The drive from Wilshire Avenue to Bunker Hill should have taken twenty minutes.
Instead, Arya and Jin found themselves trapped in the suffocating pulse of the Los Angeles morning rush hour.
For forty-five minutes, they were held hostage by a sea of red brake lights, the digital clock on the dashboard ticking away like a detonator.
Every second lost felt like a concession to the virus.
The agency's hunt for Dr. Stanley Donnen had hit a wall of silence, and Jin was pinning his hopes on the CIA's vast, predatory database.
They finally reached the Federal Complex-two concrete monoliths standing fifty feet apart like twin sentinels of American bureaucracy.
After navigating the gloom of the underground parking lot, they ascended to the fifteenth floor. The corridor was wide, silent, and smelled of industrial floor wax and filtered air. At the end of the hall, a heavy glass door bore the unmistakable frosted seal of the Central Intelligence Agency.
Two men in charcoal suits stood guard, their faces masks of practiced indifference.
"I.D. please," the taller one said, his voice a flat monotone.
Jin produced a sleek visiting card. "Kim Seokjin. Acting Director, Triple-A Investigation Agency."
It was a necessary lie. On American soil, the NIS operated under the "Triple-A" shroud; the U.S. government rarely tolerated foreign intelligence agencies prowling their streets without a very short leash.
The guard studied the card with agonizing slowness. "What can we do for you, Mr. Kim?"
"We're here to see the Bureau Chief. It's a matter of immediate national security."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"My office initiated a direct patch to this bureau before we departed," Jin replied, his voice level despite the urgency. "I expect the Chief is waiting."
"A phone call?" The guard's lip curled slightly. "Formalities exist for a reason, sir. You should have verified the confirmation."
"Listen," Arya cut in, her patience frayed to a singular thread. "We don't have time for a dance. Check your terminal. Your Director is going to be very displeased if we're kept waiting in the hallway."
"We aren't informed of any 'Triple-A' visitors today," the guard countered. "No permit, no entry."
"Check again," Jin warned, his eyes narrowing. "If our delay leads to the crisis I suspect is coming, you won't just be losing your post-you'll be facing a show-cause hearing before the week is out."
The guards exchanged a glance. The second man stepped inside, returning three minutes later with a look of feigned surprise. "Good news. The Chief has cleared a window for you."
As Jin stepped forward, a hand blocked his path. "Standard procedure, sir. We need to search you."
Jin reached into his jacket, pulling out his Walther PPK by the grip and handing it over. "No need. I'm carrying. She is unarmed."
The guard took the weapon, but his eyes didn't soften. "Appreciate the honesty. Hands against the wall, please. Both of you."
Jin felt the irritation prickle at his neck, but he nodded to Arya. They stood against the cold plaster, arms outstretched. The search was intrusive and redundant. The guards checked their pockets, their collars, and the seams of their clothes multiple times.
It wasn't a search; it was a stall.
"What exactly are you looking for?" Arya snapped as a guard checked her waistband for the third time. "Should we strip, or are you just enjoying the view?"
The guards recoiled, an awkward, forced chuckle escaping one of them. "Purely professional, Ms. Akaishi. We've heard of Mr. Kim's... resourcefulness. We have to be sure nothing is being smuggled in."
"Smuggled in? We came here to help you," Jin said, turning to face them.
"Wallets back. The rest stays here," the guard said, dropping their phones and the precious Uno virus CD into a plastic bin.
"We need that disc for the briefing," Arya insisted.
"The Chief will decide what enters the secure zone. Follow us."
They were led to a reception desk where a young woman sat with a bright, predatory smile. She slid a heavy ledger across the desk. "Welcome to the CIA, Mr. Kim, Ms. Akaishi."
"Sign the visitor's book, please. Full names and current addresses. Then, fill out these particular's forms."
Arya looked at the stack of paperwork. "This is a joke, right? I have to list my grandfather's medical history even just to talk to a Bureau Chief?"
"Efficiency is key," the receptionist chirped. "After the forms, we'll require fingerprints, a blood draw for our medical records, and a buccal swab for DNA profiling. Then, the standard eight-angle photography."
Jin's hand tightened on the edge of the desk. "I've been to Langley. I've sat in the offices of the upper echelon. None of them required my DNA for a sit-down. Why now?"
"Rules change, Mr. Kim," she said, unfazed. "Formalities or the exit. Your choice."
"Jin," Arya hissed in Korean. "They're mocking us. They can go to hell for all I care."
"Stay calm," Jin replied in the same tongue. "They are trying to break our rhythm. They want us to walk away so they don't have to deal with the truth we're carrying. We play the game. We'll settle the score later."
He turned back to the woman. "Give me the pen."
For the next hour, they were subjected to a clinical circus. They sat in a sterile waiting room while technicians in white coats treated them like lab rats-drawing blood, swabbing their cheeks, and capturing their photos under harsh studio lights.
Finally, forty minutes later, they were escorted through the heart of the bureau.
The office was a sea of glass-walled cubicles where agents moved with frantic, quiet energy. They were led toward a corner office-the sanctum of the man in charge.
As they approached the personal secretary's desk, Jin's eyes locked onto the nameplate engraved on the heavy mahogany door.
He stopped dead in his tracks. The frustration that had been building for the last hour suddenly crystallized into a single, sharp realization.
The delays, the DNA swabs, the smug indifference of the guards-it wasn't policy. It was a grudge.
The nameplate read:
DOUGLAS BULLOCK,
BUREAU CHIEF
Jin let out a sharp, ragged sigh, his shoulders slumping in momentary exasperation. "God. Why is he of all people here?"
Arya looked at the door, then back at Jin. "Who is he?"
" Bulldog," Jin muttered. "And he never forgets a bite."
YOU ARE READING
Phoenix
FanfictionSequel of the book "The Frost"... Can anyone tell how can one news be good and bad at the same time? let me give an example. Voyager 2, NASA's deep space probe received a mysterious signal that can answer humankind's most sought question- "Are we al...
