Chapter 5
No word from LaToya.
I checked my phone for the millionth time, praying the lawyer had returned with good news. She wouldn’t send an email. It’d be a missed opportunity to grandstand and make her presence known. Yet, I checked again as Booker finished the last interview of the day.
Still nothing.
Booker knocked on the two-way glass. Jolted from my phone, I didn’t realize he had finished with the Department of Genetics supervisor. I had been sure he’d be a bad guy. He wore a black turtleneck sweater with brown shoes. Even if he wasn’t guilty of espionage, he committed crimes of fashion.
“Come on over.”
As I exited our makeshift office, I stepped into the interview room.
The white walls and white table with white chairs made it unnerving.
The only thing that broke it up was the obvious two-way mirror.
When he gestured for the chair, I raised an eyebrow.
I’m not sure how they held focus groups in this tight space.
The intensity of the light made my skin crawl.
“I think they designed it to be unnerving.”
“It’s working,” I said.
We sat down, and he shuffled through the employee records. The exhaustion showed on his face. The lines around his eyes were deeper, as if he hadn’t slept the night before. I couldn’t tell if he needed a coffee or a hug.
“Are you a rule follower?”
I had to think about it for a moment. Drew? Yes. Tint? Yes. Hellion? No. “Mostly.” I didn’t want to lie. “Why do you ask?”
“Not even a little part of you likes to walk on the wild side?”
He rested his elbows on the table. If it were Orion or Janet, I’d think they were fishing for information. His casual demeanor felt different. When the edge of his lip curled, I wondered what mischief he hinted at.
“I can be convinced.”
He sorted through the profiles and tossed one across the table. “Mr. Marks said something interesting. As he was spilling his guts, remember his comment about the vials?”
Had that been the first scientist or the third? Wearing their lab coats, they all looked the same. “I’m starting to confuse them.”
“Blue glasses.”
Did he know I remembered their color palettes more than their faces?
It hadn’t dawned on me that while he studied the people across the table, he might do the same to me.
It reminded me of Orion’s conspiracy. Not that I believed it, but Booker did work for the government, and if I wanted to keep my identity a secret, I’d have to be better at hiding in plain sight.
“I think it’s time we took a field trip.”
I would have done anything to avoid another interview today.
When Ricardo asked me to help, I assumed there’d be sleuthing.
I didn’t expect a trench coat and magnifying glass, but I thought it’d be more exciting than this.
Corporate espionage might very well be duller than reviewing brand partnership contracts.
“Anything to get out of here,” I blurted out.
Booker scanned the file before jumping to his feet. He paused at the door, holding it open like a gentleman. I stepped out of the interview room, thankful he hadn’t interrogated me. With how well he did his job, he might have found out that it was me who sometimes borrowed Wyatt’s fudgy bars.
I followed him through the hall, weaving from one corridor to the next.
The moment the clock struck five, Synergy turned into a ghost town.
We passed the occasional guard, flashing our badges as we went.
I found it ironic that human security was overseeing a lab that focused on supers.
If something bad happened here, they wouldn’t be much more than tragic headlines in the making.
My eyes drifted until I snuck a peek at Booker’s khaki-covered ass. I’d describe him as burly, even chubby. They fit him like a glove, and I couldn’t help but think of him in one of the superhero uniforms. He’d look good in leather—even better in spandex.
“Interviewing sets the baseline,” he explained. “Bad guys never give the answer you’re looking for.”
“So, Mr. Marks is the bad guy?” I tried to hide my confusion.
He slowed. We had reached the genetics lab.
Here, every cubicle was made of glass and steel, making privacy impossible.
He stood in front of glass doors leading into what I had to assume was a lab.
He flashed a smile, and the level-headed investigator vanished.
Up to this point, I didn’t have an opinion of Booker.
He hadn’t revealed enough of his personality to think he’d be anything other than a government paper pusher.
“Not at all,” he said, the grin growing.
“I’m missing something.”
He gave a nod to the lab. “Bad guys don’t give themselves up.
They’ll give just enough information to pass detection.
But hiding in plain sight isn’t easy.” When he waggled his eyebrows, I couldn’t tell if his observation had another purpose.
“Chances are, the good guys know who they are. They just don’t realize it. ”
“The missing vials. Mr. Marks isn’t the problem.”
Booker nodded. “He doesn’t realize he’s already spotted our target.”
“How can you be sure?” It wasn’t quite conspiracy-level, but it was a logical leap. Orion would have jumped on this and claimed the Illuminati was part of it. “It could just as easily be the guy who mentioned stolen pens.”
“Call it intuition.”
He flashed his badge at the scanner, and the door slid open.
I followed him inside and couldn’t believe how pristine the scientists kept the lab.
There were microscopes and logbooks on every surface.
Computer monitors were mounted everywhere, and at more than a few stations I found machines I couldn’t describe.
If a supervillain with a doctorate were going to begin his reign of tyranny, it’d start here.
“What are we looking for?”
Booker didn’t answer as he walked toward a cooler in the back with a glass door. Inside, there were rows of vials with subject numbers attached. It took a moment to realize the crimson color inside was blood.
“What are they?”
“Blood samples from supers.”
Catman, Cryptid, and Cyclone were written on labels.
I had never spoken to any of them, but sitting on the rooftop eating ice cream, I had seen Cyclone on patrol before.
Were the heroes willingly donating their blood, or was it collected by other means?
I’m sure there were plenty of times I left blood at the scene.
Booker left me to search for my superhero identities. Everything in the case was kept in perfect order, every block of test tubes at a ninety-degree angle. There must have been hundreds of vials in tidy little rows. On the third rack down, a square of vials was missing.
“Is that what he was talking about?” I asked, finger pressed against the glass.
Booker held a clipboard, flipping through the pages.
I couldn’t help but notice the way his brow furrowed, the lines between deepening.
He wasn’t investigating right now; he was having…
fun? It radiated from him, this perpetual ‘a-ha’ moment waiting to happen.
I bet in his free time he read mystery novels and researched the best panic rooms. He didn’t do this job out of obligation; he enjoyed the problem solving.
His eyes darted up. “What?”
I shrugged. “Watching you do your thing.”
He grinned. I couldn’t tell how or why, but I suspected that grin was about to get me into trouble. “Found it.” He tore the page out and handed it to me. “All vials need to be logged and accounted for. It was right in front of their eyes.”
Holding up the sheet, I spotted the issue. The vials had been shipped from the office. The order had been approved by Dr. Cypher. Well, if that wasn’t a supervillain name, I didn’t know what was. “Mr. Marks isn’t the culprit. He’s just a horrible department head.”
“That’s a Ms. Keyes problem.”
“Do we call Ricardo?”
The grin only got bigger. “This is proof of poor management, not espionage. We’d need a little more evidence before we—”
“Are you suggesting…”
The grin answered for him. “This is my favorite part of the job.”
I could call Ricardo and let him know about a potential mole in his company.
That option meant not hanging out with Booker.
He almost vibrated with glee, and it was hard to ignore his pull.
I needed a night off from patrolling to let my chest heal.
If we found evidence, it’d be a victory for Booker, and I’d be able to proudly tell Ricardo we did our job. A little mischief for so many wins?
“I’m in.”
My nose scrunched up. Did the rancid smell come from the stained carpet or the peeling wallpaper lining the hallway? I covered my mouth, afraid I might be breathing in nasty. It didn’t help. I could almost taste the nasty in the air.
“I’m going to gag,” I grumbled.
Booker didn’t seem to care. The entire car ride, he had this perpetual glee about him.
I grinned like an idiot, caught up in his excitement to be out in the field.
Who could blame him? I enjoyed my job and the protection it provided.
The people I worked with were like a second family.
However, given the option, I’d rather be on the streets doing my job. It seemed we weren’t so different.
Standing in front of Cypher’s door, Booker jiggled the handle. “Was worth a shot.”
I could casually snap the apartment door off its hinges. It’d be impressive and might get a look of awe from him. Arthur would have my head for showing off my superhuman abilities to a “normie.”
“Oh, well,” I said. “I guess we should—”
He reached into his jacket pocket and, a second later, pulled a lock pick from a small box of tools. Crouching down, he got to work. I was about to ask him if he did this often, but the door clicked and, with a turn, he opened it.
“They should really lock their doors.” The smile. He was enjoying this. It was like he transformed into another person when he got out of that interview room. It left me wondering which version was the real him? “Guess we should see if everybody’s okay.”