"Mrs. Webber?" A young girl, most likely an assistant, peeks into to door and trying to gain Webber's attention.
"Yes," Webber replies spinning around to look at her.
"The director of the FBI wants to talk to you, he's on call, waiting for you now," She says taking a step into the room.
"Okay, put him on." Webber sighs, turning back around to the large flatscreen television on the wall.
A live video of a man dressed in a suit pops up on the screen. He's sitting in an office and has the look of death on his face. You know the one you're mother gives you when you did or said something that she didn't like.
We all scramble into a place in the room. Riley sits on one end of the couch and I on the other. MacGyver is standing next to me and Jack next to him. Bozer runs behind the couch and sits on the air vent in the back of the room.
"Hello, director." Webber smiles.
"I haven't seen this woman so happy and preppy, ever." I whisper, just loud enough for MacGyver to hear.
He tries his hardest to hold back laughter, only letting almost silent bursts of air out of his closed lips.
"Hello, I am sorry about the sudden call, I know you just recently recruited a new agent."
"Oh no Steve, it's fine, what did you need?"
"Wait, since when is she on a first name basis with the director of FBI?" I whisper.
"Shhhhh," MacGyver lightly whispers, putting a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm sure you all know the infamous assassin Murdoc," the director says, his eyes darting from person to person.
I gasp, trying to be quiet.
"Yes, I think we all do." Webber says.
"His partner in crime, his sister Y/N L/N," The FBI director starts, I freeze.
"Yes what about her?" Webber asks, turning around to look at me.
"Her ex-Boyfriend," He says, Quinten? "Quinten Crampise, was let onto American soil again a month ago after 4 years in Russia. He's been seen at four recent bombings and terrorist attacks in the past month. He's accused of planting all the bombs. I've sent you all the crime scene photos and videos, including security camera footage from all four attacks."
"Okay," Webber says, turning around to look at me and snapping, queuing me to stand up, "lets start with the first attack."
"The first attack was this nightclub in Philadelphia the third of last month." He says. He looks down, most likely at the keyboard of his laptop, and clicks a button.
Pictures of smoke and rubble come up on the screen. I stand up and take a place behind Webber. Pondering in thought about what happened and answering all of my questions, I hear the director ask Webber who I am.
"Y/N L/N, we just recently recruited her."
I can see him nod out of the corner of my eye, and go back to talking, "I was hoping you guys could identify him, just to make sure we haven't made a flaw."
"All I see is rubble and dust." Bozer complains.
"No, it's a lot more than that, Quinten is known for planting bombs in crowded nightclubs, theaters, and showrooms. He likes to plant the bombs in the exact same places in each building. Nightclubs, its either behind the bar, or under the closest table to the dance floor. Theaters, it's normally in the middle of the audience, or back stage. Showrooms, its the most popular place in the room, it varies from there." I say turning around.
"This is why we offered her the job." Webber mumbles under her breath.
I walk up to the screen. I scan all the pictures and videos playing.
"This is him. I know it is."
"How?" Riley asks.
"Look," I say pointing to the photo of the bombing," This was obviously the bar, it's also the place with the most damage."
Pointing to a security camera photo I point out a younger man with blonde hair, blue eyes, sharp jawline who stands about 6 feet tall I say, "That's him."
"Wow, that was fast, are you sure?" Jack speaks up.
"Yes, I'm sure. That's Quinten."
We go through all of the attacks, I point out where the bomb was planted, and where Quinten is in the crowd.
"How is it so easy for you to identify him?" Riley asks.
"I dated him for two years, you learn little things about a person in that time, also little details on his ring and bracelet." I smirk.
"Any questions?" The FBI director asks.
"Where were each of the last three attacks again?" Riley asks.
"The second one was at a theater in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The third one was at a showroom in Dallas. Last but not least, the last one was at a church in Baltimore."
"That one's new." I whisper.
"When was he last seen, and where?" I ask.
"He was seen at in Las Angeles, we tracked his car to a prison, Las Angeles 24 hour correctional. That's where Murdoc is being held."
"Is that why he was there, to see my brother?"
"No, he checked in under another name and insisted on seeing his sister, said he wanted to see his girlfriend."
"But we're not together." I say, shaking my head.
"Exactly."
We continue to ask questions on where he is and where he has been.
A/N
So I said last week that this was only three parts, well, that changed. It's now five parts. Not I wanna kms; I always to so that's not any different from any other day.
So that's all I really have, I'll see you all next week with Part 4 out of 5.
-Jordan