Page 15 of A Touch of Treachery
“Let’s go,” Charlotte said.“Gia and Diego have already checked in with Evelyn.”
Charlotte and I went over to a raised, round dais where a sixty-something woman was ensconced behind a curved marble counter.
The woman was wearing a bright fuchsia pantsuit that highlighted her cropped black hair and ebony skin.A row of monitors mounted in front of her showed different views of the three floors and cast a bluish glow onto her silver glasses and dark brown eyes.A keycard reader and a metal turnstile were positioned a few feet away, although no mortal shoppers were going near that area.
Evelyn Hawkes looked up as Charlotte and I approached.Most Section 47 agents thought Evelyn was merely a receptionist, someone who passed out travel brochures to lost tourists and steered mortals away from the main entrance.But she was actually Maestro, the code name for the head of the Washington, D.C., station, and one of the most powerful people in the spy organization.The Section leaders were all about compartmentalizing information to protect the agency as a whole, and not even my father, General Jethro Percy, knew Maestro’s real identity.
Charlotte had figured out who Evelyn was a few months ago, after realizing that the older woman kept pushing us to work together to ferret out some moles in the D.C.station.Evelyn’s subterfuge still impressed me.Sitting out here in the open as though she was just a gatekeeper was an inspired way to pick up gossip and other information Section agents would keep to themselves whenever they were around senior officers.
I nodded respectfully at Evelyn, who returned the gesture.Her dark gaze flicked over to Charlotte.“I’m sorry the mission didn’t go as planned.”
“Me too,” Charlotte muttered.
Evelyn nodded, then cleared her throat.“A mission debriefing has already been scheduled.You two have been ordered to report immediately.Level-five conference room.”
That was odd.Back at the Vault building, Gia had said she wanted an update in two hours, not as soon as we returned to headquarters.
I turned to ask Gia if she had moved up the timetable, but she was already waving her keycard over the reader, pushing through the turnstile, and heading for the Section elevators.Diego juggled the two laptops from one arm to the other, scrambling to swipe his own card, shove through the turnstile, and keep up with her.
Charlotte eyed Evelyn.“Anything else you’d like to tell us?”
Evelyn tapped her index finger on her mouse, making the monitors flicker in front of her.“I just got the message a minute ago.I’ll see you both down there.I should know more then.”
Charlotte nodded.The two of us waved our keycards over the reader, then moved through the turnstile.Diego held the elevator for us, and the door closed with a whisper.
“What’s going on?”Charlotte asked, her voice sharp with worry.“Why the sudden rush to debrief?”
Gia scrolled through screens on her phone.“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
The elevator dropped, and my gut along with it.Urgent, unexpected debriefings were never a good thing, especially after a mission gone wrong.Someone was not happy with our failure.
The elevator kept going down, down, down.The old train station had seven underground levels, all serving a different purpose and facet of Section 47.The accounting department was on level one, followed by the IT hub on level two.Analysts like Charlotte usually worked on level three, along with charmers, although both analysts and charmers could be assigned to different departments and work on different levels as needed.
Level four was reserved for the offices of the Section leaders, including Evelyn as Maestro, along with holding cells for prisoners until they could be sent to a black site for further interrogation.Level six housed the armory, which was filled with weapons, clothing, and other supplies, while level seven served as a parking garage for Section surveillance vans and vehicles.
The elevator floated to a stop at level five, which was where cleaners like me worked, along with our liaisons, Section agents who made sure we assassins had everything we needed to find, track, and eliminate targets.Most of the mission briefings and debriefings were also held on this level.
The elevator door slid back.Gia strode forward, her nose still buried in her phone.Diego juggled the two laptops again and followed her.Charlotte and I also stepped out of the elevator.
“Does this feel as wrong to you as it does to me?”I murmured.
“Yep.”Charlotte blew out a tense breath.“But we’ve been summoned by someone, so we might as well get it over with.Right?”
“Right,” I echoed, although my voice was just as wary as hers.
Charlotte smiled, but her expression quickly twisted into a grimace, and she trailed after Gia and Diego.I fell in step beside her.
Something was most definitely wrong, and I had a sinking feeling that Charlotte and I were in much more trouble than simply botching a mission.
Ifollowedtheothersdown a long corridor with light gray walls and matching carpet.Gia waved her keycard over another reader, and a set of bullet- and magic-resistant doors buzzed open, revealing the level-five bullpen.Clear plastic cubicles took up most of the space, and a wide walkway running down the center led to some glassed-in offices and a large conference room set into the back wall.
Cleaners sat on the left side of the main aisle, while their liaisons were situated on the right side.Even assassins had to do paperwork, and several cleaners were dutifully typing away on keyboards.Some of the liaisons were also typing away, while others murmured into phones.Every time I entered the bullpen, it always struck me how it seemed like an ordinary office—except for the fact that we killed people.
Gia and Diego went to the conference room, but Charlotte headed over to her assigned desk, which was in the back row of cubicles, directly across the aisle from my own desk.She slung down the green-stained briefcase, then plopped into a chair, flipped on a monitor, and powered up her laptop.She was clearly still trying to find out who had called the sudden debriefing.
I headed over to my own desk to do the same.Forewarned and forearmed and all that.
I was just about to sit down when I realized that all the cleaners and liaisons had turned their heads to stare at me.They all had the same stiff posture—high shoulders, squinty eyes, pinched lips—and the air practically crackled with tension.If I touched someone right now, my galvanism would give me a violent static shock from all the nervous, pent-up energy.
