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Euphoria

Chapter 4: Enthusiasm

Thursday

9:51 am

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The clouds had grown more menacing overnight and by the next day all potential of another sun-drenched morning had been obliterated. Just a few bright hours, is that too much to ask? But as always the weather gods were not in a gracious mood.

The growing moisture in the air, forewarning a storm, did nothing to placate Norman's unease. He had felt a nagging sense of agitation ever since visiting David Kellen the previous day, and it had pursued him like a shadow, lingering long after he'd gone home for the evening and attempted to wash it away with vodka. It was weaker the next morning, but that made it worse somehow: in the same way tiny mosquitoes, almost imperceptible in their smallness, could be vastly more frustrating than their larger brothers.

Jayden, languishing in his office, had been trying to concentrate on the heroin case for at least half an hour, but vague irritations kept buzzing in his ear. Initially there was an insecurity of self, a confidence so tentative that a gust of wind could send it tumbling. You're losing your edge, Norman. Why didn't you think of searching the city for more drugs? The docks are an obvious place to look. Do you need the approval of ex-dealers now before doing your job?

Next came a burrowing apprehension within his gut that all of his sinister secrets could at any time escape, spilling out of him like a thick black tar. Melissa almost found out about the Triptocaine. You're just lucky she left Kellen's house when she did, otherwise… You're getting careless. Think of the consequences. Nobody must ever know: keep the darkness concealed. He had been hiding it for so long within him, so very long. It was getting harder and he was weary. Perhaps it was an inevitability that his shame would out, that the day would come when he would be forced to give up his title as a Special Agent. The mere possibility of it was an obsidian rock in the back of Jayden's mind, small and dense and bitter and agonizing, weighing down his thoughts.

But even more horrific, so profane that he had to hastily swat them away when they came to him, were the nauseating words Kellen had uttered. Your employers wouldn't give this to you. This drug is produced for its addictive qualities. Over and over and over like a broken prayer. Yet they were doubts Norman was half-familiar with finding in gloomy recesses of own his mind, skulking idly in places they shouldn't.

These treacheries weren't true. How could they be? Kellen couldn't possibly know about Triptocaine, because it was classified information. Just the ramblings of an old man.

Norman could tell he was lying to himself again.

Jayden interrupted his sinful reverie to observe Agent Donahue sidelong. She was not looking back at him. She was staring at her computer screen, holding a pen suspended in the fingers of her left hand. He noticed how she tapped the side of her leg against her desk restlessly and the way her fine hair fell over her shoulders.

The young man presumed she was adding the final touches to the report for their current case. Forrester, anxious about their lack of leads, had on Wednesday requested a presentation on their progress so far: before Norman could agree, Melissa had promised self-assuredly to have it ready by the following morning.

This was good. This left Jayden to research independently, which was what he was best at, although he wasn't doing much of it right now. He just wanted to stop thinking. He wanted to regress into the indifferent logic and precision of a tailored reality; and acknowledging this, Norman grasped a hold of ARI and settled its black frame across his face. This in itself was a testament to his flustered state of mind. Usually he wouldn't hesitate to wear those glasses at the first opportunity that arose, but today, well, his thoughts had been elsewhere.

The agent settled back in his chair as the floor beneath his feet became a carpet of leaves, and all around him materialised mottled tree trunks. Jayden's vision was cloaked in a filter of amber and green. His mind was reassured, for everything was better in this world. A lopsided smile brushed his lips as he tugged at a cabinet drawer suspended in the air before him, opening up a whole directory filled with countless virtual files.

Before he knew what was happening, his quick fingers were pulling out a dossier entitled Added Reality Interface and releasing its hazy blue contents. This was slightly unexpected. He had fully intended to undertake some more research into his heroin smuggler, but, now that this report was open in front of him, there was no harm in taking a look at it.

Norman had read the folder many times: it evoked within him a peculiar of sense of fascination, rendering him a child once more. He almost murmured the words under his breath as he skimmed over them.

The Added Reality Interface, or ARI, is a database storage system and virtual reality program used exclusively within the FBI to assist Special Agents. This advanced device, first developed in 2010, takes the form of a lightweight pair of black sunglasses with a fine polycarbonate mesh across the lenses to allow a realistic virtual atmosphere to be projected upon the vision of the wearer. Used in tandem, a leather glove enhanced with delicate sensor pads enables the virtual reality to be manipulated whilst also registering and analyzing data from the local environment.

As the false breeze swept through his hair, carrying the scent of dry soil and crushed leaves, Jayden gently massaged the air before his eyes to scroll further along in the document.

Development and Distribution. In early 2010, researchers in the FBI's Technology Services Unit began developing sophisticated new equipment capable of interfacing with the human brain through electromagnetic radiation. By the following year the first ARI prototypes had been constructed, and in May 2011 a number of trial models were given to select Special Agents.

There the article stopped abruptly. Norman Jayden was one of those select Special Agents, and once upon a time that had been an utter privilege to him. But now, had he the chance to go back, he wasn't entirely sure he would want to accept those inky black lenses with their furtive truths and seductive lies.

But of course he would. However much he tried to deny it, and however much they harmed him, he was still a slave to ARI.

Norman sighed under his breath and was about to close the file with a half-hearted wave of his hand when a wandering thought came to him. It was odd, he mused, that the record mentioned nothing of Triptocaine. ARI and Tripto went hand in hand like bread and butter, like the sun and the rain. He still remembered the day that Forrester had handed the blissful vial to him - had told him that it was a supplicant produced to ease the side-effects of virtual reality. Then it had taken all his pain away.

Well, for a while at least.

So why no reference to it? Tripto had been administered along with the glasses. Perhaps there are some secrets the Bureau has to hide even within itself, his mind offered. After all, a substantial part of the main database the sunglasses tapped into could be accessed through the hard copies of the files at HQ: but the ARI project was still essentially confidential.

The young man was so wrapped up in his deliberation that he did not hear the clear ring of heel on concrete floor. It was only when he felt a shadow fall upon him that he looked up, to see Donahue standing at the edge of his desk, suddenly a tangible part of his fantasy. She was blocking the light from the sun and it encompassed her, with gilded leaves falling all around her and the greens of their surroundings somehow making her ochre eyes even more brilliant.

"Jayden," she said.

He removed the glasses and slipped them back into his pocket. Once again the room was plain and unremarkably drab.

"It's 10 o'clock. Time for the report."

They left the office and made their through the twisted warren that was the Bureau's Headquarters until they reached Conference Room 4. Norman reached forwards to hold the door open for Donahue, and she smiled in return. How can a smile be so effortless?

The room was small but well-lit, making it seem more spacious than it actually was. In the centre was an oval-shaped table, surrounded by a dozen or so chairs, and on the furthest wall hung a projection screen.

"Are you ready?" asked Jayden as his partner began setting up her presentation.

She laughed the ghost of a laugh and busily swept back her hair. "Yeah, I'm ready. Just promise me you'll be there to step in if I get anything important wrong."

Norman leant against the wall and crossed his arms. His clouded eyes were set upon the woman as she whirled round like a delicate summer breeze. There was a period of quiet as she silently organised herself, but to Jayden it did not feel uncomfortable. Perhaps she felt the same way. Or perhaps she was too preoccupied to even notice.

"Thank you. Thank you for coming to Washington, and helping us out, and being so involved in this case even though you've barely been here a day. It's very professional, and, well, you've made things a lot easier. For me. I just… I thought I should say thanks."

The female agent glanced up from the notes she was reading over. "Just part of the job, Jayden." She was fixing him with a distorted expression he struggled to comprehend. What are you doing here, Melissa?

A few minutes later, Forrester joined them, along with a number of other agents and FBI specialists. Once they had seated themselves around the conference table, Norman flicked off the lights and plunged the room into darkness.

"Good morning," said Agent Donahue. As the screen behind her sprang into life, she was the first thing to be lit by the harsh synthetic glow. "I'm sure you all know why we're here, but I'll offer a short recap just to refresh everyone's memories." Her voice sounded sharp and composed in the static stillness. Seems pretty confident.

She pressed down on her handheld remote, and projections of a large industrial cargo ship appeared. "Nine days ago, during a routine inspection, the Metropolitan Police Department uncovered over a hundred kilograms of white heroin stashed onboard a Panamax tanker. The vessel travelled a direct route from Beijing to Washington over a period of eleven days, transporting mainly liquid petroleum products.

"The current investigation to track down the dealer responsible for this shipment is being headed by Agent Jayden and myself." Melissa gestured towards Norman at the back of the room.

After allowing a moment for several heads to turn towards her partner, the woman moved briskly onto the next slide. "We have ascertained a few pieces of information to date. The employees stationed on the tanker have been questioned, but so far they are either unwilling to reveal information or were genuinely unaware that the drugs had been hidden. Most of the sailors speak only Mandarin, so clearly examinations have been made considerably more complicated with the need for a translator present." Data scrolled up on the screen as the agent continued to speak.

"The majority of these men are poorly-paid and poorly-educated. They're unsettled by their stay in America and appear to be panicked by our questions, despite our attempts to reassure them." She paused to move the presentation along, displaying various images of the men in question. "It is highly unlikely that any of them are implicated in the drug trafficking operation in a significant way. However, there is still a possibility that one or more of the workers could have been paid to smuggle the drugs aboard. We will continue to query them for more insight into the likelihood of this."

Donahue moved forwards, scanning the assembled group with eyes gleaming like a cat's under the beam of the projector. Norman took note of her poise and relaxed control. He hated giving presentations.

"The amount of heroin discovered is currently estimated to be worth 17 million US dollars. Clearly we are dealing with one of the major players in the drug trade. We're looking for a dealer or cartel not only able to pay for a transaction of this size, but also influential enough to have links to suppliers in China."

One of their colleagues seated at the table spoke up. "Have you contacted any agents in China?"

Melissa shook her head. "The Special Agent stationed in Beijing is at present involved in an undercover assignment. Until we can regain contact, we'll have to proceed as best we can without their aid."

Crossing over to the opposite side of the projection screen, Donahue once more alluded to her silent partner. Was she smiling tenderly, or was it a trick of the light? "Now, Agent Jayden and I, we've outlined a list of who we believe to be our likeliest suspects based on past activities and power within the global drug industry. But without further evidence, our investigation is limited. Yesterday we visited ex-dealer and valued informant David Kellen, and based on his expertise we have decided that our next course of action will be to examine the D.C. Docks for traces of additional trafficked drugs."

Melissa nodded towards Norman to indicate that she was finished. He turned the lights on once more, their immediate and glaring sting causing him to wince involuntarily.

Forrester, however, seemed both undaunted by the light and displeased with the presentation. His forehead was lined, his face set with irritation. As Jayden looked towards the female agent, he saw that she had stopped moving about animatedly; her hands were clasped before her as though she was attempting to control their movement.

"I don't like this, Donahue," growled their superior whilst rising in his chair. "Searching the docks? You do realise that's an area of nearly a whole square mile?"

Melissa was shrinking back into herself, a timid mouse compared to the secure woman Norman knew she could be. Hell, she was so assertive just a second ago. Her voice was suddenly soft and docile, flowing uncertainly like treacle. "Sir, I believe it's our best option - at the moment - considering we really have nowhere else to look -"

The older man shook his head harshly. "No, no, I don't like it at all. It's an utter waste of your time. Think of something more productive you could be doing, please, and perhaps you'll catch this bastard." The next moment, he had marched out of the room. It held its breath behind him.

Jayden swiftly made his way to his partner's side, ignoring the remaining men who filed out of their own accord, taking their clumsy mutterings with them. She was inert, drained, like a flower whose petals had fallen prematurely.

Goddamn Forrester! He was unpredictably filled with an explosive wrath, a maelstrom beginning in his head and circling down through his body, causing his hands to twitch instinctively. Why's he have to be so fucking inconsiderate?

Forcing himself to unclench his fists, Norman endeavoured to regulate a calm tone. "Don't listen to him. I'm just as much a part of this investigation as you are, and he had no right to lash out at you alone."

The woman had closed her eyes. She was silent for a length of time as she stood motionless, and Jayden got the feeling that she was somehow unable to speak. When her lips finally parted, her words were hesitant. "Thank you. But I'm fine." Brushing past him, Donahue swept out of the door with all the dignified conviction she could muster.

Norman placed his hands in his pockets, aware of the futility of the motion. The room around him was deserted, and his ire was slowly dissipating, although the projector continued to emit an intense white light onto the opposite wall. Why do I feel as though I'm missing something?

Melissa paced away from the conference room with a vehemence atypical for her reasonable character, arms pinned to her sides. The sound of her shoes grated severely against the polished floor. Upon barging into the nearest bathroom and establishing it was empty, she at once wiped the moisture from her eyes. Was she the one making those hushed snuffling noises?

The young woman came to stand in front of the sinks. When she stared into the large mirror hanging above the washbasins, meeting her own gaze, there was no compassion reflected in the frosty glass. For God's sake, Melissa. How can you be so weak? She looked away from her doppelgänger; disinterested, detached.

You're a grown woman now, not a little girl. Don't let your guard down again. Do what you've been sent here to do, and stay focused.

Fixing stray wisps of hair in an almost mechanical manner, the agent spoke softly to herself. "Just get it over with." She smiled once, weakly, into the mirror, as though to build courage, and then left the washroom to return to the grim and demanding world of the FBI.