Special Agent | ✓

Five

"Thank you for your honesty, Analyst O'Reilly," spoke the Director. O'Reilly's eyes swung, stunned, to Kimmel's end of the table. Some of the Chiefs were openly gaping at their boss. Kimmel was not one who usually brushed aside such a blatant display of disrespect toward both rules and decorum.

Yet, the Director had knowingly offered words which tilted the situation in the analyst's favor. Once again, Gavin wondered what the hell Havas had said before his arrival — and precisely what had happened since Kent's emergency beacon went off. The brief but insistent missive sent to him had demanded for him to drag his sorry ass from Heathrow to the Knightsbridge HQ as soon as possible, so he'd shoved himself in his car and floored it rather than read the missive cautiously. Now, Gavin couldn't help but wish he'd done a little more than simply skim the details.

Bloody hell.

" — as to how we proceed," the Director paused, eyes burning into Havas, " — I'd like to reiterate that the true purpose of this meeting was to ascertain the proper course of action in retrieving Special Agent Kent."

Havas looked happily surprised, while Chief Tibble shot an incredulous glare the Director's way. Kimmel had gone the diplomatic route, shoving aside the theatrics in order to regain control of the room. It was visible in the tense set of her shoulders, the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. It seemed she'd tolerated Quinn's outburst, but was swiftly running out of patience to any further insubordination.

Quinn had her eyes trained firmly on Director Kimmel, which allowed Gavin a brief moment to study her profile. Though her posture was stiff, determined, her eyes held a shallowly hidden swirl of emotion. Despite her brave display, Gavin had been right — inside, the analyst was most likely panicked. If you asked Gavin, the regular O'Reilly had returned — the stiff, careful analyst who wouldn't dare speak up even if someone paid her.

Leaning back in his chair, Gavin shifted his eyes to Chief Havas. The large man had sunk slightly in his chair, posture slouched as panic lit his eyes. He was staring straight at Director Kimmel, as if urging her to look his way.

"The facts, as told heretofore, are as follows: the emergency alert was issued at 23:06 by, allegedly, Special Agent Kent. The GPS tracked it to an address in Paris. The closest active agent, Special Agent Lorber, has yet to respond to the missive sent."

Kimmel nodded to an assistant, who in turn pressed a remote. The TV monitors displayed new images: red dots on a map over Europe. Three of them blinked directly over London.

"These are the known locations of active agents," Kimmel nodded to the assistant, who pushed another button. A yellow light appeared over Paris, " — and this is the location of Kent's emergency beacon. There are no other agents nearby which may be dispatched to examine the location."

Kimmel's eyes scoured the room once more, pointedly avoiding Chief Havas. Havas' face blanched, ever so slightly.

"In the past, the Agency has chosen to assemble a task force responsible for retrieving the agent having pressed the emergency beacon — in whatever state they're found." Kimmel's tone was grim, " — I firmly believe this remains the best way forward."

"Who would be assigned to this task force?" The question was calmly delivered by Imani. The agent placed her elbows on the table, leaning forward to direct a look at the Director, "Who'd go out in the field and find Kent?"

The Director paused for a brief moment, eyes swivelling around the room once more. This time, analyst O'Reilly was the subject of a longer stare than necessary.

Don't tell me you're contemplating what I think you are, Kimmel. Gavin's thoughts echoed in his mind. His fist clenched, face scowling as he looked at O'Reilly. The analyst had bent her head, listening to something Chief Tibble was whispering in her ear. It wouldn't be possible.