Disclaimers: not mine, or this would be canon - if I hadn't manage to cancel whole CoE day four.
As always, betaed by the wonderful SnarkyMuch2.
14 February 1966
There was something Hart had to check before starting his master plan. There had been something fishy about the whole alien chaos from the start. They had supposedly given the government the cure to the new mortal flu that was going to spread. If so, why hadn't any medics claimed to have discovered it? Saving millions people would have had a big resonance, no doubt. And the 456 couldn't exactly claim the discovery or get offended if someone else was used as a front, could they?
He knew a scam when he saw one; he had worked with Jack. If he hadn't developed a sixth sense for those kinds of things, he would've got ripped of his whole pay, worked all of his partner's shifts, and whatever else Jack came up with. But of course, he had to check to make sure.
That's why he chose a time-slot in which the higher ups where still the same of the 1965 affair. He needed to know the truth from the very same twat that had organized the trade. Everyone else would only know the reports. What do you write on your report, when all is said and done?"We've sacrificed a dozen children to get a treatment who could save the nation" -and that's what you thought you were doing. Or "We sold out a dozen children to the first aliens who phoned us in exchange for a supposed cure that was, really, less useful than saline solution. But they were just orphans, and nobody wanted them anyway, so no big deal, right?" Hart put his money on the first.
He chose Valentine's Day to do his little interrogation just for the funny side of it; he was trying to help a lovey-dovey couple stay together, after all. If his theory got no confirmation, he'd have to think of another way, but he trusted his Harkness-honed instincts.
Popping up in the UK Prime Minister's office by way of vortex manipulator was something he should do more often, John decided, if only for the panicked face it got him – very satisfying. This was the bastard who wouldn't dirty his own hands when selling out children, after all.
Before the man could call for help or activate an alarm, Hart had his wrists caught in one of his hands and was aiming at him with a gun.
"Quiet," he ordered. "I've gone to murder rehab, but it didn't really work—so cooperate and nothing will go wrong."
"What do you want?" the man whispered.
"I'm here to help a friend," John announced.
"Harkness?" the Prime Minister guessed.
The Prime Minister's eyes were sharp enough to notice that John's tech wasn't the last URSS invention, but rather, alien, futuristic, or Jack's sort of weird. There was a reason the bastard had gotten elected.
"Nah ... Ianto Jones," Hart proclaimed with a smirk.
Let them go crazy with the checking. Ianto wasn't even born yet. He was the one whose life John was trying to save. Jack could sort his own messes out, at least for now.
"So?" the man ground out.
"So … I need a bit of information from you—which I promise I won't divulge, really. Not ever. Scout's honour," Hart joked. Not that he had been scout, but he really wouldn't talk about it. If everything went like it should, this would never happen.
"What?" the politician asked.
"The 456—don't bother to deny their existence or anything. I've had contact with them too. They fooled you, right? Whatever it was they gave you, it was no miracle treatment. I'll even say whatever illness they warned you about didn't even appear. Am I wrong?" John said. He hadn't exactly met the shrimpy bastards personally, but he knew enough about them to pull off the bluff.
"If you know about them, you know I couldn't take risks—" the man began.
"I'm not saying you haven't done the sensible thing, nor criticizing your politics," John said. "I'm doing nothing but asking you a simple yes or no question. One I would like answered, so I'll know how to behave with the alien bastards myself. Don't make me lose my patience."
"Yes. We got cheated. So, they're trying it again with your people?" the Prime Minister asked. Now he looked less scared and more interested, John's threats apparently forgotten.
Hart could see the Prime Minister's brain whirling with thoughts of how to make an alliance with him and get a hold of his tech.
"Like I thought. Thank you, Prime Minister. Happy Valentine's day," John said, ignoring the question and starting up the Vortex Manipulator.
Time to begin work.