Shelby shook her head. "Nope, never saw him before. He did look at me kinda strange, like he knew me or something, but I didn't recognize his name."
"You saw his ID?"
"Yeah. His name's Michael Benton."
Taut with tension, Blue walked into the office with her blonde partner. So it was him. What is he doing here, now? Temporarily setting her concerns aside, Kris glanced at the file Shelby was carrying. "What have you got there?"
Shelby glanced at the forgotten folder in her hand. "Jonathan's file. Dennis' secretary called while you were gone."
"Let's take a look." She smiled for Shelby's benefit, but was trying to figure out why Michael just happened to be here at headquarters when she was, and also just happened to be in the same hallway as Shelby's office.
Kris pulled her chair over to Shelby's desk and sat down. She watched the analyst carefully as they began perusing the file. The operative could understand Shelby's desire to confront her stepfather, and respected her for it, but worried about it, too. Neither she nor Shelby thought his motives for contacting his stepdaughter again were nearly as altruistic as those Lisa had indicated.
The women read together. His file was unremarkable until he was charged with domestic violence. Kris read the abbreviated version of the trial transcript, taking special note of Shelby's testimony. Looking at the pictures of Lisa taken at the hospital, she winced. Aside from the apparent cuts and contusions, she had suffered three broken ribs.
She glanced at Shelby out of the corner of her eye, seeing anger and pain reflected on her face. She wondered if it had been a good idea to disclose that she had requested the file, but quickly discarded the notion. "You okay?"
"Yeah. This just reminds me how important it is to get Mom to see the light. He's such a bastard!"
"I hear you." Kris had little patience for women like Lisa, who not only subjected themselves to repeated abuse, but allowed their children to be victimized as well. However, she had no tolerance for brutes like Jonathan, male or female.
Shelby turned her attention back to the file, taking comfort in Kris' presence at her side. After the trial, Jonathan had moved to Maryland and had resided in a trailer park there. He had met all the requirements of his probation, including completing six sessions with a psychologist.
She noted he'd been working at a service station for the previous six months. That was a far cry from his previous job as a bailiff at the county courthouse. Prior to his current job, after his conviction, he had worked at two other service stations, as a cook in a local burger joint, and as a parking garage attendant. His probation officer had documented his complaints of the prejudice he was encountering because of the felony conviction.
"That note doesn't make me feel any better. And from the looks of it, he hasn't been able to get any kind of decent work, not that I care."
"He brought it on himself."
Shelby sighed. "Yeah, but I know he still blames me for losing his job. He always had such a superiority complex. Working at gas stations must be a real insult to him."
"Do you care?"
"Not really. I still wish I knew why he was at the apartment the other night."
The operative didn't bother answering. She intended to find out one way or another. If Shelby's visit to her stepfather didn't yield satisfactory answers, she would pay him a return visit and convince the bastard that Shelby didn't exist in his world.
Kris studied the picture included in the file, committing it to memory. It was a mug shot, but it didn't diminish the obvious attractiveness of the man staring at the camera. He had dark hair, blue eyes, was 6'1" and weighed 220. After Shelby jotted down his address and phone number, Kris closed the file and rose from her chair. "I'll return it."
Shelby watched her partner leave. She always seemed to be working several angles at once. She's been acting distant ever since she saw that guy in the hallway. Wonder what that was all about?
The operative ignored Shelby's questioning look as she left the office. She wanted to pay Earl a visit and find out if he knew what Michael was doing at headquarters. Her mission proved unsuccessful when she discovered her boss and his secretary were both out of the office until the next day.
She returned the file to Dennis' secretary, Joanne, and began making her way back to the office, before suddenly detouring to the canteen to pick up coffee for both of them.
Kris stood in front of the counter after she'd placed her order, automatically scanning the occupants of the room. Her eyes traveled quickly past employees sitting at small tables along the wall, before focusing on the table farthest from the door. Michael was sitting with his back to her, talking to a short, attractive woman who had eyes only for her table partner. She took the two coffees and left unobserved.
Walking down the hall, her thoughts drifted back to the last time she'd seen Michael and her jaw tightened as the memories came flooding back.
After three months of painstakingly laying the groundwork, they had finally been given the go-ahead to bring in the Iranian agent who had requested political asylum. Her higher ups had delayed the decision, wanting to make absolutely certain that the foreign spy was not merely a plant to disseminate disinformation.
Blue smiled in satisfaction when she finally received the order. Everything the Iranian had given them had been proven valuable and her superiors now wanted him badly. Unfortunately, their stalling had proved costly. Before he could be extracted, their contact was taken into custody and was being held in the paramilitary headquarters of a small Middle Eastern town until he could be transferred to the Iranian capital.
Frustrated, the American operative considered ambushing the vehicle en route to its destination, but discarded that option because it was unclear which route would be taken. An inside source advised them when the informant was to be moved from the detaining cell to Tehran, indicating his escort would only consist of two guards.
Blue knew that the element of surprise was their biggest advantage and hoped to be able to extract their target safely without any Iranian casualties. And so in the predawn darkness, she had directed her team of four, disguised in the garb of the local populace, to strategic locations near the headquarters.
The door to the building opened, and three men emerged - one shackled in chains between the other two. Blue spoke quietly into the tiny microphone clipped to her aba. "Go."
She had just reached the street when a short, three-shot burst rang out. Reflexes guided her actions even as the scene seemed to unfold in slow motion. She moved back under cover, noted the direction from which the shots were fired, and watched in horror as the remaining guard – his AK47 on full automatic - sprayed the area around him as he fell to the ground, mortally wounded. The image of their target falling to the ground in a growing pool of blood was overshadowed by the screams of wounded and dying innocent bystanders - many of them women and children – and it burned itself into her mind. "Abort!"
Blue made her way to the rendezvous, cold fury burning slowly like a coal partially ignited. Michael Benton was what had gone wrong. The shots had come from his location, but what she couldn't understand was why he had opened fire.
She'd asked to have Benton reassigned, complaining that he wasn't a team player, but her request had been denied. He had an outstanding record and was considered a rising star. Her handler had blown off her concerns as a personality conflict and told her to deal with it.
So she had. And now children and other innocent civilians were dead. Their target was dead. Three months of hard work was down the drain, and what could have been the biggest information coup in recent history was now a mere memory.