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Euphoria

Chapter 3: Suspicion

Wednesday

12:13 pm

.

Upon returning to the FBI Headquarters, navigating the Bureau's many floors and hallways, and finally arriving once again at his office, Agent Jayden discovered two things: firstly, that Forrester had kept his word and had another desk relocated to the room, and secondly that Agent Donahue was sitting at it. She was cross-legged, her head resting in her right palm with her elbow balanced on the desk. Her attention was focused on the case file spread across the otherwise clear tabletop. Norman noted, a little distractedly, that her trench coat had been removed and was now folded unevenly over the back of her chair, revealing bare legs offset by a knee-length skirt. As he shut the door behind him she raised her head. Holding up the sandy-coloured folder, the woman waved it in his direction.

"You were right. This is going to be a tough case." A warm glint had returned to her gaze since he had last seen her, although her smile was still noticeably absent, resulting in a cautiously guarded expression.

So we're not going to discuss your little disappearing act back there? Oh, okay, fine then. Straight to business. "The man we're looking for," Jayden clarified as he crossed the room, "could be one of virtually hundreds of drug dealers in the area. Each one of them would step over their own mother for the chance to purchase high-quality Asian narcotics and then sell them on at exorbitant prices to every desperate customer along the East Coast." Norman stopped in front of Melissa's desk. "What's more, so far all of the workers on the tanker claim to have had no idea that the drugs were being smuggled. Unless we can scare them into talking, I doubt we'll be getting much out of them. Thoughts?"

Donahue's eyes were downcast, lost in deliberation. She chewed on a nail for several moments before answering. "We need to know which local dealers have connections in China."

"There's an agent stationed in Beijing who could help us, but currently they're heavily involved in a separate case. Unfortunately, we've no way of knowing how long until we can request assistance." Norman perched himself on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms.

Rifling through the yellowed pages, Melissa ran her index finger down an orderly paragraph of text. "The drug analysis hasn't revealed anything? No impurities we could use to trace the heroin to a certain supplier?"

"Nothing. Not yet."

The woman returned to the file. Well, her mind seems to be fully functional. That's encouraging. As Jayden took in her shape, her curves and edges, all coiled into one fascinating form on the chair, he unexpectedly recalled a proposal he had considered earlier that morning. His head tilted slightly. "There is… oneperson we could look to for help. His name's David Kellen, an ex-dealer we apprehended a while back. He traded in a jail sentence to act as our unofficial informant, telling us all about his dealer buddies and helping to dismantle a drug cartel in the process. He'll probably be able to give us some information as to where we can start looking."

Melissa's eyes widened. In the afternoon sunlight they shone secrets Norman could not read. "You got a criminal out of jail time so they could give you tip-offs?"

"I like to think of it as a necessary evil." Always lying to yourself to make things better, aren't you? Jayden shifted uncomfortably and began to fiddle with the cuffs of his ash grey suit. "Besides, he's an honest-to-goodness law abiding citizen now." So there's hope for all of us. Never too late to turn back.

"No, you don't need to explain yourself to me." She was shaking her head as she rose to her feet, and that delicate smile had returned. "Sometimes instinct is better than all the red tape they wrap around us."

Norman couldn't help but stare. The sun had broken free of its gloomy constraints and through the window came streaming rays of iridescent radiance, lighting the woman in front of him like a Renaissance painting. Her lips were full; her cheeks flushed, her short hair glowing. He could almost feel her splendour spreading out towards him. She was so much more real, more alive, than the steel cabinets and frail blinds and everything within that grey fortress. Jayden was gripped by the strongest urge to reach out and touch her, to close the hollow and meaningless space between them.

No, stop it, this is wrong, this is stupid.

Norman stood up abruptly and paced over to his own desk. He leaned his palms against the mahogany surface, bowed his head and winced his eyes closed. You've know this woman for what, five minutes, and you're already fantasizing about her? You're pathetic. The young man hoped he was imagining the trembling in his fingers. He was acutely, excruciatingly aware of how easy it would be to stretch into his pocket and just inhale.

"Jayden?" The word came swimming to him as though underwater.

Taking a single deep shuddering breath, he spun back around to face his partner. It appeared that the sun had hidden once again behind its desolate screen, because the room had been restored to muted colours - to murkiness. Melissa stood before him, a hand on her hip and the faintest hint of concern shadowing her features. Just any other woman.

"So we're agreed?" Norman asked softly. "We'll visit David Kellen?" Please, please don't make anything of this. Please just accept.

The female agent was frozen. Was Norman hallucinating, or was she cross-examining him with that hawkish share? Eventually, after the longest instant, she nodded her head.

Norman sighed and slipped a hand into his jacket, extracting a pair of glasses and positioning them gratefully across his welcoming eyes. Instantaneously his vision was flooded with a cold, calculating blue. After easing his right hand into a glossy black glove he began twisting and brushing the air, deftly manipulating his virtual system to locate the specific file he desired. In under a minute it was his.

"Norman?" Melissa's voice was hushed.

The man removed the shaded lenses. "Just finding Kellen's address. Did you know these things can store a supercomputer's worth of data?"

Donahue was leaning over his desk, her finger tapping at a yellow post-it note stuck to the side of his computer screen. "You had it written down right here." The scrap was a little crumpled, and its corners were curled. Across it Norman could just make out the address he had found moments before, preceded by the words D. Kellen,scrawled in his own chaotic script.

He felt an odd heat along his spine, travelling up to his hairline. "Oh, I guess I just forgot. That's a pretty untidy desk." Why would I look at a sickly bit of paper when I can bathe the world in icy blue? Before anything more could be said the agent headed for the door, pushing it open with his shoulder. "Ready to leave?"

They made their way to Jayden's car under the watch of an oppressively murky sky. Melissa slid into the passenger seat as though it was the easiest thing in the world, but for Norman it was a surreal occurrence to be sitting beside such a woman. He couldn't remember the last time he had had anybody in his Ford Taurus, let alone this sudden intrusion into his life.

Starting up the engine, the young agent manoeuvred the car out onto the main road running past HQ. The street was thrumming with traffic and the dull roar of routine, mirroring the dreary heavens above. Jayden thought ahead to the address they would be visiting as he worked the steering wheel into a right turn. David… it's been a while. Norman hoped he'd have at least some information to offer them, otherwise the investigation would be going nowhere fast. And I hate being stuck in limbo.

Outside of the car, buildings rushed by, craning overhead like great glass and concrete sentinels. On the sidewalk pedestrians were bundled up against the wind, determined expressions on determined faces lost in an urban jungle.

"How're you finding the city?" Norman asked, allowed himself a quick glance to the woman seated to his right.

Donahue peeled her eyes away from the side window. "It's smaller than I remember from last time I visited. So far I like it, if only because I could see the White House on my way to work this morning. Plus it's warmer than Chicago." She shrugged her shoulders non-committally. "But I've only been here a few days."

Jayden felt a smile creeping along his jaw. "You'll fit right in. The only problem with Washington is the rain." Cold, dismal rain. When you see so much of it, it begins to define your life.

They came to a halt at an intersection. Norman drummed his fingers against the wheel, eyeing the scarlet stoplight impatiently.

"So, Jayden. How'd you join the FBI in the first place?"

The young man immediately calmed his hands: his azure gaze stared at something ambiguous, far past the windscreen. "I always knew I wanted to stop the bad guys. At college I studied Criminal Justice, and… I applied to the Bureau as soon as I'd got the necessary experience."

The lights changed. Norman pressed his foot down, urging the car ahead with unwarranted viciousness. As the wheels skidded against the tarmac, screeching in protest, he realised what he was doing and eased back on the accelerator. "How about you?" he countered, his pale eyes flickering nervously as he continued on at a more tolerable speed.

"Are you sure you can handle this beast?" She was smiling.

Norman tried but failed to laugh. Haha, I get it, it's funny because I drive an old sedan.

Melissa placed her hands in her lap. Out of the corner of his eye the young man could see her scratching absent-mindedly at her pale fingers. "I actually trained as a lawyer, initially. I did well and got a junior position at one of the largest law firms in Chicago." Her tone of voice sounded more surprised than smug.

"But that didn't work out?" Norman prompted.

She fell silent. For a moment the car was filled with static and a low rumble from beyond its doors. "I was naïve. I thought being a lawyer would mean bringing justice to the world, but I ended up dealing with greedy divorcees, with trying to shorten the sentences of criminals who deserved to be locked up. I hated what I was doing, so I quit. Applied to the FBI on impulse, and here I am."

Jayden looked across at her: the woman's chest was rising and then falling in calm inhalations as she watched the cityscape roll past. There was wonder in the curve of her collar bone, the warmth dusting her cheeks, the sheen that covered her pastel skin. Can you comprehend how beautiful you are? He tore his eyes away to concentrate on the road, and observed that the city around them was transforming. From impressive and imposing office blocks it was diminishing to run-down flats; squashed, misshapen; and dark electricity cables withering under the glare of the unyielding clouds.

"We're nearly there."

Donahue adjusted the belt of her trench coat. "Is there anything vitally important I need to know about Mr Kellen before I meet him?"

"Um… can't think of anything in particular." Norman steered the vehicle into a narrow lane where the road was potholed and the buildings seemed to be covered in a fine layer of grime. Lovely neighbourhood. "Whatever he did in his past, he's made up for it. He proved his worth to us."

Melissa eyed him closely. "I'm sure."

The Ford edged past several decrepit-looking bungalows, crawling up onto the pavement. "Number 247. That's the one." Norman brought the car to a stop and killed the engine. As he got up, slamming his door shut, Donahue exited regally, taking in the homestead overlooking them with several long sweeps of her golden eyes.

The two agents strode to the front door together, their footsteps falling united, both of their faces set forward. One was clad in a warm brown coat, her feathery hair brushing its collar, her walk brisk with something unarguably feminine buried underneath; the other wore a granite-grey suit and held fortitude upon his face as he covertly slipped a finger into his jacket pocket. Just from their behaviour together they seemed to compliment each other unknowingly, to fill the other's cracks whilst giving their companion the liberty to bloom with their own individual strengths. There was firmness and yet versatility.

An onlooker might have thought they'd been partners for years, had they laid eyes upon the pair in that single moment. They reached the house: Melissa folded her arms whilst Norman stood on the threshold and knocked solidly on the door. He rocked on his heels, templing his fingers, as they waited. On the air hung a growing humidity.

When the entrance was eventually opened just a sliver, the security chain still clinging to its latch, it revealed a petite woman with long black hair and a small mouth.

"Yes?" Her voice was authoritative, unbefitting her undersized figure.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Kellen. I'm Agent Jayden of the FBI and this is my partner, Agent Donahue. We're here to speak to your husband. Is he home?"

The woman looked past them apprehensively. "Yes… he is. Come in." She didn't sound especially happy about the prospect.

There was the sound of rattling, and then the door swung open fully to beckon them in. As they stepped inside Norman noticed slightly off-colour walls and stacks of paper on the coffee table; a television in the corner of the living room was inaudibly broadcasting what appeared to be, as far as he could tell from the longing gazes and silent mouthing, a melodrama. The scent of boiling pasta was vaguely discernable.

"David's this way," their escort said, leading them into an adjoining room that was something of a makeshift office. "Honey, you have visitors."

Reclining in a large burgundy armchair was a gruff, greying man with a five o'clock shadow and a hardback book in his substantial grasp. A pair of glasses rested on the tip of his nose and made him look distinctly not like a felon. Jayden took a glimpse at Melissa and smiled at the subtle way her eyebrows raised. Not much of a drug dealer, is he?

The bear of a man placed the book on the floor to his left and broke into a grin. "Agent Jayden! Isn't this a pleasant surprise. Please, sit down, both of you." Donahue positioned herself in the second armchair whilst Mrs Kellen fetched an extra seat for Norman, after which she busied herself with making drinks. Once both agents were accommodated and given glasses full of sparkling beverage, David clapped his hands together heartily.

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting your visit, Jayden, but it's doubly surprising to see you accompanied by this radiant vision." He cast his bespectacled sight towards Melissa.

"My name is Agent Donahue, Mr Kellen. I'm Jayden's 're here to ask you a few questions pertaining to a recent case."

The older man chuckled to himself. "Yes, and you give him a run for his money, I can tell. Of course: ask me anything you wish. As delicious as it may be, I'm sure you came here for more than just my wife's lemonade."

Norman leaned forward slightly in his chair. "David, we know there's a dealer in the city shipping heroin from China. We need to find them and put a stop to it, but we're a little stuck for leads right now. To be frank, we could really use your help."

Expressionlessly, Kellen stood up, shut the study door, and then returned to his seat. "My wife shouldn't hear this," he clarified, his voice now remarkably gentle. "She doesn't need to be reminded about… you know." He coughed and interlaced his fingers on his lap. "What have you discovered so far?"

"Very little. Whoever's behind the operation has been very careful. The tanker the drugs were transported on is an entirely legal goods vessel; so the heroin was hidden covertly and then the tracks were covered spotlessly. Everyone's lips are sealed."

David nodded his head slowly. "How much heroin?"

"About 100 kilograms, I believe."

"Now then," the gentleman said, "that's a serious venture. Your culprit is clearly not a home-grown drugs dealer. This may be the work of a cartel. But you already knew this, of course. Isn't there a way you hot-shot FBI agents can cross-reference all your data and assess which dealers are most likely to be responsible?"

"Well yes, but that still leaves us with at least a hundred suspects. So unless we individually trawl through every dealer on record, no." Believe me, I tried to uncover connections. What ARI can't find isn't worth knowing.

Kellen pinched his lips together. "In that case, I suggest you try to find other places where these drugs might have been stashed. The more you find, the more likely it becomes that you'll stumble upon some evidence." He peered at Norman from over his glasses. "If I was hiding shipments of heroin of that size in Washington, I'd do so in the abandoned factories around the D.C. Docks. Look closely: those drugs will be well-hidden if they're there."

Norman mentally digested the information. "Thank you. You're invaluable as always."

Kellen removed his lenses and began to clean them on his sweater. "You're welcome, Jayden. But if you need to contact me again, please do so in a less conspicuous manner. I don't want any dealers cottoning onto my involvement with the authorities, recognising who I am, and promptly coming after me. As you can imagine, there's something of a bounty on my head." His eyes were cast upon the carpeted floor. "You know, when the FBI caught me, it really couldn't have come at a better time. My daughter, Natalie, was just a baby. I realised that I didn't want her to grow up in such a fearful environment, with a father who preyed off others for a living, so I took the opportunity and left the industry. This was a decision to protect my family, you see." The man looked up to pierce the agents with a steely gaze, and for a split instant the coldness and severity reflected there – so at odds with his warm exterior – meant Norman could almost see something of a powerful drug dealer within David Kellen. "I don't want anything to happen to jeopardise that safety."

"Of course not," Jayden replied, trying to control the sudden and agitated shaking in his fingertips. Note to self: don't piss off ex-convicts, even ones you're on friendly terms with.

At that moment the study door flung open, and in came bounding a small child with an eager smile and jet black hair just like her mother.

"Natalie!" Kellen boomed. His tone of voice was instantly uplifted as he wrapped her miniature body in a clumsy embrace.

Norman looked awkwardly away whilst the father and daughter shared their intimate moment. He glanced towards his partner to see her staring at him so piercingly, so intently, that he couldn't help but imagine something terrible had somehow happened.

"We're done here, right Jayden?" She was quietly raving, her voice hoarse and insistent. "We can leave?"

"Yeah… I guess we're done for now." The young man was just a little shocked by her sudden change in temperament. And yet, there was also something morosely enthralling about her fleeting insanity and the way her amber eyes fluttered, exotic birds caged in in bars of flesh.

"Good then. Alright. I'll meet you back at the car," she rambled, standing up and offering a brusque farewell to the room in general before leaving the office with a confused flurry.

The remaining agent rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. That's the second time in as many hours she's run away like a frightened rabbit. Maybe this agent isn't as well-balanced as I first presumed. "Well, I should be going too. Thanks for your help, David. And your hospitality, and your lemonade." As he headed for the door, Norman smiled in a bittersweet sort of way at the girl sitting blissfully in her father's lap, feet swinging against his thighs.

I sure hope your daddy gives you the future you deserve.

Perhaps it was the tremors still present in his hands, the particular sunny grin of that young child, or the remnant of the look on Melissa's face - but as he turned to depart Norman lost his balance, stumbling. He caught himself on the door frame and was immediately aware of a painful grappling at his heart. Something had been lost, something important. He stared at the ground behind him and saw to his horror, rolling away from him, taunting him, a small sapphire vial.

Faster than he'd thought he was capable of moving, Jayden lurched towards the streak of blue. But not fast enough: the fully-grown man was beaten to his prize by a tiny hand. As Norman crawled upon his knees, his mouth agape, Kellen's daughter beamed at him with the bottle of Triptocaine in her innocent clutches.

"Bring it to me, Natalie darling," bid her father. She could not hear the rigid edge to his voice but Norman did and was overcome by waves of revulsion, his mind swiftly dissolving into a mass of dread. There was no coherent thought.

Once the package had been delivered - unwillingly, because its young deliverer was lured by its twinkling hues - David kissed the child on the nose and sent her affectionately from the room. This being done, he repositioned his spectacles and inspected the tube in his thick fingers, spinning it in the light. "Triptocaine," he concluded after several moment's consideration.

Norman attempted to wrestle with words, but no words came.

Knitting his brows, the older man saw how the agent before him was still kneeling forlornly upon the carpeted floor, incapable of action. He was a shadow of the composed man of only seconds earlier. Had the drug done this to him?

"Norman." Kellen spoke slowly and very, very purposefully. "What are you doing with something like this?"

I… I wish I knew. Goddamnit, fuck, fuck it.

"This is an extremely rare drug, Norman. I'm sure it would feel much more at home in the pocket of an addict than a responsible FBI agent."

"Well, I am an agent," blurted Jayden, scrambling to his feet. "I'm not an addict. I'm a fucking profiler!"

The grey bear narrowed his eyes. "Where did you get this from?"

"The Bureau. From them, to help things. The FBI gave it to me." He was grasping his right wrist with so much force that it was turning white. Gotta stop these spasms. The floor was beginning to tilt under his feet.

"From the FBI?" said Kellen. The room reverberated with icy stillness. "Jayden, you're not thinking clearly. Whoever sells this drug… well, it's a derivative of heroin, so it numbs pain. There are hundreds of other drugs which can do that in similar ways. But Triptocaine is also synthesized to be incredibly addictive. I mean, your employers just wouldn't give this to you. The people that produce this drug produce it precisely for its addictive qualities."

Lunging forward, Norman seized the vial from David's hands in a fit of ire and passion and distrust. Fuck it, I need that bottle. He stepped back, breathing raggedly, with his paradise, his life line, held in front of his heart. His hand was gripping it as tightly as it could.

"I know how dangerous drugs can be, better than most people." There seemed to be an infinite sadness in the grizzled man's muted tone. "Be careful, Jayden."

The young man stormed from that room and that house without saying a parting word. Once outside he leaned against the tediously decaying wall, shutting his eyes and allowing imaginings to overcome him. His thoughts were rampant with a sickening uncertainty of what the fuck did I just hear? and I just need to calm down.

He gazed at the blindingly blue tube in his palm. In another universe he would take the powder, it would be gasped feverishly all the way up his nasal cavity, turquoise stars would burst behind his eye sockets; but for now that would remain nothing more than a fantasy. He mournfully returned the Triptocaine to his jacket pocket.

No. Not today.

Norman took a glance at the ever-darkening sky and, shivering with something that wasn't quite the breeze, returned at length to the waiting car.