Brett Battles - The Destroyed

“I have a question for you, Mr. Hagen.”

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Peter.”

The name in conjunction with the voice clicked something in Hagen’s mind. “You’re…you’re in charge of…the Office. That’s right, isn’t it? Or, I guess, were in charge.”

“Yes.”

Hagen felt a surge of hope. This was a misunderstanding. Had to be. “We’ve worked together before. You know me. I was under the impression you were happy with my performance.”

“This has nothing to do with any interactions you and I may have had in the past.”

More confused than ever, Hagen asked, “Then what?”

“Your intrusion two days ago.”

“My what?”

“We want to know who hired you.”

“Who hired me for what? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

Peter stared at him, his lips sealed.

“Hired me for what? ”

The punch in the gut caught Hagen completely off guard. The man who’d brought him up had moved over to the side opposite the computer, so Hagen’s focus was in the other direction when the blow landed.

He doubled over, groaning, his hands gripping his stomach.

Computers were always something that came easy to him. It was why he’d fallen into that profession. One of the other things he liked about his line of work was being exposed to the intrigue while experiencing none of the danger.

Apparently, he’d been misleading himself.

Once he caught his breath, he pressed his forearms against his thighs and tried to straighten up. Pain radiated out from his stomach, almost causing him to collapse again, but he gritted his teeth and held on. He said between stinging throbs, “I don’t know…what…you’re talking…about. What…is it you…think…I’ve done?…Just tell me. Maybe…I can…figure out what…happened.”

The way Peter looked at him made Hagen think he was about to be hit again, but then the former head of the Office said, “One twenty-three p.m. local time, you hacked into a secure US governmental system and accessed files you should’ve left alone.”

“One twenty-three? Not possible. I go out to lunch every day until at least two.” He paused, thinking. Two days ago. He didn’t go out that long then. He had an urgent project he was working on, so had only been away long enough to pick up his lunch and bring it back. When had he returned? “Wait. Two days ago I did come back early, but I’m sure it was later than 1:23.” He thought some more, then said, “I have a receipt from my lunch. And you can check the T-Bana computer system to see when my monthly pass was used. I’m sure there’s no way I could have been here at 1:23!”

“If not you, then who? Someone used your system.”

“Impossible. My alarm would have gone off.”

“It didn’t go off tonight, did it?”

“No,” Hagen admitted. “Okay, so I guess someone might have been able to bypass it, but there’s something we can check.”

“I’m not interested in stall tactics, Mr. Hagen.”

“I’m not stalling.” Hagen glanced at the man in the room with him. “I put a security camera outside that covers the entrance. You can access it through that computer over there. The footage gets stored on a dedicated drive and stays there until I run out of room. That usually takes about six months.”

The man looked at the computer screen. “What would you like me to do?”

“Check it,” Peter said.

Following Hagen’s instructions, the man located a listing of the footage, then turned the screen so it could be seen by both Hagen and, via the other computer’s camera, Peter.

“Looks like the camera was activated seven times between noon and two,” the man said.

“Play them,” Peter ordered.

The first two events were people leaving through the front door. The third was of a man walking up and knocking. When no one answered, he left. The fourth was Hagen leaving the building. This came at five minutes to one.

“See,” Hagen said. “I told you I wasn’t here.”

“Keep playing them,” Peter said.

The fifth showed a woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat entering. She kept her head down so it was impossible to see her features. This occurred at 1:10.

“I don’t know her,” Hagen blurted out.

The next image came up-Hagen again, returning.

“What’s the time?” Peter asked.

The man studied the image, then said, “One twenty-seven.”

“See? I was right!” Hagen said.

“The camera’s clock could be off,” Peter suggested.

“No way. It’s synced with my computers, which are synced with the network. That time’s actual.”

“There’s still two more,” the man reminded them.

Peter nodded. “Let’s see them.”

The next was of one of the two people who’d left earlier coming back. The final was the wide-hat woman again, her face never once turning toward the lens.

“Oh, my God,” Hagen said. “She must have still been here when I came back.” He looked at Peter. “But…but you do see. It wasn’t me.”

Peter remained silent.

Hagen grew nervous again. “That wasn’t me! I wasn’t here!”

“No,” Peter said. “You’re right. It wasn’t you.”

Hagen’s shoulders sagged as he let out a relieved breath.

“But there is still the fact that whoever that woman is, she was able to get into your apartment and use your equipment as if she had a key to the place.”

“What? No. I don’t know who that was! I don’t! I swear I don’t!”

Peter was tired of hearing Hagen’s whines. He knew very well that the Swede had no idea who the person was, but his machines had been used, and that was a problem.

“There is very little room in our world for mistakes,” Peter said. “And no room for someone who doesn’t learn from them. I believe a lesson is in order.”

“No! No! That’s not nec-”

Peter cut the connection. Michaels would know what to do. If Hagen decided to stay in the business, he would undoubtedly be working from a fortress in the future.

“So?” Olsen asked. He was sitting off to the side so that the camera wouldn’t pick him up, but at an angle that allowed him to watch what was going on.

“It was her,” Peter said.

“Are you sure?”

“Do I have proof, you mean? No. But it was her. The size is right, and she’s the only one who would want to get into that file.”

Mila Voss, again.

Something ticked at the back of his mind. He brought up the file on her removal operation-still labeled COMPLETED — and searched the background information until he reached the part he was looking for. Just as he remembered. But was it worth checking out? With no other leads, what choice did he have?

He made a mental note of the particulars, then exited the file and stood up.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” he told Olsen. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I wasn’t aware that you smoked.”

Peter pulled the half-used pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and jostled one out. “Not as much as I used to, but sometimes…well…”

“Fine, but don’t be long. I want you here when I call the senator with an update.”

Peter left the room without another word.

“I’ll be right back,” he said to Misty. He then silently communicated to her that she was to contact him if Olsen followed him out.

Before he even reached the sidewalk the cigarettes were back in his pocket. It had been over ten years since he’d actually lit one, but he’d purchased the pack that morning, knowing it would provide the opportunity for a little alone time if needed.

Once outside, he went left to the end of the block and ducked into a bar around the corner. There were only a few customers in the place, none of whom even glanced in his direction. When the bartender saw him, he merely gave Peter a nod of recognition then went about his business.