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“That's perfectly fine, Courtney," he assured me, his voice smooth and soothing. The very calmness in his tone sent a shiver of fear through me. "I believe you have great potential."
A pause. Then he continued, "In fact, I'd like to invite you to Seattle. I want you to meet some of my associates and discuss your role in the new project."
Seattle? My mind raced as I processed his words. He wanted me to travel to him—to walk right into the lion's den.
"That's... generous," I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. But the tremors of panic were creeping in, lacing my words with uncertainty.
"It's nothing but the best for my team," Tyree continued, his voice brimming with unwavering confidence that only heightened my fears. He was persuasive, dangerously so. And his offer, although tempting on the surface, was a stark reminder of his true nature—unpredictable and treacherous.
As he started talking about potential flight dates and times, the enormity of what I was about to do hit me like a tidal wave. The flip phone slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, clattering onto the table, the line going dead. “Oh, God!” I moaned.
Brad was by my side in an instant, his arms wrapping around me instinctively as my body began to shake uncontrollably. Tears stung my eyes and spilled down my cheeks, a physical manifestation of the fear and tension bubbling beneath the surface.
"Courtney, it's okay," Brad murmured into my hair, holding me tightly as I sobbed against his chest.
The booth suddenly felt too small and confining, yet at that moment, it was just the two of us, ensnared in our private universe of fear and comfort.
Downing's calm voice cut through the silence as my sobs began to subside. "Courtney, you're doing fine," he said through the tiny speaker embedded in the booth's wall. "Remember, you're not alone in this. I just need a little more time to trace his location."
Giuseppe's voice joined him, the gruff exterior replaced by a surprising gentleness. "You're stronger than you think. Call him back and set up that meeting. I assure you, Courtney you’re in good hands.”
Taking a shaky breath, I picked up the phone again. My fingers trembled slightly as I dialed Tyree's number once more.
When Tyree's voice crackled through the line, his immediate concern about our dropped conversation punched through the static. Swiftly, I reassured him, tossing in a breezy apology and piling the blame on a pesky signal. His chuckle rumbled through the speaker, signaling he was buying the flimsy excuse, and we were back in the game, our conversational dance resuming.
Diving straight into logistics, Clint began sketching out a flight plan for me from Bangor to Seattle. A spark of panic ignited within me, threatening to bloom into a full-blown wildfire. Drawing in a long, steadying breath, I wrestled to keep a rein on the tremor lurking at the edges of my voice.
"Mr. Tyree," I started, pressing my words through gritted teeth, "I'm a little in the dark about my father's plans. Bangor might not be in the cards when the time for our rendezvous swings around." My voice wobbled on the last few syllables, despite my desperate attempts to keep it steady.
Tyree's surprised pause was a mere heartbeat, but it felt like an eternity. When he returned, his voice had taken on an edge of eagerness that was more pronounced than before. It was as if my uncertainty had fanned his intrigue, making him more determined to turn the situation to his advantage.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Downing. His face, normally composed, was creased with frustration as he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze fixated on the multitude of screens that adorned his workspace. His motions were frantic and disjointed, not at all like the calm, collected agent I had come to know.
My breath hitched. Something was going wrong.
From my peripheral vision, I could see Brad and Giuseppe, their faces reflecting a similar level of concern. Their eyes were fixed on me, their gazes heavy with unspoken fears.
Suddenly, Downing began making exaggerated motions, pointing to the phone and then back to himself. The message was clear: keep talking. Keep Tyree on the line.
It took me a moment to understand why, but when I did, I swallowed hard. Downing was having trouble tracing the call.
Time seemed to slow down. I could feel my pulse quickening, hearing the blood rushing in my ears. We were running out of time, and I had to keep Tyree engaged until Downing gave the signal. We had one chance at this, and I couldn't afford to mess it up.
With that realization, I lifted the phone back to my ear, praying that my voice wouldn't betray the fear that was threatening to consume me. My eyes flickered to Brad and Giuseppe, finding a glimmer of reassurance in their solemn nods of encouragement.
"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Tyree," I said, forcing a lighthearted chuckle into my voice. "I'm in the middle of nowhere. The signal's terrible. I hope I didn't keep you waiting."
While Downing was engrossed in working on his screens, he looked at me and gave a brief nod. This was not an indication of success but rather a gesture to continue. For a moment, his confidence seemed to waver, but he swiftly regained his composure, his eagerness even more pronounced than before. I drew in a fortifying breath, bracing myself for the unfolding dialogue. It was undeniable now—we were only at the starting line of this perilous game.
"No, not at all," Tyree responded, his tone was almost jovial, but it did nothing to dispel the unease eating at me. "Courtney, it's been a while since we last talked. What have you been doing since you left Rosedale Tech?"
His question struck me like a bullet, causing my heart to skip a beat. What was I supposed to say? I couldn't tell him I was assisting the FBI. Downing's desperate signals from the corner of my eye only added to my rising panic.
"Uh..." I stammered, scrambling for a plausible story. "I... I've been traveling a bit, trying to, um...explore different opportunities." My voice sounded high-pitched and shaky to my own ears. Downing was still frowning at his screens, motioning for me to keep Clint talking. I swallowed hard again, feeling my throat constrict with anxiety. This was getting dangerous.
My hands tightened around the phone as I listened to Tyree's response, each word sending tremors of anxiety through me.
"Traveling? That's interesting. Anywhere in particular?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested. His casual demeanor was almost disconcerting, contrasting sharply with the rising tension in the room.
