Special Agent | ✓

Seven

SEVEN

――――――

Special Agent Gavin Locke had stormed into the Director's office shortly after Chief Havas had left. The large, ex-military co-Chief of operations had exited the room pale as a ghost, not even bothering to acknowledge Locke's presence. Not that Gavin cared. He was a man on a mission.

"Director Kimmel — a minute?"

Irene raised a brow, leaning forward on her desk. The Director's office was, contrary to what one might assume, deceptively small. The Director herself seemed to swallow most of the air in the room. Kimmel nailed Gavin with a pointed stare.

"You don't have a minute. You're leaving for Paris in 60."

Gavin knew all of that. With a scowl, he'd read through the mission outline bitterly. The only reason he and the analyst didn't already have their bloody asses planted on a plane was because the Agency-owned aircraft needed to refuel. Not even the Agency itself was above that.

"That's exactly my point. Why am I bringing the analyst with me? I could wrap this easily on my own."

Kimmel's stare grew frigid, "Mayhap. Fact is, however, that Lorber has gone offline for her mission. We have no choice but to deploy agents from the London HQ — of which you are the prime option."

"Why bring the analyst, then?" Gavin repeated his earlier question. He hadn't made a move to the chairs by the wide oak desk — for this, the special agent wanted to remain standing. He'd need all the leverage he could against the formidable Director.

"She knows more about Kent and her missions than any of us," Kimmel replied, " — even if you find Kent's corpse at the other end of that alert, O'Reilly's going to have to wade through the red tape of finding out what went wrong."

"She can't do that from London?" Gavin's tone grew even more sour. Kimmel tilted her head, studying the usually unruffled special agent. Yet now, it seemed the presence of the analyst had crawled under his skin.

"Whatever our options, having the analyst present and on scene will benefit the agency. I'd believed you to be more informed regarding the work our analysts do for us." Kimmel's mouth thinned in displeasure, " — or perhaps you chose to forget about that after firing your last primary partner."

"He hindered me." Gavin waved it off, scowl souring further, " — I am simply opposed to bringing a civilian into the field."

"O'Reilly is most likely just as opposed to dragging an agent into the intricate work of intelligence. I'm sure you will find the discontent mutual." Kimmel's comment was one of rare casualty, which made Locke's eye twitch.

Leaning back into her chair, Kimmel paused briefly before she continued speaking.

"If Kent winds up dead, you will be reassigned to another mission and O'Reilly will handle the paperwork. This behavior is remarkably unlike you, Locke. Something personal itching at you?"

Gavin scowled, opting for silence. Kimmel's face twisted into a long, careful smile. It reeked of danger. The Director's phone buzzed in the silence which erupted between them, drawing the expression off her face.

"Chief Tibble just texted. O'Reilly's going by her residence to pack a light duffel. You're going to accompany her."

Locke remained silent, though his brows furrowed. Kimmel nodded toward the door.

"Best get going. You've a plane to catch."

And so, Special Agent Locke found himself chauffeuring a stiff, silent analyst through the morning traffic of London. He hadn't spoken to her yet, simply barking a rude order at her in regards to which car they were taking. When Locke had turned his back to her, Quinn had glared at him. Unbeknownst to O'Reilly, Gavin had caught the sour look in the side mirrors of the vehicle.