Special Agent | ✓

Thirty-Seven

a/n: decided to update again hehe, hope you enjoy

THIRTY-SEVEN

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Imani received the dreaded summon two days later.

"The Director wants to see you," said one of Kimmel's assistants, nervously buzzing by the door of Sarraf's office.

All Special Agents had official offices, not that they were ever used. Hers was a shrine of dust and shredded pieces of paper, which she honestly was not upset about — she did her work in the field, after all. She had no use for an actual desk, or file cabinets, or coffee mugs, of 'hang-in-there' kitty posters.

Imani arched a brow at the nervous young adult by her doorway.

"Now?"

The boy swallowed hard, then nodded.

"Why?"

"Director Kimmel didn't say. She simply asked for your presence in her office."

Imani glanced at her metallic timepiece. The only reason she'd gone into the office at all was to acquire some more of O'Reilly's classified files, and the only reason she'd even stayed at the Knightsbridge HQ was because checking out classified information and bringing it home really wasn't the move these days.

Flicking a stray curl behind her ear, Imani stood up and tugged her dark wool coat off her chair. It was chilly out, and she'd opted for a silky shirt and cuffed slacks today that did little to actually keep her warm. It was very much still barely easing into the summer, the winter cold digging its claws into the air and keeping every bud from blooming.

Sarraf was tired of the weather, truly. She longed for the hot, dry summers she'd grown up with, but at least the cold weather was an excuse to break out her more expensive coats.

"I know the way to her office," Sarraf started, noting the nervous assistant vibrating in her doorway, " — you can scurry along now."

"Thank you, Special Agent." He bowed his head, then vanished from the doorway with all of the refinery of a fly clumsily darting away from a spider's web.

Sarraf rolled her eyes. She didn't follow the man immediately — a foolish way of proving she wasn't here to exist at the beck and call of Director Kimmel — and took her time packing her files. They could remain in her office overnight, without a doubt. She definitely wouldn't miss them, considering O'Reilly's files were more than a little detailed.

They're disgustingly clean, Sarraf had thought as she read them. Her motivation to read them didn't exactly grow, either, because of the sheer tediousness of analyst work. Special Agents usually disliked kill orders, because it meant they had significantly less manpower from the Intelligence department to help them. Now, Sarraf had to work as both her own analyst and a Special Agent, combing through files in an attempt to clue herself in on wherever the bloody hell O'Reilly could've ended up.

Thus far, nothing. The woman kept her work clean and separate, and if she used informants they were not listed, though that wasn't exactly surprising.

Sighing, Sarraf reached for her sleek bag, hoisting it over her shoulder before pushing out of her office. The floor belonging to the Department of Operations was quiet, and only a handful milled around. Sarraf locked her door swiftly, before crossing the hallway toward the elevator.

It would take a few minutes to get to the Director's office, minutes spent pondering what Director Kimmel might wish to talk about. Imani guessed she wanted a status update on the kill order.