Here we go!


They didn't have to wait long. Cal didn't know exactly what Reynolds might have told to his superiors, didn't care much either, but the FBI was certainly responding to the situation with proverbial efficiency. Perhaps they thought that if he was willing to help the people who nearly got him killed, so should they, or more likely in the federal circles they just happened to like Gillian enough to care. Either way, probably neither actually, the machine was in motion.

A couple of hours after he had found out his seemingly innocent business partner had broken into his safe to steal a gun, Cal was in the passenger seat of Ben's car. With Torres in the back, it had been impossible to reason with her that she should stay at the office and hold down the fort, they were driving to the post office that had processed the package last, before the delivery to Gillian's house.

Cal should have been focused on the next step, the questions they were going to ask and what they were going to try and find out, but he hadn't managed to get past the previous stage yet. His mind had just about been able to accept that Gillian had lied, and still was, then the night visit to the office and the theft of the gun had poured gasoline on the fire. Secrets were not a foreign thing between them, but it was usually more about what they pretended not to see rather than about things so blatantly kept hidden. And even when it was about something more, something big, in all honesty he was usually the one doing the hiding.

The silence inside the car was dense, nobody really wanted to talk because nobody had anything to contribute. They might have been on the way to speak to someone who might be able to shed a light on the situation, but in reality they were still waiting for something. They had done all they could at that point, and Cal didn't hold much hope their trip to the post office could improve things all that much. But moving was still better than waiting, although what Cal really wanted was for Gillian to at least let him know she was ok. Because yes, at the end of the day the hiding and sneaking around hurt, but not knowing if she was ok killed him.

"Did you find anything in her office?"
Torres was the first to give in to the dreadful silence, watching as Reynolds looked for her eyes in the rearview mirror.

"No, nothing of note."
"That didn't feel right. Did you really need to go through Foster's stuff?"

Ben glanced sideways at Cal next to him, but he might as well had been in a different vehicle altogether judging by the complete lack of reaction.

"She went in there too before…leaving. It was worth a look." He sighed. "We put everything back the way it was, don't worry."

He knew that wasn't really Torres' concern, that the issue was mostly messing about with her boss' belongings. He understood, even as a trained officer he hadn't felt all that good himself snooping around Foster's house in the morning. But it had to be done, and there was little to apologise for in his opinion.

They made it to the post office with no further words spoken, and Cal got out of the car even before the vehicle came to a full stop. It was useless, Reynolds had to be the one to make the first approach and flash his badge where necessary, but he just couldn't be seated anymore.

"I'll do the talking," the agent clarified when he noticed how Cal was already charged up.

Cal wasn't fine with it, but he was still focused enough to remember what really mattered was that he could listen and watch. Plus, he had Torres as a backup. He was well aware of the fact that she had tagged along because she cared about Foster, but also because she thought his reading might be a little off. In a way, Cal could almost appreciate the concern but clearly his protege still hadn't learned a very vital thing about him: his scientific prowess was even sharper when he was on the edge.

"You ok?"

They were waiting by the car as Reynolds had instructed, but Torres could feel the nervous energy coming off of him. Cal gave her an annoyed glance and sighed, then put his hands in his pockets and went back to watch Reynolds talking to the Postmaster.

"You know the answer to that," he quipped. "So stop asking."

Torres nodded to herself, message received, then looked over at Reynolds as the agent came back their way.

"Let's go. I got a name, the guy who processed the package as it arrived here."

Then he walked away and they followed him to the back office area, where they were directed to the break room when Reynolds asked for Jackson Peters. A young man in his mid twenty looked up from his lunch when he heard his name, seemingly with nothing but a natural surprised reaction in seeing strangers in a private area, but Cal and Torres immediately exchanged a quick and knowing look.

"Yes?"

"Agent Reynolds, FBI." The badge came out and Jackson immediately tensed up. "Mr Somerset said we could talk to you about a package that came through here a few days ago."

"This is one of the biggest hubs in the city, we get millions of parcels."

Defensive, Cal thought tilting his head on the side. Way too defensive.

"Well, this one is quite peculiar."

On cue, Torres fished the parcel out of the back she had been carrying and handed it to Reynolds, who then held it up to Jackon. Another quick look went by between Cal and Torres, the young man tensed again seeing the package, but they both knew it was best to let Ben do his thing so they could do theirs.

"Mr Somerset said that here you can see where a parcel has been before when you process it. We need you to log into your system and show us the information about this one."

"Don't you, like, need a warrant for that?"

Reynolds looked at Cal who bit at his lip, even the agents could tell the man was nervous now.

"We would, and we'd get one if need be because this is related to the disappearance of a federal employee." Cal nearly choked, impressed by the smooth way in which Ben had just lied to the guy. "But your boss, the Postmaster, who does have the authority to make these decisions, said you should go ahead."

It wasn't a bluff, Mr Somerset was indeed committed to help them but there were still one of two bullshits Jackson could have called them out on. Luckily for them, he decided that it wasn't worth the trouble to find out and he sighed, telling them to follow him. The three of them exchanged knowing looks then followed him, surprised when he went for the back door rather than an office with a PC he could use to access the system. He pushed open a door and they found themselves in the employees parking lot, then Jackson took out a cigarette and lighter and started to smoke, as if it wasn't clear enough already how nervous he was.

"You're right, that package really was a weird one." He said then, his eyes looking around aimlessly. "Got a headache processing it."

"So do you know where it came from?" Reynolds asked. "After being mailed in Hong Kong?"

"Yes. After that it went to Hamburg, then Moscow and Valencia before arriving here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Even if the previous addresses were tampered we can still trace the package's path."

"And it was delivered to this address." Cal jumped in, as calmly as he could, shoving a piece of paper in his face with Gillian's address on it.

"That was the address, yes. But hey man, I'm an office guy and I don't deliver mail."

Cal nodded, satisfied not because of the answers but because he had just gotten himself a baseline. That was the truth, young Jackson had certainly emphasised that last point trying to distance himself from anything that might have happened after the delivery, but his answers were also honest.

"Would it be possible to track down the address of the original sender?"

"Maybe, you'd have to reach out to Hong Kong though."

"Right." Reynolds took from his pocket a notepad and pen and handed it over to him. "Write down what we'd need to ask exactly, I'll take care of it."

The man sighed and took the items with a touch of hesitation that once again had Torres and Lightman looking at each other. Especially when Mr Peters took forever to write down a few instructions, way more preoccupied with looking around the parking lot than with putting pen to paper.

"Waiting for someone?" Cal asked, sounding cheerful and innocently curious to a stranger but deadly serious to the other two who knew him better.

"What?"

"You keep looking around." He gestured at the assorted cars parked nearby then shrugged. "I mean, I know some people like trainspotting and the lot but really, hardly any car worth looking at around here."

"No, I- I just-"

Jackson was now in panic mode, at least by the standards of the two deception experts hovering over him like vultures. Reynolds too sensed a little something, but mostly put it down to the very natural nervousness that took over many people when questioned by the FBI. Still, he had taken a little step back and watched them closing in on Jackson.

"Someone else came to ask about this package," Torres stated then, with that tone of voice she always had when she seemed to be surprised by her own findings.

"Who was it?" Cal pressed on, his voice charged with so much rage that Reynolds felt he'd better be ready to step in. "Someone came around and threatened you for the information. Who was it?!"

Reynolds wanted to think he didn'[t actually need to physically restrain Cal and prevent him for putting his hands on the young man, but given the situation he wouldn't put it past him. However, when Lightman stepped forward, inches away from Jackson with his hands half raised, the agent nearly saw himself tackling the scientist to the ground. What he ended up doing instead was to push him out the way and jumpe Jackson himself to shield him from the sudden bullets.

There were three shots in rapid succession, Jackson screaming like a little girl and then the shrieking sound of the tyres of a car departing at great speed. Instincts kicked in for Reynolds, he made sure that Jackson was not hurt then ran after the car, knowing there was no way to catch it but maybe at least get a sight of the plate. But the vehicle was long gone, lost in traffic, so he went back to the others immediately spotting the three holes in the wall not far from where Peters had been standing. He looked at Jackson, currently curled up in a ball and weeping with fear, then at Cal who was wobbling around like a caged animal, if possible even more enraged than he was before. Then, at last, he glanced over at Torres who had been knocked down on the floor in the domino effect of people trying to take cover, and was now holding her left arm with a painful expression on her face.

What the hell Foster! He thought while rushing to get his phone and call for an ambulance. What did you get yourself into?


So, what do you think? Any comment, big or small, truly appreciated.

Chapter number 5 is going to be "A stranger's call"