Chapter 22

It wasn't time to panic; it was time to focus on how to counter this. They needed to back up and review the facts. There had to be something that they were missing.

"Number 1 to HQ", Number 1 said quietly into the radio as he walked back towards his teammates.

"Go ahead Number1, this is Number 362," Rachel responded back quietly.

"There is nothing here. There are no containers of any kind that match the description in our intel, please advise…" Number 1 said despondently.

"Sure Number 1," Number 362 said cheerfully, "Number 274 left HQ a few minutes ago and is en route to your location. He mentioned that we need to proceed to Plan B. I assume that you are up to speed on that?"

Number 1 glanced around, humiliated and with a forced smile as he remembered his conversation with Chad in the hallway, "Roger".

"Send Sector V back to HQ for debriefing. We need to compile all the information, including the readings from the detector to see if there was anything that we missed." Number 362 answered back.

"Roger" was the forced reply.

Number 1 tapped his radio off as he approached his teammates.

"What now Number 1?" Number 4 asked with a panicked look on his face.

Number 1 turned to Number 5, "Number 5, I need to you to lead Sector V back to HQ for a full debriefing while I follow up a lead with Number 274."

She nodded and smiled as she opened up her radio, "Number 5 to Number 2, I need you to wake up and get the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. to secondary extraction. Tell Sector G to stand down and head back home…" Her voice faded as she walked away with Number's 3 and 4.

As Number 1 watched them walk away, he heard the sound of an engine roar up behind him. He turned around to see Chad's Jeep pull up to the container where he was standing. An impatient looking Number 274 was in the driver's seat, nervously tapping the steering wheel. Instead of his usual football jersey, jeans and Samurai helmet, he was wearing a blue T-shirt and blue jeans. Number 1 noticed the new look almost immediately since it didn't look like his usual leader regalia. Instead, he looked like someone who was not in charge.

"Hey chief," Chad said with a smile as Nigel climbed in, "It will only take a few minutes to get to the Hoover building from where we are and we can alert the FBI promptly."

Number 1 nodded as he shut the door and watched the docks drift away in the distance as Chad weaved through the side streets, back to the highway. There was silence for the first ten minutes as Chad drove. The problem was obvious, but the answer was not. Nigel didn't know what to expect from Chad as they moved closer to the downtown area of D.C. Would Chad be angry? Would he smartly reply that he had "told Nigel so"? Almost as if prompted, Chad broke the silence first.

"Listen Nigel," he said as he continued to drive, shifting gears down the highway, "To your left is a manila folder with a new ID badge in it, there is a clipboard with filler paperwork on it that you can use as a prop. Number 86 has programmed that ID card with a magnetic code that will activate the "personnel only" elevator inside the Hoover building. She told me to inform you that your new persona will be Ben Ditkin and you are an accounting intern; there is more info in that folder. I guess the Bureau hires temps all the time, so you shouldn't have too much trouble. Once you get inside, you can use the ID badge to access the admin floors. We need to get all the way to the top so that maybe they will listen."

Nigel snapped his current ID badge off and tossed it behind him, snapping the new one in place. It all sounded like either Number 86 had these extra badges laying around, or Number 274 had planned on this being a possibility all along.

"I'm sorry I failed you guys," Nigel said at last, "I really don't know what else to say."

"Ah, Nigel," Chad said wincing, "You didn't fail. It's not your fault that the material wasn't there. It's not anyone's fault, it's just a matter of us flying by the seat of our pants. The KCD, or whatever the name of this organization is, isn't geared for this and we should have accepted that a long time ago. We can't even come up with a proper name for this organization and we're already trying to track down stolen nuclear material!"

Nigel stared at the floor, puzzled at Chad's newly revealed frustration.

"Nigel", Chad said, almost at a whisper, "I'm going to tell you this because I trust you. I don't think I would ever say this to anyone else. The truth is: I never expected us to get as far as we have."

"Well", Nigel responded, "We got a lucky break with the Ice Cream Factory. That pretty much…"

"No, No, No," Chad interrupted, "That's not what I mean. I mean this whole organization. If I was to be brutally honest, man to man, I never expected this thing to take flight at all. When I met Rachel, we were sophomores in high school. She kept talking about this dream all the way through graduation and how great it was going to turn out. I told her that I would help, I mean, what was I going to say, really?"

Nigel winced behind his shades at the coming confession; He was never really good at this sort of thing.

"I mean, come on Nigel, she's a cute girl! I told her that I would be happy to help because I thought that it would impress her and get my foot in the door. Well, I thought for certain that after we arrived at Gallagher she would quit the whole kids act and grow up…but she never did. So now, I'm here and I'm roped into this and I have no idea what I'm doing. Now she has me going around from high school to high school trying to recruit people and we don't even really know what the goal is! It's just madness and we should have never gotten involved."

"She just needs someone to believe in her," Nigel said, giving it his best shot; believing it was correct and hoping it sounded so.

"Yeah right," Chad said, weaving in and out of traffic and slamming the gear shift between gears, "It's easy for you to say that. You always just SIT there behind those cool shades of yours, looking like you got everything under control. Nigel, the truth is that I'm terrified at the thought of a pending nuclear holocaust. I'm terrified because I DON'T know what is going to happen next and I'm not going to pretend like I do."

"If I look collected," Nigel responded, staring at Chad through his dark shades, "It's only because I KNOW what is going to happen next: we are going to win, we are going to stop this."

Chad shook his head, "We just need to get this information to the FBI because we are not qualified to handle this. They probably already have leads on illegal nuclear activity and they probably already know where it's at. The information that we can provide them will help them narrow down their suspects and wrap this up. That should be the total mission of the KCD Nigel; we should just be an aid to gather information."

"Well I disagree, for the record's sake," Nigel said calmly, looking over his new ID badge, "Why are you telling me this anyway?"

"I'm telling you this because I trust you Nigel," Chad said shrugging, "I'm telling you this because you're the only "real" and "down to earth" friend that I have. I'm telling you this because yesterday it was all fun and games and today, millions of people will die if we don't get this information into the hands of people who can stop it."

Nigel didn't say anything as the cab of the Jeep fell silent. They were nearing the Hoover building and Nigel had to get his head in the game if he was going to pull this off. It didn't matter now what the facts were and who was right or wrong. Perhaps Chad was right after all?

Number 1 shrugged off the doubt as the Jeep pulled up to the main entrance. Number 1 grabbed the paperwork and tucked it under his arm as he walked towards the building. He pulled his shades off and tucked them into his shirt pocket as he wrestled the door open.

The floor of the Hoover building was bustling with life as suited people were walking from place to place. Many had their heads buried in their cell phones or drinking coffee as they rushed about. Number 1 noticed the security desk and the guards that stood motionless, eyeing the people as they walked about. Number 1 knew that if he didn't want to have trouble, he needed to look like he belonged there.

He held his head high as he walked straight to the security desk and handed the guard his badge, glancing at his watch. There were turnstile gates on either side of the security desk and metal detectors past the turnstiles. Guards were posted sporadically on the other side of the turnstiles and they kept their eyes on the people.

The guard took the badge and looked Number 1 over, running the badge through the electronic scanner.

Number 1 looked at his watch again.

"In a hurry?" asked one of the burly guards, standing near the metal detector, a scowl on his face.

"Gosh! I've been waiting for this opportunity my whole life," Number 1 said with a college age student's grin, "I don't want to be late. Which floor is the accounting department?"

The old guard behind the desk shot a glance at the burly guard and shrugged, handing the badge back to Number 1.

"Second floor," the guard said with a smile as Number 1 inched through the gate and the metal detector without incident.

"Gee thanks!" Number 1 said with a goofy grin and headed towards the elevators. As soon as he was out of sight, Number 1's goofy grin turned back into his normal, no-nonsense, scowl. If these people only knew what type of danger they were in, they wouldn't be so uptight. Number 1 waited for an empty elevator to arrive and then stepped inside; looking in all directions to make sure that he wasn't being watched.

Once he was inside, he noticed that there were some floors whose buttons were lit and there were some floors whose buttons stayed off. The admin offices were surely close to the top, but probably not the top floor. Number 1 looked over his options and hastily made a decision, terrified that someone was going to open the elevator door. He took his ID badge off and slid it through the magnetic card reader that was attached to the control panel. As soon as he had slid the badge through the reader, the rest of the floor's buttons lit up.

Whatever they were paying Fanny Fulbright, it wasn't enough.

He punched the button he felt was the correct one and the elevator started lurching upwards. It was ascending to the top of the floor, going higher in rank of the FBI until it would reach the top. Number 1 knew that if there was any way that they were going to receive a listening ear, it would have to be higher up on the ladder.

The elevator crept to a stop and the door slid open. The hallway was long and dull looking. There were offices every few paces with the same color of doors and windows. The walls were white, the false ceiling tiles were white and the floor tiles were white. The typical ambient sounds of an office building filled the otherwise stale air as Number 1 started walking down the hallway into the complacent arena of the professionals.

Number 1 read the wall plaques as he progressed until he found one that noted the office of the Assistant Director. He paused outside of the door and peered quietly through the window blinds into the office, hoping that he wouldn't be seen.

Inside the well-kept office was small desk, piled high with paperwork, and surrounded by cheap looking office furniture. Seated at the desk was a young secretary who seemed to be in a frustrating conversation on the phone. There was a door to her left, in the corner of the room, which was shut.

Number 1 leaned back and paused; he hadn't considered the possibility of a secretary. What would he say? Would she believe him? He glanced at his watch and noticed it was close to one o'clock. There was only one way to find out what would happen.

He took a deep breath and turned the door handle.