She hurriedly arranged laptops around the conference table. One for the agents to share. One for Eliza who, ever the gracious hostess, topped the stairs with a tray full of assorted beverages. He’d taken a seat across from the Feds, so she sat the last one in front of him.
Greenlee waved away Eliza’s offer of something cool to drink, but Agent Newland took a soda and Agent Floyd happily accepted a…juice pouch, of all things.
“You’re sure your contact will be able to get our guest of honor to show up for this?” Hannah asked Eliza, anxious anticipation coloring her voice.
Eliza nodded. “We’re good to go. I’m just waiting on the code to the conferencing system. He’s supposed to text it to me in a couple minutes.”
Once Hannah had pinpointed the double agent, Sam and Eliza had discussed with Boss the best way to disseminate the culprit’s identity.
Even though, technically, Frank “Boss” Knight was no longer on the government’s payroll, hehadbeen for decades. And in that time, he’d accrued the wisdom and the prudencenecessary to hammer out the best course of action in such situations.
“The FBI director has to be informed, of course,”he’d said while rubbing a considering finger under his big, square chin.“And I’d bring back the G-Men from this morning. They were manipulated by the double agent’s lie, and they need to be made aware of that subterfuge. If you can let both those parties in on the information at the same time, all the better. Less room for confusion and/or chaos.”
And so, that’s what they’d done. Eliza had informed Hannah she had a contact on staff in the White House who would be able to get Director Morgan onboard. But, of course, Eliza had kept it secret that her “contact” was her father, and that he wasn’t simplyon staffat the White House; he was the freakingchiefof staff. Then Sam had phoned the local FBI office, requesting Greenlee et al come back to the factory building. And Hannah had set up everything so their guests would find out the identity of the double agent together.
Bada bing, bada boom. Neat as you please.
Hostessing duties complete, Eliza gracefully pulled out the rolling chair at the head of the table and nimbly lowered herself into it. Hannah, on the other hand, plopped into the chair next to Sam with enough force to make the springs squeak.
He rolled in his lips to keep from laughing. Even though she was a pipsqueak of a woman, she threw what little weight she had around like a bull in a china shop. Which appeared to go hand in hand with her in-your-face, no-bullshit way of approaching just abouteverything.
After thumbing on the laptop, she frowned over at him. “What?”
“What?” he came back innocently.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Can’t a guy just be happy this whole dog and pony show is ’bout to come to a close?”
Her scowl telegraphed her disbelief in his explanation, but she didn’t push the subject. Instead, she turned to Agent Floyd and said, “Capri Sun lover, huh? I thought I was the only one still drinking that stuff.”
Floyd shrugged. “Got addicted when I was a kid. Never was able to break the habit.”
“Same.” She nodded and Sam watched Floyd’s gaze linger on her face. Then he watched it linger some more and felt the muscle in his jaw contract.
“I looked you up, you know,” the junior agent announced. When Hannah quirked an eyebrow, he added sheepishly, “Consider it a hazard of the job, but I always google people after I’ve met them. Your social media paints you as…” When Floyd trailed off so he could grin broadly, Sam was forced to admit the bastard was handsome andalsothat the urge to punch him square in the nose was growing stronger with each passing second. “A pretty interesting person. You like drag shows, alien romance novels, Dungeons and Dragons, andSchitt’s Creek.”
“Just call me a renaissance woman.” Hannah winked.
That was it. Sam had had enough. He did his best to scowl Agent Floyd into the ground, but it was a wasted effort because the sonofabitch wasn’t looking at him. Floyd was too busy making googly eyes at Hannah.
A split second later, when it occurred to Sam that Hurricane Hannah would absolutelyeatAgent Floyd’s lunch—seriously, she wasfartoo cool and smart and trendy for the straitlaced agent—he satisfied himself with settling back in his chair and waiting for the fun with the Feds to begin.
The shop was oddly quiet since Boss and Becky had left for the day. No phones rang. Eliza wasn’t banging pots and pans in the kitchen. And with the rest of the Black Knights still out on assignment, there was nocrackof pool balls from the third floor. No hum of music drifting under someone’s bedroom door. No gleeful insults being shouted across the room.
When the silence stretched on, Agent Newland shifted uncomfortably in his chair, Eliza took to studying her manicure, and Floyd—thetenacioussonofagun—went back to drooling over Hannah.
Thankfully, before Sam could do something sophomoric like snarl at the bastard,Take a picture; it’ll last longer, Eliza’s phone chimed.
He sat up straighter and watched her nod at Hannah.
“Okay.” Hannah cracked her knuckles. “If you’ll all click on the red buttons at the top of your screens, you should see a text terminal open. Once you have that, type in the following code.”
She inclined her chin toward Eliza who quickly rattled off ten digits that included letters, numbers, and two special characters. Hannah’s lithe fingers made short work of typing in the code and Sam watched the screen change from the text terminal to a video conference chat format.
Sure as shit, there was Director Morgan in the upper left square. Next to him, in the upper right square were the FBI agents’ faces. Eliza showed up in the bottom right square, with Sam and Hannah in the lower left square respectively.
Greenlee adjusted his tie at the same time Agent Floyd’s eyebrows tried to disappear into his hairline. As for Agent Newland? His chin jerked so far back it was impossible to distinguish where his neck ended and his face began.
