Agent Murphy
The remainder of the afternoon was spent reviewing evidence that had been scanned by the local field office. There was enough proof to place the CLA at the arena. They had plans for the Houston arena and contact information for leadership in the National Democratic Party of Germany. What they didn’t find was an apparent motive.
Murphy disembarked from the plane in Houston around ten p.m. at a small airstrip approximately twenty miles from the Emerald City. She exited the small jet and found her driver on the tarmac. The junior agent who’d gotten her driving detail was always very polite.
“Good evening, ma’am. Where would you like to go?” he asked, opening the side door for her.
“Take me to Ms. Strick… No, actually, I need to head back to the office. Take me to the Houston Field Office.” Even though everyone called it the Emerald City when they weren’t at work, agents knew that internally the higher-ups didn’t appreciate the colloquial nickname. So, at least when they were on duty, the formal name was used.
She settled comfortably in the backseat of the SUV. Thankfully, she’d charged her phone on the plane, so she pulled out her cell phone and started flipping through messages. Sure, she could have taken her phone out of airplane mode the entire hour and twenty-minute trip, but after her day, she’d just wanted to kick back and close her eyes for a while.
She’d received a text message from Director Steele’s secretary, urging her to call him immediately. She hit the number and listened to it ring. Finally, there was a click as the Director picked up. “Director Steele,” the voice said. Murphy heard partygoers in the background.
“Sorry, Director. This is Agent Sarah Murphy. I just landed in Houston and read the message from your secretary. I didn’t mean to take you away from a social gathering.”
“That’s fine, Agent. Just a moment,” Director Steele responded. There was then mumbling, and the sounds of the social gathering started fading into the background. “Apologies for the interruption. I’m currently at a dinner party that has dragged on for far too long. Any updates?”
“I’m on my way back to the office to file my report now. I expect to have it to you within the hour.”
“Hold off on that. We’ve just received a new batch of intelligence from the White House. There’s an urgent threat assessment regarding a university in the Houston area. Are you familiar with Pennington University?”
“Yes, sir. Quite familiar with it, actually.”
“Excellent. I’ll send you the contact number of someone on the ground. They will serve as your liaison to…well, I’m not entirely sure how to categorize them. This group is a team of highly trained specialists the White House works with. They’ll update your intelligence in real time. This takes priority. Your report can wait until the morning.”
“Understood, sir. I’ll speak with you in the morning.”
The Director hung up, and a few seconds later, a text pinged on her phone from an unknown number. The message said, “Call them now,” followed by a phone number. Murphy hit the number without even paying attention to it.
“Hello?”
“This is Special Agent Sarah Murphy. I’m the acting Special Agent in Charge of the Houston Field Office.”
“Sarah? It’s Kira. Did you hit the wrong number?”
“Oh, hey. I must have done something wrong. Let me figure this out. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
“Sure thing,” Kira said.
Sarah looked back at the text. This time, she recognized the number as Kira’s. She texted the unknown number back.
This is Special Agent Sarah Murphy. Please confirm who this is and the number sent.
About thirty seconds went by, she received another text.
It’s Director Steele. The number of the local contact isand he sent Kira’s cell phone number again.
Thank you for the confirmation.
She hit Kira’s cell phone number.
“Hey there, get the wrong number straightened out?” Kira asked when she answered.
“Apparently not. This is the number Director Steele gave me for mylocalcontact here in Houston.” Kira cursed on the other end of the line. “What’s going on?”
“I’m at Blayne’s. You might as well get over here. This is a face-to-face type of conversation.”
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.
