The Edge Of Justice

The Edge Of Justice Chapter 14

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I rocked back and forth on the bed, the terror turning in my gut. “How long?”

She sat next to me, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Two days shy of a month.”

I exploded into action, running toward my suit and weaponry, ripping the gown from my body and sliding one of my feet into the leg of the D-23. “Where the hell is Prince? Get him here now!” I shouted.

“Christian,” she said once I got the suit up to my torso. “I have instructions to bring you to his office as soon as you’re able.”

I slid my arms into the sleeves and reached to my back to zip the suit. “I’m more than able. Take me, now.”

I secured all my weaponry and turned back to see her still sitting on the bed, a concern in her eyes. “They’re fine. We’ve got reliable information that they’re both in good health and being treated better than we’d hoped. Running in blindly isn’t going to get you anywhere but in a casket.”

“Then a casket it will be,” I growled. “There’ll be one for you too, if you don’t get your ass up and into a vehicle.”

The silent minutes ticked by, each longer then the last until we finally pulled up in front of an unassuming white building with a sign on the door that was entirely too small to read from the driveway. The actual C.I.A. headquarters was two blocks away, and I wondered how this was going to work. Katrina had not spoken since I had threatened her life, and I feared I may have alienated her with my outburst. “I’m sorry, Katrina,” I said, my hand on the door release. “It’s not your fault, and I know that.”

She turned to me with a half-smile. “I figured you’d be angry when you woke up. Don’t sweat it, boss man.”

“Boss man?” She just shook her head with the same smile so I opened the door, cursing when the handle of a ninjato became stuck on the doorjamb once I stood. I freed myself and pulled the hoodie Katrina had brought with us from the back seat, using it to cover my suit and blades. With a nod to Katrina, I waited until she stepped in front of me and walked up the concrete path. I followed closely, finally able to read the sign once we reached the door. ‘Department Of Agriculture, Field Division’

“I didn’t figure you for a farmer,” I said while she held the door open for me,

“Nor do most of the people who work in here,” she chuckled, following me in.

She stepped in front of me again, and I followed her around the counter and into the large room filled with cubicles and desks. It was like any old office I’d seen before, with people bustling this way and that, arms full of paperwork. Most nodded to Katrina, and cocked an eyebrow when they saw me. I ignored them and trailed behind the redhead’s lead until we came to an office door marked ‘Katrina O’Leary’.

“I thought your name was Anderson,” I chided.

“It is now,’ she smirked. “And to be completely honest, Anderson isn’t my real last name either.”

I shook my head, already fed up with the C.I.A. and the cloak and dagger shit. She closed the office door behind us, and I looked around. A simple wooden desk with a high-backed leather chair, a closed laptop, an unused legal pad and a single pencil were the extent of the belongings in the plain room, except a dark wooden bookcase on the far wall, filled with large white binders and black bound, boring looking books.

Katrina moved to the left of the bookcase where an accreditation sheet with her fictitious last name hung, and moved it to the side to reveal a sophisticated looking identity scanner. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Katrina brought a single green eye to it, and the scanner made a pleased sounding chime before the bookcase slid to the side on a hidden track, revealing a stark, brightly lit, white washed hallway.