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I shrug, all over again I’m a teenager without any idea of what all the cool kids are into. “I don’t watch television.”
Tilting her head to study me. “It’s now streaming. You should catch up. Garcia got me into this for sure. Although stop after season eleven when they should have. It devolves into a crazy place after that.”
“Sure,” I mumble.
She laughs. “You are going to need to become a much better liar if you’re going to last thirty days as an agent. Probably a good thing you’ll be in the office behind a computer screen.”
When the elevator doors open, she motions at me to exit before her. “John is in conference. I’m taking you to Donald Benson. He’s the special agent-in-charge of our division. We focus on cybercrime on the day to day, but we’ll also go digging for any other division that can’t do their own research.”
Donald Benson is in his fifties but looks like he’s in his sixties. He stands when I enter the room with a nod at Presley. As she’s about to leave the room and close the door behind her, he stops her. “Presley.” He pulls something from his desk drawer. It’s a gun in a holster. “This is the firearm you’re being assigned. You don’t keep this. You don’t touch this, until John or I tell you differently. Presley, keep a hold of it.”
I’m grateful. I don’t want anything to do with guns.
She nods as she accepts the gun and holster. Once the door closes behind her, he looks to me. “Sit down.”
I don't dare argue, sitting in front of his desk. He's an imposing man even sitting down, probably a few inches over six feet. Wide shouldered, his jacket is too tight and his tie is askew. I’m guessing he was once military and his accent is pure New York.
“I’m going to tell you right now: I will not put up with you going off reservation. John isn’t a fool and neither am I. You got your way. You are a federal agent with a badge and gun and if you fuck up, I’ll make sure you regret it.” The words are a promise.
Swallowing a sigh, I nod.
“Go on now.” He nods to the door.
Presley is waiting right outside. “Don’t worry about Don, his bark is worse than his bite. He’s only been in charge for a year. The Bureau is still racist as fuck, so being a minority or woman and getting any higher than a field agent is a pretty big deal. I’m sure he’s worried you’re going to fuck up on his watch and he’ll get blamed for it. You won’t do that though, right?”
It's always odd to me how few minorities there are in higher offices in US law enforcement. I don’t think Don a better or worse supervisor because his skin is darker than mine. In other countries it was far more common to see a wide array among the officials I dealt with.
She guides me down the hall to an open door. There is a desk in one corner, then another open door leading into another office. It’s clear the second office was created within a larger one.
“I won’t.” I shrug. “I’m just helping where I can.”
“You are really going to need to become a better liar. This is your office and I’m right here. We need to go get you squared away with a badge and some paperwork.”
The next few hours are filled with a shit ton of paperwork then on the way back from the other floor, Presley takes me on a short walk around the floor we’re on. There are eight other agents, none of them looks at me for longer than twenty seconds. Presley doesn’t introduce me to anyone and no one acknowledges me.
By the time we’re back in the closet of an office, all I want to do is crawl under the desk and take a nap. Since my hours are my own and I usually work until I find what I want then sleep, my internal clock is completely jacked up. Trying to fall asleep before midnight so I could be up at seven to get ready for work and take the bus in was painful. I didn’t fall asleep until sometime after two in the morning.
Two files are on the desk that weren’t there when we left. Presley’s voice drops an octave as she places her hand on the first file. “This is off the books and what John wants you on first. These are women who’ve gone missing while on a cruise ship and when the ship stops on excursions. The ship is flying under the Nigerian flag. But these are our women. They're coming from our shores. Someone on the ship is making this happen. We need you to figure out who, then how we can get them on something else to stop this.”
Shit, now I get why John agreed. This wouldn’t be as simple as finding out who, but also finding something else to get him on would be even harder. At least that’s what they want to think—it’s not. None of these men started where they are now. They’ve tried other illegal shit and failed. There is always going to be something else to get them on.
“This might take a day, maybe two.” I sit down behind the desk. The setup is nice. Two screens, and a tower I have little doubt has all the power I need. It makes it easy to ignore the bleak gray walls and matching carpeting.
“I’m going to call in delivery. What do you want for lunch?”
I shrug, not sure but I am hungry.
“There’s a deli downstairs. They have amazing pastrami.”
“Pastrami sounds good.”
I get buried in the file, forgetting everything until Presley settles a cardboard box in front of me.
“Eat up. If you’re anything like the other hackers, you’ll tunnel in and forget food,” she orders me. At my blush she grins. Crossing her arms, she leans against the wall. “I knew it. Now I get to watch you to make sure you eat.”
Surprised she would even care, I fumble as I open the box. The sandwich is huge. “Thanks, what do I owe you?” I open my wallet. I’d brought some cash in case an older or smaller business refused to take credit or debit cards—I swear some businesses refused to take cards just to keep certain people out.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll owe me next time. I’ll pull you away so you don’t go all hacker on me and get you some daylight.”
