With a Pull of a Trigger

Chapter Two

Catherine took a deep breath. She nodded and stood up, straightening her skirt and brushing off nonexistent dirt off.

Amrie furrowed her eyebrows and looked at Catherine questioningly. “What was that for?”

Catherine gave her a small smile. “Why? Can’t a superior agent ask her senior agent what the plans are?”

“Well yes, you can,” said Amrie, standing up, “but that wasn’t a mere question. It was more like an interrogation.”

Catherine chuckled. “You will find out the reason soon, Amrie. It might even be sooner than you think.”

Amrie shook her head, clearly puzzled. “Find out the reason for what? What’s wrong?”

Catherine smiled. “Nothing is wrong. In fact, everything is right.”

“What?” asked Amrie. She wondered just when exactly she lost her ability to be eloquent at all times. “I don’t understand.”

Catherine smiled one small smile before turning around and going to the direction of the door. “You’ll understand soon, I promise.”

The door closed quietly, leaving behind a confused senior agent and silence filled with questions unanswered.

The room was classy. It had a high ceiling, and a plush maroon carpet that sunk ever so slightly with every step. The walls were painted a muted brown with soft gold accents and exquisite colorful abstract paintings were on the walls, all expensive. Opposite the French doors was a long mahogany desk, polished and neat. To the right of the doors were a leather couch, a glass coffee table—which had a bottle of scotch, some glasses, and a glass ashtray that seemed to glimmer slightly under the lighting on it—and a singular leather chair with leather armrests. Bookshelves lined the walls, tall and crammed with so many books. On the far right wall were tall glass windows which had elegant maroon silk draperies. Behind the desk were glass French doors which were currently closed, blocking the view with elegant maroon silk draperies. On the left wall was a brick fireplace, the leather couch facing its direction. In the center of the ceiling hung an ornate golden chandelier with glass crystals, the crystals somewhat shimmering under the light.

“Wow,” breathed out Eena. “We better be extra careful here. I don’t want to pay for anything we might break.”

Reini nodded. She glanced around the room and started walking towards the mahogany desk. Her breath hitched in surprise after she took her first step; the carpet sunk beneath her heel.

Eena grinned at Reini’s heels. “This guy is ridiculously rich.”

Reini smirked. “You think?”

Eena shook her head and walked towards the mahogany desk. “This guy is neat. Look at his desk. It’s so organized.”

Reini looked at the desk and had to agree with Eena. On the desk were only a glass container filled with expensive pens, a dark brown planner, an expensive silver wristwatch that was probably taken off only a few minutes ago, and a glass coaster. All of the objects on his desk were so evenly spaced that one might think a ruler had been involved, or perhaps a tape measure.

“What’s the coaster for?” asked Eena.

“Scotch,” answered Reini. “Probably drinks some when he works.”

“From the looks of it,” said Eena, crouching down as she looked at the desk’s drawers, “this guy doesn’t even need to work.”

Reini snorted. “You think?” she said, glancing up at the chandelier.

Eena grinned at her and took a small rectangular metal box, about the length of a flask used for containing alcoholic drinks and about the thickness of a pocketbook. She opened the container to reveal a cosmetics kit complete with a small pair of scissors, a pair of tweezers, a nail file, and both toenail and fingernail clippers. She then took the fingernail and toenail clippers from the right side, opened the false bottom, and retrieved her tools for picking locks.