With a Pull of a Trigger

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

A Journey into the Unknown

It was a common misconception that agents were used to people dying in front of them to the point that they just didn’t care anymore whether life was taken or not. People often thought wrong because people often thought that agents didn’t care anymore.

They were wrong.

In fact, agents were the opposite. With every life taken, they seem to care even more. Agents value their lives and the lives of their loved ones more, with every death caused by them. A common misconception was that agents didn’t care anymore, but people thought wrong.

It was this which Reini chanted in her head like a mantra as she stepped out the black convertible and closed the door. Reini knew that agents were supposed to care but she found that she did not. She still cared, yes, but it seemed that with every mission, she cared even less about others and more about herself.

It disturbed her, knowing that she was proving the faulty conception. She didn’t have time to ponder over it, nor her actions though, because she had much more important things to do and much more important problems to discuss. Her mind was racing with the many questions she had, and she was thirsty for information.

Reini was wearing her formal office attire that day—a gray pencil skirt, pair of four-inch black stilettos, a crisp white long-sleeve button-up shit under a gray suit jacket—even though technically, it was her day off. She had just come back from a mission, after all, and she deserved some rest. She didn’t rest like what Catherine had expected from her, but instead went to Gil’s mansion, eager for some answers.

Walking up the stone steps, she rang the doorbell, patiently waiting on the stone step. She wondered what would happen. Would Gil send her away? Would he answer her questions? Would the man be wrong?

She doubted that the man was wrong. She had told Catherine about the man and told her what the man wanted to tell her himself, and she was surprised when a tear streamed down Catherine’s cheek. She had told Amrie what the man told her and was even more surprised when Amrie took a shuddering deep breath and closed her eyes slowly, as if reminiscing about memories.

That was the day when she learned all about Everett Hadwell, CIA’s previous president. He had been the Cell Twelve leader when the whole mess with Helox Five had happened, had been the leader when Reini was still training to be an agent. He retired when the mess with Helox Five had been partially over, and Catherine had been the one who took over the CIA.

 Reini took a deep breath and rang the doorbell again, wanting to speak with Gil already. Her mind was frazzled with the constant thinking, and she wanted answers.

The majestic wooden French doors opened to reveal Gil, surprised at the visitor. “Agent Saunders,” he said by way of greeting.

“Mister Baxendale,” said Reini, formal as ever. “May I come in?”

Gil stared at her for a few seconds before nodding. “Yes, yes. Come in, please.”

Gil opened the door wider, a clear invitation for her to go in. She did so, carefully, and Gil closed the door gently behind her. Gil walked in front of her, and Reini silently followed, staring at the beauty of the house.

The mansion was still as she remembered it. Grandeur and luxury were evident in every direction her eyes went. It wasn’t quite as polished and quite as nice as when she went there for the ball, but it was nicely kept.

Gil walked to the direction of the living room, a room Reini hadn’t bothered to explore. The last time she went to Gil’s mansion was the night of the ball, and at that time, she had gone straight to the ballroom near the polished wooden staircase.