The unit, with the exclusion of Rohan, who is apparently too busy to attend, is called in for another meeting to discuss what Dru found on the safe-house laptops. It only takes one look at Dru’s expression and then North’s to know whatever it was she found, it’s bad news for us.
“From what we’ve managed to gather from the data on the laptops,” North explains, “it seems OI was set to pick Ryan Rush up.”
Ryan Rush is the name of the missing scientist. And yes, we are going to ignore what the hell anyone was thinking when they gave him that name. Unless whoever it was had a vested interest in him becoming a porn star at some point in his life, in which case, that was very strange and considerate of them.
“And did they?” I ask.
North nods at me in assent, but it’s Dru who takes over the bad-news reel.
“We found a surveillance video saved on one of the laptops. They were watching Rush for a while,” she says, her tone carefully moderated. “In the last one, it showed Rush being accosted on the street, sedated, and thrown into the back of a white van. There were six assailants, all of whom wore black clothing and masks.”
Blimey, so it’s probably safe to say Rush hasn’t joined the ranks of Obsidian Inc. because of their benefits package.
Unfortunately, the fact OI took Rush against his will is more frustrating than anything.
“Do we know why they were going after him? What they want him for?” Jack asks, eyes switching steadily between Dru and North. He sounds bored. But he still asked, which means he cares. I’ve learnt that Jack doesn’t do anything unless he sees some worth in it.
Ryan Rush’s file said he is a neurobiologist. All his work seems to circle around cognitive function, with a specific focus on memory manipulation. His most recently published research paper zeroed in on possible ways to alleviate the effects of PTSD by quite literally modifying a person’s memory, either by removing or replacing the memories that led to a person developing trauma symptoms.
“To make an educated guess,” Dru answers Jack, looking troubled by the fact she needs to resort to guesswork at all, “they want him to help them with some kind of memory-modification drug. We know OI has taken an active interest in cognitive research based on the drug you told our interrogators about when you first arrived.”
It’s incredibly disturbing to think of OI having such power over people as to genuinely remove or change their memories.
Jack nods mutely, seeming to absorb the information Dru’s given him without comment.
“Did we get a licence plate for the van?” I ask, leaning forward in my seat and resting my forearms on the table in front of me.
Jack is to my left, a scowl affixed to his face. He’s been in a mood since our shopping trip, and he’s resisted my every attempt to coax out the reason behind it. I suppose there could be a thousand reasons for Jack to be generally annoyed with the world; it doesn’t necessarily have to be anything to do with me. But I can’t shake the feeling I’m at least partially the cause of his descent into moodiness.
Whatever’s going on inside his head, I hope he either divulges the truth to me at some point or gets over it. I’d rather not have a pissed-off tiger stalking at my side, ready to pounce on the first person who swerves too close and takes their life in their own hands.
Dru’s mouth tightens, annoyance sparking in her amber eyes.
“Yes. We traced the plate and discovered the owner reported it stolen right around the time Rush was taken.”
If OI wanted to go undetected, it would make sense for them to get their agents to steal a van for the mission rather than use one belonging to their organisation.
“Were you able to track the van via CCTV?” I ask Dru, unable to hide the hope in my voice. If Dru says no to this, then the possibility of us being able to track down Ryan Rush is far less likely, nearing impossible.
Thankfully, Dru brighten slightly at the question and dips her head in a nod.
“Yes, we did to a certain point. We did eventually lose them when they entered the countryside.” Disappointment slices through me until Dru pushes on. “What the assailants apparently did not know is that the van they stole was fitted with a concealed GPS device. I was able to ping it.”
“So, you have a location now?” I prod, looking from North to Dru inquiringly.
North swoops in, answering my question.
“We do. The van has been stopped in a field a few hours away from where Rush was taken, far out in the countryside. Signal isn’t great, so we could only get general area coordinates.” He stands then, picking up his laptop, his gaze switching between Jack and me, expression mildly stern. “I want you to go and check it out, report in with what you find.”
“Just the two of us?” Jack questions North, a note of something in his voice I can’t quite decipher. Possibly disapproval? But I can’t be sure.
“Yes, Agent Roth,” North replies crisply. “You and Agent Snow will scope out the situation and report back.”
“To be clear,” Jack says harshly, and I can already tell he’s about to go off, “you want me to take a gun-shy junior agent”—he jerks his head at me—“to some random fucking location, where youthinksome unknown assailants took this scientist prick who let himself get kidnapped. With no idea who the potential kidnappers are, how many we’ll be dealing with, or what else could possibly be waiting for us when we arrive.”
I don’t remind Jack that he alsolet himselfbe kidnapped off the street, byme, the “gun-shy junior agent.” Because I don’t think it will be very productive, not because it isn’t a valid point.
North fixes Jack with a look that isn’t difficult to read at all. He flattens his lips, drawing his eyebrows together in a tiny frown most junior agents would take as a sure sign they’ve managed to tick him off.
