Black Cloud- Prologue
Bill Buchanan had known that the day was going to be far from easy.
As Director of Operations at the Counter Terrorist Unit, Los Angeles, he liked to think he'd developed a sense for danger; there were times he could almost see a shadow descending slowly from the heavens to settle stubbornly above the uniform grey building. He had seen glimpses of said shadow lurking conspicuously over the past few weeks. At first he hadn't been sure, but a fax from Division soon confirmed his worst suspicions.
The group was working out of Boston, supposedly plotting to shut down the entire American intelligence community, starting with CTU. Why they had chosen to go about it in such a way remained anyone's guess, but the higher ups at Langley had been breathing down the necks of every unit Director since the alert was issued.
Seating himself at his desk, Bill could remember his exact words in response to the threat. That hadn't been a good day, either, but for other, more personal reasons. One of his team, indeed one of the best the agency had ever seen, had chosen that day to hand in their resignation. The fax from Division had been the last thing Bill had needed, and had only served to aggravate his ever present headache.
The letter sat before him now, demanding to be read even though by now he knew the contents off by heart. He just couldn't bring himself to file it away, or forward it, or accept it. Oh, he'd accepted it. In the physical sense at least. He just wouldn't, couldn't, believe it. Placing a folder on top of it, Bill began typing at his computer, logging in through the various security screens until he reached his desktop.
The hourlies blinked up at him, demanding to be read. Normally he allowed them his customary skim read but now he would have to be more thorough. Agencies were working together closer than they had ever needed to before in their short history; there was no room for complacency now that they themselves were the ones under threat. Reading through them, Bill saw little of interest and was about to file them away when something towards the bottom of the screen caught his eye, just as his desk phone started to ring.
"Buchanan." He spoke crisply, instinctively splitting his attention between the two tasks, continuing to read as a voice in his ear asked him would he please hold for Hal Turner. Bill scowled; he'd met the Boston Director once and that had been enough to form a lasting, if distasteful, impression of the other man. While he waited, he found what he was looking for and enlarged it so that it filled the whole screen. His eyes widened in a mixture of shock, anger and complete confusion.
"Bill, this is Hal Turner," came the unmistakable nasal tones, cutting through Buchanan's thoughts. "I'm sorry to trouble you, what with the threat you guys have just received... anyway," he said hastily, sensing that the older man was not in the mood for digression, "I trust you've read the latest inter-agency hourlies?"
"I have and I'm not at all happy, I can assure you. Who cleared this?"
"Langley." Turner spoke the word with some trepidation; it was enough to put a stop to any argument forming in Buchanan's mind. He sagged in his chair, grateful for the privacy of his office. "Damn it," he muttered. "Where do they get off on this sort of thing?"
He could almost hear Hal shrug. "Search me. They want it done as soon as possible, preferably yesterday. You know what they're like," he added unnecessarily. "I'm as happy about it as you are." The comment did not fill Buchanan with much hope; sighing, he thanked Hal and brought the call to and end, his mind already working on the next stage of the process.
Pushing himself into a standing position, he walked over to the window and glanced down at the floor. He could see various agents busy at their stations; the sight calmed him somewhat, reminded him that, here at least, he was the one in control.
He switched his sights to the office across from his, that of his head of field ops. The light was off, the younger man having not yet arrived for the day. Bill knew that he too occasionally stood by the window, albeit for a different reason entirely. The Director took a moment to sweep his gaze once more across the bullpen, nodding as he saw that, for the time being at least, everything was as it should be.
