CHAPTER SIX: A Day at the Office
It was an exhausting day. Headquarters had been a madhouse ever since explosives rocked Stark Industries the previous afternoon. Not only was Tony Stark still missing, but another incident occurring in Russia that morning called Fury to the other side of the globe. Everything concerning the Stark case was hitting Coulson's or Commander Hill's desk. So halfway through the day, Coulson was already draining a fourth pot of coffee almost entirely single-handedly.
There was a brisk knock at his door. "Come," he called, too busy for the second syllable.
Maria Hill poked her head into his office. "They just brought in one of the perps from the residency bombings. I'm heading there now."
Coulson was grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair before the sentence was completely out of her mouth. "Stark's security footage panned out?" he asked as he followed her out of his office and took the file she handed him.
The commander nodded. "Cameras caught a glimpse of his face as he was leaving the scene thirty minutes before the bomb went off. System got a hit when he was pulled over for a DUI an hour ago."
"Beautiful," Coulson said. "What'd the cops say when you stole their drunk for questioning?"
"You mean after they looked up S.H.I.E.L.D.? Not much."
Coulson smirked as they both turned the corner. He nodded to the two guards on either side of the interrogation room door as he grasped the handle. Turning to Hill, he asked, "Want to be the caboose if I start things off?"
Hill's eyes narrowed, "You know, I'm not very fond of that terminology."
"Sorry," he said lightly, acknowledging the humor there. "How about dénouement?"
"Better," she nodded, and turned to enter the observation room.
Coulson wiped the smirk from his face as he turned the handle and strode into the room, an air of authority and intimidation imbued into his step. He slapped the file down onto the table and stared at the man in handcuffs.
He was probably in his mid forties, disheveled and thinning blond hair, and generous stubble on his face that was closing in on beard territory. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags underneath them suggested that the man hadn't slept much in the last 48 hours. The stench permeating from him was potent, but he had at least some clarity in his eyes. Maybe he had sobered up some at the police station.
Coulson exhaled a long breath as he took his seat across from the man. And he waited. For a very long time. Never looking away. Hardly blinking. He waited until the man was forced to speak. Rule number one of interrogation: the first two minutes mean everything. Establish a position of power and own the conversation.
"You know, most people just give tickets for speeding," the man finally said, obviously uneasy beneath the relentless gaze.
"I have it on good authority you're guilty of more than that," Coulson said mildly, picking up the file and flipping through the pages.
The man tipped his chin slightly. "Whose authority?"
"Mine," the agent replied, slapping the Stark security photo onto the table in front of him.
The man's eyes fixed on the picture and his face blanched noticeably.
"Want to tell me what you were doing there?" Coulson asked after a while.
"I want a lawyer," he replied.
The laugh that escaped Coulson's lips was quietly terrifying. The perpetrator looked up and was immediately disturbed by the small smile and level stare coming at him from the other side of the table.
"Isn't it funny how we always want the things we can't have?" Coulson asked by way of explanation.
The man scowled. "I know my rights. I'm entitled to a lawyer."
Coulson inhaled deeply. "I don't know if you realize this, mister-" he glanced back at the file, "...Dirk Feldman, but you've sort of exchanged hands here. We're not the police department. You'll find that we do things a little differently here." Coulson stood from his seat and smoothed a hand over his tie. As he spoke, he slowly started to move around the room, checking his reflection in the two-way mirror. "We don't care about your parking tickets or your probation records here, Mr. Feldman. We don't bring in lawyers because we don't prosecute." Here, he turned back to the man and smiled disarmingly. "We like to handle things outside of the court system, and we can get pretty creative about how we manage that. Our area of focus is usually more grandiose than the judicial system can facilitate."
Now, Coulson was moving around to walk behind the man, letting the uneasy moment of being outside of his direct line of vision linger a second longer than necessary. "We handle things on a global level, taking down individuals much more intelligent and dangerous than yourself." He watched to see if Feldman would respond to that, and was pleased when the only reaction the man gave was to look at his chained hands in shame.
Coulson went on, coming to stand beside the man now. "Bad guys, Mr. Feldman. Really bad guys. People who hurt innocent people, and then try to get away with it. We don't like those guys. And you know what?" He placed a hand on the table and leaned over him, noting how the man refused to fully look up at him. "When they get the chance to meet us, they usually don't like us either," he said darkly.
Coulson let a beat draw out before continuing, his tone brighter, "So you see, we're a pretty busy group of people, with a lot of problems all around the world vying for our attention. But you...you've drawn our attention now, Mr. Feldman," He turned to perch on the edge of the table, folding his hands in his lap calmly. "...And having our attention? It's usually not a pleasant thing."
Feldman's Adam's-apple bobbed up and down in a gulp and he looked up at Coulson with unease. "I don't have to talk to you," he said, after much hesitation.
Again, Coulson huffed out a little laugh and shook his head in amazement. "You want to know what happened the last time a man said that to me in this room?"
Feldman shifted uncomfortably.
"He changed his mind within five minutes," Coulson answered, giving two deceivingly light pats to the man's shoulder.
Pushing himself off of the table and walking back around to his seat, Coulson glanced up to the mirror again and gave a subtle nod. "But you're right," he went on. "I don't need any answers from you this second." Coulson retrieved the photo and file from the table and pinned them to his chest, crossing his arms around them.
"You'll find I'm a very patient man," the agent added as the door swung open. Coulson glanced over and wasn't surprised to see that Agent Barton had joined Hill at some point. Looking back at the swiftly sobering Feldman, he nodded towards the door. "Those two, however...they aren't nearly as patient." He flashed another smile at the man before turning to walk towards the door.
Coulson slapped the file into Barton's chest in greeting. "Don't get any blood on my paperwork," he ordered, loudly enough to be heard. "And clean up when you're done."
Barton nodded with a, "Sir," while Hill's eyes stayed glued on the intimidated bomber at the table. Coulson nodded once more and then swiftly exited the room. Honestly, half of that was pure intimidation. This guy felt really small-time to Coulson. Glancing at his watch, he guessed they would have their answers by two o'clock.
"Sir," a junior agent called, approaching once the door to the interrogation room had closed with a click behind Coulson. "Director Fury is requesting an update on com-channel four."
"I'll take him in my office," Coulson said, turning on his heel to head that way. Then, casting a quick glance back over his shoulder, he ordered, "And make me another pot of coffee."
The rest of the day progressed at a similarly fast pace. Coulson's vision was starting to blur as he glanced at the clock in the corner of his computer screen. It was almost five o'clock and their suspect was staying surprisingly tight-lipped. Coulson expected Hill to give the order for a truth serum any time now, but so far, they had been going at it the old fashioned way.
Coulson sighed and let the pen drop from his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan. He would have to wait to find out what their guest in interrogation knew. Right now, he had to head home to Pepper. He felt guilty that he had left her alone all day, with only some eggs and fruit to eat. If he hurried, he could stop at the grocery store on his way back. Maybe she hadn't eaten yet and he could make them a quick, late dinner.
He applied his suit jacket as he exited his office, careful not to drop the file he was carrying. He sensed the person walking behind him before he heard their footsteps. "Agent," he greeted, knowing who it had to be.
Barton picked up the pace ever so slightly to come into view. "You taking off?" he asked.
"Yeah, I've got to get home."
"It's only five o'clock. That's when normal people head home."
Coulson tossed an indignant glance at the younger agent.
The Hawkeye barely reacted to the gaze. "Seriously though, when was the last time you left work this early?"
Coulson shrugged. He didn't know the answer to that. "I have some responsibilities to which I must attend at home."
Barton nodded as he seemed to remember something. "That's right," he said, snapping his fingers, "You have Stark's girlfriend at your house, right?"
Something at the base of Coulson's neck pinched at that description, but he gave a curt nod in response. "I need to pick up something for dinner. She's probably starving, poor woman."
Barton smirked, turning to walk backwards while still keeping pace with his superior officer. "So how's that going?"
"Fine," Coulson answered, perhaps a hair too fast.
Barton's expression became exaggeratedly serious. He leaned closer and said in a discrete tone, "Are you keeping things...professional, Agent Coulson?" Barton bobbed an eyebrow up and down with the question.
Coulson leveled a stare at his subordinate. He lifted the file into view and tipped it slightly towards the other agent, refusing to even dignify Barton's joke with a response. "This belongs on Commander Hill's desk," he said, "See to it that it gets there. I'm going home," and he altered his course to head towards the exit.
Barton just smiled and raised his voice to comment, "Interesting how you didn't actually answer that!"
"Good evening, Agent Barton!" Coulson replied, not even turning his head.
Hope you enjoyed seeing Business-Mode!Phil. This chapter was a lot of fun to write, so I'm interested to know if you enjoyed reading it and why. Let me know in the reviews, and I'll post the next chapter soon!