The Fog of Dreams

by Justin Bell

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  His face was an unemotional blanket, devoid of feelings as he slowly eased the phone to the desk he sat behind. He'd had a sense that this new Chief of Police might be a tough nut to crack, but he hadn't expected to run into trouble with her quite this soon. Grace pushed his chair back and stood, then paced the floor, crossing his arms. His brow furrowed as he drew himself deep in thought.

  There were already too many moving parts with Operation: Harvest and Chief Gutierrez simply added another one to the pile?and when so many moving parts were stacked up on top of each other, the entire pile grew unstable. He didn't like it.

  Grace was a meticulous planner, someone who planned ahead for every eventuality, and it had been that aspect of his personality that had won him this job far before his tenure warranted it. So far he'd managed to shuffle these moving pieces with relative ease, but Gutierrez was going to cause problems, especially considering the phone call he'd just received.

  Director McKie had called to warn him that he was going to be called back to Washington soon. Someone up the chain of command didn't like the two dead contractors, and was looking for a pound of flesh. Grace would be damned if it was his pound of flesh, but he had to think. He needed time to think. To plan. No matter what came next Gutierrez would have to be dealt with first. She had to understand what forces she was playing with and be made to appreciate the gravity of this situation. Once Grace spoke with her, then and only then could he consider a return trip to Washington to hold the debrief.

  Sliding out the desk drawer, he pulled out his car keys and walked towards his office door.