Evenfall (4 page)

The moments ticked by slowly and after
a while
, when the minute hand struck thirty minutes after the hour exactly, Ann picked up the phone and dialed a short number. Her tone was professional and respectful when she spoke. "Inspector, Boyd Beaulieu is here for an appointment."

There was a brief moment of silence before Ann nodded. "Of course, Inspector." She hung up the phone and then looked at Boyd evenly before pressing a button. A small device similar to the one in the elevator made a quiet beeping noise and flashed a green light next to the mahogany door.

"You can go in," Ann said unnecessarily and Boyd didn't look at either of them as he approached the door. He had not seen his mother in years and the last time they'd been in the same room had been under exceedingly stressful circumstances.
He walked into the room and shut the door behind him, feeling doubt shift within him.

She was just the way he remembered her. Pale blond hair pulled back, making it look smooth and straight from the front. Ice blue eyes that didn't miss a flicker in his expression. Lips that seemed perpetually pressed together and drawn down at the edges just so; as if she disapproved of anything he would say or do before he even did it.

Looking at her made it harder to avoid some memories. It made flashes of pain and utter desperation feel like they were closer to today than they really were. It was a feeling that clenched his stomach and caused a hint of hesitation to enter his movements.

Still, he did his best to ignore it all because he knew his mother would not approve of any unnecessary emotions. He built a wall against those memories and told himself they didn't exist. To distract himself from that intense stare, he glanced around the room.

The office was spacious and minimally decorated; a large, heavy desk sat across the room with an office chair situated in front for visitors to use. Two tall bookcases flanked the desk along the wall behind it, although they were half empty. A small, worn leather bound book was nearly hidden between several normal sized books that had half-fallen over as they leaned against each other. A flat panel also sat on the right bookshelf; Boyd suspected it was one used primarily for reading materials based on its size.

A comfortable-looking chair next to a small table sat to the left along the wall but it didn't look as though it had ever been used. The entire right wall was covered floor to ceiling with windows, affording a phenomenal view of the compound and city below, the buildings looking like scattered toys from this height.

There were no personal effects: no pictures of family; no items of sentimentality. The table and desk spaces in the room were immaculately clean and anything that sat on them clearly had a practical purpose. There were office supplies, files currently in use, and a sleek, thin computer that was currently turned off.

Boyd's mother sat in the tall-backed, rolling chair behind her desk, hands interlocked and resting on the desk. Her gaze flicked along the length of him before her eyes narrowed in distaste. "You walked through the entire compound with that appearance?"

Boyd moved closer to the desk but did not sit down. His arms were loosely crossed and low, almost absently covering his stomach. His shoulders were slouched a bit, as if to somehow hide from her gaze. Still, his expression remained steady even though that this was nearly the first thing his mother had said to him after years of silence.

"Yes."

The disapproval in Vivienne's eyes only strengthened as she met Boyd's gaze. "What could possibly have deterred you from looking presentable when visiting my place of employment? I am well aware of how useless your life is now yet you show up like this? You appear as though you have not combed that abominable hair in days."

"I apologize, Mother. I have no excuse."

Her lips tightened slightly. "I already invest a disproportionate amount of money in your existence for the usefulness you provide. When I contact you, I expect you to put effort into the meeting. Do not disappoint me again."

"I won't."

Even with cotton muffling his emotions, he felt a distant twinge at the knowledge that once again he had done something wrong in her eyes. She was all he had left and he still couldn't seem to avoid disappointing her.

She watched him for a long moment, lips pulled down slightly at the edges, before she tilted her head toward the chair. "Sit down."

Boyd followed her order, sitting with his back straight in the chair and hands resting in his lap as he watched her. She didn't speak immediately and silence fell between them as she scrutinized him with an even more unreadable expression than usual.

"What was your impression of the compound?" she asked at length.

Boyd didn't answer at first. He didn't understand why she had invited him to her workplace for the first time. And he didn't understand why she would ask that when she typically seemed to believe that his opinion was worthless.
He was hesitant to give her the wrong answer. He did not want to provide more reason for her to be disappointed with him or give her reason not to call him next time. Yet he was more hesitant to remain silent, so he considered the question seriously.

"The compound is large and well-guarded," he replied after a moment. "I received strange looks in relation to your name and this floor. There are more employees, buildings and vehicles than I would expect for the sole purpose of manufacturing and transporting pharmaceuticals."

Her gaze drilled into him, as if she could see right through him, while he couldn't read what she was thinking at all.

One of her eyebrows quirked slightly. "And it did not occur to you to question any irregularities?"

"I lack the necessary information to compare this pharmaceutical company with others, so I haven't formed an opinion."

She watched him with narrowed eyes. This time, he could tell that something was happening behind them. She was thinking deeply. Silence fell between them once more and at first it seemed as though she wouldn't speak. Then, she leaned back in her chair.

"If you were to visit the other locations of Johnson's Pharmaceuticals, you would find that the compounds contain multiple laboratories as well as a central administrative building, and little else." Her ice blue gaze was intense on Boyd as she spoke.

Although she didn't speak further, it was clear from the way she scrutinized him that she expected a response.

"That doesn't seem to fit with the security and size of this compound," Boyd replied. "There are a large number of buildings, many of which don't seem consistent with a typical laboratory design. Several of the people who I observed on the way to your office didn't appear to be administrative staff or lab technicians and their terminology didn't reflect either job description. I would also question the heavy security across the entirety of the compound rather than grouped around key points."
He paused and then concluded, "The implication is that the valuable assets here are something other than pharmaceuticals."

Vivienne stayed still for a long moment, watching Boyd in contemplation, before she finally sat back in her chair. "That would be an accurate assessment. Johnson's Pharmaceuticals is a legitimate company with complexes located across the nation; however, in this case the assets have nothing to do with pharmaceuticals. This particular compound is a cover for a government-sanctioned organization that is so highly classified that even the majority of the elite government entities are unaware of its existence. The CIA itself does not even have a file, although the Director is aware that it exists."

Boyd watched her for a moment. He felt a mild moment of interest at the information but it slid away fairly quickly. Ultimately, the existence of such an organization did not affect him enough for him to care. It simply made him consider the information with what he had seen on compound and conclude that something of that caliber certainly fit the profile more adequately than a pharmaceuticals headquarters.
The fact that his mother worked for such a place was not uncharacteristic for her. She had worked in the CIA for many years, although he had never been clear on what her job description had been other than that she had dealt with public relations on some level.

"I see," Boyd said at length. "What would be the purpose of such an organization?"

She studied him, her eyes narrowing. "If you cannot even venture a guess with such information then you have allowed yourself to lose your only useful quality." Her blond eyebrows
rose
slightly. "Have you become entirely incompetent since your little drama? I was under the impression you had taken the opportunity to rid yourself of that unnecessary behavior."

He felt something shift inside him, something deep and buried that stirred to life at those words. Her icy gaze was fixed on him, the same way it had been years ago as she had distantly watched him struggle and scream. The memories he'd felt earlier returned more strongly; a vivid memory that had stained the world around him those years ago.

Lou's clear blue eyes flashed through his mind. The tousled blond curls that had dangled down his forehead and that easy smile that had always seemed so close to the surface. The indignation on Boyd's behalf any time Lou had felt that Vivienne had been too harsh or unattainable, and the warmth of someone close to lean against.

He remembered nights balanced atop concrete pieces that felt just on the verge of falling beneath them and clouds back-lit by moonlight reflected in dull green water. He remembered the warmth of a hand wrapping around his and tugging, and looking up to eyes focused solely on him in a way he'd never otherwise experienced. His mother had always seemed to look past and through him, and his father had often seemed half caught up in thoughts even when he'd turned his attention on his son.

Yet those blue eyes of Lou's had seen Boyd as a person. They'd accepted him and they'd never strayed. They'd looked at him, truly looked at him, and they'd believed in him.

But flashes of a smile and laughing eyes were immediately overrun by concrete up close and creeping red. By memories of terror and pain and screaming desperation that had dragged the deepest part of him to the surface to be sliced open.

Boyd's face paled and his heartbeat pounded in his chest. The vivid jolt of images were more than he'd experienced in months, maybe years. It was impossible to ignore and it hit him hard with a physical feeling of nausea close behind.

Yet throughout it all, his expression remained blank.

He kept the remembered fear of the violence from his eyes and stayed still as stone. He was a statue. He was the background. He wasn't where he once had been. He didn't have to remember the past. He didn't have to remember that pain.

He told himself that until he could make his heartbeat recede and that brief moment of panicked memory subside. He told himself that until he was able to latch on to the present and the room surrounding him.

The information she had provided created a suitable distraction from the memory of soft blond curls splayed against the ground.

He considered what she had to say, taking into account what he had seen on the walk over, as well as other information he'd gathered from the individuals on compound. "The precautions of secrecy coupled with the excessive security would lead me to believe that this compound contains information of vital importance. If it were purely a matter of national security, one would expect the CIA and other entities to be involved."

His honey brown gaze was steady on her. "So I would assume that the need for the secrecy stems from the fact that what occurs on compound or due to this organization can't technically exist according to the government-- perhaps due to constitutional violations or actions that the public or policymakers would find unacceptable. I would assume that the secrecy and lack of documentation is necessary for the government's plausible deniability."

She watched him at length. Whatever was on her mind, she apparently reached a positive conclusion because she nodded once, curtly.

"This organization does not have a name you will ever hear aside from the Agency. The employees on compound are a combination of support staff, research agents, and field agents. The purpose of the Agency is to protect national security and support the government by ensuring the safety of the community at large."

Boyd considered that. The safety of the community was in danger every moment due to the scavengers and gangs who preyed on the weak in the city as a whole. The protection of national security should not be necessary from a separate entity when such groups already existed in the government. So who would they need protection from?

As if sensing his question, she continued coolly, "There have always been terrorist and insurgency groups who have sought to undermine the foundations of Western democracy. However, since the war the number of groups have increased, threatening the stability of the government and the safety of the citizens."

One blond eyebrow lifted. "This is a war that must be fought in complete secrecy on an international and domestic level, and the Agency is the entity designated to handle such a role. The covert quality is a necessity due to the fact that we do not always follow internationally-accepted sanctions such as the Geneva Convention. Our methods are vastly different from any other government organization in that regard; however, they are more efficient and as such accomplish far more for the greater good than any other entity has the luxury to do. It is precisely for these reasons that no one can know that the Agency exists, let alone be aware of what we do."