The Suspect

Chapter 8

"All agents in position?" I ask, speaking into my mic which is underneath my jacket next to my wrist.

"In position."

"Yes."

"Here."

I hear the agents reply and look towards Kiara—seated next to me in the surveillance van—and nod.

It's finally time for our test to go down and I'm equal parts anxious and excited. Anxious, well it's pretty self-explanatory why I'm feeling all the nerves but excited; not so sure. Perhaps I'm excited to see him put on the spot and crumble apart with pressure. I'm not a sadist, I can assure you that. Deep down though; for some hysterical reason, I want him to fail this. It is quite absurd really, but something about watching a man who deems he's all powerful and arrogant fall off his throne only entices this further.

"We see him," Deputy Hollis from the filing department alerts me and I immediately straighten in my seat.

"Alright, you guys know exactly what to do. Stick to the plan; do not deviate and make sure your mics are always on so that we can hear what's going on, as well," I instruct and hear them approve.

I look into the monitor and squint my eyes trying to get a clear look at the blurry video of the road leading to the alley.

There he is.

I zoom in a little and recognize his broad figure anywhere. He walks the length of the sidewalk in a few strides, and I absentmindedly admire his long legs for a second. The way he walks itself screams superiority and power.  Shit. Focus. This time he cleans up well in a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and what seems to be a flannel on top. A beanie covers his ears and his curly locks stick out the edge.

My pulse quickens simultaneously as he gets closer to the spot. When he's just a few odd hundred meters away, Hollis does exactly what he's told to as I see him fall out of the alley right before the one we were supposed to meet at; intercepting Tatum's path.

I hear a huff followed by a groan, the first from Tatum and the latter from Hollis.

"Woah. Sir, are you okay?" Tatum speaks and my eyebrows pinch at his act of respect. Well, would you look at that.....

Howard Hollis is in his late sixties and is the perfect person for this job. He's like a loving father to everyone in the office; always caring and very lame at times. He was an amazing Agent back in the day; when a sudden injury on the field ended his career. The old guy loved his job like he needed it to live, so he decided to get desk duty; filing and paperwork. That way he was still around this environment and was not in harm's way.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I must have missed a step." Hollis apologizes, not breaking character midway.

"Oh don't apologize. I hope you're alright. This street is barely lit, if anything I would blame it on that," Tatum remarks and lets go of Hollis' arm.

Hollis laughs and regains himself before speaking again, "Let me tell you son when you're an old bloke like myself, any little mishap can be blamed on your age. Others may find it insulting; but me here," he points at himself, "I like to use it to my advantage. Always works," he jokes and Tatum chuckles at this.

A small smile forms on my face and I quickly stop it from growing any wider. Damn it. Why does he have to be so charming only when he's with someone old?

He quickly glances at his watch, probably checking to see if it's time yet which it isn't since he got here a half-hour early.

He lowers his hand and continues, "Well, what is an old bloke like you doing on the streets of Los Angeles at this time?"