While that sounded excellent in theory, it was nerve-wracking in practice. I wasn’t quite sweating bullets, but my head was on a swivel, and I was a little jumpy. I had had a little bit of training in terms of self-defense and espionage, but it was basic, like spotting a tail (which I mentioned to Rick at every opportunity, much to his embarrassment) or disabling an attacker. The advanced training would come later, after I went through the Bonding and joined a faction, and would be specialized for my role in the organization. Training for initiates was mainly concerned about controlling our nascent abilities and making sure that we didn’t accidentally burn anything to the ground.
I made my way into the office at the end of the hall, belonging to Timothy Wright, the designated record-keeper of the Fire faction. It was his job to maintain the database of field operation reports. If there was anything incriminating to be found, that would be the best place to look. I sat down at the desk and booted up the terminal.
“Starting up the computer now, Rick.”
“Good. Nobody’s come in after you. Still looks clear.”
To sum up how archaic some of these people in Focus actually were, let me put it this way: the computer wasn’t even password protected. Sure, there was a firewall in place that secured the building’s network, but that does nothing to stop someone in front of a terminal. It was sloppy, and if I ever reached a position of authority in Focus, it’d be one of the first things to be fixed. After, you know, making sure that we didn’t induct any lunatics into the organization.
Once I found the right directory, I began opening case files systematically. I scanned each one as quickly as I could, but Fire agents had been deployed into the field with an almost frightening frequency over the past decade or so. I knew that academically, but didn’t fully understand how many there actually were.
Hundreds of cases. Maybe as many as a thousand, nearly a hundred every year. There were only about six hundred members of Focus total, which meant that the Fire faction only had somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred and twenty agents. Most of the operations called for teams of four or five, and involved multiple days or weeks out of the office. Even if every single agent was actually fit for field duty, that meant that hardly any could ever be at headquarters at any given time. So much for lots of time off.
“Rick? There are around a thousand case files here.”
“Shee-it. Okay.”
“Yeah. When was the email you read sent?”
“Last week.”
“Okay. I’ll start looking at cases in the past month. Maybe something will come up.”
“Gotcha. Still clear out here, by the way.”
“Good to know.”
“Stay safe.”
“I intend to.”
“Okay.”
“Stop talking to me now.”
“You’re pretty when you’re angry.”
I flushed. “Do I need to remind you that I can literally boil the blood in your veins?”
“You wouldn’t. You think I’m too pretty to break.”
I had narrowed it down to a dozen reports from the past four weeks. I started at the earliest one. “Yeah, Rick, you’re like a china doll.”
“I think I’m more like one of those Stretch Armstrong ones. You know, those little bastards you can bend and pull but won’t snap?”
“I know Stretch Armstrong, Rick. I wasn’t born at twenty-six.”
“Nora, you need to lighten up.”
“I’m trying to save lives over here.”
“No reason you can’t have fun doing it.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“You love it.”
“Yeah, I kind of do.”
Nothing in the first five. All successful missions, no deaths or suspicious activity. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for, but I was positive I’d know it when I saw it.
“See, that’s what I’m saying. Relax a little. Try to have some fun.”
“No thanks. If I relaxed, you wouldn’t be having nearly as much of a good time as you are right now.”
“That’s true. It’s a lot more fun annoying someone who actually gets annoyed.”
“You’re a troll for the ages, Ricky.”
“Don’t call me ‘Ricky.’”
“Shouldn’t have given me that ammunition, Ricky. Now I know what’ll annoy you.”
There. Something was off in the latest case report.
“See, I knew you would be like that. It’s always the ones who resist that are—“
“Shut up, I think I found something.”
Rick quieted immediately. He had clearly been trying to keep me at ease and my mind off the stress of the situation. I appreciated it, but it was time to work now.
The field report detailed guard duty for a Middle Eastern diplomat. Focus had received intelligence that suggested he would be assassinated while making a speech at the United Nations. The diplomat, Khalid El-Amin, was a major opponent of nuclear proliferation in the region. According to the file, there were credible rumors that suggested El-Amin would reveal evidence which proved that not one, but several nations and groups were already in possession of nuclear weapons. Evidently, an unknown third party had been funding the distribution of the devices, an organization or individual with unclear motives. Apparently someone simply wanted to hand the ability to obliterate millions of people to a handful of maniacal dictators. If El-Amin gave his speech, however, it might be avoided.
Unfortunately, he was killed yesterday.
The Fire agents had been unable to protect Khalid El-Amin publicly, as they couldn’t reveal the existence of Focus. They had been forced to act covertly, assessing threats before they reached the diplomat. They hadn’t detected anything suspicious, however, and nearly died alongside him. Some kind of explosive had been delivered to his hotel room, and when it went off, the Fire agents had been in the room across the hall. One of them had sustained severe burns, while the other had shrapnel pierce his shoulder.
The two Fire agents who were treated yesterday while I observed.
This felt right. This is what I was looking for. I felt a little sick to my stomach when I thought about what might happen with multiple nuclear weapons in the possession of unbalanced or downright sadistic people. The loss of life could be astronomical, with the potential to be the greatest human tragedy in history—and that was just with the initial detonation. The ecological fallout would stretch for generations to come. And that was only considering one wave of strikes. It was impossible to predict whether or not other nuclear nations would respond in kind. If a bomb struck Moscow, for instance… things would cease to be described with words like “terrifying.”
Words like “extinction” would have to suffice.
“This is it. I’m bringing it to you.”
“Gotcha, babe. See you in a minute.”
I couldn’t even muster the strength to jibe back at Rick for calling me “babe.” This was too much. And to make matters worse, I had no idea what we were going to do about it, assuming I was right. I printed the documents off as quickly as I could. I shut down the computer and made sure that I positioned the chair exactly as it was when I found it.
The papers presented a problem. I hadn’t thought to bring a pocketbook or some other kind of bag. Even if I had, there was always the risk of it being searched on my way out. Unfortunately, I was wearing a pair of jeans, and ladies’ jeans didn’t have much in the way of pockets. I folded the papers up as best I could while still keeping them flat, and tucked them down the back of my pants. Secured in my waistband, I draped my shirt over the area, confident that I would receive a snarky comment from Rick about pulling files out of my ass.
Now that I had done what I needed, it was difficult to avoid sprinting out of the building. I had to forcibly remind myself that there was no reason for anyone to suspect I had done anything wrong. The only threat I was concerned with was running into a Fire faction member. If I was spotted, it could only go poorly for me, espe
cially if they found the papers.
I settled for a brisk walk toward the end of the hallway. The stairs were located at the front of the Air wing of the building, and I had to pass Gabriel’s office on the way. Just as I reached the entrance to the stairwell, a man stepped through a doorway to one of the Air offices, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
Jason Butler, head of the Fire faction, was a massive bull of a man. He had served as a Fire agent for over thirty years, and he looked exactly how you would imagine a warrior to appear: a no-nonsense crew cut, dark brown eyes, clean-shaven face, enormous biceps, and a display of scars crisscrossing most of his exposed skin. One, a nasty gash that must have been made from a serrated blade, ran across his nose and cheek before terminating just under his left ear. He projected an aura of barely contained lethality, as though he were ready to level the building at a moment’s notice. His movements were animalistic, almost a prowl. When he spoke, his voice was a rockslide: gravelly, earthy, and demanding your complete attention.
And he was staring straight at me.
“Ms. Tress,” he growled. “You’re not on active duty today.”
Jesus.
“Mr. Butler. Good morning, sir.”
His beady eyes narrowed in suspicion. I had the distinct impression that he knew exactly what I had done, that he was moments away from reducing me to a cinder in a blaze. There weren’t any open flames around, but I had heard rumors that the more experienced Fire agents could utilize ambient heat as an improvised source of power. I wasn’t anxious to find out if that was true.
“Ms. Tress. What are you doing in these offices?”
I was panicking, trying desperately to come up with something, anything to deflect suspicion. But my thoughts were scattered, and I couldn’t think of a way to get out of this. Rick and I had rehearsed some stories, but they all sounded pathetic now that it was time to put them to use.
“I’m sorry?”
“Why are you here, Ms. Tress? You should be at home, getting ready to observe my department.”
Shit, that’s right. I’m supposed to follow the Fire faction starting the day after tomorrow. I had completely forgotten about that. Why hadn’t we just waited two days? I would have had the perfect opportunity to snoop around during my observations. I cursed my own shortsightedness, but the concept of observation had given me an idea.
“I… came in to see the two injured field agents, sir.”
“My two agents.” His tone hadn’t lost its sense of doubt and suspicion.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why are you interested in my agents, Ms. Tress?”
“I noticed something yesterday, during their treatment.” I recalled the way the Air Healers had mended their wounds, but that the burns on one of them was still plainly scar tissue, not new, healthy skin. “When they were healing one of them—the agent who was burned—his skin knitted back together, but still was badly scarred.”
“And?”
“I had meant to ask the Healers why that was the case, why they weren’t able to replace the burns with clean, fresh tissue. I was dismissed before I could ask them, sir, and I was hoping to get the chance this morning.”
Jason’s eyes somehow managed to narrow even further, his brow furrowed. “And why was it that you weren’t here, in the Air wing, to speak to a Healer?”
“I assumed that the best place to find one would be down in the Fire branch, sir. It’s the only one with anyone wounded, and I thought that there must be Healers on duty, tending to them.”
“Injured patients are kept in the Air wing.”
“My mistake, sir. I assumed they would be staying in their own quarters.” I knew that each of the factions maintained bunks for those on evening shifts for active duty.
“Ms. Tress. I don’t like it that you were roaming the building unsupervised. It represents a security risk.”
“I apologize, sir.” My pulse quickened, and I began to sweat.
“There are people who would like to see Focus destroyed. All of our good work, undone.”
“I realize that, sir.”
I felt a wave of heat roll over me, making my eyes water. Its source seemed to be from Jason’s body, which had to have spiked to a temperature upwards of a hundred and ten degrees. He shouldn’t even have been standing if he was running that hot, but it appeared that the Bonding granted the Fire faction some kind of resistance to extreme temperatures. Or maybe it was all in my head.
Jason’s eyes blazed with an inner light, and it was all I could do not to back away and cower in fear.
“Ms. Tress. You show promise. You have a great deal of control of your abilities for one so young. That does not mean, however, that you are given free rein.” He took a step closer to me, so that we were mere inches apart. He was head and shoulders taller than me, but I would not back down. I craned my neck to look into his eyes, taking a steadying breath.
“I do not want to see you wandering around without proper supervision until you have undergone the Bonding.” He all but placed his hands on my shoulders as he continued. “Do I make myself clear?”
I gulped reflexively. “Yes sir.”
“Go home, now. Report to me in my office the day after tomorrow to begin your observation assignment.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jason didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on me as I turned and headed down the stairs. I didn’t stop walking until I made it to the parking lot, where Rick sat waiting in my sedan.
“What’s wrong?” He asked immediately as I piled into the passenger seat.
“Drive. Please.” I was practically shaking. My encounter with Jason had rocked me to my core, and I had difficulty speaking for the moment.
He pulled the car out of the parking and headed back to my house. “What happened? You’re white as a sheet.”
“I think it’s Jason,” I heard myself say. “I think he’s the one who’s going to kill all of those people.”
Chapter Five
An hour later, we sat at my kitchen table once more, this time drinking gin. I was still shaken from my conversation with Jason, but felt slightly better at Rick’s oddly protective response.
“I’ll rip his goddamn head off,” he swore.
“He can probably generate heat so great that it would ignite the atmosphere, Rick. The man is walking napalm.”
“Can’t do that if his heart isn’t beating.”
Rick insisted that I put my feet up, and they rested comfortably on his lap as we sat and pored over the documents I had recovered. True to my prediction, he had indeed made a comment about using my ass as storage space for the papers. I tried to act amused, but I was distracted by the prospect of doing something about the impending doom.
“This looks bad, Nora,” he told me, absently rubbing the arch of my foot.
I took a long drink, savoring the burn in my throat as it went down. “Nuclear explosions tend to be bad, yes.”
“Hundreds of thousands of people, at least. Just in the first detonations.”
“My thoughts exactly. It can get even worse after that. If the right locations are targeted…”
“An actual nuclear war.”
“It doesn’t make much sense, though. What could possibly be the motive for blowing up half the world?”
He traced a thumb lightly down the sole of my foot, pausing to take a drink. “Maybe to make himself King of the Radioactive Waste Heap?”
“Doesn’t track. The man’s a soldier, at the end of the day. It has to be about who is being eliminated, not what happens to him afterward. He’s bound to be targeting some specific locations.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jason… Fire agents are violent, yes. But by and large, they don’t go into places and level them. Most of their assignments involve eliminating specific targets, guard duty, occasionally putting down a military installation.”
“Assassins, you mean.”
“I wouldn’t call them that, but I suppose the term applies. They
have specific mission parameters with their operations. Go here, eliminate this group, return to base. Some kind of Machiavellian power play in order to manipulate rogue nations to nuke targets runs counter to the way they operate. It just isn’t the way they do things.”
“Not to mention it would be awfully difficult for them to dictate to these people which targets they would hit.”
“Right. Imagine a guy like Jason talking terrorists into attacking someone other than who they wanted to in the first place. Hell, Washington or Hollywood would probably be high on their list of targets. And, whatever else we think about him, Jason wouldn’t want the United States to get nuked; the guy was born and raised in Kansas, for Christ’s sake.”
“We don’t have the whole picture.”
“We don’t.”
He was silent for a moment. He put my foot down, and switched to the other one. I hadn’t asked for a foot massage, but when a handsome man starts rubbing your feet, you don’t ask him to stop.
I was attracted to Rick. The past day had been a whirlwind of conspiracy theories and stress, but Rick had been consistently positive, insisting on breaking bad moods with jokes and amusing anecdotes. Despite the impossible task that loomed over our heads, my mind couldn’t help but wonder what else he could do with those hands, and whether I should let him show me.
I don’t date much. The life I chose to lead doesn’t leave much room for relationships that exist outside of those who can be told what I do. Most of the wizards are significantly older than me, and while that wouldn’t necessarily stop me, it would leave an unbreachable gap between us in terms of power. I insist on being on a level playing field with people I date; it’s the only way to have real trust. I didn’t need a wizard twice my age to suddenly decide that it was he who wore the pants in our relationship, and to put me in a position where there was little I could do to fight back. I would not be made to feel helpless—nor would I forgive myself if I did the same to anyone else.
Shifting Focus (A Paranormal, Urban, Fantasy Novella) (Focus Series Book 2) Page 4