Page 62 of Wrecked
After slogging through rush hour traffic, she drove to the compound, stopping at the guard’s gate. She flashed her FBI badge, one of several given to her when she became an Operative. Since ALPHA was a covert organization, every Operative had badges for several agencies, which included the State Department, Homeland Security, ATF, DEA, and FBI. The badges gave them the freedom to do their jobs without revealing that ALPHA actually existed.
“I’m here to see Henry Bufford,” Addison told the guard.
After a brief phone call, the guard opened the gate. “Know where you’re going?”
“I do.” She drove in, followed the road around to the monster building, shaped like an H. After parking in a visitor spot, she pulled her weapon from her handbag, locked it in her glovebox, and made her way toward the front door.
Once inside, she checked-in at the large reception desk. A few minutes later, a man walked into the lobby and over to her.
“Hello, Ms. Skye. How’ve you been?”
“Good, thanks. You?”
As he escorted her to her former boss’s office, she passed two case officers. One was on his phone, but the other offered a friendly wave.
Henry’s office door was open. Rather than walk in, the assistant stopped in the doorway. “Ms. Skye, sir.”
Henry pushed out of his chair. With a welcoming smile, he said, “C’mon in, Addison.”
They shook hands. He gestured to a guest chair, before sitting behind his desk. The assistant closed the door behind him.
“Thanks for coming in,” Henry said. “How are you?”
“Good, sir. You?” She sat.
“I became a grandpa.” He held up a picture of an adorable baby.
“Congratulations.”
Addison had rarely shared anything about her personal life while at the Agency. She wasn’t about to start now.
“Are you still with…” Henry trailed off.
She flashed her FBI badge. He nodded.
“Addison, you remember Ronald Jenning?”
“Of course. I just talked to him last week.”
Henry’s eyebrows went up. “About what?”
“He was coming to the area and we were supposed to catch up over lunch.” Dread crept down her spine. “But he didn’t show.”
“Unfortunately, he was killed,” Henry said.
Her stomach dropped, her mouth went bone dry.
“You knew I’d been in touch with him, didn’t you?”
Henry nodded. “We got his cell phone password from his wife—”
“Ohgod, Becky. The kids.” Addison steeled her spine. “What happened?”
“His rental car exploded Tuesday. I called you in because we’re concerned it was a retaliation strike.”
“For what?” she asked.
“Abdel Haqazzii,” he replied.
