Fic: Resistance (chapter two)

[mjartrod]

Title: Resistance
Rating: Mostly PG-13 (will warn if a particular chapter has a higher rating).
Feedback: Is always welcome in any form.
Warnings: Slash, language and sex.
Summary: Matt Bellamy has always been a conspiracy theory enthusiast. But what happens when one day, as Muse are leaving Hong Kong after a gig for a month’s break, what is supposed to be a routine interrogation before boarding a flight turns into a manhunt operation where Matt unwillingly plays the main role?

Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictional, even those based on real people and material (having been altered, added or left out for dramatic purposes). I do not own Muse.

Author’s note: The idea came to me after picking up an amazing book in a bookstore a couple of months ago – Stieg Larsson’s first book of the Millennium trilogy. Go read, they're absolutely fantastic.
Would also like to thank Anya for being my beta again and for putting up with my rants and insecurities about this :p

 

One thing was certain: he was not going to stay at the airport and wait to see what happened next.


CHAPTER 2

“I’m going over there to the fans again,” Matt lifted his chin in the general direction of the group armed with cameras and wearing Muse merchandise. “Chat for a bit and take some pictures. If you’ll come along I can maybe, I don’t know, do a dash outside and try to catch a taxi to the embassy.”

“You’re mental, how is that ever going to work?” Chris clasped his hands to his head. This was all too much. “Matt, listen to me, if they want to arrest you then they won’t let you leave the airport.”

“I’ll call the taxi,” Dom declared. “You stay with the fans while I go outside on the phone and then I'll let you know when I’ve got a taxi ready for you.”

Matt quickly shook his head one side to the other, despite Dom’s resolute words. “No chance, they’ll know you’re helping me and then you‘ll be in deep shit too for being an accomplice. I'm going alone.”

“It doesn‘t matter. If the police are coming for you, then none of us is leaving Hong Kong anyway.”

Matt opened his mouth to object again, but Chris, Tom and Dom Anderson were nodding in agreement with the drummer, concurring that they should all help cover for Matt's exit.

Nervous stomachs, sweaty hands and closed fists. It was with mixed feelings that they took the escalators to the lower level, the tour manager leading. Their hearts were pounding as they marched to where the dedicated fans still stood, the enthusiastic faces – and the glassy doors to the exterior – drawing nearer. Trying his best to avoid looking uncomfortable, Matt forced a smile on his face even as the corner of his eye caught a distant security guard watching them.

“This is fucking mental,” he heard Chris mumbling by his side. “For God's sake, if they point a gun at you don’t you dare try and play the bloody hero, just do what they tell you and don’t disobey.”

Nodding anxiously as Chris squeezed his shoulder, Matt’s gaze followed Dom as he pulled out his phone and wandered gingerly to the main entrance, talking or pretending to talk to whoever.

The fans greeted them with the expected excitement but also some surprise, Tom making up an excuse on the spot, something to do with the flight being delayed. Interacting with everyone on auto-pilot, Matt’s mind couldn’t be further away; and no doubt their actions had been noticed, as two more security guards were already observing them with interest.

“You should stay for a few days longer,” a short-haired girl with an 'Absolution' hoodie said. “Hong Kong is great.”

Matt looked at the girl as if for the first time, although he had taken at least two pictures with her, and then at Dom who was already outside. “Would you do me a big, huge favour?”

Thirty seconds later, the girl and one of her friends were leaving with glowing faces and radiant smiles, making a detour towards Dom on their way out and delivering their message with a giggle. The minutes that followed went by excruciatingly slowly but when Dom turned to Matt and stared straight at him, the message loud and clear, everything happened incredibly fast. The frontman went through the sliding doors with swift steps, quickly reaching the fans who were standing by a red taxi and holding the door open for him with a grin. He flew inside and before he had a chance to protest, Dom was hopping in alongside him, shutting the door after thanking the girls. The car screeched as the driver stepped on the accelerator.

“Didn’t they find it strange that you asked them to get us a taxi to the embassy?” The blond asked, not wanting to look backwards, afraid to see the airport’s security running after them, and not wishing to divert the driver’s attention. It seemed so easy, it was almost worrying.

“I told them I’d tweet about it later, that it was a sort of treasure hunt.”

Dom couldn't stop a small smile from reaching his lips.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Matt whispered, noticing the taxi driver looking at them both through the rear view mirror. Stealing a quick glance outside, there seemed to be some commotion at the airport entrance. Though of course he could be imagining things, and it was just the regular agitation at departures.

“I’ll be there to play the role of the sane one,” Dom patted his knee, Matt feeling his muscles relax slightly. “We're going to be laughing about this tomorrow in London, how we smuggled you out of Hong Kong’s airport because someone played a stupid prank on you and you thought you were getting arrested.”

Somehow Matt had a hard time believing that.


They hadn’t been on the road for more than a few minutes when the driver addressed them, speaking in halting English.

“Is English embassy or consulate?” He was met with bemusement from both men in the back. “Different entrance.”

“Oh, uh...” The one with brown hair and the weird grey coat turned to the other in the leather jacket, scratching the back of his neck. “That would be the embassy, yeah? I, uh, forgot some papers there. Can you get us there as soon as possible? 'Cos we don’t wanna miss our flight.”

“Yes, yes,” he picked up the radio transmitter. “I ask now direct way.”

In the back of the taxi, Matt twirled his black iPhone in his hand, any minute expecting a call from the Hong Kong authorities demanding that he turn himself in, naming him as a suspect in some case, probably something he had never heard of. Mentions of triads and unknown people at the interrogation were doing his head in. He was at least secretly happy that Dom was there. The drummer had been right: even if Matt could've manage to get to the embassy without any problems, he would’ve had a difficult time explaining everything by himself. He didn’t even have ID.

The loud ringing of his iPhone startled him and he furrowed his brow in confusion at the identity of the caller on the display.

“What does Carla want? She can’t be serious, talking about my investments now.”

“Carla?” Dom looked down at the buzzing device. “You mean your financial manager? In England?”

“Hello?” He picked up the call. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, how are you? Um, yeah, not the best time to talk, can I call you back later? Eh? Okay, what is it then?” He paused. “A transfer of funds? What transfer, how would I know? You know I don’t keep up with any of that.”

Dom couldn't help but look at Matt when his band mate paused again to listen to the female voice on the other end of the line, and he could swear he saw his face blanch. Matt didn’t say a word for ages but then Dom was distracted by the incoming SMS alert on his own iPhone. Morgan had texted him. Muse's touring fourth member had gone on to the gate with the rest of the crew at the airport, while he, Chris, Tom and Anderson waited for Matt; the drummer wondered whether Morgan was even aware of what was going on. And then his heart skipped a beat when he read the short message, evidently typed in a hurry-

Run to embassy, don’t get caught, police arresting us all

“Listen Carla, I’m gonna call you back in a minute, okay?” By his side, Dom heard Matt hanging up and leaning forward to the driver. “Can you pull over now? Over there? Change of plans.” And he turned to Dom. Eyes wide and pale as a ghost, he was clearly distraught about something.

“Embassy, stop in embassy,” was the driver’s answer.

“What? No, no, no. You stop here, now,” Matt pointed to the floor, indicating he wanted to leave at that exact point. “We’re not going there anymore.”

The middle aged driver was showing signs of nervousness all of a sudden, glancing between the rear view mirror, the road, the radio. Dom looked outside as well - was he actually speeding? And in the middle of the chaotic traffic?

“Listen, mate,” Matt was decidedly edgy now, his voice louder; he had noticed the same as Dom. “Pull the fuck over, we want to leave now!”

“I take you to embassy!”

Dom’s head darted one side to the other as he searched outside for something that would justify the man’s behaviour. And then he understood when his eyes landed on the radio transmitter: he had obviously received instructions to drive them to God knew where. How foolish they had been for thinking they could have gotten away so easily!

Matt was already yelling at the driver, about to reach for the steering wheel, when Dom grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him back down, fearing they’d be thrown head first though the windshield.

“Stop it, you’ll make us crash!”

Matt threw him a furious look but then the taxi took a sudden, sharp turn. Sliding in a bundle across the seat and against the door on Dom’s side, they held on as best they could as the man slammed on the brakes and the car came to an abrupt halt.

An enormous traffic jam was blocking the whole street and Dom didn’t waste a second: he pushed the door open and they both stumbled out before the driver could lock them in. They were already sprinting across the road when the man jumped out, gesticulating and shouting in Cantonese, zigzagging through the vehicles while grasping each other by the arm. Dom held the strap of the laptop bag tightly for fear of losing it.

Matt led them blindly along the streets, not having a clue where he was going, and after turning a corner, they landed in a crowded avenue. They blended in with the mass of people that filled the sidewalks, shops with flashy window displays on both sides of the road and an endless sea of signs in Cantonese above their heads reminding them how far away from home they were.

Doggedly ignoring the sirens and honking that came from the area they had fled, for several minutes they didn’t exchange a word; simply walking at a fast pace, breathing hard as their hearts raced, keeping their heads down and avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Morgan texted,” Dom broke the silence as he handed Matt his own phone so he could read the message for himself. The singer didn’t say anything, wiping his nose nervously and glancing around as he returned the item. “Why can’t we go to the embassy anymore?” The blond finally asked.

“Carla says the police, our police, contacted her just now because of some funds in my account,” his voice was rough as he spoke in one breath. “Think they wanted to know where the money came from, I don’t know, I wanted to get out of that fucking car first...” Matt had taken out his iPhone again and was placing it to his ear. “Pick up, pick up, come on!” He urged out loud, suddenly turning on to another busy street and grabbing Dom’s arm, nearly making him trip. “Yes, Carla, it’s me, tell me what’s going on. Hold on, hold on a sec,” he selected the speakerphone function and nodded at Dom, holding the device between the two of them. “You can talk now.”

“I asked,” Matt’s financial manager continued, “were you expecting any funds to be credited to your account? From New York? Royalties, I don’t know. Anything.”

“How much money did you say that was again? Not sure I heard right.”

“Seven million, Matt. It was credited yesterday.”

“Dollars?”

“Pounds.” Dom's jaw nearly dropped at this announcement. They could afford to build at least three more stage sets for their current tour with that amount. “The police were here this morning, about an hour ago,” she continued. “I had barely arrived in the office. They had all your account details, they knew the exact amount that had been transferred and wanted to know where it came from.”

“What did you tell them?”

“This isn’t Switzerland, Matt, you know our laws aren’t very protective of the client’s rights when the authorities are involved and in a case like this... “

“Am I being investigated, is that what it is?” Matt exclaimed in disbelief.

“I don’t know anything, I’m sorry. I could only tell them that I was sure that it had to be related to the band’s activities and it’s all legal.” There was a pause. “Tell me you were expecting this transaction and that there isn’t anything wrong with it.”

“I’ve no idea where that money came from!” He roared. “We’d be doing gigs on the moon if I got transfers like that all the time!”

“I’ve asked your accountants in the mean time, by the way, but everyone’s clueless.”

“Can’t you try and find out where it comes from?”

“I’ll try but I don’t know how long that will take, could be a couple of hours.”

Matt exchanged a look with Dom. “Call me as soon as you find something out, it doesn’t matter the hour.”

“I thought you were flying back to London today? I was expecting you for that meeting we set for tomorr-“

“I’m still in Hong Kong, I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” He bit his lip. “See what you can find and call me as soon as possible. Please, it’s very urgent.”

They walked side by side in silence after he hung up, Matt checking his bank account online via his phone, confirming everything Carla had said. It was clear to Dom why Matt didn’t want to go to the embassy anymore. Whatever this was, it was big, and the police back home were in on it as well. If they had managed to fly to England, they probably would have had quite the welcoming committee on their arrival...

“It could be a mistake,” Dom offered weakly.

“Someone is setting me up,” Matt began, putting the phone in his pocket. “That money’s not mine but someone transferred it to my account to make it seem like I stole it, or were being paid for doing something, and in a ridiculously obvious way, too. It’s not mine!” He angrily repeated. “I’m not going anywhere until I know exactly what I’m being accused of and why.”

“What we need is to call our lawyers.”

“Those bloody idiots?” He laughed bitterly. “They’d tell me straight away to turn myself in!”

“Have you wondered if maybe that isn’t such bad advice?” Dom suggested, facing Matt cautiously. This was starting to seem worryingly complex, but what could they possibly achieve by wandering around Hong Kong without knowing what was going on and without anyone to ask for help?

“Are you actually telling me I should voluntarily go to them and say,” the singer stretched out his wrists, “'Here, arrest me, take me to court and sentence me to a lifetime in prison.'?! Don’t you see this must be a fucking monumental scam? They even went so far as to deposit all that bloody money in my account!”

“Matt.” Dom turned left as they went by a narrow alley. Tall buildings with laundry drying over balconies surrounded them, and he leaned back against a grimy wall, hands on his hips. “We have two options: we can go to the embassy, though fuck knows where we are now and how far away that is, so we can try to get help and rid you of this nonsense; or we can wander around and eventually get caught by the Hong Kong police, which could get complicated. Do you even know anything about the legal system here or how extradition works?”

“I don’t even know what I’m being accused of!” Matt flailed, eyes flashing outrage. “But it’s worth seven million fucking quid, so it can’t have been something good!”

“It could be nothing but a huge misunderstanding, we’re jumping to conclusions without knowing anything.”

“You think this is all a coincidence, then?”

The twinge of sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed by Dom. “I don’t know, Matt.” He was sceptical, but they couldn't completely rule that chance out yet. “But we won’t be able to stay on the run for long, and we can’t leave the country as you don’t have a passport. And probably everyone from the police here and back in England are looking for you...”

“Fuck you! I can’t believe you’re telling me this!” Matt exploded, twirling on the spot, back towards Dom as he looked up, before turning to him again. “I have to know what I’m dealing with here before I even try and contact someone. Don’t you get it? I already lied anyway!” His eyes shimmered. “I told them that I spent the night of the tennis in Melbourne alone in my room and it’s fucking obvious now they knew it was a lie! I’ve given them another reason to doubt me and worse – do you know what this means, Dom? Do you? It means I’m being watched! Someone’s been watching me, fuck knows why and for how long!”

Dom rubbed his temples, Matt’s dramatics and paranoia kicking in big time and already taking their toll. “Why would they care what you did that night, Matt?” He reasoned. “Why would it matter? Would it change anything if you told them the truth?”

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? What if they’re charging me with a murder? They asked me about some Chinese dude and a triad! Maybe they were checking if I had an alibi. And in that case they wouldn’t believe you anyway, they’d think you were only trying to protect me, and of course nobody else knew where we were to corroborate.” Silence followed his words and when the singer spoke again, his voice was more reserved. “They asked me about my laptop. There must be something on there they’re after, I need to sit down and check it.” He pointed to the bag Dom carried, the drummer sighing. “I don’t have a passport, Dom, but you do.”

“Matt...“

“If you want to leave now, do what you think is best. I won’t stop you and I'll respect any decision you make. I’ve made mine, but you don’t have to make the same one.”

He seemed so serious and solemn that Dom had to smile. “Don’t be daft. You really think I could ever leave you out here alone?”