Chapter Notes:
Charmile Hotel – not a real hotel that I know of, but totally made up for the story. ( Not to be confused with Les Charmilles Hotel in France).
Kinjing City – made up city on the Gragon Island.
Millet – in this story it's a tart fish when cooked (even though the millet butterfly fish is a real fish).
'Tragedy, According to Shakespeare' - a theatrical play for this story and this story only.
Gragon Islands - Mid Pacific Region
"We should be clear in about four coordinates!"
The motor and propeller were loud as the pilot swung the helicopter around the terrain of the island with ease.
"Great!" Jo answered back, her eyes never leaving the terrain.
They had been given the coordinates of its location - after the previous team had found the mine… or rather, after Agent Polniaczek had figured out where to look for it. It was quite a brilliant trick. A previously unknown fifth mine was directly buried under the first one; and unlike the four previous ones that were scattered all over the island.
Jo had arrived in Gragon in just enough time to diffuse mine number four, but they had learned of a fifth one that was even more elusive. It was unexpected, to say the least. The mine had not started its countdown until they had brought it above the surface. A specialized team was quickly assembled to extract it from the ground to carefully and slowly bring it up.
That was exactly two hours ago and the countdown clock on the thing had begun. Jo was now headed for the middle-most island. It was smaller than the rest of the twelve islands that made up the Gragon region.
Green eyes took in the scenery as they swiftly moved toward the diffusion site. Gragon. Sounds like something out of a science fiction novel. Jo marveled at the terrain as she adjusted to the noisy helicopter. Her seat was tiny, and the space was cramped; even though it was just her and the pilot.
Thick, green tropical forest gave way to a sandy bright coastline. It was merely a thin strip of pearly white sand, but just a few yards in she saw the mine… it was above ground and she gulped as a fresh sheen of perspiration broke out on her forehead. This is it.
A small backpack containing standard survival items and water was tightly adjusted to strong shoulders. The helicopter slowed, choosing to stay several yards away from the site in order to not disturb the sensitive area.
A rope ladder was lowered just a couple of feet from the ground and Jo eased her way down it. She looked up, shielding her eyes from the swirling sand the helicopter was kicking up. She gave the pilot a thumbs up which was mirrored, as the ladder was drawn back up and the helicopter was maneuvered up and away – finally disappearing over the trees.
Jo was dressed comfortably: cut-off jeans, white tank top and white trainers. Her hair was in a loose ponytail. She gripped her backpack, and eyeing the mine with determination, she steeled her nerves as she approached it.
Her commanding supervisor was General Howard Barber. She was to directly report to him during the diffusion of the mine; and she tapped the back of her ear as she slowed her stride.
"Agent Polniaczek reporting."
"Agent Polniaczek, have you arrived at the site?"
"Yes, I have. I'm about four yards away from it now." Jo's eye's couldn't help but widen as the seriousness of what she was about to do hit her.
"Let me know when you start, Agent."
A few more steps and Jo was staring directly at the large mine. It was encased in a sophisticated box that also held a container of C4. "I will."
She sat her backpack down then retrieved a small keyboard from it. She carefully looked around the mine and located the port on the box. Plugging in the keyboard, she quickly installed a drive that immediately decoded the first set of scrambled codes that controlled the detonation of the mine.
That was just the first layer. There were six more to decode.
"Bingo, first layer down." Jo felt her nerves jolt to excitement, but quickly tampered down on them as she worked several minutes to decode the next layer.
"Okay, Agent. Go gently."
Jo cracked a tense, sideway's grin. "Don't worry."
Fingers tapped urgently on the keyboard as another wall came down… then another. Finally, it was as if she were standing in front of a large iron gate ten feet thick. Jo blinked at the sudden drops of sweat that had fallen into her eyes.
She started a series of sequences, remembering each one as she went over them again, changing various numbers. "Shoot." So far nothing was working.
"Careful."
Jo wiped at her brow. "Crap, this one's complicated." A few more sequences were tried.
"Go easy, Agent."
Jo could feel her fingers tense as she tried one last sequence – finally getting through to the next layer. She let out a burst of laughter. "Okay, I'm in."
"I don't have to tell you, Agent, your countdown just started."
The voice on the other end crackled, and Jo could hear the General sigh as she bit down on her bottom lip; blinking the sweat from her eyes. She nodded as she looked at the digital clock on the mine. It read 5 minutes before the countdown was triggered – the numbers decreasing with a harsh speed that made her stomach almost bottom out.
"No you didn't, but thank you anyway."
Grammerson Playhouse Theater
The theater house had filled up quite nicely. The play was in its fourth week and still selling out. Tootie – Dorothy Ramsey as she was known on the Marquee - had been a standout and the play was a a critical smash hit. The reviews for Tragedy, According to Shakespeare, were kind, flattering and well deserved.
Brown eyes squinted in the softly lit theater, as the usher had escorted Blair to her isle. She finally spotted the nicely dressed reporter and made her way over to the seat beside her. A few people had complimented her on her dress – green sequined in the front, tastefully, then form fitting from the waist down. "It's a Cartier," she had informed a woman who couldn't seem to keep her eyes off of the blonde beauty as she passed by.
Natalie shook her head slightly at the display. You can take a girl off of Madison Avenue... "Blair over here!" she said, loud enough for Blair to suddenly look up and lock eyes with her. Natalie smiled as her friend finally made it over.
"Five minutes to spare." Blair tucked her dress under as she sat, then opened the playbill. "I kept my word."
Natalie nodded then took a sip of wine that she had purchased beforehand. "Tootie will be shocked, that's for sure."
Blair laughed, ignoring the playful jab, "Is she still nervous?"
"She's always nervous." Natalie sat her wine in the chair's cup holder, "It's been over three weeks since opening night and she's still shaking like a leaf."
"Did you tell her to break a leg?" Blair asked, coyly.
Blue eyes slid over to brown. "Every chance I got." That earned her a chuckle. "Didn't help," Natalie smirked. She sat back and regarded her seat mate, who had taken to engrossing herself in the playbill. She folded her hands together, resting them in her lap. "How's your project coming?"
"Hm? " Blair looked up. "Oh, we're almost ready to present."
A nod, "Oh good." A few beats passed then, "Heard from Jo?"
Blair lifted a brow then blinked a few times. "No." She kept her eyes on what she'd been reading, anticipating the next question.
Natalie nodded quietly, "You two fighting again?"
"No. I've just been too busy to think about her is all," Blair briskly turned the page.
Natalie studied her for a moment. "Oh." She picked up her cup then began sipping the fruity wine. It was a little too fruity, really. Natalie looked into her cup. Kind of cheap, maybe… she crinkled up her nose.
"I mean. She's been busy, wherever she is… I'm sure," Blair blurted. She kept her eyes on the playbill.
Natalie looked up a bit startled, having almost forgotten the conversation. "Sure." She gave a pensive smile then took another sip of wine. "I'm sure she'll contact us when she gets a chance," she told Blair.
The lights dimmed, indicating the play was about to start. Many patrons began lowering the tone of their conversations as the playhouse went completely dark. Natalie sat back and got comfortable, ready to mouth the first words of the play; she'd practically seen it twenty times already. She snuck a look at Blair who was now staring straight ahead. She could just make out her facial expression as the curtain rose and the stage lights began to illuminate the theater.
"You still there?"
"Yeah… I'm… hold on," Jo tapped in a code, finally breaking through.
"You're doing great, Agent."
Jo shook her head, willing her brain to stay focused. Her eyes were riveted to the screen. They were burning, but she didn't dare take her attention away from it. "Each one's more complicated than the last," she replied.
She was seated on the bare, cold sand of the beach. She could feel her legs starting to cramp, but she ignored it... she ignored the pain in the joints of her fingers and the cold damp feeling of her sweat drenched tank top as it rubbed against her.
"How many more?"
"Two." Fingers traveled over the keyboard with speed.
"Three minutes, Agent."
More tapping, then, "I know." Jo flicked a look at the digital clock… the numbers ticking down rapidly. Her eyes kept going between the clock and the screen as her mind suddenly stalled. Under two minutes. "Sh—"
"You stopped."
Jo wiggled her fingers, trying to get the circulation flowing back in them. She moved her neck around, stretching it. "Give me a second."
"Okay, easy…"
She placed her hands back on the keyboard; her fingers took on a life of their own as she typed in code after code. C'mon, c'mon! Jo blew at the sweat drops that were running off of the tip of her nose. She hit Enter. Please work. "Got it." She closed her eyes and barked out a frustrated cry.
"Good."
Taking in a lungful of air to steady herself, Jo tapped in another sequence. Her eyes flicking to the clock as she did.
It didn't work. She stopped. "Crap."
"One minute," the voice on the other end practically squeaked.
"I know! I can see the damned clock!" Jo ran a shaky hand through sweaty hair. She watched as the numbers relentlessly continued to count down, then felt the roll of a single tear make its way down her cheek, and for a split second wondered how it got there.
Everything was moving in slow motion as she looked down at the keyboard, at her hands then – placing them on the pad, typed in a sequence, then another… her eyes were closed as she ran the numbers through her brain.
The numbers became a blur, yet she kept her fingers moving… just a few more codes to try until there was…
Nothing. Damn…
She saw darkness and brown, and lips and hands… blonde hair and… her life and… weary eyes suddenly snapped open as she put in another code, hitting Enter.
"Steady, Agent, concentrate."
I didn't work. "Fuck!"
It didn't work… Dammit! She kept going, determined, she shook her head as silent tears were flowing freely now.
"Steady."
She hit Enter again… nothing.
"Thirty seconds agent..."
"Shut up, shut up!" Jo's voice was high pitched as she hit Enter again and again, each code failing.
"Sh— Oh my God!"
"Fifteen seconds!" The voice was practically a whimper, as the General's harsh breathing was the only thing grounding Agent Jo Polniaczek.
"Fuck!" another sequence, then Enter… nothing. "C'mon, c'mon! Come on!"
"Five seconds..." The voice bellowed.
Oh my God, Oh my God.
Could it be… maybe… that that one last 'thing'… that way of going at it the other way could be the way to go? Could she have been going at it all wrong all a long? Jo looked at the clock, then nodded to herself and typed in a sequence… a different one.
She numbly hit Enter…
The clock stopped at two seconds. It stopped… and a breathless, stunned, "Got It," was strangled from her throat as she collapsed boneless, beside the mine. Oh man.
Eyes closed, Jo could feel the warm breeze of the wind cool her. She heard the water beating at the coastline, her senses were on high as she was deafened with the sounds of her surroundings. Crisp. Clear… real.
Life. It was precious. She smiled internally as she felt a reset button being pressed on her life, and those whom she'd just saved by a mere… two seconds.
How long were two seconds?
An eternity.
There was an outburst of yelling and whooping in her ear, and Jo just laid there with a smile on her face; breathing in the salty, warm air.
"Holy shit! Congratulations, Agent!"
No words… there were no words as Jo simply nodded her head. She laid there a few more moments before sitting up. She stood then felt dizzy. "H-hold on a minute… just…"
Reaching for her backpack, Jo took out a container and a special tong for collecting hazardous materials. She retrieved the vile of C4, putting it in the container before securing it in her back pack.
It was done. Over. The reality of what she'd just been through hit her as she stumbled away from the mine, a few yards before falling to her knees, bending over. She was on all fours before she heaved a few times, then emptied the contents of her stomach.
Once she had finished she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned and sat on the sand, facing the water. She was panting heavily.
"You okay, Agent?"
"Peachy." Jo's voice was fried. "Get me the hell out of here."
There was a watery chortle, then, "Chopper will be there in ten minutes, hang tight."
Jo looked out over the water. The sky was completely devoid of clouds, as the sun's rays beat down on her. The white sandy beach was almost blinding and she stood and walked over to her backpack, getting out her sun glasses. She strapped on her backpack and noticed a small strip of cloth had washed up onto the shore. Bending down to pick it up, she noticed another piece of cloth floating in with a small wave.
She looked down the shoreline seeing many items had made their way to the beach.
"What is this?"
Florenza's Café
It was one of the busiest nights for the café – after a play had let out. There was a long table wait at the door, yet Tootie, Natalie and Blair had managed to beat the rush. They sat at their usual booth, and were halfway through dinner when a sudden rush of patrons noticed Tootie and wanted her autograph.
The young actress was beyond enthused, and delighted in the attention, smiling, taking pictures and signing napkins and playbills. It wasn't quite as bad as opening night which consisted of Tootie's friends and family getting a dose of the new world of being recognized and associated with a star.
"Can't we get through one meal?" Natalie sat her fork down.
"Nat." Tootie smiled as an excited fan snapped her picture.
"What? This is insane!" the reporter barked back.
A bright toothy smile. "This is the life." Tootie handed a man his playbill back.
Blair sipped her tea. "I'm glad you're enjoying it, Tootie. You've worked so hard."
Tootie regarded Blair with a warm smile. "Thank you. Natalie's just irritated," she peeked over at her roommate.
"I have a right to be." Natalie stood her ground. She looked at Blair. "Did you know we got flowers sent to the apartment?"
Blair let out a laugh. "What's wrong with that?"
"They were about forty dozen roses left at our front door… I almost had to go to the emergency room because of all the cuts from the thorns," Natalie winced for good measure.
"I've always told you to put on shoes when going to the mailbox," Tootie said.
Natalie gave Tootie a smirk. "I had on shoes Tootie! I was overwhelmed as were my delicate soles."
Tootie looked at Blair who had sat back in the booth and gotten comfortable. "She means cheap foot ware. Those things she calls house slippers are practically made out of paper."
"They're house shoes, Tootie." Natalie defended with a scoff. "Even so," Natalie persisted, "we may have to move. It's getting dangerous."
Tootie shook her head smirking, as did Blair. They'd decided to call a truce for now and finished their meals, commenting on the food and electing to keep the topic of conversation on the light side.
Tootie glanced at the blonde executive before setting her glass down. "So, Blair, you've been pretty quiet."
Blair regarded Tootie. "I was just thinking."
"You've got that big presentation coming up," Tootie replied, picking up a piece of bread from the bread basket. "How's that going?" She took a small bite out of it.
"We're ready," Blair wiped her mouth.
Tootie chewed. "Oh… well," she swallowed. "Good."
Natalie looked between her two friends. "Well… look at us, three out of four isn't so bad, huh?" she smiled. "Speaking of the fourth, has anybody heard from Jo? I spoke with her a couple of weeks ago."
"Last Friday," Tootie supplied. She cut her eyes to Blair. "Blair?"
Blair folded her linen napkin and gently placed it on the table. "I'm sure she's busy leading her life," she picked up the dessert menu and opened it. "What's good for dessert here?"
"Hold up, Warner," Tootie put a hand up. "Are you two fighting about something?"
Brown eyes directly scanned the menu choices. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Tootie."
"Are you sure about that?" Tootie pressed. She sensed there was a little more to Blair's demure mood than a regular garden variety fight with her favorite motorcycle clad Bronxonian. Jo had been gone for quite a while, and she had informed both her and Natalie that she hadn't talked to Blair since she left the city. Really… Blair's grudges could be legendarily long, but this would be stretching it.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Blair had peered over her menu, "I mean, Jo's a grown woman, she has her own life. What business is that of mine?" She put the menu down on the table.
Tootie's brow furrowed for a bit; then she resorted to just nodding along. "Well… okay then."
"Besides, she's chosen to live half way around the globe, so very well. It's none of my business," the executive's eyes found Tootie's - who was visibly trying to understand.
"Right." Tootie gave her what she hoped was a little reassuring smile.
"If she wants to contact me, she can write a letter," Blair said sternly, then picked up the last of her tea, downing it in one swift move.
She sounded a bit offended… or maybe they were both trying to out-do the other in stubbornness. Who knows, Natalie thought. "Blair: you and you paper fetish," she shook her head at the blonde.
Blair tilted her head in acquiesce. "Old habit, but what I prefer for communication," she gave them a wry smile. "It leaves a much more reliable trail of evidence."
Natalie couldn't disagree with that. "True," she gave Tootie a confused face before taking a sip of coffee.
"Enough about that," Blair waved off the conversation. "I'm sure she is just fine… wherever she is."
That earned her a tight smile from both of her table mates. They quietly watched as Blair gained the attention of their waiter and placed her dessert order. Tootie discreetly mouthed 'what was that?' to Natalie who shrugged back, equally confused.
Jo sat in the comfortable reclining chair and ate a couple of granola bars and an apple, there in the screening room of the embassy. She had been severely dehydrated; which was why they had given her an I.V. Once the helicopter had safely made its way back to the embassy and landed, Jo exited it. As soon as she set foot on the ground her legs had given out. She hadn't realized the tremendous pressure she'd been under. Dr. Spivey and two nurses had worked on her until her blood pressure and hydration levels were back to normal.
They finally released her four hours later, and she made her way to the controller room where General Barber and his crew were waiting for her.
The corridor was long and winding. Once at the entrance, she scanned her eye and right thumb fingerprint before the doors slid opened. She braced herself. It wasn't that she wasn't proud of her accomplishment - it was all the pageantry everyone made over it.
It was her job, what she was trained for. Couldn't that just be enough without having to throw a party for it all? The door slid open. Here we go...
"There she is!"
The room erupted in a big whoop as numerous agents and army personnel moved to embrace Jo. She shook many hands and endured a few pats on the back before reaching General Barber.
He stretched his hand out, along with a broad smile "Nice job, Agent Polniaczek."
"Thank you, sir." Jo shook the strong grip.
General Barber's eyes sparkled with pride. "They told me you were one of the best, and I have to say, I'd be very proud to have you in my fox hole."
Jo let out a laugh. "Well, thank you very much, sir."
It was contagious… the overwhelming feeling of relief. Jo allowed herself the rare opportunity to celebrate it; then made her way over to a familiar face.
"You're going get a commendation for this agent!" another agent exclaimed from across the room.
"Nah, it's all in a day's work, guys," Jo waved that off.
"Listen to this, you just saved millions of lives, that's gonna' get you mad props from the top!" someone shouted to a round of claps and whistles.
"Alright, knock it off," Jo bowed her head, smiling bashfully. She at least had the good sense to blush humbly.
"Good job, Jo," Agent Mendoza handed her a cup of apple cider. He respected Jo's reserved nature and knew better than to make too much out of the situation.
"Thanks." Jo took a much needed drink and leaned back on a table.
Norm had his feet up on the table and was leaning back in his chair. "Looks like half of us will be getting out of here soon."
"Yeah," Jo nodded. Somehow she doubted she'd be in that number; and the thought sent a pang of dismay through her. She willed it away, keeping herself focused.
The cleanup work was next. It had taken a while to find and diffuse the last mine. That meant sweeping the islands for any additional mines, and or threats – then securing the territory.
Jo took another sip. "Oh, hey, while I was out there I noticed a bunch of clothes were washing up on the shore."
She had stuffed the material in her jeans pocket and took it out, handing it to agent Mendoza.
He grabbed it then looked at it closely. "What's this?"
Jo shrugged. "I don't know, but if it's from one of the pirate ships, maybe we can do a trace on it for a lead." It was more of a silent request, and Mendoza bit the inside of his lip in thought.
Makes sense. He turned the material over in his hand. "I'll get on it."
"Do you want the other half?" Meg asked for the second time. Blair was otherwise distracted by her ever present phone.
"No, you can have it," she typed in a reply then pushed the other half of her waffle over.
Meg took the plate, then cut a piece of syrupy waffle before popping it into her mouth. "Blair?"
"What?" Brown eyes looked up.
"What's going on with you?" Meg's brow's knit in concern.
More typing then, "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Meg chewed. And waited. She knew Blair could feel her eyes on her.
"Okay, I guess I'm a little nervous about the presentation," Blair put her phone down.
"When is it again?" Meg asked around another mouthful of waffle.
"This Friday. Wish me luck," Blair took a sip of orange juice.
"Good luck." Meg continued to watch her. "Are you ready?"
"I have no idea," Blair sat back. "I mean, I think we are but… you can never be too prepared for this sort of thing when it comes to the board." She directly addressed Meg.
Usually Blair kept up a good poker face when it came to these kinds of things but… something was a bit off, Meg deduced. She didn't seem as in control. Then again, she had never been the president of a major corporation before, so that may have something to do with it.
"Well, I don't know much about the corporate world, but I'm sure you'll handle everything perfectly," Meg smiled.
"Thanks, Meg," Blair smiled stiffly in return.
"Anytime. And once it's all over we'll celebrate," Meg picked up her coffee cup.
"Um hm, sure." Blair said distractedly. She had taken, once again, to her phone.
Meg put her cup down. That sounded non committal… "Unless you have other plans?" she asked inquiringly.
Blair looked up, "No, I don't have any plans."
Okay. Meg shrugged. "I didn't know whether you and Amanda—"
"We're not dating anymore," came the quick reply.
"What?" Meg looked at Blair surprisingly. That was a quick turn of events.
"I ended it," Blair clarified.
Meg took a moment to absorb that. She had been so busy with Joyce's care and other work that she'd barely had time to connect with Blair lately. The only time they saw each other was when Gigi traded places. "When did this happen?"
"A while ago…" Blair glanced down at her lap a bit self consciously.
Meg waited until she looked back up, catching the somewhat melancholy look in her eyes. "You could've told me, Blair."
"It's okay, really," brown eyes slid from hers, then glanced around the café.
Meg sat back in her chair. "Something else is bothering you."
Blair looked at her step-sister. "I'm fine."
Meg crossed her arms. "What's going on, you just up and ended it with Amanda?" she asked, not quite sure what to make of Blair's dismissive attitude. "What happened?"
"Nothing... Life." Blair fidgeted with the napkin in her lap. "Just drop it okay?" Her eyes were almost pleading.
Meg cocked her head a little surprised. "Okay." You don't have to tell me twice.
Blair suddenly gathered her briefcase and rose from the table. "I have to go, they're waiting for me."
Meg watched as the blonde distractedly hooked the strap of her briefcase on her shoulder; then turned to leave. "Blair?"
Blair had taken a few steps. She stopped, keeping her back to Meg.
"If you ever need to talk…" Meg left it open. She waited, sensing a struggle of some sort within the executive.
There was a heavy exhale, and Blair stood still for a few more beats; then a small nod. "Bye."
Meg watched as she hastily walked across the café and out of the building without so much as a glance backward.
The Charmile Hotel in Kinjing City, was where Jo was stationed to stay while on her mission. It was her cover – that and her name: Jenny Peters. She was a woman on a much needed vacation.
Jo leaned against the back wall in the elevator as she rode it up to the forth floor. It had been another hour before she was able to extract herself from the embassy. She was looking forward to a long hot shower and some jazz music.
The steel box 'dinged' waking her before she completely fell asleep standing up. She stepped out on to the plush carpet and made her way to her room.
She noticed a gentleman had come from one of the rooms. He closed the door and immediately began eyeing her. She gave him a quick grin that was not returned before continuing to walk around the corner and down a long hallway. It would be a few turns before she would reach her door and each time she turned, the man was right there.
Following me?
She decided to walk to the laundry room, then stopped abruptly, startling the man and approached him. "Who sent you?"
The man looked her straight in the eyes; his face was a mere blank slate as he continued to stare at her.
"I said who sent you?!" Agitated, Jo stepped forward, getting in the man's face this time.
He stood his ground and answered in a language she didn't understand. Jo had been exposed to many different languages in her travels and assignments – even picking up a few. But this one was not familiar.
The man spoke angrily and started shouting. He flashed a knife that was tucked in his belt, then looked at Jo with a hateful sneer.
Great. Jo moved back only to have the man move with her. "I guess we're going to have to play this dirty."
It was a quick move, the roundhouse kick that went straight to the face, breaking the man's nose. He grabbed it blinking in disbelief as blood dripped from it.
"Fuck you, bitch!" The man squeezed his nose, trying to keep it from gushing.
"That's better." Jo remained on guard, setting her feet wide. "You want to tell me who sent you?"
"Fuck you!" The man wiped his hands on his shirt, then lunged at the brunette.
Another hit struck him in the chest, sending the man to his knees this time. He sputtered against the wall.
Jo shook her head, bending her knees and keeping her hands up. "Now see, I was hoping we could do this the easy way because I've been kind of having a lousy few weeks on my vacation here."
The man grabbed his chest and caught his breath. "Uhhh… Fuck you!"
Jo grabbed the man's hand and bent his wrist and hand backward keeping him on his knees.
A cracking noise sent him further down. "Uhh... I'll kill you, you bitch!" Tears sprang in the man's eyes.
"That's cute considering the position you're in." Jo tightened her grip, pushing down and forcing a howl from the man. "Now… I'm going to ask one more time. Who sent you?!"
The man was breathing hard and sweating profusely. He gave her a disgusted glare before spitting at her feet.
Jo rolled her eyes, feeling her patience give out. "All right have it your way."
She released the man only a for a split second later, land a loud crunching blow to his head; sending him a few feet from her.
Unconscious.
She smirked, then dragged the man to the elevator, which was no small feat considering how far away it was. Once there she put him on it, propping his limp body up against the back wall. She held the door open then picked up the elevator phone and tapped in the number to the lobby front desk.
"Hi, yes this is Jenny Peters in room 418. I hate to tell you this but I was just assaulted on the way to my room." She said in a rather calm voice.
"Oh my G—are you alright miss?!" the woman on the other end sputtered alarmed.
"I'm fine. Luckily I know how to protect myself… the other guy though..." Jo peeked a look at the unconscious man.
The woman was breathing hard into the receiver. "Ma'am, we are so sorry. I'll have security come right up!"
Jo smirked at that. "How nice of you, but that won't be necessary." She pressed the lobby button and let the doors shut. "He should be arriving by way of the elevator to your front lobby there in about, three… two… one…"
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open revealing the man crumpled up in the back of the elevator. Jo could hear the woman gasp.
"Oh my God! John!" She waved the security guard over to the elevator. "We'll have this reported…Uh, th-thank you for um..." she was out of breath.
"No need to thank me, just do a better job with who you let in here," Jo stated, though she was quite sure the whole attack was planned.
"W-we will. Is there anything I can get you? Or…" the woman sounded winded.
"I'm okay," Jo ran a tired hand through her hair.
"Well, if there is please let us know Ms. Peters," the woman said, her voice full of remorse.
"I will. Goodbye." Jo smiled insincerely then hung up. She turned to make her way down the hall, checking behind her for good measure before arriving at her door. She took out her key card, letting it scan the pad before opening the door. What a day.
It would be Wednesday before Jo would be given a direct invite to the royal palace by the representatives for Empress Torana Milkino. She had been given a gold plated inscribed invitation, and now sat in a bullet proof limousine as it glided through the streets of Kinjing City.
She was picked up at the embassy where she had been given a quick lesson on protocol for conducting herself in front of the royal consul.
Jo had chosen to wear her hair down. A crisp dark blue pant suit with black shoes with a one inch heel completed her outfit. She had dusted on a hint of makeup as well.
The car pulled up to the palace, which was majestic, very ancient and trimmed in gold and onyx. Beautiful was the word that came to mind as Jo got out of the limousine. Her eyes were transfixed to the intricate details of the palace – there were golden lions and birds of different varieties engrossed in the architecture of the walls. Stone and onyx were mixed in with copper and diamond skirting that made up the huge archways. It was… magnificent. Wow…
The palace guards received her at the entrance and she was escorted down a long hall that was composed of ancient paintings, sculptures and military guards at each room's entrance.
She finally arrived at a grand archway. The entrance door was opened on both sides by two guards as the large heavy doors rolled back to reveal a long velvet carpet that directly led to a thrown on the other side of the luxurious room.
Jo felt her stomach crowd with butterflies at the sight. Meeting royalty was a big deal… indeed.
"Empress Milkino will see you now, Ms. Peters." The guard bowed and left the room; leaving Jo to wait. Her nerves were a bit frayed.
It would be a few more minutes before two guards entered the room. Between them was the Empress. She was dressed in a form fitting, cream colored dress. It stopped just at the knees, and she had her hair swept up with long tendrils of hair hanging down on both sides of her face. Dark hazel eyes greeted the agent, and Jo smiled, closing her mouth as she hadn't realized it was open.
She was… quite beautiful, Jo noted. Young… around her age. Jo smiled again as the woman's twinkling eyes greeted her.
"Ah, Ms. Peters it is a pleasure to finally meet you," the Empress reached out her hand and Jo gently took it, bowing slightly while holding the back of her fingertips close to her forehead.
I hope I did that right. Jo straightened back up giving what she hoped was a genuine smile, but probably came off as a lopsided, goofy look. Oh well…
The Empress gave her an appreciative expression, then turned to her guards, quietly dismissing them. She waited until the inner doors were closed and they were all alone. "Agent Polniaczek," her smile widened.
"Thank you, Empress," Jo nodded back. She knew the empress had been informed of the embassy's mission and all of the personnel assigned to it.
"Wine?" Empress Milkino gestured toward a small table with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
"No, thank you, Empress," Jo was careful not to allow herself to indulge even when it may be the polite thing to do. She knew her tolerances, after all.
Milkino smiled pleasantly. "Well. I think I owe you my sincere indebtedness, though I don't feel that would be sufficient enough for all you've done."
"If it's all the same, it was my duty and pleasure to serve," Jo countered smoothly.
The Empress nodded in understanding, "It was a dangerous mission that could've ended a different way… I have you to thank for saving us," she said, moving closer to the agent – observing her.
"You're welcome," was all Jo managed to get out.
They stood there for a while; the Empresses eyes never leaving Jo's. She pressed a small button on her wrist bracelet and spoke into it. "Please, bring the box."
A door opened, and a guard brought a small golden box to the Empress. She opened it taking out a medallion of some sort.
Jo shook her head, though she couldn't stop looking at the multicolored item. "That's not necessary," she said weakly.
"I insist," the Empress held up the chain the medallion was attached to. "It is our custom to award bravery and strength. You have displayed both," she placed the necklace in Jo's palm.
Jo turned it around, examining the beautiful stone. "Wow, it's beautiful," she looked at it with wonder. It was a rare item.
"It's a gemstone from our ancestors. It is very sacred," Torana beamed with pride. "Please keep it, it would be my honor."
Jo knew it would be an insult to refuse, and carefully tucked it into her jacket pocket. "I will. Thank you, it is an honor."
"Now, if you would please be my guest and dine with me in the main hall," Empress Milkino announced. She walked beside Jo as they made their way to the dining hall.
Jo admired the breathtaking décor as they strolled through the archways. "Your palace is very beautiful."
"Thank you," the Empress gestured for them to sit on large plush cushions on the floor as the food was being prepared to be brought out to them.
"Our ancestor's took great pride in keeping the palace in order and of course every artifact is original," The Empress winked at Jo, who blushed in return.
"How old is the palace? If you don't mind my asking," Jo shifted getting comfortable on the cushions. She had removed her shoes, intent on following the custom of dining without them.
"Several hundred years, though you'll have to excuse my ignorance on the exact number. My historian would probably be better suited to answering that question," Torana said a bit self depreciatingly.
She whispered in one of her servant's ears to bring fruit juice for Jo instead of wine for their meal. "I hope you like fruit juice, Agent Polniaczek."
"Yes, that's fine," Jo was relieved she didn't have to drink alcohol this one time. "And please, call me Jo."
The Empress nodded, "Jo…" a head tilt. "Such an interesting name for a girl."
Jo let out a laugh. "Well, it's actually short for Joanna," she clarified, placing her napkin on her lap.
"Joanna is a pretty name, but…" a pause, "Jo suits you better." The Empress smiled at her dining companion, "…and please, call me Torana."
I like her already. Jo smiled back, "Alright."
Their food had arrived and Jo watched as her plate was piled on with various breads and meats. There was an assortment of fruits, cheeses and raw vegetables to choose from. Jo scooped up a bit of a new dish she didn't recognized and ate it… the taste of it hit her and she made a face before quickly covering it up.
There was a small giggle from the Empress who was intently watching her. "Millet. Or rather porridge of millet." She explained. "It's an ancient custom of ours to eat it when a battle has been won," she explained, and watched as Jo took a long gulp of fruit juice to chase it down.
Jo smiled faintly. "It's good." She coughed, trying to clear her throat.
Torana was still quite amused. "You don't have to pretend. The western pallet is usually not used to the tartness."
Jo waved a hand at that. "No, no it's um…" She insisted on not insulting the beautiful woman as she took another sip of juice. The taste was truly tart.
"Our shores are full of millet, so we've managed to weave it into many things," the Empress ate a spoonful, lavishing in the taste.
Jo nodded and the two dined and eventually relaxed and discussed foreign affairs until dessert was brought out. Jo was actually glad it was something simple… toffee cake, with a scoop of ice cream. That was actually one of her favorite desserts. The two women sat back on the cushions, getting comfortable.
"I've noticed the beach on the northern island had several items of clothing wash up on the shore." Jo took a bite of cake.
"Hm." Torana swallowed some ice cream. "I thought that would've stopped by now," she said; concern etching her tone.
Jo paused before taking another bite of cake. "How long has this been happening?"
"Since we recovered the wreckage," the Empress said simply.
"Ah, another pirate ship?" Jo raised a knowing brow.
The Empress blinked at her. "Actually, no." she corrected. "A while back, I believe a year ago, a exploratory ship was attacked by pirates and capsized roughly a mile from the shore. They pillaged it of course," she paused, thinking of a way to say what she was going to say next.
"… at least twenty people died, several more were rescued. A few have chosen to assimilate into our society here."
She stopped again seeing the concerned look on Jo's face. "We do have a few who are in rehabilitation. We were glad to have been able to help them. They were rescued by our platoon," she reassured.
Jo sat her plate down, having finished her cake. "Where are they now?"
Empress Milkino quickly called for their dishes to be taken away. "They are in a facility on the third island. Very modern, has all of the comforts they are normally accustomed to," she smiled reassuringly at Jo.
Jo gave her a cordial, yet slightly confused smile in return. "Where are they from?" she felt slightly embarrassed for asking.
The Empress raised a startled brow, "I thought you knew?"
Jo shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite following," she let out a small self-conscious laugh.
Torana picked up her glass of wine, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she informed her dinner companion. "The ship was from the States."
"Have a seat, Miles."
David Warner had closed the door to his office. He felt more comfortable talking to Miles in the comfort of his own home; he had summoned him to come over after hours.
The tall, thin man took a seat in the chair facing the desk. He smiled warmly at the boat in the bottle that David and Russell had been working on. "How's Joyce?" he asked. He hadn't gotten a chance to see her lately.
David perched on the corner of his desk. "She's holding up."
"Good, good," Miles nodded, stretching his legs out a little. "So… Is there something new with the investigation?"
David took a breath. "Actually, I have a few questions I need to ask you."
Miles leaned back in his chair with a serious look on his face. "Alright."
David continued. "I need to be honest with you Miles. You know we were quite shocked at Barry's departure."
Miles had learned of his son's departure from the company through one of the board members who had spoken to David.
"So was I," the older gentleman said with sorrow in his voice.
"Have you heard from him?" David asked, hopeful.
"No. I'm afraid we haven't communicated at all." Miles admitted. He was bewildered at the prospect of losing yet another son. He wore a forlorn look at the thought.
David weighed the look on the man's face. He seemed believable. "What's going on Miles?"
Miles shook his head. "I don't know. I wish I did, but…the truth is…" he took out a handkerchief from his lapel pocket and wiped his top lip. "Barry became distant after Daniel died… We never talked much after that, other than business."
That had been hard for him to say, David granted. He felt a bit of sympathy. "I'm sorry."
Miles nodded and gave him a sad smile. "I'm an old man David. Losing Delores and then my son… and now Barry disappearing…" He bowed his head as an overwhelming sense of loss enveloped him.
David remained silent. He stood then gently placed a hand on Miles' shoulder. "Can I get you a drink?"
Miles wiped his face with the handkerchief, shaking his head. "No…no..." he attempted to gathered himself together.
David went back to sit on his desk. "Look I don't want to pressure you, but I need you to find Barry."
He heard the desperate tone in David's voice, and Miles looked up into concerned eyes. "I've tried. I've had a detail looking for him," he explained.
"He couldn't have just disappeared," David huffed. This was going nowhere.
Miles held his hands up then dropped them. "I don't know what to say."
David nodded. He tightened his jaw, the stress of the situation was becoming insurmountable. "We have a bigger issue." He saw Miles look at him in question, then decided to go full speed ahead. "He took the money, Miles."
That was met with slow recognition as if he didn't hear correctly. "What?" the executive slid to the edge of his chair.
"I couldn't tell you until I was certain, but it looks like he knew where and how to steal it." David was hoping the man could shed some light on that. How on earth could Barry obtain that information… especially after Miles had assured Joyce it would be safe.
Mild shock was etched on Miles' face. "Oh my w-word, my, my…." He looked at David, realizing. "Dear me, Joyce can't find out!"
"I know," David crossed his arms over his chest.
"It would be too much for her, David!" Miles persisted.
David agreed to that. He was thankful to Miles for looking after his mother's well being. "I know, Miles. Our biggest problem is finding your son and getting the money back." David watched as the board executive struggled with the new information.
"Oh my Lord…my goodness…I am so sorry, so very sorry…" Miles let his head rest in his hands.
"Miles, you have to help us find him," David had lowered his tone as he watched the man try to temper his greif.
Miles let out a sob. "I'm so disappointed, so... I—"
David let out a regretful breath. He hated this… hated having to deliver bad news of any kind… and to Miles… a trusted family friend. He was entrusted by his father and David often put much stock in his opinions and judgment. But to see him so lost… so small… "Miles..." He spoke softly.
Miles struggled to speak. "Look. David… I knew both of my sons were… unfortunately a bit over zealous when it came to money and the possibility of making more of it – to say the least…" He trailed off.
"You don't have to take up for them, Miles," David regarded the man with dignity. "My father trusted you."
Miles accepted that, but he couldn't shake the feeling of letting the family down. "I promised to take care of Joyce… take care of the company."
"The company will be fine, but losing that much money and to have it tied to my company should it be used in something illegal, well…" David faded, then contemplated the outcome of that. Not good.
"I won't let that happen!" Miles snapped, "David, you have my word. We'll find Barry and straighten this whole thing out."
Miles' over anxiousness was getting the best of him, and David was starting to feel unnerved; but he had no choice but to trust him nonetheless. "I'm counting on that, Miles."
The last month of the year… otherwise known as the fourth fiscal quarter for Warner Textiles Corporation. It was the first week of December, and it had been another couple of weeks before the new divisional presentation was ready. They'd postponed it twice. Thanksgiving had come and gone as the weather took a turn to head for winter.
But now they were ready.
Dressed in their business attire and armed with files, Blair and Emily along with four other department managers, had headed into the conference room where a boardroom full of interested members had awaited them.
Blair and Emily found themselves in front of the board, hammering out the details of their project. They'd both done well with the numerous fact checking questions and bold statements made to challenge their premise. They were drilled thoroughly, especially about the financial side of the project. Their preparedness proved to be beneficial as each held her own - taking up a solid defense for their projections and forecasts.
After two tedious hours it was over. The big doors of the conference room burst open as Blair and Emily exited the room, along with various board members.
"Blair, nice job." One of them had addressed her. The older gentleman had been quite impressed with her performance.
"Thank you, John." She had been extremely nervous at first, but after Emily had given her presentation, she'd calmed down and took the reins like a pro. "I'm hoping we can get approval to move forward?"
John let out a cautious laugh. "Well, we'll look at your numbers; but if everything goes according to plan, I don't see why the first phase shouldn't get funding."
That earned the man a grateful smile. "That sounds wonderful, John." Blair had at least gotten the ball rolling, though there was still much work to be done.
The man grinned then excused himself, and Blair turned to made her way over to Emily who had just finished chatting with another board member, over by the snack table.
Blair poured a cup of coffee. "Looks like we may be starting the first phase soon," she blew on it, taking a sip.
Emily bit into a grape. "I was just talking with Nadine Banks. She said the first phase is the test phase. If we do well there, they'll guarantee the funds for the next phase." Emily grabbed another handful of grapes.
Blair liked the sound of that. "We'll have to make sure everything goes according to plan then," Blair let a sly look grace her face. She loved a good challenge and getting through the first step proved to be a challenge worth engrossing herself into.
Emily nodded in agreement. She had been completely blindsided at Barry's departure, and was quite upset at him for leaving her in the balance. Blair had gone out of her way to personally see to it that she didn't have to do any re-work; often staying up late nights and working long days.
Emily smiled at the blonde. She liked working with Blair. At first she'd thought the young woman would have to be trained in the intricacies of the business and the office of president. But Blair proved to be a fast learner and, she had to admit, a very good leader. "We'll at least take Christmas off, right?"
Christmas was on a Monday this year, and all executives were taking the week off for the holiday. It was the company tradition, and one David, Sr. had insisted everyone adhered to.
Blair lifted a brow. "I didn't realize the holidays were so close." She'd been buried under reports and finalizing the presentation, but now that that was over…
"Do you have plans, Blair?" Emily caught her attention.
"N-no…" Blair thought for a moment, "well… my parents," she shrugged. "A few days at the mansion with Nana. Mother will be in Italy, and my father's flying to Belgium, so I was thinking of going to the slopes for a while." She and Meg had discussed going, but nothing solid was confirmed by either one of them.
She looked at Emily. "What about you?"
Emily made a sour face. "Don and I are going to his mother's for the holidays, in Hartford," she finished blandly.
"Oh," Blair drank a bit of coffee. "That sounds nice," she guessed Emily didn't feel the same way, judging by the way she had screwed up her face. Blair stifled a laugh by taking another sip of coffee.
She had finally made her way back to her office, but not before informing her team they'd been given the green light for the first phase of the project. That was followed by an impromptu party that had been somewhat planned beforehand. She'd stuck around for a bit to celebrate with them, before finally excusing herself.
Blair settled back in her comfortable office chair. "Oh, this feels wonderful…" It was a great companion after such a stressful afternoon.
The sun had already begun to descend as the colder months yielded little daylight in the late afternoon. She turned, setting her elbows on the chair arms, letting her arms loosely dangle, and absorbed the dimmed rays that were streaming in. The city was cold and the steam from the numerous building's rooftop furnaces pumped out heat and steam… swirling, and twisting steam heat…
She'd almost fallen asleep when a soft knock sounded on the door. Blair sat up as another knock sounded again.
"Come in," she shouted across the room.
The doorknob twisted and Blair watched as the door slowly swung open. A fuzzy, brownish, red and gray head of hair peeked in.
At first Blair didn't recognize the face then, "Charlie?"
Charlie Polniaczek looked around the office in wonder. "Geeze-a-loo…" He stood in the doorframe for a moment looking at the decor.
Blair had Paul decorate the space, finally. She'd been most happy when he informed her one of the local design magazines wanted to feature her office space in a photo shoot. She'd was more than happy to comply and even gave him a huge recommendation… it was the least she could do. She wanted him to be happy with his new husband.
She stood and walked over to Charlie, who was still obviously affected by the Warner building in all its glory. This was quite an unexpected visit. Her stomach feeling a bit unsettled at seeing him. "Charlie, hi."
"Blair, I had no idea you were this high up," Charlie looked at her with wonder.
Blonde brows knit with question. "Are you uncomfortable being on the 39th floor?"
Charlie scoffed, staring at Blair uncertainly. "Course not. I meant ya' fancy president digs," he clarified.
He walked around the office taking in everything up close: the desk, the fancy wall paper… and look at that view, whoa!
Charlie stood at the window, his head moving back and forth taking in the view. It was the first time Blair had noticed his cast was gone. Of course it would be. The last time she'd seen him was months ago when…
She blinked it away, taking in a breath. "Was there something you wanted to see me about?"
Blair crossed her arms over her chest. There was another question… one that was nagging her, and seeing that Charlie had come all the way to her office, she couldn't help but feel a little nervous that something wasn't right. Blair pursed her lips and steeled herself for what she was about to ask.
"Is Jo okay?" She'd said it as offhandedly as she could manage, and an internal sigh of relief was sounded when she heard:
"Course she is, why wouldn't she be?" Charlie shrugged. "You girls keep in touch."
Charlie had his back to Blair and didn't see her eyes close in relief. Okay, well that's final.
Blair moved closer, wondering the reason Jo's father had come to see her in the first place. "What brings you here Charlie?"
The man had his hands on his hips looking out over the expanse of the city when Blair's words finally permeated the confines of his ears then brain. "Ah, geeze," he snapped his fingers as he turned around and gave the patient woman an apologetic half smile. "Almost forgot… be right back."
Blair watched with great curiosity as Charlie left the room only to come back with a large rectangle item… a mirror or painting perhaps? She guessed.
"What's this?" Blair pointed at the brown paper that was meticulously wrapped around it.
"It's Jo's," a smile. "I mean it's from Jo," Charlie quickly corrected himself, feeling a bit emabrrassed. "To you," he smiled a little dumbfounded.
Blair took a step closer, then reached out and fingered the paper. She had to admit she was curious about what was under it. "What is it?"
"A painting," Charlie set it down; carefully leaning it against the chair in front of Blair's desk. "She wanted you to have it." That was met with an surprised eyebrow lift. "For your office, I'm thinkin'." Charlie guessed.
It wasn't like Jo left instructions. She had just said 'give this to Blair once you get the cast off'… and of course, he'd promptly forgotten… until today.
"Well," Blair put her tongue in her cheek. "Thank you, Charlie."
Charlie watched as Blair circled around her desk and sat down. She began picking up a few papers, stacking them, then looked up at him. "Was there something else?"
Charlie looked at the painting then at the blonde executive. "Wha… You're not gonna' open it up?"
Blair sat back in her chair. "I will. I'm just a little busy right now." That was all she was willing to say about that. She waited, and saw the indecisive look on Charlie's face before he decided to drop it.
Whateva' …women. "Well, I'll just get outta' ya hair then." He turned to leave.
"Charlie, wait…" Blair got up and approached him. She realized she was being rude. No need to be rude to him, she surmised. "I'm glad to see you've gotten your cast removed," she glanced at the foot in question.
Charlie looked down. "Oh, yeah… couple a months ago," he said proudly.
Blair nodded. "I'm sure that's a relief," she smiled.
"Yeah, it is," the man let a grin spring onto his face. "Matta' a fact, I'm goin' back on the road," Charlie announced.
He was glad to be able to get in the rig and drive, somewhere, go anywhere besides being stuck in Jo's apartment. With Jo gone he'd been feeling a little lonely. Thanksgiving was mostly just him and Ace. Now, two weeks before Christmas, his boss had informed him they were short fleet drivers and had a lot of packages to deliver. He'd jumped at the chance.
"Oh, really?" Blair sounded surprised.
"Yep." Charlie rocked back on his heels with his hands in his pockets.
A beat passed between them. They'd both sensed it. The unspoken shift in their relationship. "Well, I'm sure that will be great for you, Charlie." Blair patted his arm, then turned back toward her desk.
Charlie watched her. "Hey… ah… are you okay?"
Blair tilted her head as she sat down. "Yes, why would you ask that?"
Charlie shrugged. He couldn't quite put it to words, but he sensed some stress coming off of Blair that normally wasn't there… could be her job, though. "Nothin'. Hey I know you gotta' stressful job and all that, so I'm just gonna' leave you to it."
Blair watched as he made his way across the room. She sighed. "Charlie?"
The scruffy haired man turned as he reached the door. "Yeah?"
"Thank you." Blair said sincerely. She really did feel an affection for the man. It was something she couldn't shake no matter the circumstance. "For the painting."
Charlie opened the door. "No need to thank, me. Thank Jo. I'm just the delivery guy," he winked at Blair.
Blair managed to let a pensive smile work its way to her face. Charming Charlie. "I will," she heard the words come out of her mouth, but she really felt the words: 'some day, maybe' shape her thoughts… those she rarely brought to the surface as of late. She still wasn't willing to respond to it.
She watched Charlie leave, then sat staring at the painting. She admitted she was interested in seeing it… until an almost overwhelming sense of dread came over her.
Not today… today was the start of something new. The first phase of her project had just been given the green light. Yes, concentrate on that. That was what was important, not some silly old painting from…
Her.
Blair quickly went and grabbed it, taking it to the closet that was beside the small powder room she had installed in her office. She placed the painting inside of it and closed the door.
There. Where it belongs. Out of sight, out of mind.
David Warner had made it to the conference room where agents Summers and Nelson were waiting for him.
"I'm glad you could make it, Mr. Warner," Agent Nelson sat at the front of the table.
"You said it was important," David said guardedly. He looked between the two agents as he got comfortable at the table.
He had been in the middle of a meeting when he'd received the text. He had consequently, quietly excused himself. The ride over was nerve racking as the text was vague. "Please tell me you've located Winstead."
Agent Summers opened her file. "We've located him," she paused seeing the look of utter relief on David's face. "The FBI is in the process of bringing him in."
David was almost on the verge letting out a strangled cry. "Where was he?!" he managed to keep himself together.
"We are not at liberty to discuss that information with you at this time, Mr. Warner," Agent Summers glanced at Eric.
"All we can tell you is that he was not in the United States," Eric stated somberly.
He knew that bit of information would be touchy for David. Whenever money left the company and went outside of the domestic boarder, things could get a bit tricky. David understood this completely.
He reached over and grabbed a bottle of water, taking a much-needed drink. "He has my company by the balls here," he stated gruffly.
It was the direct truth. If Barry used any of the money illegally, the company could be implicated for whatever he was up to. That thought alone made David squirm.
"I want him prosecuted, if that was any question," David locked eyes with Eric whose facial expression was one of full acknowledgment and agreement.
Eric pursed his lips. "We fully expect you to press all necessary charges."
David got up and began to pace. "When will they have him back here… in the country?"
"Few days," was all Eric was willing to divulge. He knew Warner was impulsive when it came to his company… and money. "We will be interrogating him here."
"We?" David eyed the lead agent tentatively.
"Agent Nelson and I have been granted special clearance from the FBI to work on the case," Summers replied before Eric could. "They plan on interrogating him in the States."
David looked between them. "Why? I thought you guys were secret service. What does this mean?" He sat again waiting for an answer.
"Our division is locally based secret service, however because we are IT, our branch is often utilized by the FBI," Eric explained. "Everything's computer based now-a-days," he gave a small grin. "Welcome to the new age of technology and safety from the government."
David nodded demurely. "What's your role in this?" he crossed his arms, listening.
Eric made a grimace and rubbed the back of his neck. "We won't know that or have any idea until they interrogate him, Mr. Warner," he paused. "Until then, we will keep you posted on what our next steps will be."
It was stated with finality. Eric had even given him an indication that the meeting was over. David cleared his voice as he shook the agents' hands. He dreaded keeping it all to himself. He couldn't tell Miles. Not now. Not the details, it would kill him.
David stood. He felt drained and weak from the prospect of yet another process to get through… without informing his daughter. And what of her safety?
Still. He had to trust Eric and the agents. He turned and faced them before walking out of the room. "What about my daughter's safety in all of this?"
Fair question, Eric admitted. He had not a clue of what Barry Winstead was capable of. He still didn't quite understand the connection of why he would steal that much money, and 'if' he would even hire someone to threaten the company.
Eric decided to play it evenly. "Once we find out what Barry Winstead's motives are and what he has planned, we'll let you know."
David really had nothing more to ask or say to that. Deflated, he bowed his head once in acceptance and left the room.
Eric walked over to the long rectangular window, hands in pockets. He looked out over the city in thought.
Agent Summers regarded him for a moment. "What are your thinking on this?" she was curious to know. Usually Eric was more forthcoming about specifics. He was unusually quiet today.
"I think we need more bodies on this," a beat. "From our side of things."
Summers agreed. "Mendoza could…"
"He's staying in Gragon for now," Eric replied. "He wanted an extended stay through the holidays," he explained.
"Oh." Was all agent Summers said. She didn't dare mention who she thought would be a good fit for the case… not dare mention…
"Agent Polniaczek," Eric said. He took in a breath.
He didn't want to admit the severity of this case was a factor in his motivation, but… there was no other way. No better person more suited for this.
Agent Summers waited for a second, then, "I agree."
It didn't have to be spoken. It was obvious, and Eric turned. "Let's start setting things up."
Summers moved to exit the room, then turned and looked at the lead agent. "I fully support you on this, if there's any question."
Eric nodded. "I appreciate that," was all he said as he watched her leave the room. He turned back around and took a few more moments. Traffic was starting to pick up and rush hour was beginning early today. It wasn't the first time that day he'd wondered if he was doing the right thing. He picked up his pad and pen from the table; then turned off the lights and closed the door waiting for it to automatically lock before he went to the elevator.
Time to contact General Barber.