At twelve-thirty, she knocked on the closed conference room door.
“Come in,” said the familiar voice.
Sydney opened the door, took in her surroundings. Therewere nine people seated at the conference table, several more sitting in chairs that hugged the back wall. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she acknowledged her boss, Lorne Cadance, with a simple nod.
I’mma be here for hours.
Lorne stood. She went over, shook his hand. “Good to see you, sir.”
“Same,” he replied. “How was your trip?”
“As expected.”
He gestured for her to sit across the table. She was the lone person on that side. While she loved her job, debriefing… not so much. She was questioned, then grilled.
Often times, some of the higher-ups would ask the same question a different way. She’d been doing this long enough to know they were fact-checking. They were looking for the absolute truth, not her take on it. They were ensuring she hadn’t somehow been manipulated by the enemy, or worse… turned.
Earlier, while she’d chowed down at her desk, she’d uploaded the photos of her mark, Todd Petersen, into the Agency’s ultra-secure portal.
“When you’re ready, Fox Key,” Lorne said.
In settings like this, where upwards of twenty people were included, it was common for the managing director to withhold the name of his Special Ops Officer. Security was of the utmost importance, even inside the secure walls of the Agency.
Sydney stayed high level, keeping the deets out of her opening summary. While she spoke, her boss flashed the photos of Todd Petersen on the screen. Eyeballs jumped to his lifeless body, but Sydney continued providing a factual account of what had happened.
When she finished, her boss opened the floor for questions.
“What was Petersen’s title?” asked someone seated at the table.
“VP, Global Relations,” Sydney replied.
“What was he doing when you entered his villa?” fired off another employee.
“He’d just finished pleasuring himself,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Did you take his phone?”
“No.”
“Were you seen en route to your—did you say you drove in?”
“Yes, I did drive myself into the neighborhood, and yes, I was seen by the patrolling security guard.”
“How did you get out?” asked one of the women.
“A CI,” she replied.
“Who?”
Sydney pursed her lips.Yeah, that’s not happening.
“Fox Key, you have to answer my question,” repeated the Langley employee.
Even after working there for nine years, Sydney could count the number of people she trusted on one hand. She glanced at her supervisor.
“That’s privileged information,” Lorne replied.
“I outrank Fox Key,” said the woman.
