This fic was featured on Tarbecca's weekly Fic Dive on A Different Forest. Thanks Tarbecca and all you campers who chose to take the leap. I'm so glad you're here!
Bella looked around and realized they were driving down Pennsylvania Avenue. Agent Masen pulled into a reserved spot between two government vehicles and hopped out. She was quick to follow. She had only been to the FBI headquarters building a handful of times and didn't know her way around.
At the security checkpoint, they both held out their identification and Bella was a little surprised when they were waved on by without passing through the normal screening process. She jogged a few steps to catch up with her partner's longer strides, committing their route to memory. She practiced her observation skills as they walked, trying to pick out the unique details that would clue her in to what each of the people they passed was doing and where they were going. She was distracted by the squeak of a file cart and she almost ran into Masen's back when he stopped at a bank of elevators.
He gave her a sardonic smirk and she blushed in embarrassment. He wasn't playing 'boyfriend' any more, but the way he moved and the clothes he was wearing made it hard for her to think of him as her superior. It was an even greater challenge than the day before when he was dressed in scruffy clothes and a leather jacket.
"Daydreaming?"
"Deducing."
"Aha. So are we going up or down, Sherlock?"
"Down."
"Lucky guess." His voice held a tinge of sarcasm.
"There was a man entering the elevator as we came around the corner. The top light was illuminated but you didn't break stride or ask him to hold the door. So, down."
"Hmm. Right. Lucky guess."
That time it sounded almost like a compliment. She bit her lip and looked down at her shoes to stop herself from smiling.
In the elevator, he swiped his card and held the 5 and the 1 down simultaneously. Bella had never seen anyone do that before. The doors closed and they began their descent. When the doors opened again they stepped out into a hallway just like any other; industrial grade tile, neutral paint, bland artwork. Half a step behind, Bella followed him down the hallway until they came to a non-descript wooden door with a brass plaque and the number 219B. He knocked twice and then waited.
"Who are we here to see?"
"A friend."
"A good friend?"
"A useful one."
The door opened and they were beckoned inside. Bella schooled her features to a blank expression to hide her shock. Agent Masen's 'friend' was a babe. Straight nose, full lips, wide blue eyes, clear skin, shampoo commercial hair and a body most women had to pay tens of thousands of dollars for. She was dressed in a conservative charcoal suit over a white blouse, but that did nothing to tone down her obvious beauty.
"Tanya, meet my partner, Agent Isabella Swan. Ms. Swan, Ms. Tanya Filipovna is one of the sharpest intelligence officers around. She's also the subject matter expert on the Volturi. Her intuition is unmatched."
Bella grasped her cool hand in a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you."
"You, too. Follow me. I have these two computers set up for your use. I've got most of the relevant files pulled up for you and I'm working on one more profile which I should have ready within the hour. Let me know if you need anything else."
"If the information is available by computer why do we have to come down here to see it?" Bella asked.
Agent Masen offered her a short explanation. "We store it electronically to facilitate analysis and to save space, but these computers are part of a closed circuit. Most of the information isn't too sensitive by itself, but when it's all together in one place it paints a pretty clear portrait of several people of significance. Tanya is a specialist. This room and her dedicated servers are a nexus of information that has already brought down some very highly placed individuals. It would be unwise to make her work accessible to anyone outside of the missions she works to support."
"Missions like ours?"
"Exactly."
"So, it's like a puzzle box. We're looking at puzzle pieces she has collected because she feels they might fit together and impact the mission?"
"Pretty much."
"And we couldn't get this information through the regular archives and databases?"
"Not sorted or formatted in a concise or very useful manner, no."
"What other projects is she working on?"
"One thing at a time, rookie. We've got our orders. Let's just focus on saving our little corner of the world."
Chastened, Bella turned her focus to the plain text list of files and images Tanya had pulled up for them to review. It was mostly a collection of individual profiles. Bella read page after page of data about people suspected of turning to the Volturi to obtain young people for personal use or those trying to get paid for supplying the endless demand. It was beyond revolting to see the amount of money these men, and even a few women, were willing pay for human flesh. In many cases the transactions were just questionable and unproven. In others, the FBI had gathered enough evidence to take down the suspects and put them away for life, but were holding back in hopes of gaining more information with an eye to eventually dismantling the entire web. There was also an alarming number of foreign nationals involved, their comings and goings monitored but unimpeded.
Bella's body was shaking with tension as she sat and read. While they schemed and planned and prepared, real lives were actively being destroyed. Human beings were being subjected to horrific physical and emotional torture. A sense of great responsibility settled over her shoulders. This wasn't just about Mary Alice Brandon. She was only a single thread in the far-reaching web of terror. Tanya had unveiled an entire culture of depredation and abuse. This was a multi-million dollar underground industry steeped in evil. Hedonism taken too far. Kidnapping, rape, torture, murder. . . it was all there before her.
Attached to each profile was a photo or a collection of photos. The criminals looked like normal people. Some were quite attractive. Not one of them displayed horns, fangs, red eyes or any other outward symbol of their corrupt nature. Bella was becoming more frightened the longer she read.
Noticeably missing from the collection was anyone who could be considered the kingpin. As she read, the image of the web became more and more solid in her mind's eye, but it was a web without a spider. The master of the network was nothing more than a ghost; a criminal mastermind composed of phantasmagoric shadows and reflections.
Bella rolled her chair back a few inches and closed her eyes, trying to drink in and digest the flood of information. The enemy's lair indeed. Mahardy was throwing them to the wolves, just like he said.
Bella was subdued as they left the building hours later. They were out near the street before she realized they had passed their car a while ago.
"Wait. Where are we going?"
"Back to your place."
"But the c-"
"Not ours. We're riding the bus."
"Oh," she said, completely confused.
They reached the correct stop, or so she assumed, and boarded the next bus without incident 11 minutes later. Without any sort of warning, Agent Masen slipped right back into boyfriend mode, paying her fare and ushering her to a seat near the middle of the bus with his hand on her lower back. Following his cues she smiled up at him as they sat, twined her fingers with his and looked out the window as if she was interested in the passing cars. She was actually observing the other riders in the reflection on the glass. Her focus was disrupted by a faint buzzing sound beside her.
"Just a sec. I need to get this call," Masen said, pulling his hand back and digging in his pocket for his phone.
She smiled and rested her hand on his thigh instead, still casually intimate and possessive. The girl across the aisle was checking him out and it only felt natural to give her a challenging look. When the girl looked down sheepishly, she turned her own eyes forward and focused her attention on the one-sided conversation beside her.
"The basics. . . yeah. . . No, two of those is good, but make them nice. . . Alone. . . of course. . Four days. . . yeah, yeah, I know. . . That's fine. Great. I'll be in touch."
There wasn't much she could glean, except that the caller must have been one of his 'suppliers' and they would have a tight turn around once they received authorization for their expenditures from Mahardy. She was trying to imagine what they could get away with taking on a plane from Seattle to Florida. Clothes, a weapon or two if they were packed and declared properly, some personal effects. It wouldn't give them much to work with in Florida, not unless they could turn somebody who worked on the fringes. Or maybe they could create a local stash in advance and Masen would have an opportunity to collect equipment as they needed it. What could they use anyway? Wires and recorders were too bulky and sure to be discovered. The Volturi would probably have their rooms bugged and every word or gesture would be analyzed until they were considered 'clean' or 'trustworthy'. What did that even mean among criminals? Was there some sort of human-trafficking-rapist-murderer's code of conduct?
Agent Masen lifted his hip to stuff his phone back into his jeans then draped his arm around her shoulder. Bella leaned in a little and pulled out her own phone, opening a free game demo to give herself something to do. Everyone else on the bus displayed different levels of boredom or preoccupation. She tried to relax into the rhythm of a routine afternoon commute. She felt Masen's fingers toying with her hair and glanced up at him. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back against the top of the seat. His expression was one of complete contentment.
Bella was a bit lost since the bus took a different route than her normal path home. Maybe that was the point. Agent Masen seemed to avoid routines, consistency and any sort of predictable behavior. She was also starting to get used to his near-omniscience, so it was no big surprise that he pulled the cord to request the next stop with his eyes still shut. Looking around, Bella realized they were less than three blocks from her apartment. The sudden growl from her stomach told her it was also long past time to eat.
Masen chuckled under his breath and took her hand again as they stood and exited the bus. They walked down the sidewalk together at a casual pace, swinging their joined hands a little.
"Is your first name really Edward?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
His reply was a sidelong glance.
"So, what do I call you? I can't very well be wandering around the streets of DC for the next two weeks referring to you by your job title."
"Masen is fine."
"Hmm."
"Does that bother you?"
"You know my full name." She worked to keep her tone even and unaffected.
"And a lot more, besides." He shrugged his shoulders matter-of-factly.
"How is that fair?" It bothered her that he knew so much and she was in the dark about everything - how to work, what to expect, and even who she was working alongside.
"How does it matter?"
"You're aggravating."
"You'll get used to it."
"Yeah, right," she muttered.
"Or not." They walked in silence for almost a block. "I'll be gone most of tomorrow."
"Okay. What should I be doing?" Outwardly they were a couple, but he was still the boss dictating their next moves.
"You can spend more time in the crypt, if you feel up to it. Remember what I said about discarding things before you know their value. That is more true with intelligence than anything else. We'll only be carrying in whatever is in our heads, so glean as much as you can while you can. I'll give you Tanya's contact info. And I'll also need you to type up a compelling argument for our itemized expenditures. Check your e-mail. I sent you a list to start with. I'll be adding details and more pricing throughout the day tomorrow, so stay tuned."
"Sounds like fun."
"Not at all. That's why you're the one doing it, rookie."
"How sweet. I'm so glad you're not really my boyfriend."
"You have no idea." His voice was lower and a bit gruff. She eyed him quizzically but they had reached her apartment and he motioned her to take the stairs ahead of him.
Her partner was a constant puzzle. His expressions and mannerisms were a complex maze of shadows, fronts and misdirection. The only consistent thing about him was his eyes. . . His searching, watching, inscrutable eyes. She wanted answers and she wanted them yesterday. However, hour by hour it was becoming more apparent that she was not going to have that satisfaction. She was already getting used to the feeling of disappointment.