“No. Not at the moment. As we said, we were just asking questions,” said Hayes.
“And your names are?”
“What is this all about? You’ve got a dozen witnesses telling you what happened. Our names aren’t relevant. But yours is,” said Hayes taking a step toward the man. “I’d like to see that ID again.”
“No. That’s fine. We’re done.”
“We’re not anywhere close to being done,” said Saint reaching for the man. He jerked his arm away and ran into the crowd, heading toward the building where Margaret worked.
“Someone wants to know who we are,” said Hayes. “I say we find out who that someone is.”
The two men walked back into the building, intent at finding the man who attempted to question them. Passing through security, they used their own technology to get through the scanners and badge readers and back to the floor where they met Margaret.
As they casually strolled through the cubicles, they nodded as they passed people, most not even acknowledging them. In the back corner, the only office with a door caught their attention.
“I think we found our investigator,” whispered Hayes.
“Nice job, egghead,” smirked Saint.
The two men stood outside the room, listening to the people on the other side of the open-door whispering.
“I couldn’t get their names. They knew I wasn’t an agent,” said the one man.
“Did you do what I asked? I need to know who they are,” said the other man. Hayes stepped through first, then Saint.
“Then you should ask us. Face-to-face like a man.”
“Uh-I, who are you? What can I do for you?” stammered the man behind the desk. He was middle-aged, maybe younger. The rough beard and doughy mid-section made them feel as if he could be fifty, sixty, or possibly thirty-five. It didn’t matter.
“You sent someone to question us. Obviously, someone who wasn’t an agent when you have a dead employee in the morgue. You want to tell us why?” Saint stared at the man, Hayes’ arms folded over his chest. They could see the two men beginning to sweat.
“I will not wait all day,” growled Hayes.
“W-we were told to!” yelled the man who had questioned them.
“Shut up!” said his boss.
“You shut up! I’m not going to die because of this. It’s stupid. So what if they ask questions about drilling.”
“Yeah,” said Saint picking up the name plate on the desk, “Cliff. So what.”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I was asked to find out what you were asking. That’s all.”
“That’s not all. Who asked you to slow us down?” Saint leaned over the desk, practically laying on it. His face was inches from Cliff’s face and the man was showing serious signs of heart issues.
“I-I don’t know! Okay. I don’t know. I got an e-mail on my phone saying it was imperative for me to figure out who had spoken to Margaret and what was said. If I didn’t do it, I’d lose my job.”
“And you didn’t see who sent it?” frowned Hayes.
“It’s from an anonymous box within the government. Sometimes those are sent to us to conceal sensitive information. It didn’t seem like a big deal,” he stammered.
“Not a big deal? Whoever that was killed your employee. They ran her over in the middle of the street and left her for dead. That’s not nothing.”
“Show me the e-mail,” said Hayes.
“What? No! No, I can’t give you access to my email.” Hayes shoved his chair out of the way, rolling him against the wall. The fool had his e-mail open, so there was no need to hack into it. It was waiting for him.
Searching the deleted folder, he found the e-mail and opened it, clicking on the senders address. With a few swipes of the keys, he looked up and nodded at Saint.
