Chapter Six
"Who might you be?" the man furthest from the door asked with a chuckle. He seemed too taken aback by the fact that a beautiful, young woman was suddenly in their midst to consider that she'd just breached their security. "An early Christmas present? We musta been awful good! If we knew your daddy, remind me to thank him!" He turned to call over his shoulder to someone in an adjoining room. "Hey, Oz, looky what we got!"
Jaime paused, confused. Had her friend, the Dean, sent her to the wrong place? If this was a joke, she was not in the mood. When the man called 'Oz' emerged, she knew there'd been no mistake. He was huge, burly and almost the perfect cliché of a 'bad guy', but dressed in clothing several cuts above that of his cohorts, loudly proclaiming his status as being many levels above them.
"Hello, Little Lady," he said in a low, unfriendly voice. "I'd love to hear exactly who your father is, right after you explain what you just did to my door."
- - - - - -
Steve could feel his heart jack-hammering as he continued to question Hansen. "If they are still out there, where would I find them?"
"I've never had anything to do with those people, and I don't intend to start now."
Steve's hands were in tight fists again, and they both had Jack Hansen's name on them. "Look," he said, struggling to keep his voice even, "if you don't start giving me answers – and I mean the right ones – you won't have to worry about The Advocates. When I get done with you, the only pieces left will be too small for them to do anything with!." Steve squatted in front of Hansen's chair, his face within inches of his adversary's. "I'm only asking you one more time," he said in a very soft voice that soon grew into a roar, "Where are they?"
"I don't know," Jack stammered, thoroughly cowed. "I really don't. But you could try the main office at the University."
"Los Angeles?"
"Virginia."
Oscar picked up the phone. "I'm on it."
Steve nodded. "Jack and I will just keep on with our friendly little chat. Won't we, Buddy?" Jack just stared. Steve stood up but continued to hover threateningly. "How'd they end up out here?"
"The original group is still in California. The splinter cell moved to Virginia when their leader transferred there – much closer to the heart of our government."
"Their leader," Steve probed, "is...who?"
"They've got someone named Ozwold in charge at their headquarters, but their real boss is...the Dean."
- - - - - -
"What about the door?" Jaime hedged. "I opened it."
"You made splinters out of it," Oz corrected. "Just how were you able to do that?"
Jaime shrugged, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "Must not know my own strength, I guess..."
"Why don't you come back to my office, where we can talk in private?" he suggested.
"I like these guys," she said lightly. "I'd rather talk here." By the open door, she finished silently. She hadn't been expecting more than two or three people, but had no doubt she could still handle things just fine.
"Ain't never seen a woman do that before," one of the other men drawled. "To what do we owe the privilege?"
"Yes," a new voice agreed from just outside the doorway. "Why don't you tell them why you're here, Jaime?"
Jaime turned toward the newcomer and nearly gasped out loud. This, she hadn't been prepared for. It was her 'friend', Dean Joseph Branson.
- - - - - -
Steve fought back the urge to strike Hansen; this was harder than pulling teeth, and he simply didn't have the time for it. Jaime didn't have the time. "Why was the NSB investigating Jaime's father?"
"Excuse me? Where did you get that idea?"
"Never mind. What, exactly, were you investigating him for?"
"We weren't exactly investigating him; he was helping us keep tabs on the splinter group, once they'd started to break away. He was uncomfortable with what they were trying to lead him into, and apparently some threats were being made, so he came to us – to me – for help."
"Did James Sommers work for you, or not?" Steve queried, still thinking he'd prefer to be punching Hansen in the face.
"No – he never did."
"Once the investigation was over, when you couldn't use him anymore, did you have him 'terminated'?"
"Of course not!" Jack exclaimed. "They wanted him eliminated because he refused to cooperate – he wasn't going with the program, so to speak. He also appeared to be first in line to be appointed the new Dean, and of course they wanted their own man, Branson, since Sommers was proving he wasn't one of them."
"The Advocates had James and Ann killed?"
"Not exactly; it was supposed to be James and Chris Stuart. They considered her a loose end, especially if Sommers was about to be eliminated. They shot out a tire on the car, while it was at the sharpest curve on that road, but they screwed up and Ann died instead, although I don't think they knew it at the time."
"Who, exactly, fired that shot? Was it Branson?"
"No. It was per his instructions, but the man who fired the shot was the one named Ozwold."
Oscar hung up the phone, and his worry lines deepened. "First, I called Dean Branson's office. He was on his way out, but he told me he received a very strange phone call from Jaime, about an hour ago."
"Right after she left the detention center," Steve stated.
"Right. Branson said she was asking questions about her parents, and also about The Advocates, and he said he told her they'd disbanded years ago. He suggested she come back here and talk to me because someone was leading her down a blind alley -"
Steve realized Oscar hadn't heard his conversation with Jack. "Oscar, he's lying!"
"I know he is, Pal. When we hung up, I phoned the main receptionist, and she told me that Jaime had just called back a few minutes earlier, asking if the Dean could meet her at a certain address, the address he'd given her, but he was already gone."
"Jack just told me Branson's been leading the cell that broke off from The Advocates. He sent Jaime straight into a trap!"
- - - - - -