Chapter 23
Same peaceful little mamma dove...
Hidden Secrets
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 23
Kevin Curtis was accustomed to swearing. He could
out-do everyone he knew. If someone had recorded everything he'd said that day,
they would have noticed the past two hours had been filled with more
four-letter words than he usually uttered in a month. Kevin let a string of
foul words fly again just to prove it.
"Where's Jenn?"
Kevin looked at Agent Klein and slowly shook his head,
then shouted, "Baxter, check on Jenn, would you?"
"Her flight was supposed to land at
five-thirty," Baxter called back a moment after consulting his computer.
Kevin let a few words rip. He turned to Klein.
"Secure the area. I'll go pick her up."
Klein glanced at his watch and raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, it's been over an hour. Let's hope weather
delayed the flight or she hasn't hopped into a cab. If she comes here, keep her
out."
"Look at this," an agent excitedly said,
pointing to the underside of the small overhanging edge of still intact
countertop in the kitchen.
Kevin was halfway to the front door, but paused and
turned back to see what had caused the stir among the agents. They hustled to
move aside as he entered the kitchen. He stooped down and looked up to read
three letters formed from a fingertip dipped in blood: Mr. R.
Before Kevin straightened back up he was burning ears.
"Find Washington and that baby!" he shouted before he raced out the
door and sped toward the airport. At a red light he pounded his steering wheel
and begged it to change to green. It took its allotted time before complying.
As he roared through the intersection he wondered if Matt should be called
home. A quick call to the office got Mitchell on the line, but not permission
to recall Matt Jensen.
"We've got problems," Kevin muttered to
himself as he got bogged down in traffic. He wondered how Nick would handle the
situation. He had a cool head. So calm he never swore. Instead, his mind seemed
to shift into hyper drive and tear through possible solutions. Kevin wished he
had that ability.
But he didn't. He was thorough, and that made him
smart enough to keep up with Jensen and Washington—the two best agents he'd
ever worked with. But he still wished he had access to Jensen now. Direct, one
on one, face to face, access. If anyone could find Washington, it would be Jensen.
Kevin swore again.
Just two hours before he'd experienced something he'd
hoped never happened in his lifetime. While minding his own business and
actually thinking about putting his feet up on his keyboard or quitting early
that day because it was slow, things suddenly changed. The tiny red LCD light
attached to the top right rim of his monitor blinked on and suddenly five
bright red stars flashed in front of the text before him and Nick Washington's
name glared below them.
Kevin swore louder than he ever had before and flew
out of his seat so fast he knocked his coffee mug to the floor. He ignored the
mess as he leaned over his desk and hit three buttons. The message on his
screen flashed to every logged on computer in the department and suddenly there
was a chorus of voices surrounding him. Startled. Frightened. Angry. Worried.
The phone rang, and before Kevin could speak, Mitchell's
voice boomed across the line, "Get to my office, Curtis!"
"Get to my
office!" Kevin shouted back.
Five seconds later Kevin's boss flew around the corner
and skidded to a stop with half the office staff and agents behind him.
"Five stars," Kevin said, jabbing them with
his fingertip.
"His home address!" an assistant sitting at
a computer in a cubicle outside Kevin's office shouted as he furiously typed.
"Washington and his daughter Katie," Kevin
groaned.
"Klein, Baxter, Lucido, Skow! Secure the
area!" Mitchell shouted.
"I'm going too," Kevin said.
"Smithfield, you're in the hot seat! Move
it!" Mitchell commanded.
"Curtis, give me ten second to settle in,"
Smithfield yelled as he ran for his office.
"I'm transmitting data already," Kevin
shouted back. The five stars glared like angry welts. Nicholas Washington's
name reached from left to right.
Kevin shut his computer down and ran from the office.
For three years the phones had been activated to send out emergency messages,
but no one had used it before. Kevin had placed odds on Monica being the first
agent to employ it. He was going to pay out nearly a thousand dollars now. Nick
was the last name he'd ever expected to see.
One star meant trouble, as in: Come and help me, I'm
wounded. That kind of trouble. Also as in: send in back up because it looks
like I might need rescuing.
Two stars heightened the danger. As in: watch for
enemy fire.
Three stars meant extremely grave danger and possible
casualties.
Four stars alerted the office the agent was physically
injured and no longer had the ability to defend himself or escape. He was
completely pinned down.
Kevin had almost considered using the star emergency
system when he'd been hit by sniper fire at the Washington home a few months
before. One star would have been sufficient in his case. But he'd decided
nine-hundred and seventy dollars wasn't worth losing that night so he limped
back to his car and tied a tourniquet around his bleeding leg. He used his
phone to call for back-up. He had the time to make verbal contact and the
ability to keep a phone line open.
Obviously Nick never had that luxury.
Five stars was the highest emergency number available
to an agent. It signaled several things. First: death. Possibly to another
agent if he was not alone, or to a significant civilian if one was involved.
But it could also mean death to the agent sending out the signal. He might use
it to say he was injured and didn't think he'd survive the attack. Second:
capture. Finally, it turned on a global tracking device.
As he slowly wove through traffic, Kevin swore and
pounded his steering wheel. The office was supposed to have received their new
phones weeks ago. The new emergency system included a button that automatically
began recording voices and images without placing a phone call. Headquarters
received the transmitted information immediately and saw and heard the events
as they transpired. If the phones had come in, and Nick had been issued one,
they'd be better off. They would know what happened in the Washington
household. They'd have information on why the kitchen had been demolished.
The only evidence the office found was blood to take
DNA samples from. That, and three ominous letters.
End Chapter 23
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