Thank you all for the reviews! I know I said before that I take my stories where I feel best regardless, but it's incredibly rewarding and interesting to hear your voice and opinions. This story is very different from the previous one and honestly, I didn't think it was going to be well received.
Eteri: It's true we never got to know much about Gillian's character outside of work, I must say in a way what we saw was always connected to the men she was with (Alec first, then Burns). It would have been nice to know a little more.
Tori: this was quite the step up from the previous story, bit more a like normal case. Hopefully it will work out!
Silent reader: welcome, nice to hear from you!
Well, good job everybody for spotting the call back to the conversation in "Undercover", I really wanted to go back to that moment and its implied meaning.
Now, enough with chit chats and let's move on. Gillian is in quite the pickle, isn't she? And Cal has to just wait and watch things unfold... could things get any worse?
After the hospital they had gone to the police station to speak with Peters, but much to Cal's despair they hadn't gotten much out of him. The man had still been shaking like a leaf and scared to death, but the little he had to tell them about the mysterious men was true: he had no idea who they were and had not seen their faces or anything else of note. Peters clearly wasn't used to dealing with dangerous situations, and while being threatened he hadn't thought about keeping track of things such as the make of cars, accents or even items of clothing. Aside from confirming he had given those people the exact same information about the package he had later shared with them, he hadn't had much to add.
Which wasn't much really, but Reynolds had immediately put his team on the task to follow Peters' instructions to get more information about the origin of the package. Cal could only imagine the bureaucratic nightmare of getting through to Honk Kong for something like that, but even more he marvelled at the fact that the Bureau seemed to be on board with the investigation to such an extent.
On the way back from the station, the three of them figuratively and literally licking their wounds, Torres was the one bringing up the touchy subject of the phone call Cal had been dealin with.
"Was that her?" She asked from the back seat. "On the phone with you, was it Foster?"
Cal turned around to glance at her, not surprised by the pout already on her face as if she expected him to deflect and change the subject. Then he sighed and looked ahead again, the conversation playing in his mind.
"Yes, it was."
He could have lied about it, but Cal truly only believed in telling lies when they could get him out of uncomfortable situations or when they were a necessary way to the truth. He wasn't sure talking about the conversation with Gillian could bring any benefits, but he knew that deflection would have gotten him nowhere: he wasn't in the right conditions to lie effectively about it and Torres would have been on his case relentlessly, making his troubles bigger instead of getting rid of them.
"Did she say what's going on here?"
Cal bit at his bottom lip and looked at the woman through the rearview mirror, a quizcall look on his face. He found it interesting that she hadn't asked what Gillian had said instead, but then again the young woman had been trained by him in reading people and by Foster herself in interpreting language so it made perfect sense that she had been able to go straight to the point.
"No," he sighed. "Just that we should stay out of it."
"Are we going to?"
Cal turned around again, this time giving Torres a stern and knowing look that spoke volume. Somewhat surprisingly, Reynolds had the same look on his face when the scientist glanced at him.
"What do you think?" Cal grunted then, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
The conversation seemed to end there, which was all well with Cal. One thing was to let them know that they had spoken, a whole different one was the report on his own desperation in being benched. Sure, he hadn't technically agreed to stay put but he didn't want Torres nor Reynolds to know how helpless that conversation had made him feel. Cal also didn't feel like sharing the detail that Gillian had been at the post office herself, following the trail left by the package, at least not with Torres since he was about to try and get her out of the game.
"Any chance we're gonna get something from Hong Kong?" He absently asked Reynolds.
"It's going to be tough, but I won't give up on it yet." The agent shook his head and lowered his voice, knowing the next part wasn't going to land all too well. "It might take some time though."
"Yeah, I figured." Cal sighed and scoffed, then glanced at the man driving next to him. "Let's go back to the office. But we need to drop off Torres first."
"Hold on!" The woman immediately protested, moving forward in between the two front seats. "Why should I-"
"You got yourself a broken arm and a concussion, Torres." Cal cut her off with a tone that didn't leave much room for protest. "Soon the adrenaline will wear out and you're gonna need those painkillers they gave you at the hospital, which means you'll be of no good use for a while."
"But Dr Lightman-"
"He's right Ria." Reynolds' agreement surprised everybody in the car. "Just go home and rest up for the night. I don't think there will be much to do until we get something from Hong Kong."
"Do you think we could trace the call from Foster?"
Cal wanted to change the subject, mostly to show Torres that there was not going to be a negotiation, but he also grew increasingly intrigued by Reynolds playing along.
"Not if she used the burner phone, no. And even if we could, it was hours ago."
Cal nodded, then held his thoughts in silence until they arrived at Torres' place to drop her off. She gave up on protesting or pleading her case, but did make sure they promised to call her if anything came up.
They had just about left the driveway of the building, ready to head back to the office, when Reynolds finally asked what he had been keeping to himself for a long time now.
"What did Foster say? You were on the phone for a while."
Cal rolled his eyes and folded his arms, curling up on the seat feeling suddenly exhausted and wanting to get out of that damn car.
"Can't believe you picked up on something and Torres didn't." He mumbled, probably aiming for some levity.
"Well, she was in pain and on drugs." Ben pointed out, his attempt at following suit with his tone showing Cal just how out of place it was. "And I think she expected you to lie about it so she was thrown off." Cal stared at the agent for a while, once again honestly impressed, then eventually Reynolds shrugged. "I did a lot of reading while I was on desk duty."
Cal decided to glance over the mention of his recovery for the time being, not because he didn't want to face the music but because he wanted to give the matter the proper attention. Something he clearly couldn't do as long as he was dealing with a far more urgent and pressing issue.
"Not much really." He sounded defeated and didn't even try to hide it. "She said this is her mess and she's the only one who can fix it, that it's too dangerous to get involved and that she'll take care of it." Cal sighed and finally decided it was the right time to share the last bit of information. "She was at the post office."
"What?"
"She called to ask if Torres was ok." Reynolds shook his head, struggling to fit in the piece of Foster's puzzling behaviour. "She didn't say but I think she was doing what we are, tracking down where the package came from."
"Did she tell you what was in it?" Cal stayed silent, frustration coming off of him in powerful waves. "I figured as much."
Reynolds let it drop for the time being, he was under the impression that Cal was willing to collaborate if it could help finding Foster and he didn't want to force his hand. Cooperative Cal was much easier to deal with, and it also happened to be the most productive version of a man who was used to going after things on his own. They didn't say anything else while they drove back to the office, which was now mostly deserted given the hour. Anna was holding down the fort, probably tasked by the rest of the staff to be some kind of point of contact, and she was politely distraught when Cal told her there was no news and that she should go home.
Once they were the only ones left in the building, the two men looked at each other not quite knowing what to do with themselves. The place was too silent to provide any distraction to conversational topics, and quite frankly they were both exhausted and mentally frustrated by the events of the day.
"Fancy a drink?" Cal offered then.
"I'm on duty," Reynolds replied with the most cliched sentence he could think of, but then he shrugged. "So yes, thank you."
Cal smirked, possibly the first time in the day he had shown some kind of genuine positive emotion, then motioned him to follow him to his office. There, he served two glasses of his favourite and passed one to Reynolds before dropping on the armchair facing the wall. From there, he had a questionable vantage point on the wall where the screen was still showing Foster doing her best Eva Kant impression, as well as of the safe that he had closed before leaving the office earlier.
"You think she's gonna need it?" Reynolds asked while sitting on the couch and sipping his drink. "The gun."
"I bloody hope not, mate!" Cal growled out loud, then shook his head. "What scares me the most is to find out that she'd actually know how to use one."
The federal agent nodded slowly to himself, understanding the seemingly convoluted reasoning. Much like Cal, never in a million years he'd imagined Gillian Foster knowing her way around a firearm and truly hoped she had gotten hold of it just as a precaution.
They sat like that in silence for a while, Cal drinking mostly and Reynolds wondering if he shouldn't have tried to convince the scientist to go home and get some sleep. It probably would have been an impossible mission to accomplish and the agent was too tired to get into that kind of fight, but then the phone in his pocket rang and Cal immediately stood up and stepped closer to him.
Not gonna happen now, Reynolds thought then, reaching out for the phone. He had to do his best to stay focused on the caller with Cal's piercing gaze glued to him, no doubt to catch his every reaction to what he was being told. Eventually he shook it off, realising paying attention was the best way to get the man something he could then chew his teeth on later, and took out his notepad to write down the key information he was receiving.
When he hung up the phone, Cal was hovering over him, anxious and eager.
"We got something on the package." Reynolds picked up the notepad and read from it. "It looks like it was posted by a Thomas Radner, Professor at the International University of Hong Kong."
"Professor of what?"
"I don't know, why?"
There was a sudden change in the nature of the energy in the room, Reynolds felt Cal's demeanour shift to a too familiar predator on the hunt kind of vibe and watched him make a run to his desk. There, the scientist furiously started to type away on the computer and when the agent approached him he realised the man was muttering to himself the name of the academic over and over again.
"What is it Cal?"
"I'm not sure." He was clearly trying to downplay his hunch, but every bit of his contracted voice and gestures betrayed a growing excitement and anxiety. "The name, Radner, it rings a bell-"
Standing behind him, Reynolds watched Cal's body tense and his eyes widened in surprise when the profile of Professor Radner popped up on the screen from the university's website. The recognition was evident, the agent could easily understand that, but when he thought that was a good thing because they might have something to work on he realised that Cal's reaction had something else to it that wasn't as positive.
"You know him?" There was no response, just heavy breathing and a sweaty hand gripping the mouse. "Lightman."
"By name, by face. I only met him once."
"Alright, that's good then. We've got something to go on."
"No, it's not good. Not good at all." Cal whispered then.
"Why?" The agent asked, visibly and audibly frustrated.
"Because he's dead." Cal explained, moving just enough for him to look at the screen showing a condolences statement for Professor Radner published on the university website. Then he spun around on the chair to face the agent and added with a low voice. "And because he was CIA."
Chapter 7: The secrets she keeps
