The Lost Agents

2

People were going to die. It would be her fault. Someone was going to lose a mother or father, an aunt or uncle, a brother or sister, a grandmother or grandfather, a cousin, niece or nephew, and it would all be because she couldn't figure out the riddle behind the bomber's story. Some mediocre terrorist was going to outsmart her in a battle of brain, and it would cost people their lives.

Londyn wiped some sweat off her neck, staring even more intensely at the computer screen, if that was possible. She tried to ignore the bustle around her, the shouting, the running, the frantic typing. But the worst thing was the watching. It felt like there were so many eyes on her. So many people depending on her to save others. She was the best mystery-solver in S.H.I.E.L.D. They were all waiting, confident that she would figure it out. But she wasn't. The riddle that lay before her was short, only four verses, but nothing appeared when she ran it through the computer, or when she scanned it with her own eyes.

"Please try to follow along, with your misunderstanding ways.

"Everyone has different ideas, different ways to see through the haze.

"All is for naught, for the celebration today.

"Keep along with the thunder, for soon you will have nothing to say."

The woman wanted to bang her head on the table and pull at her coppery hair. Nothing made sense, none of the sentences went along any lines of reason. None of them were stuck together in anyway. Unfortunately, everyone was watching, she needed to stay calm and try not to worry anyone.

But there wasn't time.

The bombers were striking today. They had included that in the email that came along with the poem from a library in Italy. They were celebrating the fact that they had exploded nine minor bombs without being caught by the United States government and were now going to detonate a larger explosive to prove their point. They sent the poem as a taunt, something to nag at the agents while they set their stage.

They had twenty-two hostages. Seven females, fifteen males. They planned to kill them with the explosion of their celebratory bomb. That was what was ripping her up inside. They had twenty-two people, ready to murder because they had stood up against their terrorist attacks and sought peace. Those people had families and friends who were worried sick about what was happening, and they would soon be mourning their loved one if she didn't crack this soon.

Londyn gave the tiniest of whimpers, still staring at the screen.

A hand came to rest lightly on the desk beside her computer, and a face leaned down beside hers. It was a handsome face, with velvety black eyes that searched her understandingly as the fingers belonging to the hand tapped the dark desk.

William. Her husband. Of course, not very many people knew he was her husband, they had a very small celebration and only informed closest relatives and friends. They had all understood. Neither of the married couple wanted one to get hurt out of spite for the other from their various and many enemies, so they agreed to keep the whole thing quiet. Only Londyn's parents, four siblings, and their spouses knew from her side of the family. Will had told his mother, but didn't trust his stepfather, so the only other family member he told was his brother. As for friends, Londyn only told her closest one, who promised never to tell another soul, and together they informed Nick Fury, their director, who was also a friend to them. Will didn't really have a lot of friends, none whom he would have told that he was having a secret marriage.