Ten—Research
"Agent Thompson?"
"Yes?" Madison turned around to see a dark-haired man standing in front of her.
"Um, hi. Yeah. Mr. Devlin—pretty scary guy, don't you think?—told me that you needed a place to work and go over some intel."
"Right. I was about to send out a search party for my things," she answered with a grin.
"Search party? That reminds me of this documentary I saw one time on the rescue efforts for a missing—sorry, you probably don't care about that." He took a deep breath. "If you'll come with me, I can show you the conference room where everything is set up."
"Okay," she giggled as she followed him through the building.
"So how long have you worked for the Agency? I've been here for—well, no, that's not right. See, I thought I was working for the CIA for all these years and then it turns out that—anyway, I don't want to bore you. Long story, involving me, a lot of other people who are apparently easily duped, and one really big raid a few months ago. Oh, and this evil, diabolical guy named Sloane. Ever heard of him?"
She shook her head, her eyes growing wider as he spoke. "So, is this where I'll be working?" She gestured to the conference room where two other agents sat, poring through documents.
"Yes, Miss Thompson. Is it all right if I call you Miss Thompson? Agent sounds so formal, you know—"
"You can call me Mad—Grace if you'd prefer," Madison interrupted. What the hell did I almost call myself?
"That's alright, Miss Thompson. Well, here we are. I'll let you get to work. 'Bye!"
"'Bye," she waved, shaking her head. She turned and entered the conference room. "Thompson," she introduced herself, waving her badge at them.
"Glad to see you made it," a red-headed agent in his forties replied. He gestured at the papers and photographs that were strewn everywhere. "Maybe you'll make more progress than we've made."
"Let's keep our fingers crossed," she said cheerfully as she sat down. "All right, what have we got?"
"The photos from the lab are over here," the second agent gestured. "Everything we've got on Pyper-Ferguson is in these three stacks, and the basics of Kelley Laboratories is over here." She pointed to several boxes on the floor. "Those hold the more detailed information."
Madison gulped. "What about the bugs? Have they given us anything?"
"To be honest, I don't know. There's a transcript floating around here somewhere," she began.
"I heard part of it," he interrupted. "Sounded like he was giving a presentation."
"How'd it go?" Madison asked without thinking. "I know he was really nervous about—never mind."
The agents looked at her strangely. "So, do we know what kind of weapons we're looking for yet?" Madison asked, hoping to change the subject.
"We're still not sure. It could be something like anthrax or smallpox, but so far we haven't located a place where they could be storing it in house."
"But that doesn't really seem like their style anyway," he interjected. "We're thinking it's something less obvious but just as potent. As for what it is—it could be anything."
"Good to know we've got that narrowed down," Madison said under her breath.
The two agents glared at her. "Well, let's see what you can come up with," he shot back as he handed her a stack of photographs. "Maybe you can put that biochem degree to use."
Madison accepted the photographs and sat down in an empty chair, rolling her eyes. It was going to be a very long afternoon.
*****
Sark walked down the narrow hallway and opened a creaky door. "I wish to speak with the prisoner," he said in a clipped tone. The guard quickly ushered him in, closing the door behind him.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he smirked at the prisoner. He noticed how she fought the cuffs that had her securely attached to the chair as she tried to say something. "You know, I really can't understand what you're trying to say when you have that hideous kerchief in your mouth." He slowly leaned over and removed it.
"Bloody bastard," she lashed out at him. "What the hell were you thinking, pulling me like that?"
"You knew the plan," he argued. "You had only one job, a relatively simple job. It was one of the easiest reconnaissance missions I've ever planned." He smirked. "And yet you, a ranking agent, failed. One of our new trainees had to deliver the intel to me."
"I was waiting until I had more to tell you," she insisted, her voice never wavering. "I was planning on dead dropping the intel within the next three days."
"I don't believe you." Sark stared at her meaningfully. "We already knew the CIA would be planting an agent there. All you had to find out was who she was."
"I did," she protested.
"And then you conveniently forgot to tell anyone." He removed his gun out of his holster. "It seems that you are having a memory problem. And in this business, there's only one way to take care of those agents." Sark pulled the trigger and fired three shots.
"It's too bad. You always were one of our more free-spirited agents," he said as he ambled out of the holding room.
*****
They're somewhere over the ocean, Madison mused to herself a few hours later. I wish I had been able to use one of those bugs on Irina. There's no telling what I would hear—gunshots, maybe? I wonder if they've killed each other yet. Or they might . . . don't go there, Grace. Bad idea.
She stood and stretched, looking around the vacant room. The other agents had left her on her own an hour earlier. Unfortunately, they were no closer to solving the puzzle.
A young man knocked on the door. "Here's the latest audio from the bugs," he said, handing her a cassette. "The transcript should be ready in a little while."
She nodded. "Thanks," she said as she stuffed it into the tape player and hit 'play.'
Madison listened to the tape for a few minutes, occasionally hearing muffled noises that she tried to identify. "A door closing?" she muttered to herself. "Maybe." She heard rustling noises, then finally heard an indistinct voice. "Okay, Burke, start speaking into the mikes. Make my job a little easier, 'kay?" She leaned back and rested her legs in the chair next to her.
She reached forward and hit the 'rewind' button, going back a few seconds. "A radio?" she murmured, listening once more. The music stopped and was followed by a voice. "What are you doing calling me?" she faintly heard.
"Cell phone," she said gleefully. "Bingo." She turned up the volume. "Come on, speak louder, Burke."
After another minute of garbled talking, the recording improved considerably. "He must've stopped playing with his tie," she said to herself. "He needs to break that habit anyway."
"I told you a few days ago, remember? I'm not in Los Angeles. I'm on a business trip . . . yes, I know I'm gone a lot. But I promise, I'll make it up to you."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why, that two-timing little . . ."
"Maybe we can go to the zoo in a few weeks when it gets a little warmer outside."
"The zoo," she murmured to herself. "What kind of date takes a woman to the zoo?"
"I know, but I've been busy, Lea."
"Ohhhhhh," she realized. You were jealous of an eight-year-old? Brilliant, Grace. Wait a sec—not jealous. No, a better word would be . . . would be . . . worried about, she concluded triumphantly.
Um, Grace? That was two words. She sighed. Why could she never win an argument against herself?
Shaking her head, she once more listened to the cassette as it played. "What do you mean, do I have a girlfriend?"
Madison perked up. Oh, this was going to be interesting.
"Don't believe everything your mom says. Trust me. I grew up with her."
Madison rolled her eyes. "Nice diversion," she said sarcastically.
"Of course I want you to meet her. Her name? Madison. Yeah, it is a cool name. And she's . . . she's . . ." He paused, and Madison held her breath. "You'll love her," he finally said.
"Whew," she breathed a sigh of relief. She quickly hit the 'stop' button and sat back, closing her eyes. This will be over soon, she told herself. She allowed her mind to wander, thinking over the events of the last few months, the people she had met, focusing on one person in particular. Stop worrying, Grace. She's fine. She absent-mindedly tapped her fingers on the table. Then why do I keep thinking that something's wrong?
She resolutely stood up, pushing both chairs away, and exited the room. She marched through the Ops Center until she found the agent she was looking for.
"Grace!" the surprised agent exclaimed as she looked up from her computer screen.
"Hey, Ashley," she replied, reaching down to give her a hug. "I didn't know you had been transferred here until last week."
"I've only been here about a month. I hear you've been busy," Ashley said meaningfully.
Madison rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." She held up her hands in surrender. "Don't even start with me."
"Oh, but as your former roommate, I have to." She looked around to make sure no one was watching them and lowered her voice. "What the hell are you doing on this op? That was the one kind of job back at the Farm we swore we'd never take part in."
"I know," Madison answered, biting her lip. "It's just that they told me it would be a quick mission and I wouldn't have to actually sleep with him or anything and—"
"And you bought that?" Ashley looked at her skeptically. "Come on, Gracie. We've been in this business too long for you to actually believe the company line." Her eyes narrowed. "Well, have you?"
"Have I what?" She leaned on the corner of Ashley's desk.
"Do I have to spell it out for you? Have you and this cretin—"
"He's not a cretin, Ash, and no, nothing's happened. Honest," she said, holding a hand up as if swearing an oath.
"Right," Ashley muttered.
"I swear, Chris and I—"
"Chris? Chris???" she practically shrieked.
"Lower your voice, Ash. People are starting to look at us," Madison whispered urgently.
"You called him Chris. Not even Christopher, but Chris." Ashley grabbed her monitor with both hands and prepared to bang her head against it. "No, no, no, no, NO, Grace! I knew this was going to happen. If I had gotten here sooner, I would have stopped it, but no, the higher ups had already thrown you to the wolves," she fumed.
Madison stood up and removed her friend's hands from the computer. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."
"Can you?" she challenged.
Madison sighed. "Look, I don't think either one of us needs to say anything we're going to regret. I should be back here tomorrow or the next day. Why don't we talk then?"
"Fine. Maybe Izzy can join in the fun."
"She's out here too?" Madison squealed.
"Yeah. We were both in the briefing on Pyper-Ferguson and your mission a few weeks ago, so we don't have to keep anything from her."
"I can't believe she still lets you call her Izzy," Madison commented.
Ashley grinned. "She doesn't."
Madison laughed. "Okay, well, I've got to run. Oh, wait! I almost forgot." She leaned down and scribbled on a piece of paper. "Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure, I'll shoot the cretin for you," Ashley said enthusiastically.
"That's not the favor." Madison rolled her eyes. "You really hate him, don't you."
"I typically don't get chummy with terrorists. Just their phony girlfriends," she retorted.
"Gee, how nice of you." She handed her the piece of paper. "This woman, Fiona. She worked at the record label with me, and she's allegedly left town."
Ashley's eyes lit up. "Allegedly?"
"Can you run a search for me? I wrote down her name and address. She probably just moved to a new city and started over, but . . . I've got a bad feeling about it."
"I'll see what I can find," Ashley promised.
"Thanks." She glanced at her watch. "Running late as always," she muttered. She looked up apologetically.
"Good to know some things don't change." Ashley smiled sweetly.
"You are so going to pay for that remark—next time," Madison vowed. She quickly hugged her. "I'll see you later."
"Be careful!" Ashley called out as Madison walked away.
*****
Thirty minutes later Madison was back in her own car, still parked at the medical facility. She sped through the streets, constantly checking for tails as she neared her destination.
At last she pulled into a parking lot. After getting out and locking the doors, she pushed the strap of her purse back on her shoulder and meandered through the tall buildings. She had studied a map back at the Ops Center, so it was only a few minutes later when she saw the sign she was looking for.
Looking over her shoulder one more time, Madison confidently walked into the lobby and approached the counter. "Hi, I was wondering if you could help me with some research," she told the librarian on duty. "The mother of one of my best friends used to teach here, and I was hoping to help her find out what her mom was like back then. See, she died when my friend was little, and she doesn't really remember much about her."
"Oh, the poor dear," the librarian said sympathetically. "Well, let's see what we can dig up. What was her name? I might have known her; I've worked here for thirty-five years," she said proudly.
"Maybe you did. She taught in the English department, but I'm not sure of her specialty."
"The English professors are over here more than the rest of the university faculty, helping the freshman understand the library and all," she laughed. "What was her name?"
Madison swallowed. "Laura Bristow."
tbc
