibly the greatest band ever...but,' he paused, realising that not only was he rambling on, but he was also probably lowering himself in her esteem. He cleared his throat loudly. 'Anyway... Where were we?'

'You were telling me how you dislike telemarketers.'

'Ah, yes.'

'How would you like it if people were rude to you all day and accused you of not being who you said you were and that you were not calling from Dublin?'

'But you aren't calling from Dublin.'

'That is not the point. I could be but you just assume that because I do not speak like funny Irish person that I am not here.'

'I've just run a trace on this call so I know you're calling from Izmir.'

'Oh.' There was a tone of surprise at that. 'With your fancy Torchwood software?'

Ianto rolled his eyes. 'Yes, with my fancy Torchwood software.'

'Are you fibbing, Mr Jones?'

'Are you?' he countered.

'Wait a minute. You just pretended to know where I was calling from, didn't you?'

Ianto smiled despite himself. 'More an educated guess. Why would you be calling from anywhere else?'

'Fair point.'

'Unless of course you were calling to say you were in town and needed some tips on what to see and do around Cardiff, in which case you would be speaking to the 2008 winner of the Welsh Tourist Board's best tourism information operator. They gave me a little glass trophy and everything.' He could picture it sitting prominently on the counter upstairs, right next to the visitor's book which encouraged people to leave feedback on their experience and the usefulness of the travel advice they received.

'I am very pleased for you, Mr Jones, but you are correct in saying that I am still in lovely, polluted, not so very nice to live in, Izmir.'

'Not applying for the Izmir Tourism Board's award this year I take it?' he jested.

'I do not think we have tourism board here, but if we did, I would not want their job.'

'Well, it's very nice to get a call from you Zeynep but I can't imagine why you'd want to speak to me.'

'Perhaps I just find your sense of humor amusing.'

'I doubt it. Unless you count screaming for my life entertaining. Some people would, mind.' He settled back in his chair behind the desk, looking around to see if Gwen was lurking, wondering who he was having such a long conversation to, but finding her nowhere in the vicinity. 'So, why are you calling?'

'I am calling because I need your super spy help.'

Ianto pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned his elbows forward on the desk. 'Zeynep, I thought I already told you. I'm not a spy. I just told you that at the time because it was easier than trying to explain what I actually do.'

'So, you are not a spy, really?'

'Really,' he replied, staring at the blue screen saver swirling around.

'But you work with spies, yes?' Zeynep replied, undeterred by his response.

'I serve the coffee,' he clarified.

'To the spies.'

'Yes. I am the official spy coffee server-er. Um, sort of.'

'That is all you do? You nearly crash a spaceship but you still only serve coffee to the real spies?'

'I do other things!' he replied, feeling offended at the belittling of his key duties. Coffee was very important, especially around here. The Torchwood empire might have fallen long ago were it not for King Ianto and his bringing of caffeine salvation to the masses.

'Huh,' Zeynep huffed sounding disappointed. 'Just not spying.'

He sighed. 'Look, I think we all know how my attempt at spying panned out.' With him in hospital with a busted leg, vital data stick from Ephraim Salt surrendered to Jack whilst he'd been knocked out on painkillers and forced to limp back to Cardiff under his own steam and confess to the team that he'd gone rogue and that it hadn't gone well. Ianto stopped and frowned for a moment. 'Hang on, why do you need help?'

'Water cooler at work is empty and needs refilling. Thought it was right up your alley.'

'Har har.'

'So, you want to know because you will help me?' There was such a tone of hopefulness in her voice that he could hardly say no.

'I don't even know what it is you want help with.'

'Neither do I. That is why spies are needed.'

'We're not spies!'

'Mr Jones.' Ianto cringed at the way she said it, like the school principal lecturing his naughty schoolboy self. 'I saw your computer database. If you are not spies, then you are very close. Who, other than spies, has fancy plans for a spaceship that they don't even own?'

'Point taken.' Truthfully, having, or at least being able to access a copy, of the Sky Puncher ship schematics was the least of what Torchwood could get their paws on. It was embarrassing how easy it was for them to get even the most classified information with just a few keystrokes. Ianto reached for a pen from his caddy and clicked it on, flipping his faithful notepad to a fresh page and letting the pen hanged poised over it. 'Okay, so go ahead and tell me whatever it is. I'm all ears.'

'Big American company come to Izmir. Don't ask me why. Still nothing here. Even the crashed spaceship was taken away. Not even make for a good tourist attraction. When Ephraim Salt's call centre went bust, I ended up getting new job here.'

'Congratulations.'

'Not so much better than call centre but pay is okay and my manager doesn't screen my calls. That is a definite plus.'

'So, you could be calling some Chippendale chat hotline the company's dime but instead you called me?'

'I haven't asked you what you are wearing yet, Mr Jones,' she replied coyly.

'Isn't that my line? Besides, Jack isn't here so you can rest assured I am fully clothed.'

'And at least you will not have to worry about any heavy breathing on the phone this time. Unless of course spies have same problem at their end.'

Ianto scoffed at the suggestion. 'Trust me, if calls got cut off on account of a little heavy breathing around here, no one would ever finish a phone call. So, you were saying?'

'Yes, anyway, lots of talk in papers how American company will be good for the city. Bring lots of new jobs and investment into Izmir.'

Ianto quirked an eyebrow. 'Didn't I read somewhere recently about your president threatening to send Americans and their allies back home in pine boxes if they interfered in Turkish affairs?' Zeynep was right. The Turkish Tourism Board was one job no one would want in a political environment like that.

'Government says many things. More loudly they say something, less likely it is they actually do anything about it. What they do not say is much more important. Nobody wants headlines in the newspaper about all the things they do that they shouldn't be. All meant to be hush-hush.'

'Which of course you know because you've heard them saying it.'

'I get the feeling you are mocking me, Mr Jones.'

'Me? Never.'

'Anyway, company CEO is very flashy. Likes to be friends with everyone. Comes round every day and says hello to all us little people. Always in the news as well. Never met anyone who likes being the center of attention like that. Must be American thing.'

'Obviously you haven't met my boss,' Ianto quipped.

'Tall man in big army coat? You forget up already meet him here in Izmir?'

'Oh.' Somehow Ianto had repressed that particular part of his memory, rather wishing he could have forgotten the entire incident. Too late for retcon now.

'He looked very dashing carrying you into hospital,' Zeynep said. 'You, not so much dashing. Better when I imagine you over the phone as slick 007 super spy saving a crashing spaceship.'

Ianto cringed at that. Jack always looked very dashing, even if Ianto wouldn't admit it out loud. As for the Sky Puncher, it seemed he was never going to be allowed to live that down. Filing paperwork and making coffee was much more his speed. 'Hospital scrubs are not exactly flattering, nor are blood soaked suits. You really didn't get me at my best.'

'What are you wearing now?'

'Are we still talking on script or am I meant to now describe to you in detail how I'm slowly undressing myself?' He couldn't imagine a less sexy conversation. Better when Jack hid up in the boardroom and used the hub wide intercom to do it. Now that was sexy.

'Anyway, Now crazy American CEO has organised big concert to be held in Izmir with lots of celebrities. Says it will put Izmir on the map and bring more companies here. But who is he kidding? What fancy popstar is going to come here?'

'One who gets paid a lot of money to turn up. You never know, he might book Star Seven.'

'You know, even Turkish singers do not come here. My mother in law, she says she could be famous singer in Izmir.'

'Can she sing?'

'Like blender full of feral cats. If she is singer I could be like Britney Spears.'

'She lipsyncs.'

'And gets paid lots of money for it. If I got paid that kind of money I could learn a few dance steps and move my mouth, too.'

Ianto gave another eye roll as he twirled the pen between his fingers. 'And the fans would go wild. Okay, so big American company putting on a showcase to boost economic growth in Izmir. Not seeing what's so strange yet.' In fact, he had almost nothing written down, not even a name of this company or its CEO and had resorted to doodling in the margins.

'Building big new stadium for the event. Seat one hundred thousand people.'

'Well, you complained that no one ever fixes up anything there. Sounds like there'll be room enough for everyone in Izmir to go.'

'Ah, now you see here is problem. Tickets already sold out.'

'Bummer. Your daughter must be devastated. Bet you wish I'd gotten that autograph now.'

'I ask my manager, is there staff discount? Is there special website or code to buy? She says she doesn't know but what is the point if it's sold out already? But strange thing? No one I know is going. No one in Izmir has bought ticket.'

'You know everyone in Izmir.' He said it so deadpan that she couldn't possibly mistake it for incredulity.

'Is not huge place, Mr Jones. Ask enough people and you might as well know everyone.'

'Okay I admit it's a little odd that someone wants to hold a concert in a city that can't even get tickets. Then again, maybe it's more of a business expo, getting other business owners to invest in the city.'

'You need fancy popstars for that?'

'Well... these kinds of corporate junkets always have an entertainment element to them.' He didn't dare verbalise any suggestion that perhaps Izmir's red light district wasn't quite what the punters might want when they gone schmoozed.

'Let me ask you something, Mr Jones, and I know maybe you can't answer because it's all top secret spy business, but those people who were here to trying to crash your spaceship and blow up the city, did you ever find them?'

Ianto pulled a face. On that front The Committee had kind of melded away into the background without a trace. It had been so long since any of them had found anything odd that they could connect to The Committee that they'd virtually forgotten about them altogether. 'Well, not exactly, but-'

'And so there is a chance that if they were here before, then maybe they might come back here again?'

'I suppose, but-'

'And that if you wanted not to attract too much attention, you would not do it in big city like New York or London, but you might pick sad little dump of Izmir?'

'I... can't deny that's a possibility.'

'Then will you please come? I would not call you but I don't to know who else can help. Something fishy is definitely going on.'

Ianto sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. 'I do have a job, you know. I can't just leave it whenever I want.'

'Being big important server of coffee to real spies and all,' Zeynep quipped. 'Must be very hard for you to take holidays.'

'I-' he bit the inside of his lip, resisting the urge to say something vitriolic, or admit that Torchwood really didn't do holidays and that he could really do with two weeks off somewhere sunny. 'Okay. But I need to run it past my boss, first. And chances are, if it really is as big as you say, he's going to want to come along as well.' And Gwen, he didn't add. As if she was going to stand for being left behind to babysit the hub and Cardiff.

'That sounds very much like you are spy on probation.'

'Maybe.' He was only sort of maybe getting the hang of all this Torchwood business. There were still plenty of days where he only came home in one piece - not shot with an alien laser or whacked in the head with a flying bottle - because someone else had shouted "get down!" or "look out!" or just dragged him out of harm's way altogether. Just once he'd like to be able to come in and say "I've got a lead on case" or "I've got the deadly alien in my cross hairs and you'd better duck unless you want me to splatter you both against the wall".

'What is the name of this company?' Ianto asked, temporarily shelving fantasies of being the heroic, save the day one on the team.

'Erebus Enterprises. That's E for echo, R for Romeo, E for-'

'Yes, yes, I can spell it. That call centre training never goes away, does it?'

'Just trying to help.'

Ianto scratched the name down, underlining it because he knew almost nothing about it, which made him worry even more. A flashy CEO running a big American company that had somehow flown under his radar? Unlikely and suspicious. 'Okay, let me do a little background research on this,' he promised.

'And then you come to Izmir?'

'If I find anything that warrants it, which there might not be,' he qualified. 'Still got to get the okay from Jack, remember? I'm not booking flights just yet.'

'Okay, but when you do, do not book hotel called the Comfort Inn. Reasonable rates but comfortable is one thing it is not. I would suggest staying with my mother in law before there, and she is stinky old bat and the spare room bed is like bed of nails.'

'Thanks for the TripAdvisor review.' He was about to make a joke about in laws when he saw Gwen come sailing back into the hub, eyeing him immediately on the phone and mouthing the words "is that Jack?". 'Okay, be in touch soon.'

'Planning a holiday?' Gwen asked.

Ianto beamed at her. 'I wish,' he replied, saying no more.

'Anything happen while I was out?'

'Nope. Just me and the pterodactyl hanging out.'

'Oh. Okay,' she said, settling at her desk on the opposite side of the hub.

Ianto lowered his eyes and opened up a new search window, typing the words "Erebus Enterprises". Time for Double O Jones to find out a little bit more about Zeynep's new employer.