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    Slade's office was on the thirtieth floor. During lunch, he made a few phone calls and arranged for all my stuff to be transported to the room. When we actually got to the floor, I have to say, I wasn't really surprised at how maze-like it was. Not as bad as the labs, but still... it was bad.

The offices on the twenty-fifth through twenty-seventh floors consisted of cubicles, but from twenty-eight to thirty, the offices were separate rooms. I was grateful Slade had his own room, but it just made me more curious as to how he acquired one of the better ones.

It wasn't that bad—barely any clutter. He had a bookshelf up against one wall with an empty space in the middle for his desk. The chair was black-cushioned and swivel. The white ceiling had a fan in the center, a warm light fixture under it. Metal filing cabinets lined the area next to the bookshelf. Two cots with sheets, blankets, and pillows were placed on opposite sides of the room. While one already had a dresser at the bottom of it, the other had a suitcase.

My heartbeat sped up. Racing towards the suitcase, I turned it on its side, then unzipped the flap. Clothes met my eyes. Without caring about the mess I was making, I dug through the shirts and pants, searching for one thing. I didn't find it.

My breath caught. With desperate fingers, I looked at the pockets in the flap. Two of the pockets were empty. The last one held it. The seashell necklace. With a sigh of relief and shaky hands, I looked at it hanging from my wrist. The rainbow-like shell stared back.

"Nice necklace," Slade said, sitting down on his cot.

I looked to him, then quickly tucked my necklace underneath my shirt.

"The treasure isn't in the necklace..." Slade said, rubbing his clean-shaven chin. "It's in the wearer."

My head snapped up, eyes fastening on his. "How do you know that?"

He shrugged. "I'm a spy. It's what I do."
I gritted my teeth. Of course. Another cryptic answer.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

"I work. You sit."
Slade stood, walked over to his desk, and fell down into the seat. I looked to his dresser, just at the foot of his bed.

"Do you live here?"

"Better than having roommates."

I thought about Leslie and decided I couldn't argue with that. With a deep breath, I took out the photograph of Shelby Light. I noticed Slade looked over his shoulder at me, but he looked back to his computer.

"Do you know her?" I asked.

"You know I'm not supposed to answer that."

"And you're such a boy scout."
"I try."

With a sigh of annoyance, I slumped down on my bed, trying to get comfortable.

"No magazine picture?" he asked.

"I thought you had to work," I grumbled back.

"Oh, I am a very good multitasker."

With a sigh, I gazed up at the ceiling. "I don't... I never got one. One of my roommates had this idea to spend the whole summer doing fun things to find a hobby, but... I guess none of the activities seemed right."

He made a small exhale, as if letting out a small laugh.

"What?" I asked in annoyance.

"You hate G.U.A.R.D. so much, but you... you played the commanders, played other agents, played your friends... you're not too bad a spy yourself."

G.U.A.R.D. Book #3: RecusantWhere stories live. Discover now