Friday 0830 Eastern
Central Intelligence Agency
Washington, DC Offices
Kate sat at her computer typing furiously fast. Her desk was cluttered with papers and she had her headset phone on. Her rich auburn hair was braided loosely down her back and her usually pressed suit was wrinkled, and like her desk and hair, somewhat disarrayed.
"No, don't." she said sharply, then she added quietly to herself, "Put me on hold." She continued to type, and paused for only a few moments to read. She was instant messaging a source, but he had no useful information.
"Thank you for taking my call, Deputy Director," she said when a voice finally came over the headset. "Oh, sorry. May I speak to him. you said he was in a meeting two hours ago. I can assure you that this is urgent. as soon as he gets out of that meeting. thank you."
Kate made her hands into fists, took a deep breath, and then as she blew it out she unclenched them. She was trying to release the tension.
"Be careful, Agent Grey," a masculine voice said from over her computer screen, "You're too young for high blood pressure, but if you're not careful."
The man trailed off as Kate removed her headset and rose to her feet. "Mr. Fallon," she said crisply, "I wasn't expecting you."
"Clearly," he said, disdainfully looking over her cluttered desk. He cleared his throat, and continued in a superior tone, "Agent Grey, your calls to my office have become somewhat bothersome for my secretaries."
"Deputy Director," Kate began, "If you can give a few minutes, I really must speak with you."
"You have two minutes, Agent Grey," he said shortly.
"Sir, a few days ago I was informed that Deputy Director Webb missed a scheduled contact and hasn't yet regained contact with central. I've been looking into the matter for the last three days, and I have also discovered that nothing has been done to recover him."
"Miss Grey," Mr. Fallon said, completely disregarding her title, "Webb's disappearance is none of your affair. Who authorized you to go looking into it?"
"Mr. Fallon, Deputy Director Webb is my mentor," Kate said, withholding her contempt for Fallon from her voice, "I am concerned because CIA protocols haven't been followed in attempt to discover the reason for his disappearance."
"Which is also none of your affair," Fallon told her callously.
"Are you saying that you know protocols haven't been followed and that you're doing nothing about it?" Kate asked appalled.
"Miss Grey, I suggest you leave this alone," he said imitating a pleasant voice, but his eyes and his tone were a veiled threat, "Mr. Webb's whereabouts are nothing for you to be concerned with. I am taking care of it."
"Thank you for your reassurance," Kate said back in a matching tone. She defiantly met his eyes and held them for a long moment before he turned to leave.
When he was out of sight and earshot, she struck her desk with her fist. The impact sent sharp stings of pain through her shoulder, which was not yet completely healed. She bit onto her lower lip to quench the exclamation of pain. She focused on trying to release the pain from her shoulder, and as the pain began to ebb away, her mind turned to options. The truth was, however, that she didn't have many left.
She pulled herself toward her computer and began to type furiously again. After another hour at her computer she had written down several pages of notes. She paused to look them over before she smiled in a self- congratulatory way. She placed her headset back on, and she dialed another number.
Kate sat at her computer typing furiously fast. Her desk was cluttered with papers and she had her headset phone on. Her rich auburn hair was braided loosely down her back and her usually pressed suit was wrinkled, and like her desk and hair, somewhat disarrayed.
"No, don't." she said sharply, then she added quietly to herself, "Put me on hold." She continued to type, and paused for only a few moments to read. She was instant messaging a source, but he had no useful information.
"Thank you for taking my call, Deputy Director," she said when a voice finally came over the headset. "Oh, sorry. May I speak to him. you said he was in a meeting two hours ago. I can assure you that this is urgent. as soon as he gets out of that meeting. thank you."
Kate made her hands into fists, took a deep breath, and then as she blew it out she unclenched them. She was trying to release the tension.
"Be careful, Agent Grey," a masculine voice said from over her computer screen, "You're too young for high blood pressure, but if you're not careful."
The man trailed off as Kate removed her headset and rose to her feet. "Mr. Fallon," she said crisply, "I wasn't expecting you."
"Clearly," he said, disdainfully looking over her cluttered desk. He cleared his throat, and continued in a superior tone, "Agent Grey, your calls to my office have become somewhat bothersome for my secretaries."
"Deputy Director," Kate began, "If you can give a few minutes, I really must speak with you."
"You have two minutes, Agent Grey," he said shortly.
"Sir, a few days ago I was informed that Deputy Director Webb missed a scheduled contact and hasn't yet regained contact with central. I've been looking into the matter for the last three days, and I have also discovered that nothing has been done to recover him."
"Miss Grey," Mr. Fallon said, completely disregarding her title, "Webb's disappearance is none of your affair. Who authorized you to go looking into it?"
"Mr. Fallon, Deputy Director Webb is my mentor," Kate said, withholding her contempt for Fallon from her voice, "I am concerned because CIA protocols haven't been followed in attempt to discover the reason for his disappearance."
"Which is also none of your affair," Fallon told her callously.
"Are you saying that you know protocols haven't been followed and that you're doing nothing about it?" Kate asked appalled.
"Miss Grey, I suggest you leave this alone," he said imitating a pleasant voice, but his eyes and his tone were a veiled threat, "Mr. Webb's whereabouts are nothing for you to be concerned with. I am taking care of it."
"Thank you for your reassurance," Kate said back in a matching tone. She defiantly met his eyes and held them for a long moment before he turned to leave.
When he was out of sight and earshot, she struck her desk with her fist. The impact sent sharp stings of pain through her shoulder, which was not yet completely healed. She bit onto her lower lip to quench the exclamation of pain. She focused on trying to release the pain from her shoulder, and as the pain began to ebb away, her mind turned to options. The truth was, however, that she didn't have many left.
She pulled herself toward her computer and began to type furiously again. After another hour at her computer she had written down several pages of notes. She paused to look them over before she smiled in a self- congratulatory way. She placed her headset back on, and she dialed another number.
