I stared at the bland DMV digital photographs. Both only stood out to me as the two people who had made attempts to engage me in public. It was not unusual since I was a Senator, granted Michael did stand out with his attempt to physically get me to listen to his rants, but there was nothing in the smiling face of the younger man or the smiling face of the older woman. I leaned closer to the monitors, "What should I be looking for, Kit?" Her body wash of vanilla and almond was really beginning to distract me, mixing with her body heat that was moving closer to mine. I would seriously have to work on removing most of the side effects in the next run of serum.
Kit looked down at me, shifting her towel up higher, "Their eyes, Claire. Look at their eyes."
I returned to the images. Looking at the eyes of the two happy people in front of me. "Michael has brownish eyes and Michaela has green eyes." I began to study the rest of their faces, trying to find anything else.
"Exactly. The man I punched in the mall had dark blue eyes when he stared me down as I held him against the wall. Old woman over here, dark blue eyes when she made really awkward eye contact with me at dinner with my parents." Kit clicked again, throwing up the picture of Stansfield from his police files, his hazel eyes had a glint of happiness in the iris. "And when right before he pulled the trigger, Stansfield made sure I looked right in his dark blue eyes as he muttered his last few words." She drew her hand over the monitor, "All of them are the same person. I will also bet my sobriety that if Sheehnan makes a surprise visit to their house, the other two will be dead or missing."
I frowned at Kit's sobriety joke, "How does this prove that they are anyway connected to Alistair or are Alistair?"
Kit shifted in her towel, realizing that she was only wearing a towel, and looked down before turning and walking out of the small office, "Their voice." Her back was turned to me as she let the towel fall to the floor. Her naked skin glistened from the shower and bright pink from the hot water. I bit the inside of my lip to hold in the inappropriate sigh that was about to escape from me.
Kit dug around in my drawers, removing a pair of dark red flannel pajama pants patterned with the Statue of Liberty and the Washington monument, a random gift from one of my interns from last Christmas. Kit threw the pants on, tugging her Perdue shirt over her wet hair, "It was their voice that made me put it all together. I had taken the usual courses at the academy of eye movements and vocal inflection to use as in field lie detectors. Before I left for London, I had taken night courses with a former FBI interrogator who was teaching body language and vocal detection classes at George Mason University. I was trying to pad my résumé with an eventual Masters in Forensic Psychology."
Kit ran her hands through her still wet hair, doing her best to finger comb it. "I had developed a knack to paying attention to the way people use inflection in their speech to hide the truth or emphasize the truth. No matter how hard we try, cover up with accents or purposeful mispronunciation, the human voice is like DNA. Extremely distinctive to the owner."
She walked back into the office, sitting on the edge of the desk. "When Alistair was breathing in my ear, out of fear my mind recorded the sound. The way he pushed certain vowels harder than others and how there was a more prominent rasp at the end of some words." Kit took a deep breath, "Sitting in the shower I was running over the faces and voices I have held onto since my sober mind is more inclined to it." She reached over and pointed at every picture, "Each one of these people have a distinctive rasp at the end of their A and I vowel usage. The same one Alistair has." Kit looked at me, "I know it's a wild hunch, a crazy hunch. But I swear Claire, they are all the same person, I just wished I had seen Alistair's eyes that night."
I stared at Kit. Once again she surprised me with her intense intelligence and desire to learn. I subtly thought what it would have been like to meet Kit before Montreal. The driven, exceptional agent that had a bright future all planned out for her. I looked back at the images lined up on the screen, "It might be a crazy hunch, but one that I think is worth looking at." I clicked and sent the images to the printer and then sent the images to Davidek and to Danny. Requesting that Danny do a casual knock and talk on the addresses of Michael and Michaela.
I hesitated, not wanting to ask Kit what I was about to. "What did Alistair say to you that night?" I asked it softly, not wanting to throw Kit back into terrible memories.
Kit froze in her place, her eyes drawing down to the edge of the desk. I could visibly watch the internal conflict in her head, "Nothing important." She stood up from the desk, walking back into my room, "Did you find anything on the two loose bees?"
I watched her hover around the room, arms folded. I slowly stood up from the chair, setting my glasses on the small pad of papers I had been scribbling notes on. "I haven't found anything, yet. Ivan sent over the full report from Dr. Bourne's accident. That is what I've been reading through." I walked into the room, standing close behind Kit as she absently looked at my biography collection on the far bookshelf. I could tell she was rigid and tense, her mind working around multiple things.
Kit nodded with her back turned, "Maybe I will head down to the station and meet with Sheehnan. Go with him to one of the addresses for your little fans. Do it while Davey is still in the house to stand by with you." I heard the exasperation in her voice, the guilt of not putting the pieces together sooner.
I gently grabbed her elbow, silently asking her to turn around and face me. When she did, I could see the wear and tear of this life I lived starting to show on her face. She smiled weakly at me, "You know, moments like this I would have a beer or a nice glass of whiskey to calm my brain." Kit let out a sigh, "I think I will have to settle for one of those leftover cupcakes and a strong cup of coffee."
I glanced at the clock by the bed, "It's still early. I can have Danny send his niece over with more cupcakes." I smiled, pulling Kit closer to me. "And you're going to stay here, with me. No going with Danny to Michael or Michaela’s houses." I paused, my smile dropping, "Every time you and I are apart, something terrible happens. I think it's best if we stick together for a while."
I released her elbow, walking back to the office to pick up Bourne's accident report. Bringing it back over to Kit, "Here. This is interesting and may have a few more clues." I went to suggest we get the cupcakes and spend the rest of the day and evening in her bedroom watching movies and possibly other things. I went to smirk at the idea of those other things, when my phone lit up and rattled on the desk in the office.
Rebecca's name staring at me in ominously in white as it did a slow shuffle around the wooden desk. I felt my smirk fade completely, picking up the phone, ending its solo dance. I really did not want to answer it, but Rebecca deserved at least me talking to her, ease the quiet storm of panic I knew she would be in. I had not bothered to call her after I was shot, more worried about Kit and my safety.
I set the file on the bed next to Kit, holding up the phone screen to show her, "I should take this."
Kit smiled tightly, nodding in agreement as she reached for the file. Standing up she motioned that she would be in her room. I answered the phone after my door was shut, "Hello Rebecca."
Her large sigh of relief rang in my ears, "Claire! Are you okay? Davey called me an hour ago but he was very vague about many things. I called Kit, but that woman never answers her phone or returns any of my calls." The agitation was thick in her voice. I sat slowly on the edge of the bed, "I’m okay. Back home and fine." I felt like I was talking with my overprotective mother.
Rebecca let out another agonizing sigh, "I will get to the point of this call. I can tell you're tired." It was a lie, but I didn't want her to change her mind. I really wanted her to get to the point and quickly, not go on about how she needed to be next to me immediately, for my safety.
"I've locked down the Criterion Centre and moved Dr. Zehren and the project to the hive. Your...Incident has me concerned." She paused, papers shuffling in the background, "I've also isolated a potential intern
al threat. I'm currently monitoring it until I can get the rest of the security team cleared to help me."
I laid back on the bed, instinctively reaching for Kit's pillow, curling it up under my head, "Who or what is the threat?" I heard the rushed whisper of the automatic doors in the security unit on the other line. Followed by the distinctive click of a keyboard, Rebecca's voice cutting over the click clack sound.
"I've been conducting standard interviews and background checks on the entire Centre staff. From top research doctors down to the midnight cleaning crew. Telling the staff that it was all for updating the records as we ran basic maintenance on the security records." Rebecca continued typing, "I interviewed the entire staff these last two weeks, all except one person. A lab assistant over in the phlebotomy lab. This lab assistant dodged all of our set interview appointments and completely disappeared yesterday. Ivan also noticed a strange dip in the IP traffic." Rebecca paused, breathing out a slow sigh. "Ivan found another leak in the secondary firewall. Nothing important was compromised, but Ivan and I both believe this lab assistant and the breach are connected."
I rubbed my temple, shoving Kit's pillow away with my elbow. The scent of her shampoo and perfume did nothing to calm my serum induced libido. I could barely focus on Rebecca.
I clenched my jaw, sitting up against the headboard. "Who is this lab assistant and will the Centre be safe for the Littell family and I to go ahead with next month’s schedule?" My voice was firm, firmer than I would have normally been with my former assistant. I could feel in the undertones of her voice she was about to spill out with her personal opinions about the situation and suggest I delay Beth's surgeries.
It was a second before Rebecca spoke, "I have sent you his file. Apel Isaacson. An entry level lab tech assistant that never stood out until he continued to avoid me. I'll have his full background in a few minutes and sent over to you."
I heard the soft beep of my phone, telling me the email arrived.
"I also have the security level set to high alert in case he returns. The local police department is looking at his last known address. An address I pulled from his insurance paperwork that places him in the area." Rebecca spoke softly, telling me she was not happy with my firmness towards her.
I grabbed the tablet sitting next to the bed, swiping to the email Rebecca sent. The image of a young blonde haired, blue eyed man with thick black glasses filled the screen. Apel Isaacson, age 23. Geneva resident attending the local university for his bachelor's in biochemistry. Hired into the Centre three months ago and faded into the mid-level workers. Showing up on time, doing his work and not causing any overly negative or positive reviews from his supervisors.
I set the tablet in my lap when Rebecca finally asked the question I was waiting for, distracting me from the file.
"Claire, are you sure Kit can keep you safe? Danny told me she ran after that man, instead of staying with you or getting you out of the office." I heard her huff angrily, "I can be home by morning. I don’t like knowing how close these people are getting to you. Kit still has done nothing to keep you safe or prove she can do the job she was hired for."
I closed my eyes, cutting her off, "You need to stop, Rebecca. I cannot keep having the same conversation with you about Kit and my safety." I heard a small gasp on the other end of the line, "Kit has done everything she can to keep me safe. Her training, her knowledge and her instinct have all been valuable against this formidable opponent we keep meeting." I took a breath, "Yes, she did chase my attacker in the Senate offices. If she hadn't we might not have found his disguise and put many pieces together of who he is and where to look next."
It was Rebecca's turn to cut me off, her voice harder than it had been in years, "You also might have avoided being shot in broad daylight if she put more attention into doing her job instead of mingling with interns or vying for your attention like a schoolgirl with a crush." Rebecca paused for a second, "I bet she's cleaned out the liquor cabinet. Drowning her constant failures in your expensive stash."
I bit my bottom lip in anger, the serum also heightened some emotions. One being anger. "Dammit Rebecca! Kit almost died getting Dr. Bourne's notebook and tracking down the motel where Alistair was! She is the reason why we are one step closer to him and why the CIA have backed off from me." I swung out of the bed, "I am only asking one more time, and it will not be a request. Stop focusing on Kit. Stop finding every little thing you can that you think may change my mind about Kit. Because guess what? Nothing will ever change what I think or feel about Kit."
I snatched the tablet up, heading back into the panic room office, "All of us need to work together. Unite as one toward the real enemy. Alistair Montgomery. These petty pissing matches are not helping, Rebecca." My voice was raised, forcing me to walk deeper into the panic room and reel in my emotions.
Sighing hard I softened my tone, "I'm tired, Rebecca. Plain and simple. Tired of the last five years and all that has followed me, us. All of us. I need you to stand with me. Continue doing what you're doing at the Centre and worry about that. Let Davidek and Kit worry here."
I took a deep breath to continue calming myself down when Rebecca finally spoke, her professional business tone replacing her snarky on from moments before. "I understand Claire. I will take care of everything here. I will make sure the Centre is safe for your arrival next month." I could detect tears in the edges of her voice, "And as always, I will keep you updated. I am glad you're okay and recovering. Goodnight Claire."
Rebecca quickly hung up.
I tossed the phone on the desk, groaning loudly in frustration. My head pounded from the day's emotions and all the puzzle pieces launched at me. None of them fitting like they needed to, had to. I shook my head, walking out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen. My mind replaying the things Rebecca lashed out at me, adding more to my overwhelming stress level.
In the kitchen I dug around in the freezer, reaching for ice cubes and throwing them into a glass. I then sifted through the cabinets over the refrigerator for my dusty old bottle of Irish whiskey. Looking like a crazed mental patient in my hospital gown and blood spattered pants, I poured two fingers of the amber liquid and shoved the bottle back into the cabinet.
I blew out a quick breath and lifted the glass to my lips.
The second the amber touched my lips, covering them with the infamous numbing burn, I realized what I was doing. "Shit." I dumped the glass in the sink, washing the whiskey and ice cubes away.
Throwing the glass on the counter, I leaned on the edge. My hands squeezing the rounded granite until it felt like my hand became one with the white and grey stone.
I cursed Rebecca and Alistair for getting under my skin so deeply I forgot, forgot that a drink was not the answer for my increasing stress. I had pulled Kit out of this particular form of problem solving just a few short weeks ago. A time that almost broke the both of us even before we stumbled into our deep feelings for one another.
I made a sudden, spontaneous decision and picked up the land line. Dialing a number that I knew by heart. My parents. It was time that I took Kit out of the city and away from the eye of the storm. Give her more of me as Claire and not more of the Senator Doctor being hunted. We needed the break before one of us crumbled under the pressure of what I had dragged her into when I hired her.
I licked my lips, feeling and tasting the burn, forcing me to grab a towel and wipe my mouth. I was slowly losing my grip on all of this, more now that I continued to have to get Rebecca focused on other things aside from her jealousy.
If I didn't. One of us would end up dead.
I closed my door, shutting out the sound of Claire's rising voice. I didn't want to eavesdrop, knowing it would infuriate me. Instead I crawled on my bed, picked up Norbert and set him in my lap and opened up the accident report on Bourne.
The report was surprisingly free of the heavy-handed black markings that were a trademark of many federal agencies. Telling me that this could be the true unedited report. There
were a handful of scene photographs that I set off to the side. I wanted to read the report before I looked at the photos.
I skimmed over the drab first pages. A rehashing of the scene and project Beekeeper. At the end of the third page, it finally caught my full interest.
"DNA and dental have positively identified the victims as Dr. Evelyn Bourne. CIA research doctor and bio geneticist. Patient #4408 – Also formally known as Sergeant Kenneth Bailes. U.S. Army. (See personnel file) Patient #1001 – Also formally known as Ensign Megan Casper – U.S. Navy. (See personnel file) Patient #1AA – Also formally known as Lieutenant Adam Oakes – Also affectionately code-named Honey by Dr. Bourne.
All victims succumbed in the explosion. An explosion that was caused by the overheating of the nitrogen tanks in the test labs. Killing all in seconds. The initial investigation shows deliberate tampering of the coolant systems. BLACK MARKER has ordered that no further inquiry is necessary. The report will be sealed and kept only for archival reasons as BLACK MARKER contacts the patient families to ensure appropriate processing out of Beekeeper and back into the military active duty logs. Assigning a MIA status during combat maneuvers in the ongoing wars.
It must be noted that during the explosion, three patients went missing. Three patients that had entered the project four months ago and have not been able to be located. Either after the incident or their personnel files. BLACK MARKER has the names of all three but is not releasing them to any investigative unit until further notice. BLACK MARKER has ordered the files under Bourne's labels of Apis/Micrapis/Hive be reviewed and destroyed."
The rest of the report fell into a sea of black marker, only leaving one or two words readable, hiding all of the best and critical pieces of information. I tossed the other pages aside and went for the photographs.
Redemptio Animae Page 63