The Pentagon Paradox

Chapter Seven

SCARLET

"You can't be fucking serious right now." I blast the horn for what seems like the millionth time, but of course the owner of the car is nowhere near their damned car.

I take a deep breath and run my hands through my hair. Okay. Scarlet, calm down, or you'll crash into the car.

I clutch the steering wheel and stare into the Porsche parking in my government-reserved spot beside Grey's car. I'm seriously debating crashing into their car; I have more than enough money to pay for the damages that'll happen to my car, and by the looks of it, they do too.

Crashing into their car will cause both of us damage, but I work in the pentagon and I have all the access to the camera footage of this damned owner getting out of their car, and I might or might not make their life a living hell so they follow rules next time. Grey would be proud.

Mr. Santiago wants to "see" me, and for some deliberate reason, I don't believe him for a second. First of all, he called me. That is just....not something the chairman does. He either sends me an email or tells Grey to inform me. But calling me? That's a first. And second of all, he said it was urgent while laughing, which, for someone who's known the chairman for way too many years to my liking, causes concern.

If it's urgent, the chairman would've requested that me and Greyson be at his office that second, but calling yesterday after I sent my report to tell me he wants to see me in his office in the morning? No, just no.

After a long walk from the parking lot to the pentagon, I finally reach my office. The old man wanted to see me at eight hundred hours, which is eight o'clock for us normal people. So I have a few minutes before I'm struck with dad jokes said in slow motion with a wrinkly wink.

I slumped on my desk, opening my laptop. The first thing that comes up is the file I made for Ninja Ballerina. And yes, I did register his name as that in the file; it was only so perfectly fitting for him.

There's really nothing in the file other than my theories on why he can't be a normal civilian and his description. Which, in my case, doesn't do him justice, but it's only because I can't write "too gorgeous for his own sake" in the file. With his bright green eyes, symmetrical face, and thick eyebrows, he looks...well, gorgeous. Not to say that if I wrote his description the way I thought it, it would've taken more space than the theories. Totally unprofessional of me, I know.

But there's no way on earth that Ninja Ballerina is just a normal civilian. It's practically impossible for anyone to trace anything back to me, let alone find out what my next mission is and the timing of it. And the option of following me is out of the window; there are a million routes that lead to my home, and I take a different one each time, and the government assigns guards under my house, so if he did manage to follow me, he would be questioned right now.

Which only leaves me two options, one of which is that he got help from someone on the inside, which is going to be a very big problem in addition to the new detective, Adeline, snooping around everywhere. Or the other option, which is that he is someone on the inside. It's not impossible, but the files I get about my missions have intel about every government agent within a two-block radius, and that information missing someone is going to cause big trouble for some people who work here.

So now, both options I have blame someone on the inside. I don't like blaming people without pre-thought, but that mistake would have cost me my life or the agent's.

I breathe in and get up, the clock striking five to eight. Better be five minutes early than late.

I say good morning to Grey on my way, and he only responds with a confused frown, seemingly drowning in papers. That detective has him worked up more than ever, hiding files and classifying unimportant information just to get on her nerves and put her on the wrong tracks.