Citizen

Chapter eleven - James

Quick note: for those of you not aware, I recently tested a new chapter from Ethan's POV and since people seemed to enjoy it, here's another from James'! It may be a bit confusing so please let me know your honest thoughts on it.

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"Tell me again."

James groaned. "I've told you the same thing twenty-seven times already. And yes, I counted. How has your brain not imploded yet?" His was about to. He rubbed his throbbing forehead with a grimace.

The man across from him shrugged. "You've talked my ear off too many times for this to have an effect."

James rolled his eyes. "Hayes, believe it or not I'm actually getting sick of my own voice. And you know I love that sound." Not only was he sick of his voice, but he was sick of the four white walls around him, the long table he'd been tapping his fingers against for hours, and most of all, the constant questions from his mentor. His briefings normally ran for twenty minutes tops. Why so long this time?

Hayes' dark eyes narrowed. "One last time, Henderson."

Sighing, James lifted his head from his crossed arms on the table. "There haven't been any developments," he repeated for what felt like the billionth time. "There aren't any issues - at least none that anyone's reporting.  It's just Ashley." The mention of Ashley's name twisted his stomach into knots and he shifted in his seat, trying to ignore it. 

As Hayes scribbled a line of notes on his already full page, his gaze flickered from the wall behind James to the paper and back again. Why did he keep doing that? 

"And your father?" Hayes asked. 

James brought his attention back to their conversation. "Nothing out of the ordinary. The last supply mission to the outside came back with a lot of restricted products, so my father's been distributing it to the lucky few ever since."

"What kind of products?"

"The usual," James murmured, avoiding Hayes' glance. He hated talking about his father. 

Hayes dropped his pen onto the table with a clatter and crossed his arms over his chest. "I know you hate talking about him but I need to know exactly what he had and who he gave it to. It's my job."

James looked up, jutting his chin out defensively. "So what? You suddenly forgot what the usual refers to?"

"Henderson." Hayes pressed his lips together. "We both have jobs to do," he said in a steady voice, but James wasn't fooled - his mentor was rapidly losing patience with him. "Let me do mine."

Unable to avoid Hayes' gaze any longer, James looked up, curling his hands into tight fists under the table. "I couldn't find any names, he's not stupid enough to leave a paper trail, but I'm guessing most of the government are involved. Practically anyone without a bracelet."

"Anything specific stand out to you in his office?"

His fists were no longer enough to keep him calm, to keep hold of himself. He dug them into his thighs. "Other than the half empty bottle of piss? No, nothing."

"And you're sure they have no idea where Ashley is?"

How many times was Hayes going to ask this? How many times was he going to have his missing sister shoved into his face? "They have no idea where she is," he said, exhaling sharply. "I don't think they even looked for her." Surprise, surprise.

James jumped at a loud bang, his head jerking toward the noise. It had come from the wall beside them - or rather, what looked like a wall. The single press of a button would make the window and space beyond visible. The remote was hanging on the wall behind Hayes.