CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Just why were you meeting with Margaret?” asked the federal agent.
“We just had some questions about drilling and what you need to do in order to drill for oil or gas,” said Saint.
“And are you planning to drill somewhere?” asked the agent. He didn’t even look them in the eyes. Instead, he turned and scanned the crowd as if looking for someone.
Saint looked at Hayes and they both looked at the crowds as well, expecting to find a gunman.
“No. Not at the moment. As we said, we were just asking questions,” said Hayes.
“And your names are?”
“What is this all about? You’ve got a dozen witnesses telling you what happened. Our names aren’t relevant. But yours is,” said Hayes taking a step toward the man. “I’d like to see that ID again.”
“No. That’s fine. We’re done.”
“We’re not anywhere close to being done,” said Saint reaching for the man. He jerked his arm away and ran into the crowd, heading toward the building where Margaret worked.
“Someone wants to know who we are,” said Hayes. “I say we find out who that someone is.”
The two men walked back into the building, intent at finding the man who attempted to question them. Passing through security, they used their own technology to get through the scanners and badge readers and back to the floor where they met Margaret.
As they casually strolled through the cubicles, they nodded as they passed people, most not even acknowledging them. In the back corner, the only office with a door caught their attention.
“I think we found our investigator,” whispered Hayes.
“Nice job, egghead,” smirked Saint.
The two men stood outside the room, listening to the people on the other side of the open-door whispering.
“I couldn’t get their names. They knew I wasn’t an agent,” said the one man.
“Did you do what I asked? I need to know who they are,” said the other man. Hayes stepped through first, then Saint.
“Then you should ask us. Face-to-face like a man.”
“Uh-I, who are you? What can I do for you?” stammered the man behind the desk. He was middle-aged, maybe younger. The rough beard and doughy mid-section made them feel as if he could be fifty, sixty, or possibly thirty-five. It didn’t matter.
“You sent someone to question us. Obviously, someone who wasn’t an agent when you have a dead employee in the morgue. You want to tell us why?” Saint stared at the man, Hayes’ arms folded over his chest. They could see the two men beginning to sweat.
“I will not wait all day,” growled Hayes.
“W-we were told to!” yelled the man who had questioned them.
“Shut up!” said his boss.
“You shut up! I’m not going to die because of this. It’s stupid. So what if they ask questions about drilling.”
“Yeah,” said Saint picking up the name plate on the desk, “Cliff. So what.”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I was asked to find out what you were asking. That’s all.”
“That’s not all. Who asked you to slow us down?” Saint leaned over the desk, practically laying on it. His face was inches from Cliff’s face and the man was showing serious signs of heart issues.
“I-I don’t know! Okay. I don’t know. I got an e-mail on my phone saying it was imperative for me to figure out who had spoken to Margaret and what was said. If I didn’t do it, I’d lose my job.”
“And you didn’t see who sent it?” frowned Hayes.
“It’s from an anonymous box within the government. Sometimes those are sent to us to conceal sensitive information. It didn’t seem like a big deal,” he stammered.
“Not a big deal? Whoever that was killed your employee. They ran her over in the middle of the street and left her for dead. That’s not nothing.”
“Show me the e-mail,” said Hayes.
“What? No! No, I can’t give you access to my email.” Hayes shoved his chair out of the way, rolling him against the wall. The fool had his e-mail open, so there was no need to hack into it. It was waiting for him.
Searching the deleted folder, he found the e-mail and opened it, clicking on the senders address. With a few swipes of the keys, he looked up and nodded at Saint.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” said Hayes.
“You have no idea what you’ve done. None! All you had to do was give us your names. That’s all!”
“That’s not all and you know it!” growled Saint. “You knew what they were doing. You knew what was going to happen or you wouldn’t have been so concerned. That woman is dead and you might as well have been driving the car that killed her.”
The two men walked out of the office, walking back through the cubicles of disgruntled, unhappy employees. As they stepped into the elevator, the one across from them opened, four men in black suits stepping off.
“You’re late boys,” smirked Saint. “See ‘ya next time.”
They took the elevator down two floors, stepped off and waited for the elevator banks to pass them. Then they took the stairs to the basement, found the emergency exit to the street and casually walked out.
“Ever wonder why the government hires idiots?” asked Hayes with a smirk.
“All the time, brother. All the time.”