Inside was a mess. Staffers were racing everywhere, shouting into white headsets. I didn’t even have time to slip mine on before my supervisor rushed up to me. “Dump your duffel and get your ass into the West offices. I’ll be right there.” It took me a moment to mentally locate the West offices – other times, without all the higher-ups buzzing around creating an air of formality, we called them Sears.
He came into the West office main room soon after I did, followed by two of his supervisors. Both were high-ranking military officers, but the complex was a civilian-run operation for legal reasons, so they were referred to as supervisors. This annoyed them. The four of us sat around the round table I had eaten a microwave dinner at the night before and countless nights preceding.
One of the two military supervisors spoke. “We just need to ask you some questions about your shift last night. Something has happened that must be investigated immediately.”
I assumed an appropriate expression of confusion and concern.
“One of our inhabitants has been abducted by a radical cell of DC sympathizers. We have reason to believe she was closely involved with the group claiming responsibility for the incident.” He had his military stripes pinned to the sleeve of his white Department uniform, ironically against regulations.
I fought the urge to laugh at the inanely bureaucratic secrecy. I was to know no details, even though I had worked closely on that case prior to the incident. Very closely, as evidenced by her black eyes complementing the lighter tinge in my knuckles. I took a deep breath and waited for an invitation to speak.
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