#past interrogation

“I made some calls. Agent Smith is returning to his supposed post in Cali in two days.” Her pale eyes were sharp. “We don’t have time. Chances are, since he hasn’t bugged out yet, Smith doesn’t know you’re missing. That Wolf is here. We have a very short timeframe before he’s tipped off and drops off the grid.”

“Oh fuck off…” Merrick muttered, scratching his head. (How nice it felt to have a proper buzz after months unshaven.) “Wolf’s not going to talk. I know he won’t. What else can we do?”

“Mav’s digging into Loggerhead. They’ve worked with the military on some overseas operations before. But we need to be…delicate. Loggerhead is one of our strongest and most reliable PMCs and we can’t accuse the entire company of - of running a torture bunker. There’s a good chance employees are involved, but to implicate the entire institution would make enemies we cannot afford.”

“What about - the truck. It has a serial number, doesn’t it? Can’t you track what - what batch it was in? Who purchased it?”

“Filed off.” Briggs sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Mechanics are looking it over for tracking devices, bugs - anything that can be traced back - but no luck so far.”

“So…we’re fucked? Dead in the water?”

“Well, probably. Hell, they might have already scuttled the entire operation the day you flew the coop. Smith could be their fall man for all we know.”

Not that he didn’t deserve to fall, Merrick thought with a huff. But hopelessness was settling into his chest, a familiar resignation like a collar laid heavy around his throat.

“They - damn, they’re really gonna get away with this?”

“No.” She leveled him with a steady gaze. Solid as stone. “I told you. I made some calls. Managed to get in contact with the CIA’s internal investigation division.”

“You just said Smith’ll slip the noose any day now.”

“He will. But if anyone can track him down, and help us figure out what the hell happened in that bunker, it’ll be them.”

“How soon can they get here?”

“They’re sending over an agent today. Anders, I think his name was.”

__

The director couldn’t find out. More explicitly, the director couldn’t tell any of the higher ups who funded the project. This kind of sloppy management would get them all canned, if not worse.

And the overseer knew worse.

So, he called the closest thing to a contingency plan as they had for Smith and his pet project.

“Agent Anders?”

“You lost the Wolf?”

He stuttered a moment, panic bright as he tried to think of who could have told the agent. The entire bunker was on lockdown - the overseer had killed the three guards who had been sloppy enough to be taken down by the Wolf, and another two were halfway to the Box begging that they had no idea about the breakout.

“Well, - how - ”

“Volunteers dragged him to a local installation. Seems they found out about Smith and figured the CIA’s internal investigation division would be their best option.” Anders voice crackled over the line, cold and clinical. “The director doesn’t know. Yet.”

“Thank you.” The overseer kept his words measured. The last thing he wanted was to be indebted to Anders of all agents.

“The director will find out, eventually, so we need a plan.” A plan that probably involved Anders taking over a not-insignificant portion of the project. “How attached are you to Agent Smith?”

“As much as I hate the bastard, how confident are you that we can keep the Wolf under control without him?” Assuming they could even reacquire the asset.

“100%. The Wolf knows what’s good for him. I helped make sure, if you recall.”

The overseer did, to his chagrin. He didn’t mention that Anders’ methods damaged the asset beyond use, as far the intelligence office was concerned.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Keep the bunker quiet. Oh, and don’t let Smith know about this. I don’t feel like tracking him down if he runs.”

And if Anders couldn’t get the Wolf back in time, they would need someone to take the fall. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.

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