bundle of perpetually regenerating energy.
She adored her daughter, truly. The little girl was the light of her life and the center of her world ever since Daniel died. But she had never known the meaning of ‘tired’ until Marlee learned to walk.
The tiny coat was hanging half off the dresser, but the shoes were nowhere to be seen. She crouched down to search under the bed.
Loud footsteps beneath the floor startled her, and her head jerked up to bang against the frame. She crawled backwards out from beneath the bed while rubbing the back of her head gingerly.
“Bela! There are—” Overlapping voices muddled whatever her mother said. What the…?
She rushed out of the bedroom but only made it to the second step before a man and woman in conservative black suits appeared at the base of the stairs. “Ms. Marano? Would you mind coming with us?”
They weren’t regular police. There were no uniforms and no formal procedures being followed. She tried to look innocent, but unlike Caleb she had always been a terrible liar. “What is this regarding?”
They continued up the stairs, calm resoluteness indicating they entertained no doubt she would in fact be coming with them. The man’s muscular frame filled out his suit, adding intimidation to his threatening countenance. His partner stood taller than him; auburn hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck emphasized attractive features. The woman gave her a small, placid smile intended to convey reassurance.
It didn’t work—her heart hammered at her sternum like it was planning to make a break for it—but it wasn’t as though she possessed a route of escape. And even if she did, she couldn’t abandon her mother to fend for herself. She did her best to keep her voice controlled and even. “Am I being arrested?”
“We’d appreciate you answering a few questions.”
“About my brother?”
“It’s better if we discuss it at the office.”
“The ‘office’? What is that? Where are you intending on taking us?”
“Bela! What’s going on?” Her mother’s voice echoed from the hallway below, shaky and shrill, the way hers desperately wanted to be.
“It’s going to be okay, Mom. I’ll be right down.”
She backed into the banister, all too conscious of the four-meter drop behind her to the living room below. The agents—if they weren’t police they were government agents—did her the courtesy of stopping at the landing, though their deportment made it clear she would not be allowed past them. “I’ll come peacefully, if you promise you won’t harm my mother.”
“We’re not intending on harming anyone, ma’am.” The woman was now firmly ensconced in the role of ‘good cop.’ The man’s left hand hovered over the stunner on his belt. “We simply need to speak with you. Both of you.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, buying herself time to send a message to the couple taking care of Marlee to let them know she might be delayed. Then she nodded. “Very well.”
I NTELLIGENCE D IVISION H EADQUARTERS
----
Director of Intelligence Graham Delavasi turned away another office visitor seeking to ‘check in’ or ‘pick his brain’ but in any event steal his attention. In simpler times he enjoyed the occasional visit by military officers and government officials and subordinates and even friends. But the last week had eradicated any remaining traces of simplicity from his life.
Special Ops Director Michael Volosk was dead. Murdered steps from Headquarters—the building he sat in now. The man’s throat had been sliced open and he had been left to bleed out in the goddamn parking lot .
He dragged both hands down his face for the hundredth time in the last hour. Michael was an outstanding agent. One of the best. Though he may have sat behind a desk for the last few years, no one would accuse him of being a bureaucrat. What kind of assailant could have gotten the jump on him in such spectacular fashion?
Agent
She adored her daughter, truly. The little girl was the light of her life and the center of her world ever since Daniel died. But she had never known the meaning of ‘tired’ until Marlee learned to walk.
The tiny coat was hanging half off the dresser, but the shoes were nowhere to be seen. She crouched down to search under the bed.
Loud footsteps beneath the floor startled her, and her head jerked up to bang against the frame. She crawled backwards out from beneath the bed while rubbing the back of her head gingerly.
“Bela! There are—” Overlapping voices muddled whatever her mother said. What the…?
She rushed out of the bedroom but only made it to the second step before a man and woman in conservative black suits appeared at the base of the stairs. “Ms. Marano? Would you mind coming with us?”
They weren’t regular police. There were no uniforms and no formal procedures being followed. She tried to look innocent, but unlike Caleb she had always been a terrible liar. “What is this regarding?”
They continued up the stairs, calm resoluteness indicating they entertained no doubt she would in fact be coming with them. The man’s muscular frame filled out his suit, adding intimidation to his threatening countenance. His partner stood taller than him; auburn hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck emphasized attractive features. The woman gave her a small, placid smile intended to convey reassurance.
It didn’t work—her heart hammered at her sternum like it was planning to make a break for it—but it wasn’t as though she possessed a route of escape. And even if she did, she couldn’t abandon her mother to fend for herself. She did her best to keep her voice controlled and even. “Am I being arrested?”
“We’d appreciate you answering a few questions.”
“About my brother?”
“It’s better if we discuss it at the office.”
“The ‘office’? What is that? Where are you intending on taking us?”
“Bela! What’s going on?” Her mother’s voice echoed from the hallway below, shaky and shrill, the way hers desperately wanted to be.
“It’s going to be okay, Mom. I’ll be right down.”
She backed into the banister, all too conscious of the four-meter drop behind her to the living room below. The agents—if they weren’t police they were government agents—did her the courtesy of stopping at the landing, though their deportment made it clear she would not be allowed past them. “I’ll come peacefully, if you promise you won’t harm my mother.”
“We’re not intending on harming anyone, ma’am.” The woman was now firmly ensconced in the role of ‘good cop.’ The man’s left hand hovered over the stunner on his belt. “We simply need to speak with you. Both of you.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, buying herself time to send a message to the couple taking care of Marlee to let them know she might be delayed. Then she nodded. “Very well.”
I NTELLIGENCE D IVISION H EADQUARTERS
----
Director of Intelligence Graham Delavasi turned away another office visitor seeking to ‘check in’ or ‘pick his brain’ but in any event steal his attention. In simpler times he enjoyed the occasional visit by military officers and government officials and subordinates and even friends. But the last week had eradicated any remaining traces of simplicity from his life.
Special Ops Director Michael Volosk was dead. Murdered steps from Headquarters—the building he sat in now. The man’s throat had been sliced open and he had been left to bleed out in the goddamn parking lot .
He dragged both hands down his face for the hundredth time in the last hour. Michael was an outstanding agent. One of the best. Though he may have sat behind a desk for the last few years, no one would accuse him of being a bureaucrat. What kind of assailant could have gotten the jump on him in such spectacular fashion?
Agent
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