Angels, Pop Stars, and...More Spies? Oh My!

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

My foot tapped anxiously on the scuffed linoleum floor of the holding cell. Ariana slept beside me, her head weighing down the back of my shoulder. My shoulder was starting to grow numb, but I didn't pay any attention to it. My stomach rolled nervously. I don't belong here. Neither does Ariana. The car that had nearly hit us had been an unmarked LAPD car. After eavesdropping on a conversation between a sergeant and a lieutenant (something I did out of complete boredom) I heard that the BMW had been caught. And better yet, the guy driving the car...Archer. Suddenly, the cell bars slid open. I looked up to see a woman officer with a curly shock of red hair and the after scares of long gone pimples. She was in her mid-forties, judging by the way she carried herself and accessorized with cubic zarconia diamond studs and matching opal silver necklace. Even without my heels, which I carried in my hands, I could take her. Easily.

"Come on, Miss Rhinehart. We have some questions for you." she said, waving me out.

I stood up, Ariana leaning back against the wall and sleeping soundly. With the alcohol, she'll be asleep for hours. Good. Maybe I can get out of this interrogation before she wakes up. Maybe. I walked out with the policewoman as my escort. The LAPD building was big, with linoleum floors and coffee makers beeping every ten minutes. The place smelled of lemon cleaner, freshly printed ink, and stale coffee. 

The woman brought me down a hallway, where a blank walled interrogation room sat. Opening the door, she stepped aside to let me in. I swallowed, reminding myself of what my trainers had taught me about interrogation tactics. Of course it's nothing like a polygraph test, but the police can still detect a lie when they see one. The key is breathing. Breathing and staying calm. I took a deep breath as I sat down across from a police officer, hunched over a file. The first thing I noticed on the table in front of us was my purse, my file, and...oh no.

"So, Ember Rhinehart. I think you and I both know why we called you in here."

The officer held up my CIA ID. I swore inwardly. Dammit. I sighed, nodding.

"Yes, sir, I thought this would happen."

He cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat. He placed my ID on the table next to my file, which sat open and practically on display. I caught the picture from my driver's liscense. 

"You did now? Well, I suppose that's what you'd expect from a spy."

I shrugged.

"You could say that."

He studied me, no doubt looking for signs of me lying. Unfortunately for him, I'm a master of interrogation. I've been trained by professionals. This is just another interrogation without the threat of torture. Piece of cake. 

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

I shrugged, staring straight into his dark brown eyes. His hair was salt and pepper, black threaded with gray. His weapons belt barely fit into the metal seat. His badge glinted in the light of the bowl lamp hanging above us. The metal table reflected the light. A question bounced around in my mind. What did Archer have to do with the rest of this? Why was he tailing me? At the club, was he meant to seduce me for information? Is he a spy? Does he work for this mysterious ACE? What the hell is going on?

"Just because."

The police officer sighed, leaning forward and folding his arms on the table. He looked me straight in the eye, watching for (no doubt) enlarged pupils. Breathing is the key. I slowed my breathing and crossed my arms over my own chest. Calm down. Breathe slowly. Remember your training. The LAPD are better than terrorists. 

"Look, we're not going to get anywhere playing this game. So, let's shoot straight. First question, do you know this young man?"

The officer took a photo out of the manila file folder, placing it down in front of me. I nodded instantly. It was Archer's mug shot.

"Yes, sir. I saw him at Intensity." I answered.

He nodded, putting the photo away and pushing the file aside. He grabbed my CIA ID.

"Second question, do you work really for the CIA? Or is this just a phony ID?"

I felt offended. 

"Of course I work for the CIA! Go ahead, call them if you want. I have the number."

"That won't be necessary. I want a yes or no answer, please. Do you work for the CIA?"

His tone was equivalent to one of an annoyed parent with a whiny child. He watched me intently. There's no reason to lie about it. It's not like he's going to tell everyone he knows that I, Ember Rosemarie Rhinehart, am a CIA agent.   

"Yes."

He put the ID onto the table top, looking down before glancing back at me.

"Third question, what were you doing with Ariana McGallen?"

"I'm a friend of hers. We went out for the night."

"I don't believe you."

I gritted my teeth. What did he think I was doing? Kidnapping her? I think I would've had her tied up and in the trunk if I was doing that. Idiot. 

"Go ask her yourself then. I am aware she is completely wasted but, even in her state-of-being, she'll tell you I was not kidnapping her."

He bit his lip before answering. The interrogation room was silent. I was fuming. Where is Joshua...wait, Joshua. Oh. Shit. He's probably worried sick right now. 

"That won't be necessary. Fourth question, have you ever met Archer Quimby before tonight?"

"No."

I answered instantly, my tone sharp as a knife. The police officer looked slightly caught off guard. I almost smiled.

"All right then. Fifth ques-"

He was cut off by the door opening. I looked over at the person standing in the threshold. It was the police woman who escorted me in. She didn't even spare me a look and spoke to the officer sitting across from me.

"David, Miss Rhinehart is being released. So is Miss McGallen by President Andrew McGallen himself."

A pang of fear hit me. President McGallen got us out? Oh God. Ariana's not even sobered up yet. Maybe she's sobered a little but not much. This night just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? I stood up at the same time as David. He glanced at me one more time before handing me my CIA ID. I shoved it into my bra. Suddenly, just before I was going to leave, he handed me my weapons. Apparently, they'd been under the table in a plastic box the whole time. Wow. I took them, placing them back in their rightful places in the thigh holster. I stalked away, not looking back. I just want to go home and sleep.  

(Gah! Sorry my writing sucks so bad right now! I'm literally using filler chapters to get up to the good part I have in the works. So, who's wondering about Archer? Do you think he's affiliated with the mysterious ACE? Maybe? My lips are sealed, so don't ask. I'm not telling. On a better note, my laptop is working again. Still, sorry for any grammatical errors. I usually write really late at night when I have my best ideas. Don't ask me why it happens that way, it just does. Lol. Bye-bye for now! Vote and comment!)