Briggs stormed into the office of central command and sat down at the head of the large oval table.
"Show me, Carter" he ordered.
On the opposite side of the room, a screen showed footage taken from the security cameras at main reception. Damien Carter, Deputy Head of security, sat to the left of Briggs, using a wireless keyboard to fast- forward the footage. At 10:34am, he stopped the footage and zoomed in on the receptionist.
"Who is she?" Briggs asked to the woman sat to his right.
"Sir, that's Jenny Reeves, one of the trainees. She started yesterday," Veronica Fox, the head of resourcing replied.
"Why was she on the desk by herself, why wasn't she being shadowed?"
"She was supposed to be, sir, by Gloria Weston, but she called in sick this morning. Jenny held the fort for an hour all by herself until I could get a relief in. She's a promising young lady, sir. I ..."
"Sack her and sack that idiot Weston too. I won't tolerate the weak and the useless in my organisation." Briggs nodded to Carter to continue the playback.
Several seconds later the speeded up film showed a woman, clearly in some kind of distress approach the desk.
"Turn on audio," Briggs instructed.
"Good morning, how can I help?"
"My name is Diana Page and I need to see Agent Scott urgently..."
Briggs watched the video in silence and winced as the two guards forcibly eject Hannah's birth mother from the building.
"Why wasn't I told about this?"
"Sir, every day, crackpots come in, demanding to speak to you. Just yesterday a young man came in to report, what he termed, 'a conspiracy to bring down the government.' We have neither the time n resources to deal with nutters like that."
Briggs turned away from the screen and stared directly at Carter. "But she wasn't a crackpot was she," he said pointing at the screen, whilst maintaining his icy stare.
"No, sir, no sadly she wasn't."
"Agent Taylor, what do we know so far?"
Stefan Taylor stepped forward from the corner of the room.
"According to the step-brother, Hannah left the house in the dead of night and as far as we know it was under her own free will. We believe she may be with Tucker Simpson. His parents have confirmed that they haven't seen him for a couple of days."
"Where is Diana Page right now?"
"Well, this is where it starts to getting weird. No one has seen Page since she left here this morning. We tracked her car to this street," he said, pointing to an area on a map now projected on the screen. The car seems to have disappeared from there."
"Is there anything significant about this location?"
"Yes. This is where Hannah Page's adopted parents lived. We razed the area two weeks back. A door to door has proved fruitless."
"So let's get this straight. I am missing an Agent, presumed dead. I am missing two of the returned Flawed and now a birth parent in the space of a few hours. Is there anything else I should know about?" Briggs said, unable to hide the exasperation in his voice.
"Well actually, there is sir."
"And?"
"The location of Professor Clairbourne is also unknown at the moment."
"What?" Briggs eyes darkened.
"We got a call from his cleaner earlier this morning. She arrived at his house and found it turned over. It looks as if he never made it to work today and his car is still in his garage. We found the tracking chip from his pass card lying on the kitchen table."
Briggs rubbed at his chin, staring at the map on the screen again.
"I want a full military response. Get the Generals here now."
Briggs watched as the technician removed the last of the leads. The screens were turned off one by one and the IV tube was removed. A sticking plaster was placed over the small wound.
"How long is this going to take?"
"I'm not sure, anything from a couple of minutes to half an hour. They all react differently and he's been under for some considerable time. He'll also be a little disorientated to start, but that shouldn't last too long."
Slowly, colour seemed to return to the prostrate man's face. His eyelids flickered first and then his left hand twitched. A groan came from deep inside his throat. Briggs walked over to the bed and towered over Zeke Matheson.
"This is taking too long. Is there anything you can give him?"
"No, there isn't. This process is difficult under normal circumstances, but we have taken every shortcut we can."
Matheson's eyes opened and he began to blink rapidly. With another groan he tried to sit up, but fell back against the bed. The technician rushed over and spoke in a calm voice, gently lulling Matheson back to consciousness. Briggs shook his head.
"Matheson. Get up, get up now."
"Please sir, let him come around on his own."
"We haven't time for that. Matheson, I order you to sit up."
Struggling to focus, Matheson found the strength to sit up, his body rolling from one side to the other. Briggs turned his nose up as drool trickled down Matheson's chin.
"Yes, sir," he uttered groggily.
"Get some clothes on and report to the OCC. You'll be accompanied all the way, so don't go getting any ideas." With that, Briggs left the room and returned upstairs, via his personal office.
"Good afternoon, "greeted the secretary. "Would you like me to order your lunch? It's your favourite today- fillet steak."
"No thank you, Danielle, a plate of sandwiches will suffice. Have them sent up to the OCC."
Briggs walked into his office and over to his desk. He opened up the top drawer and took out his semi-automatic hand gun. Except for cleaning and servicing, the weapon hadn't left the drawer in over a year. The gun felt reassuringly familiar in the palm of his hand, but it was too light. He removed the empty clip and pulled back the slide, checking that the magazine and chamber were also empty. He picked up a ready loaded clip and inserted it into the gun with a forceful push. He activated the slide-release with a satisfying snap and finally pressed down on the safety lever. He palmed the gun again, the metal warming slightly to his touch. Now it felt right. Once holstered, Briggs left the room, his stride discernibly more confident.
As Briggs walked back into the Office of Central Command, all those seated around the table stood up and waited for Briggs to take his seat.
"Thank you for coming."
The heads of the uniformed men and women nodded in unison.
"I trust you've all been briefed."
They nodded again.
In a calm, quiet voice, Briggs began. "We are at war and have been for as long as I can remember. Up until today, we have been in control, countering and putting down any threat. But, this is different. These aren't random incidents, but a co-ordinated attempt on this government. You will find out what is going on and who is behind it. Hannah Page must be returned to me within the next twenty four hours." Briggs slowly looked around the group, making sure he had eye contact with each one. "I don't care what you have to do, just do it. Any questions?"
The oldest, greyest general raised his hand.
Briggs gestured to him to continue. "Sir, would it not be wise to delay the announcement tomorrow? Just for a few days to ensure that we have everything covered."
"No, Bill. That is exactly the kind of disruption these people, whoever they are, thrive on. Tomorrow will go ahead as planned and with Miss Page by my side."
An hour later, the generals and their support staff left the room; a large and sweeping plan hastily drawn up. The army and the policing defence force would lock down all suspected areas and conduct exhaustive searches. To help staff the operation, only a skeleton security detail would remain at the Council offices, the man-power was needed elsewhere. Known and suspected dissidents would be immediately arrested and questioned. Food supplies were to stop and both water and electricity were in the process of being cut off.
"Now, Matheson sit down."
Two guards who had stood either side of him backed away, Zeke taking the chair directly opposite from Briggs.
"Care for a sandwich?" Briggs waved his hand towards the silver platter before him.
Zeke shook his head. "What do you want from me? I've told you already l don't know anything and I'm pretty sure that if you had found out that I knew something, you wouldn't be sat here now offering me lunch."
Briggs tilted his head to the side.
"Zeke, you are an interesting case indeed. You're right, we didn't find anything useful, but then we didn't discover anything at all. You, Mr Matheson, are almost impossible to read and I wonder, I really wonder why that is."
Briggs held eye contact with Matheson, trying to look out for tell-tale signs of deceit or anxiety.
"What do you want from me, Briggs?" Zeke, asked, trying hard not to show how pissed he really as sounding even more pissed.
"I have a special job for you. I need you to find Hannah Page, by tomorrow. You know the area well and you have the right contacts."
Briggs saw Matheson stiffen a little, but then regain his composure.
"And why do you think I am going to help you after what you've just done to me?"
Briggs smiled and picked up an envelope and skimmed it across the table.
"Take a look for yourself."
Matheson opened the envelope and pulled out two, colour photographs. Briggs smiled again as the man in front of him, visibly sunk down into the chair, his face ashen. The pictures of Matheson's child and former partner handcuffed, blindfolded, with guns held to their temples were compelling images indeed.